Blue steel-cut angel
Perched on a liquor store
like
Hell and Heaven are just ideas
that don’t exist.
Cursed angel
Damned angel
Staring ocean tears, haughty, into a wasteland
Omniscient and unobtrusive
Like this whole hell-hole was his
Great Plan
Searing those sharp razor eyes like these psychotic conceptions are all delirious. . .
Like us; all wine-spiced and rotten fruit
All blood and bones and feathers
The angel
So haughty - but he’s a mess
Ribs poking through the parchment skin
Like desert scrolls and wisdom
And broken wings that drag like blood-lace wedding gowns
And don’t catch wind.
I’m not actually sure he’s an angel. . . maybe he’s just an apparition
Like a vulture
Some phantom, drinking cheap beer, and waiting to steal our delusions for its own
Maybe then it wouldn’t need to shadow us scavengers.
Show us shadows.
In a wasteland, constantly moving, the angel tearing itself to bloody ribbons
With its own smile, and screaming bloody hell and hate
This angel is dead for sure
Cuz this angel is us-the dead-roaders, eternally damned, road-kill.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
125,006 Literary Works • 672,809 Reviews
Wow.
I am asking this question strictly for the sake of curiosity, and you 100% don't have to answer, but how long have you been writing poetry? This piece feels very realized—the rhythm, style, and vocabulary choices come together very nicely. Personally, it left me with a very haunted feeling, like this poem is about something deeper (unless I'm reading too far deep into it). It makes me think of true crime cases involving hitchhikers.
I have to say, too, that your use of imagery is killer; "I’m not actually sure he’s an angel. . . maybe he’s just an apparition/Like a vulture/Some phantom, drinking cheap beer, and waiting to steal our delusions for its own" and "In a wasteland, constantly moving, the angel tearing itself to bloody ribbons/With its own smile, and screaming bloody hell and hate/This angel is dead for sure/Cuz this angel is us-the dead-roaders, eternally damned, road-kill" are two very, very strong lines.
The rhythm is solid. The tone is somewhat bleak but the poem itself is breathtaking. You did beautifully on this piece. I'm excited to read more! Well done!
Oh, my God you won't believe the reception in Tennessee. Sorry for being so late in my response, but thanks a billion for this review!!!
I've been writing poetry for six years, but I mainly write vignettes and short stories. Poetry is not really my thing.
What a moving narrative!
First off, the title drew me in. Second, the author's use of vocabulary certainly elevated and added to the overall effect quite splendidly.
The author's use of descriptive language, especially when describing the ribs poking through parchment and the comparison to road kill, wastelands, apparitions... They certainly did a wonderful job with making the reader feel a sense of pity and intensity from the descriptions of in particular the setting and predicament depicted.
All in all I really loved this piece!
Thank you so much for the review!!!