Tagged: relationships

The Bureau of Emasculation

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play off reflection, I caught you staring in the mirror,
playing through a bit of high,
but I work hard enough,

it won’t be a problem

always starting at the same time,

always starting too late
the grip feels good in my hand
the rubber against stiff fingers
we wouldn’t want the Callous
they’ve hollowed out the underside
to take away feeling
stuffed with sawdust and formaldehyde
I never could be full enough
good enough for you
sew it shut
sand down the veins
and pare mushroom tip

it wasn’t so long ago
foreskin charms
phallus necklace
earrings always
dangle

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A Malfunction

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It isn’t morning yet
and I can smell the thick air,
the biochemical warfare
sweeping in, across the Atlantic.
Even the air is stale.
The crackers are beginning to see
we’re way past our expiration date. 

Adding gizmos like limbs.
Privilege has always inspired new growth,
however cancerous to the rest of society it may be.
The abundance dripping down his chin,
the pit regurgitated, sticky, rolling down
his chin, his shirt, and dribbling to the table
like his sack scalped and glossy marbles
slimy sloppy marbles rolling out of the bag
goes squish in my hand.

But they have an app for that too,
there for impotency and eunuchs alike!

 I’d prefer the virtual to the real.
less messy, easier to handle.
Shoot, he’s even nice enough to leave it
in the bedside table when he’s off to work.
That’s when I really get my fun.


They’ve got an app for me too.
I haven’t seen him in three days,
at least I don’t think so,
but these pictures move too much.
I’ve watched him die,
I see him dying,
a malfunction

Ticonderoga

3262

Engraved

On a Ticonderoga

I reached to the back of my skull

And found the same number engraved

In me

Serendipitous utensils

I know how silly

Love can be

But why not believe,

Yellow slender;

Soul mate.

We are writing utensils

Intertwined

Flowing

Like letting go of a manuscript

In a windstorm

But you hurt me so.

Do I use you?

Or do they use me?

Were you here?

Is your motives for nothing,

But profit?

Is your heart not in it,

The way it once was?

It will feel like years

Until I see you again

But I’ve never loved

Like I love the pen

And once the door closes

I’ll curse your name

Wish the lips never parted

Slithering tongue

The picking of

flesh from bone,

My vulture

My muse

Moving me to new grounds

Cumbersome Jewelry

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I liked you better as a picture

Wrapped safely around my neck

In your gold locket

I lie resting through my day

Lying in my silk

Aquarium, fat children

 tapping on the glass

waiting for starvation

to cause my bones to wither

and the skin to tear

than as a charm

pulling me by my wrist

I am alive

But I pray for death

Your mind is perverse

Running through the ways

You can bring me out to sea

My cherished lead bracelet

I try to swim

But I’m drowning

 and I wait on the ocean floor

I’m still drowning.

My Beautiful Red Dress

stock-vector-mannequin-and-dress-304915928.jpgTo write you a poem

My beautiful red dress

Would degrade the very form

Like trash in a satin bag

Or a Queen wrestling the men on the street

Where I have seen your face

Shy from my glare

So many times before

I’m not radiating the hatred that appears

I just wish to never see you again

I’d like to make it clear

These words aren’t worthy

Of the page it’s written on

Since it is addressed to you.

You aren’t the first

To trap me in isolating ivory walls

That I assault and I rush

Charging a blind war cry

This isn’t the first glob of spittle

To hit my eye

Do not confuse your illegitimate revenge

With the spit on my face.

*This was written some time ago, and I’ve forgotten about who, if there even was a who. I do not condone assaulting significant others (I was assaulting the ivory walls!) or treating one’s significant other like shit. It’s not cool.

Is monogamy a myth?

Is monogamy a myth?
With the end in sight
Speeding drunken mad man
I stand headstrong ready to smear across the squealing, snorting nose
or dive away at the last second

The gluttonous trip
falling short
They had to admit him to an institution
Wobbling on one leg
He killed himself shortly after
I’ve been there.

Standing outside of towering white house
Suitcase in hand
I can see them tending to the lawn
Raking the dirt
Sitting under shaded oak trees
They aren’t happy
They aren’t.

They sit with the longing memories
of the last pork chop
between their
sagging knees

How to Pick up Women

after a few pots of coffee
I shit like machine gun rounds,
My ass sags like rumple stilts skin
Putrid burning mass graves
Producing poo more impressive
Than poetry
When I meet a woman with a scandalously
Intentioned smile
I become
The fluffy bunny
Doing back flips
For a carrot
And a stroke

I read her a line or two
Prove my artistry
Probe my brain
Probing with chocolate finger
Frantic fanny
“that’s not even that impressive
You should see my shits
Gander the goods.
People come from all around
Towns from the far side
of the world
to seize this masterpiece ”
And when they do
The long tapering snake making its way
From the toilet bowl
Down the hall
And out the front door
That’s what gets me laid.

The end

Flustered faces
Life dependent
In or on that manila folder

But there are no windows
And the walls are white
Styrofoam.

Frazzled fro
You once combed into
A crafted mane

High school, college,
Work
“something must be done”
I remember when you said it
“it feels like so long ago.”

The world was cracking
The shell caving in
And we had to stop it.

I haven’t seen her in ages
At a bar once
The black cocktail dress
Holding her figure
As close as I used to.

I remember the curves of her supple body
And fighting to stay awake
To keep the moment
In our grasp.
Stale in the eyes
That once overwhelmed
Me with vibrancy

Vivacious and vulnerable
Now drained
Running from
What will
wait patiently

The rain drips drips
On their foreheads.
Sagging, stroke victim smile
mixed with lip and grimace.

Wilting crow’s feet
Darkened with the scars of the road
over
two small burlap sacks
Swollen
Void of color

She picks him cherry blossom
And they walk hand in hand
Riding the high

Their
ballpark-urinal teeth
Misfits of the street
Miscreant of society

Walking numb
Dim inebriation
Smiling at colorless
T.V. screen skies

For them it ended a longtime ago
Weary from the race
They stand on the sidelines
They’ve accepted

These Innoccent

I’m a glass, half full, placed and forgotten on the windowsill
I like to watch the boys ride by on their bikes
And feel the sun cook my yoke.

The elements and condensation drains
the prolonged winter freezes me in place
stagnant, stationary
inhibiting dispersion
like dandelion seeds of pomposity
across the Western frontier

I can’t fill myself with the love of the world
But the woman with the pitcher
She has more to get out of life
Than to be the housewife in the apron
Tending to my needs.

I do my best
But sometimes the water drips dry
And all is lost

An old man in his death bed
“NUHRSE!”
Dependency and bigotry
has made us fat , worthless, lazy

“Nurse, please”
Until eventually
All water dries out.

But I was aware from the beginning
All water dries out.
And it isn’t their job
To pave the way to my future

In masculine terms
With their fallen sisters, daughters.
I’d rather falter
Than require
The stepping stones
Made from the cadavers
of these innocent women.