Hate is Poisonous as well as Venomous
I despise her name crawling through my teeth like maggots in a corpse
I despise how she coils around my ribs, cracking them open like a rotten fruit
Speaking of her feels like vomiting tar, yet she lingers, a parasite gnawing at my tongue
What use is this strength, this power,
If I cannot carve her talons from my throat?
Her fingers are splinters of bone, digging, festering—
Every gasp I take is a symphony of suffering composed by her soft hands.
I lock the doors, barricade my mind,
Yet she slithers through the cracks, her violence is sand beneath my skin.
It is my fault. My thoughts.
My face who betrays me—
Why sorrow? Why rage?
Stretch your lips wide, bare your teeth—
Smile. Smile. Smile. For the banquet of decay laid before you.
She places shards on my tongue and commands, “Chew.”
I obey.
The glass grinds, slicing through gums and throat,
Each swallow a wound, each breath laced with agony.
Blood pools in my mouth, seeping through the cracks in my smile—
Dripping, staining, painting my lips in ruin.
And the world gasps,
Pointing their unworthy fingers at me–
“She’s a demon,” they cry, “feeding on the blood of the innocent!”
But demons are made, not born.
And he is not aware.
I will never ever forgive him for putting me through this trial.
Does his blindness make him innocent–
When he does not see the bruises blooming like red spider lilies on my skin?
When he does not hear the salt carving ocean trenches into my cheeks?
She is a lady, a saint in silk.
I am her trembling wretch—
The one unworthy of mercy,
The one who carved their own ruin.
I despise her.
I despise his indifference.
But above all,
I despise myself for being an accomplice.
@azurePond pretty powerful poem….i was upset and just a little physically ill while reading that….but, you know, in a good way 😂
Excellent poem!
@PineTreeTree Oh, I get it. It’s like dipping your french fries in a milkshake—kinda gross, but somehow it works? *would not recommend it though *😂
@azurePond 😂 yeah something like that 😂
@azurePond What I meant to say was the poem drew me in. But I was trying to say that in a funny way.
@PineTreeTree Thank you Pine <3
@azurePond
*speechless*
Oh my gosh, azure. You always tell me I express emotions and experiences in such extraordinary ways, needleless to say I hope you see that in yourself as well. The way you conjured up such a piece of work reminds me of reading an old poet with all of the imagery and meanings.
I'm not sure if I interpreted it correctly in terms with your point of view so I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas on this piece. For me, I thought about someone who is seen as such an angelic and innocent person who is truly destructive. The speaker is subjected to experience her destructive behavior yet painted as the troublesome one themselves. Like how the blood that spewed out of the speakers mouth even though commanded by the destructive angel is seen as demonic to the public eye.
One of my favorite details I would be foolish to let slip my mind was how you compared the girl's hands to talons but also described them as soft. Like how a quill is soft as an emu's feather, but sharp enough at the end to drip red and write words that destroy minds. And how despite these factors, it's still useful and favored by most. (When it was popular lmao)
The man, however, I could relate to and picture the most. Someone who you almost beg and plead to turn around and see your hurt and trouble, yet still they remain with a cover over their eyes. Perhaps placed by the "angel" in this poem.
The ending is something I'm curious about. How do you accomplice yourself (if you are the speaker) with these people? Is it a real experience you find yourself in? Why do you blame and hate yourself the most?
Once again, I'm sitting here rereading your work over and over again. Venturing in a world made at your creation. Marvelous work. *Grins*
@twerp Thank you so much —your words really mean a lot to me. Also, Twerp, I don't believe there's a single "correct" interpretation of poems, especially not mine. I think poems belong to the readers; they're free to interpret them however they see fit. That being said, your analysis was pretty much in line with what I had in mind when I wrote the poem. I really liked your quill metaphor! Fun fact—those things are actually sharp and can puncture you. Quills can make you bleed, both literally and metaphorically... haha. As for the ending, I purposely made it ambiguous because even I don't know exactly why the speaker feels that way. Maybe it’s survivor’s guilt, or maybe it's the guilt that abuse victims carry. Maybe the speaker feels like she could have protected herself better, or perhaps she hated those people so much that she started to hate herself—a bit like what Buddha said: "anger corrodes the vessel it carries"... or was it about hate? Like the title says " Hate is poisonous as well as venomous" . I guess I should have titled it "Hate is Both Poisonous and Venomous" (that sounds less awkward). But hey, it’s not my biggest regret ( I do online shopping), so I'll live. Anyway, the poem is about the corrosive nature of hate and how abuse perpetuates itself, where even complacent people become accomplices. Though you're free to interpret it however you like. Thanks again—I really appreciate your poems too, Twerp!
@azurePond
I hope you will forgive the tardiness of my response to your excellent poem. I thought it was magnificent. It oozed such latent menace and viperous viciousness with it's visceral imagery. The thematic use of physical corruption and ruin for emotional damage and abuse really grabs the reader by the throat and demands we stare it right in the eyes. The very first stanza starts with such strong vehemence that it feels like the words are being spat out in disgust, as if the mere notion of contemplating the woman is intolerable. The chimerical nature of her description also evokes a sense of biblical analogy, the tormenting serpent, the great dragon. Yet it is also laced with this necrotic aspects ("her name crawling through my teeth like maggots on a corpse", "Her fingers are splinters of bone, digging, festering-") that create a visual of something hag-like yet. This so contrasts with her later description as "A lady, a saint wrapped in silk" that cements the idea of this duplicitous monster of spite.
I found the lines on the banquet of glass especially disturbing, not just for their ability to draw out the most squeamish imaginings, but with how they reveal an almost hypnotised/brutalised submission. It certainly feels like a mother, father, daughter story, and is so sharp to all parties, most sadly towards the narrating voice themselves. All those hateful and corroding emotions whether born from abuse or neglect seem distilled by the end of the poem and then swallowed back down by the victim. The raw passion behind the emotions on display is scathing, and you have masterfully drawn the reader in; We feel the injustice at the hidden torment, we agonise alongside the sufferer, we are angry that the world and the paternal figure do not step in. But we also are still left as outsiders, watching someone else gnaw away at themselves, believing that others will never see what is truly going on.
*Rings up Interflora so they can start tossing flowers on the stage by the van-load*
@BastionKnight Apologies for my delayed response, and thank you for your insightful analysis. I always look forward to hearing your thoughts whenever I post my poems, and I truly admire your perspective, Sir Knight. Your interpretation of the "family relationship between father, mother, and daughter" made me revisit the poem through that lens. It resonates, especially since mothers are often associated with the shaping of their daughters through tough love, while fathers may remain unaware. So I appreciate that narrative angle. Also, I’m grateful for your kind praise—it’s no longer just an ego boost --- it’s more like an ego thrust, the kind that propels a rocket to escape velocity!