Insightful poetry April 23, 2017
<EXCERPTS>
Immaculate Ejaculate
You spew male dogma, certain that
we need the life in our
dead‑womb‑minds
as surely as you need
nodding approval from those
you subjugate
your swollen, phallic ego has
offered you a tyranny of
dreams, and you kneel and let
yourself be knighted because
it is your duty
but stop
greedy guardian, for I have never
asked for your tutelage
and my mind is not your womb.
Fat Crowds
I sit at the bar, cigarette in hand,
And worlds beyond,
Sultry skies mixed with sea hues of grey and blue.
My brain sleeps, yet in that moment
I fuck desire.
Heed the writing on the walls.
As fat crowds fill the streets;
Searching for what?
I hold autumn close, squeezing her ass,
a pitiful tangle of dreams gather;
plastic gadgets for plastic people,
use your plastic card,
Where the inner self meets a soulless void and
bickering lips suck champagne,
And fat crowds drain from the streets,
doors slamming.
My hot breath fights against the wind.
I walk the promenade, gliding
And gone
Napkins from the Bar
I sit and drink my beer,
imagine you with your Crown
fitting for a Queen,
keeping company with a clown.
Scribbling lyrics on this napkin,
borrowed pen, and all
Fending off advances from
the local Neanderthals
Who wish to enlighten me
with their darkness,
try to make me laugh
A stupid conversation,
I don’t want to have.
I’ve always been a little too late,
a little more far than near
when the likelihood of fabulous
has whispered in my ear.
Whether it’s a fruitless fantasy,
a dangerous liaison
Love still tried to wander to
the chance that now is gone.
Gone like all my tight young skin,
and leonine good looks
Gone like passion, sweet and tender,
I only read about in books.
My timing, still, imperfect,
my standards way too grand
I still await the one for me,
believing that I can
I avoid the karma
touching you would bring
But I’ll still think about it,
dangle it from a string
And admire the pretty colors
in the prism of romance
Maudlin over might-have-beens,
tired of the dance
Creating fond scenarios,
while I listen to Spanish Guitar,
Writing songs on napkins from the bar.