I could scratch myself to the bone,
drown in a bucket of vodka if left too long
to my own devices.
he arrived like a seizure,
coiling a pompous moustache
as if coiling could squirm out narcissism.
he hijacked my face to the ceiling
now he's jerking off on my chagrin;
says he wants to marry at the mouth of the Lord
if only I could look into his eyes
wide as spiders.
we raced twig boats in swelled creeks,
slipped in mud; five litres brawn
all up in my tease.
I was stripped down to a cough
before our reunion
bareback on a pinto
sliding my hand up and down a rocket
plump with persuasion.
still a snake-charmer.
his syrup-breath saved to memory
after he took me in his mouth,
my pink so neon you could see it glow
from the yard.
those cameos sucked my fingers
salt-dry, without the madness of guilt
or grizzly paws making mince
out of every girl he comes across.
he surrounds me without a body
banging against the gate.
sends a shipwreck of letters,
a thimbleful of semen
to repel the competition.
I don't want to muse over him,
but if I must,
know I'd use the ax to grind a story
he'd forget why he was there.
12 Jan 16
Rated 9.7 (10) by 3 users.
Active (3): 10
Inactive (2): 9, 10, 10, 10
(define the words in this poem)
(71 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
Semen in a thimble you say.
What a super business idea, Jen.
Please say it was engraved.
I'm thinking worldwide mailing... valentine's day...
There's too much here to take in so I'll just admire your indulgences.
"pink so neon" a wee gem
I will definitely work on a patent for the thimbles.
engraving, now that's some out-of-the-box thinking!
what would you like yours to say?
my brain is a snowstorm.
thanks for indulging :)
This could be a thin white duke. I'm stuck thinking about that Phoenix character though :-(
Nice poem and good to read you again. Beaver is a euphanism for vag in your parts of the world, no? Not here really but probably because we don't have beavers.
Burger maybe? Or so my sons think is funny. Burger creek doesn't have quite the same ring (?) though. Fries with your creek? An upgrade?
Just being silly.
Hey Polly, glad you had a jab at it.
Well, I was watching Her before I decided to write and he did sort of inspire me in that movie but it's best he's left out. He was really just a decoy. Fitting a title for this was not easy for me and I still don't like what I've got here. Yes you're correct that beaver is also vag, which is sad really because the beaver is our National animal, lol. We have all kinds of beaver type businesses in Canada too, like "Beaver Cleaners" dry cleaning and "Giant Beaver Publications", but most don't associate it with female genitalia, and those who do find it all hysterical.
The title is actually the name of a prison. But it's creek not creak. See my pathetic attempt to title this? Haha. I think this will though. I really like fries with your creak though.
Thanks so much for reading. Any suggestions them fly at me. :)
A prison or a creaking beaver.
Either or both are quite cool. Anti -establishment?
We do very average bird watching in this country. Sparrows and the like. My stepfather used to call sparrows, sparrots. Very cute. He learned his own version of English. My sis and I incorporate it into our own language, even now.
Not a hundred percent sure what this poems about, so couldnt offer much in the way of suggestion, but its mysterious and what's more, an ax grinding story teller always appeals to me.
good flow, jen. ;-)
lol. At least beavers are kinda cute. Following that example we'd all have kangaroos in our knickers and that could be a problem indeed.
Hahaha! Polly flinders that was very smart! Roos in your knickers, lol.
I'd hoped by revealing the reason behind the title you'd have a better idea what this is about. That's ok. As writers we often assume our shit's clear as day.
So...Man in prison 22 years. Getting set for release... Childhood friends reunite. They fall in lust for a summer. She gives him the benefit of the doubt because she doesn't know the full story and she's naive and it's been 2 decades. She eventually realizes he's one sick dude and she bolts; she feels ashamed; he goes ballistic.
have you seen that movie the maze runner?
something made me think of that but i'm not sure what.
now you've explained it to me it makes me think about what we can be responsible for and what we cannot. like the maze runner.
and like the maze runner, once that is determined, what do we then have left to work with.
it's a sad tale. not the benefit of the doubt part, people usually deserve that. the disappointment the n must have felt at having her trust violated is sad.
is it a true story?
Yes I've seen the maze runner, well most of it. Just watched the Scotch Trials but I wasn't overly impressed, hehe...or I wasn't in the right mood. I think I see what you mean but it requires more thought and I've had too many glasses of sibling rivalry tonight. :)
It's sad to know how crafty some people are at manipulation that's for sure. Yes it's inspired by true events. ive always been interested in psychos and prison stories. I might write one.
This story is very interesting with lots of creep and mystery :)
Prison stories don't interest me that much. I'm related to (and know) too many people who have been in one, lol. Kidding! Or not!
Prison would be boring I think. Aside from the some sort of topia aspect. Heterotopia ? Something like that. Some focault thing.
Thanks for the chat, Jen.
And I did enjoy your poem.
I haven't actually heard the term heterotopia but it's meaning is obvious. I think prison would be boring too but only after all danger signs had disappeared; fear would quell boredom for me.
Kingston Penetetiary is Ontarios most notorious. Broken windows, birds in rafters, ghosts...they closed it down a couple years ago and now it's a museum. I'm going to check it out one day. My best friend's brother spend half his life there. Creeeepy.
plenty of nice moves in this. the first 3 lines, though well written, do not seem to fit. I was also surprised to see the word "like" in 26 as I don't recall any of your past poems creating the metaphor with that word. as a matter of fact, I try to avoid that when I write because of you :)
a phrase using "like" or "as" is a simile.
backwards I am
hi james, thanks for reading. I had to laugh when i read your comment about the simile. so true! i agonized over that for days and you totally know how i write, which is pretty cool. i allowed it only because i felt it wasn't a real obvious move, and not so heinous. sometimes our strict rules of the past don't seem so necessary now, but only occasionally. I mean, I could totally remove 'like' and the poem would not suffer. true?
as for your thoughts regarding the first stanza, you are quite right. this was an experiment for me to write apart from the story as an intro, the now, and to exit the story reflecting these feelings by going back to the present moment. so, if you read the first three lines and the last three lines, you will see what i mean. however, if it doesn't work it doesn't work. :)
i really appreciate your comments and feedback! Thanks James :)
Line after line there is so much to take away from this piece. I think the detail in line 8 is painfully powerful: "jerking off on my chagrin"
It's so rare that people understand their relation to anyone else. It's something I'm learning all over again. You happened to show that disconnect so well.
Those DAMNED creaking BEAVERS!
Still musing? A musing?
L8 - Have you used similarly before? Swear I've seen chagrin similarly used previous context?
The words are all there for this but feels lacking. Maybe it's supposed to feel lacking? Maybe it is in accordance with sexually charging something in reference to shadows.
The shadow makes you believe it is there when it is not. It was just a limb, some leaves... sunlight behind laundry, hanging from a line.
Late at night an owl calls to me from the woods beyond my house. Within my ears, it resonates as a child.
I can not sleep.
Hi Old sock, I don't know, I'm pretty sure this is the first time my chagrin's been jerked off on. Can't say it rings a bell anywhere else, but interesting that it's familiar to you.
maybe it's because you did it too but in a dream, and you didn't call it anything at the time. ;)
lacking is so very accurate. what sense you mean could be different in what I mean, though your description of the leaves, shadows and some laundry really touch on what I portray here. like a fleeting moment. if there was more feeling, it would be a different poem for sure.
thanks for reading. i'm not really a musing. but working on stuff. :)
O fine. I like it.
It's been edited since you first read it g-nome, and you like?
As an improvement?
Nothing beats hello, bill, I can never get that back. I mean, who WAS that?? Hahaha. *sheds tear