# Burn the Flower Castle



## kbsmith (Sep 14, 2015)

I built a castle from flower bones,
  Of stems and fallen seeds.
  I gazed upon my tall new home
  As the world snickered, sneered at me:
“Why use a flower? A man is one of steel!
We will tear this castle down, and toss you to the fields!”
  So they charge to take the walls, but bleed when grabbing thorns;
So turned away, they set the house to flames, and cheer as death takes form.
  Inside my blossom manor, my petal throne decays.
The fire overtakes me, and my skin: it melts away.
  The people overheard, they’re chanting: 
  “You’re dirty as the earth you champion.”
Consumed in mortal hellfire, dying: 
  my eyes of blistered thought do think
  Whilst burning:
  That I wanted only left alone,
Inside my castle flower home.


----------



## Joe_Bassett (Sep 14, 2015)

Wow, I don't know exactly what I like about this poem but I really like it!  I think I like the imagery and the two lines at the end.


----------



## Sonata (Sep 15, 2015)

Like Hiro, I too liked the final two lines.


----------



## -xXx- (Sep 15, 2015)

new becomes the baseline
for [your] future
articulations;
confusion diffusion,
scattered speculations
*imagines porcupine*
*or hedgehog*


----------



## Bard_Daniel (Sep 15, 2015)

You really do have a way with poetry, KB. Another stellar production right here.

Melancholy without being melodramatic.

I hope to see more. : D


----------



## Mesafalcon (Sep 18, 2015)

Nice read. I like your word usage.

Also, love this image : _I built a castle from flower bones,
  Of stems and fallen seeds._


----------



## Firemajic (Sep 27, 2015)

flowers are fragile things... never living up to the promise they flaunt.. they are deceptive in their beauty, because as soon as they bloom they start to die... sooo I love the line about flower bones... intriguing.. sooo, to try to build a fortress out of something fragile and already dead says it allll... sublime....


----------



## kbsmith (Sep 27, 2015)

As a pathological and rejected loincloth featurette
wears nothing, he vomits over the toilet.
Strenuous sweat drops waves where they land: dry heaving tears under 
black tar rainbows.
There, birdless in a deep wood, he
deals with the devil
face to face
•What a fool. 

Years later, temptations 
slop like ice cream from repainted walls,
blood thick in coats streaking down
to the ground, not reaching the corners
of the room. His room:
stacks of old skin caught in spider webs abandoned. 

A reclining chair that spins, peeling
covered seat, across
from a broken futon that sags, deep
in the middle like a cot.
The large L shape of the room,
except faced the other way:
On that mirror, a wall, to see around the other bend
when sitting there.
All around his spaces, reflections
to see the same spots, from everywhere;
every angle is
eternity.

But I digress,
he stacked so many books,
to surround him,
but they never open,
even when he asks:
"open sesame"
Turns to me, in the mirror:
Why do they reveal not their secrets:
to what do I owe their silence?

Because you do not listen. "They say:"
and then I shut my mouth again,
for months. 
He asks him if I am
(He - us
- we are)
Mephistopheles 
then he laughs and turns to type again:
"Send."


----------



## -xXx- (Sep 28, 2015)

you are <going to write> a very popular series.
*wonders*
*will you notice*
*wonders*
*will gears*
*seize*


----------



## MadzBear (Sep 29, 2015)

Really enjoyed this. I actually think just the first 4 lines make a great poem in themselves. Was there a reason you changed up the rhyme scheme a bit? It makes no difference to the flow when speaking it, but it changes it visually with the middle lines being much longer. Either way, really nice work


----------

