canadian author / canadian poetry / natasha head / poetry / Sex Pistols / Sid and Nancy / Sid Vicious / tashtoo

Whipped Pistols

Whipped Pistols
Swirling, twirling
Through veins robbed of life
Venom, addictive
Souless, Alone, Unworthy
What one such as this
Would dare to hope
His equal would be found
Passed out on cool tile
Of public restroom floor
Enchanted, Awakened
A poison tipped tongue
Indulging, fornicating
Addiction to the union
Drunk on the angst
Against the world
Caught up in youth forgotten
Missing Milestones
Pissing anarchy
In the face of the Queen
Barely beating hearts
Existing on shared mutalation
Now chained to eternity
On the dull curve of the blade
Left to bleed out
On the floor of the Chelsea
Across the pond
To the depths of hell
A forgotten alley leads to cell
No more welcome awaits
The King and Queen of bedlam
Did it their way.
~Natasha Head~


7 thoughts on “Whipped Pistols

  1. As I mentioned, I loved that I knew who this was about before I saw the picture – great journalism poetry. But, even if one didn't know this, or know Sid and Nancy, you captured their epoch and and the empty chaos of their 'addiction to union/drunk on the angst against the world.' Terrific use of rhythm as your alternating lines get longer underscoring the commentary on the action in the shorter pulse lines. Pulsing yet flowing, right words at the right time, and utterly terrific!

  2. Wow! I remember watching that Sid and Nancy movie. Riveting, for sure. Whacked-out kids indeed.L. Cohen loved The Chelsea too, hung there with Janis Joplin — as you may or may not know.xo

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