a cork board

Day 14 / Poem 14 – NaPoWriMo
AMpFri, 20 Apr 2012 00:40:10 -040040Friday 1, 2010, 12:40 am
Filed under: poems | Tags: , , ,

King of Regret


He wears his crown

with the burden of an executioner.

Heart growing colder every time

his axe splits through a spinal column.

It sits atop his head pointed and as heavy

as the walls of a human gas chamber.


He sits on a throne

made of never-ending descent.

A throne the size of a thimble,

complete with poison ivy and oak.


For when he perches himself

upon this throne he feels like

he is constantly falling,

like his skin is burning.

When he sits on this throne

he does not feel like a king.


He feels small.

He feels like there is not a breath of nobility

left within his overweight frame.


He has always had

the best of intentions in life.

But there was a seed that was sewn

long ago by his very own hand.

It has germinated and

taken on a separate life

inside of him.


Now there are two horribly different people

dressed within the same skin.

The once-noble king

trying to cope with the actions

of his not-so-better half.

And the night owl on the prowl

trying on the flesh of women

as if they were rented tuxedoes.

Paying for the services of

sucking and slapping skin.

Salaciously sinning without sentiments

of that which is sacred.


The carnal desire.

It builds until that demon

takes over the body of the king.

He pushes and he pushes

until the walls fall over.

Until he torches the walls of the palace

and leaves with a smirk on his face.

Desecrating the very house that built him.


Our king is left with the burden of regret.

Left with a crown made of cast iron

as tall as the Empire State Building

threatening to snap his neck with every turn.


This king of regret

has everything for splendor and happiness,

but relishes in embellishing the urges of the beast

he has created as the scapegoat for his misdeeds.


This king of regret

knows the pure joys of children

but holds more shame in his heart

with every trip he takes to the brothel.


This king of regret

is a sad, sad man with so much to live for

and a dungeon run amuck with secrets.


But somewhere beneath the sut-stained skin

of this king of regret there is a heart made of gold.

A heart built for salvation.

A spirit made for redemption.


And one day, this king of regret

will wear a crown built for noble kings.

He will sit in a throne made of gold.

He will find peace on those cold nights.

He will find everything he has ever sought.

But first, he must

slay his dragon


2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

I love your poems bro

Comment by Sean O'Gorman

Thanks a lot Sean, that means a helluva lot coming from you bro. More than you know, cuz I love your poems too.

I’ll always remember that conversation we had on Finals Night in Ottawa in 2010. When I was feeling down from my low scores on the Finals stage and you and Nicole Almond (2 poets who I immensely grew to love throughout the festival) came and told me I was a poet’s poet, and you bought me a beer. Thanks man, it turned my night around and made a lasting memory. You’re awesome!

Comment by Yogi

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