Untitled II

11 Comments

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  • Death

    Untitled II

    "Messy, messy..."
    She stepped around the blood stains,
    avoiding getting her feet wet.
    Death frowned at her. She replied with a smile.

    By: Brandi Deacon
    2010

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    (11)

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    MindNumbing commented on Untitled II

    03-24-2010

    WOW... this is amazing, Brandi. The imagery is phenomenal and I have to admit, it made my skin crawl a little bit. I LOVED IT!

    BringMeBullets

    03/24/2010

    Ha ha. Thank you so much!

    dahlusion commented on Untitled II

    03-23-2010

    Like a tiny razor-sharp knife, this little gem cuts deeply into the nervous system, creating elements of Gothic horror and indelible imagery stained with the blood from pure poetry. "Death frowned at her. She replied with a smile" — upon reading this, a gasp escaped my mouth.

    BringMeBullets

    03/23/2010

    He he. Thank you so much. :)

    cmlestrade commented on Untitled II

    03-23-2010

    Mmmm. This was very good but at the same time very disturbing. Are we so anesthetized(hope I spelled that right) that such a sight has little impact?

    BringMeBullets

    03/23/2010

    Thank you. This one was different... Ha ha. I could do so much more with it, but I feel pretty satisfied.

    charmlessman2d commented on Untitled II

    03-22-2010

    any poem that begins with MESSY MESSY will always catch my attention. short. sweet. direct to the point. a kick right in the kisser. i pictured death as an old baglady with warts onher face frowning...it was creepy how i imagined it. beautiful and straight to the gut. goodjob.

    BringMeBullets

    03/23/2010

    Ha ha. Thank you. I was picturing a beautiful woman that was stepping around red puddles. Then she sees this dead person on the ground... And I was thinking that maybe she hired someone to kill him. And now she has to clean up the mess. :) Creeepy!

    rollerderby commented on Untitled II

    03-22-2010

    Must be kind of use to the blood and gore as I am and un affected by the death of an innocent or maybe no so innocent person.. Death comes to as all," when " is the only varible.... well done dear.

    BringMeBullets

    03/23/2010

    Thank you so much... :)

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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