Mistakes Grow Twisted Bones

When rooted in casual cruelty,
mistakes pollute the blood,
grow twisted bones,
coat the throat with kindling;

laughter turns into breath-pilfering fires
that burn on the tip of the tongue,
forcing the spirit to crave for mercy
it hasn’t served to others.

Crows hear the screams of the rotten
(feed on them);
when carrion eaters go for the heart,
when howling flesh fills the ears of their guts,
a murder and two births change everything.

Process Note: Below are “Blooming Howls” 1 and 2, by Gina Morley, paintings inspired by my Blooming Howls short story collection. Gina painted a critical moment in the lives of two of the characters in the first story. This poem adds another layer to said moment.

linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Tuesday Platform–on Wednesday *cough*)

Blooming Howls 3

Blooming Howls 2

Blooming Howls 1

You thought I forgot to announce the winners of my “As Deliciously Geeky as Me” giveaway, didn’t you? Just kidding, I know you trust your wicked witchy writer, right? *cough*

Here are the winners (in the order they were selected by Random.Org):
Rommy – Pop Sonnets: Shakespearean Spins on Your Favorite Songs
Ashley (Ash_Lynn)The Matryoshku Murders
JonquilGarlic, an Edible Biography: The History, Politics, and Mythology behind the World’s Most Pungent Food—with over 100 Recipes

Congratulations, my Wicked Darlings! Please send me an email (magalyguerrero @ live . com) with your mailing address. I hope you enjoy the reading, and tell me all about it. 😉

Powerful Freaks

We are powerful freaks;
some winged, others gilled…
all a universe of promising chaos.

I started seeing through dark-mooned skies,
my smile sharpened,
I took to weaving my fate.

When the first pet went missing,
friends and strangers whispered,
“She has all those legs now,
all those eyes;
that stomach is too large,
too monstrous
to be filled with just guts.”

While I was still naïve
enough to kiss hope on the mouth,
expecting it would kiss back,
I whispered explanations:
“My opisthosoma cradles my heart.”

But the Stones that made some of us Mythical
didn’t only expose our inner essence,
it also showed us powerful (perhaps too powerful)
in the eyes of men too scared
to see that our new shells housed the same old Selves.

Mistakenly,
they called me nasty bug,
recoiled (then trembled) when I was near;
some tried to crush me like an insect.
So many mistakes were made.

I considered smirking sharply into their flesh,
filling their veins with venomous rage,
liquefying self-inflicted blindness into convenient foods…
But I was a vegetarian,
in those nearly forgotten days.

.
a wee note…
– I was rereading my “Belle du Freak” poem, in order to write the short piece I was supposed to post today (but didn’t, since I just published “Large, Powerful, Wild”, and two consecutive short stories felt like a bit much). Revisiting the poem left me wondering about the spider woman’s background, thinking, why did she have to hide in a terrible circus? “Powerful Freaks” seems to be part of the answer.
Opisthosoma is the posterior part of arachnids’ bodies, often called abdomen, but different from it, since it also contains the respiratory organs and the heart.

written for May Monster Madness ← follow the link to visit other deliciously mad participants; and do visit the madness instigators: Little Gothic Horrors, Annie Walls, and Something Wicked this Way Comes…

linked to Poets United, Poetry Pantry 254

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