Young Writers Society

you are a lovesaint
bless my soul with divine influence
or stab it with crossed knives
my fate is out of my hands.

raise the red hot poker like some sort of respectful gesture
then lower it into my skull and leave crimson imprints
brains won't be turned by mere torturous instruments
but by misguided fools and books lost in translation
inquisitiveness isn't a crime in the eyes of our lord
neither is pain, only blood staining your holy carpet

you are a lovesaint
but the clouds are the ones in power
they'll disperse before they see you dry
and cosy within my embrace

i won't even cry if you stare through my eyes
because i'm not scared of fireplace salesmen
but only cold overcrowded sky-high apartments
without the space for everyday passions

i don't want to be one of those people
who die for those they'll never meet
and i don't want to be a lovesaint
because burning beds and freezing friends
ain't my kinda thing.

Firestarter wrote:raise the red hot poker like some sort of respectful gesture
then lower it into my skull and leave crimson imprints

Wow...stunning imagery here.

Firestarter wrote:i don't want to be one of those people
who die for those they'll never meet
and i don't want to be a lovesaint
because burning beds and freezing friends
ain't my kinda thing.

Great closing.

I don't really get it (when have I ever? ) but I really liked it. You ought to try and get some of this published, it's definitely good enough.

I'm never even though about getting my poetry published, but thanks anyway. You probably don't really get it because it's more of a random collection of thoughts rather than one strong message.

random? damn. Jack, you're brilliant. Bloody brilliant. The last three stanzas I love.

However, not sure about the first stanza.. last line of it, especially.

you are a lovesaint
but the clouds are the ones in power
they'll disperse before they see you dry
and cosy within my embrace

but only cold overcrowded sky-high apartments
without the space for everyday passions

i don't want to be one of those people
who die for those they'll never meet

My favourite lines.

Second stanza...just...no, okay? It looks like you were trying too hard to be "profound" or something, when the poem itself, the concept, is profound enough. Don't overemphasize, just write what you feel and how you see things; no reason to overcomplicate. Although, since I'm pretty sure you'll be published, maybe you should just stick with this, lest you wind up like me. That would be bad.

Anyway, I enjoyed this greatly. Except for the second stanza...