Lay it, or: Thick

Poetry Partners #150

‘Hotel “Four Star”’, a poem by Artem Miachin

Beeing inside the hotel of four stars
Much higher than the level of urban buzz,
She lies with her arms to the sides.
Her eyes are open and filled with a terrible emptiness.

There are red and green lights behind the door. Behind the room, breakfasts are lying, untouched by her.
Undisturbed by anyone, she is lying alone on the bed opposite the door,
Throwing her hair down from the edge of the double bed to the floor.
As in that distant, spoiled childhood, the beloved daughter of mom and dad from a very good family, - happy Mickey Miller.

This gloomy picture, fitting the description of the deepest alienation,
Where she lies alone, abandoned by everyone, an unnecessary soul of nation.
In the bathroom, water continues to flow quietly over a water diversion.
The candid note, written by her hand, is attached on the mirror with a resin.

In about an hour, they will think that this could be a cruel tragedy on the board.
The death of the heroine of the glowing tabloids, who has recently been forgotten on a staged end.
The short note tells of unrequited love and loneliness, but nothing indicates a murder on the crime scene, which never scent.
An empty bottle of whiskey on the floor and an open pack of pills on the coffee table predict bullying in the newspapers of her boyfriend.

Great popularity guarantees crowds of cosplayers, even more fans and memorable.
And not a single piece of evidence points to persecution of young girl.
Take aside from the true, from the final purchaser profits on a large trading platform, at the end of all.
A lot of new banknotes, in his wide trouser pocket, that promises many followers and supporters so crowd called him: "man of steel".

However, apart from everything else, there was also something about this crime, something special that could be see.
What will indicate on the powers that be.
Someone who will use death and money against the public interest for to be.
I'm, Detective Marco, now standing over her body, think this investigation is suicidal for me.

A limerick by ben Alexander of ‘The Skeptic’s Kaddish’

A vain failed sleuth with air dramatic
kept frayed case files up in mom's attic.
Misremembering stories,
convincing self of past glories,
he thought his farts quite aromatic.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!


List of Poetry Partners

11 thoughts on “Lay it, or: Thick”

  1. I am conflicted – the first poem was sad and confusing. The second made me want to laugh. So here I sit torn between emotions neither laughing or crying…

  2. If it is suicidal for him
    Then the detective should act responsibly and not take on work that would harm me.

    Another Russian Crime Scene
    What is it then? Has he begun to lose his memory
    And the aromatic farts
    I can’t seem to laugh

        1. I just didn’t know how else to respond to this poem… other than to make light of it a bit.

          and that last line about aromatic farts is a reference to the expression that some people “think their sh*t doesn’t stink.” I was imagining a pathetic, washed up gumshoe sitting alone in his mother’s stuffy attic.

          1. I got that feeling in the limerick.
            I really didn’t know if I was about to laugh or cry.

            But that’s what limericks do
            Dark humour came through

            Feel blessed if you get a response from me today or 😂
            The networks are crawling
            The gods are angry
            As things fall apart
            And the power centre is not holding.

            Count yourself lucky to live in another world 🌎 🙏🏼 ✨
            Have a wonderful Wednesday 😊

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