the moment he turned
and walked away
our world became peckinpah
i can no longer discern
whose blood
my hands are weeping over
Tag: Fire
when you find the corner
of contentment & vine
chaos comes as a dark-eyed lover
yellow cab splashing
through the crosswalk puddle
leaving you nothing but dripping regrets
and the keys to an apartment building
still burning
it is too much to ask of existence
for it to have meaning
we greedy humans
perpetually asking why
as if we deserve an explanation
drawn to illuminating answers
like moths to flame
yet the moth knows
antennae to wing tip
there is nothing to know
but the euphoria found within
temporary light
i’m tired of being treated like a dirty hooker
because i feel free
to voice my opinions
joke
use clever little double entendres
assert myself as a woman
who admires the human form
both male and female
and shockingly
even my own voluptuous body
so i have dared to post photos of it
.
write poems
produce art
which express my feelings freely
.
i’m tired of waking up every morning
to private messages on facebook
from seemingly educated
and mostly married men
left in a drunken stupor
or on a predatory whim
hey baby
wanna fuck
cunt dick pussy
or various combinations thereof
.
no
no i don’t
nor do i want you to cum on my face
or any other part of my body
.
these digital pussies wouldn’t have the balls to behave in such a way
to my face
but social media and the internet
removes the barrier of decorum
it invites subterfuge, sickness, and depravity
desecration becomes acceptable
redefines morays
.
i have a folder in which i keep
eight years worth of facebook sexual violations
for legal record
which contains 71 unwanted dick pics
and two sets of tits
let’s not leave out the ladies
.
i have one creep who leaves nasty messages on my blog
using several different names
but the idiot doesn’t know
i traced his ip address
preparing for war
in a folder of every infraction
funny how serious they take internet stalking these days
.
and he’s not the first
and he won’t be the last
but this is a defect
of the information age
.
the criminal inside your home
invited by your mere existence
.
i didn’t ask for any of this
.
but i refuse to be less me
to accommodate their disease
.
this behavior speaks to the abuser
the vile betrayer
and says nothing about me
.
but what i will no longer do
is be polite
for the sake of decorum and decency
as these individuals
have never extended
those courtesies to me
.
so the next time you feel so inclined
prepare for the my wrath
prepare to receive
exactly what you deserve
vengeance
just before
i take my leave
when this darkness with teeth
decides to mutate
into a virus communicable
via air
which is
an evolutionary inevitability
we will see it
cure the obesity epidemic
in our country
human bug bombs will drop
from the militarized skies
over infected zones
as freely
as an october tree
sheds its walnuts
a futile effort to stop
the contagion
come to think of it
eventually
it will cure
everything
with gaia’s fire
even
religion
save one junkie cockroach
who’ll still be watchin’
a sons of anarchy marathon
and bootin’
black tar heroin
i’ve painted all of it
on the ceiling of the library dome in alexandria
to study the profane scope
better understanding the history
the higher i ascend
through falling ashes
this is what i know
my interpretation of the pattern
you only acknowledge the sacred
as you seek to destroy it
you’re sick
pathological
oh
how
you take such pride in your trophies
heads mounted on the wall
all wearing your mother’s pearls
the manner in which your
opossum eyes delight
in fresh kill
wax romantic about your bloody left hand
as you arrange dead flowers
i’m impervious ever since
you gouged out my ability
to experience pathos
if your derby hat was on fire
i would douse it
with kerosene
since the middle ages
the catholic clergy
have raped more children
than they’ve built churches
and i fail to understand
why every diocese
has not been burned to the ground
the remaining faithful
rebuilding toward heaven
without the shadow of sin
nihil obstat
every staircase
we climbed together
led to hell
or an inferno above a thai restaurant
he had the repulsive habit
of loudly blowing his nose at each public table
at which we were seated
once clearing out an entire candle lit section
of a romantic friday night bistro
with his cloth napkin terrorism
he seemed to know he should excuse himself
but i could see that sadistic twinkle
in his eye
enjoying the disgust he inflicted
that was the point
when the southern lady i am
could tolerate no more
of the incessant rudeness
despite his massive talents
being a troll is unbecoming
even for a poet
i snapped up sharply
grabbing my clutch
snarling through clenched teeth
“You vile pig, why don’t you just take a shit on the table?”
storming toward the coat check girl
and my better sensibilities
regarding acceptable etiquette
an impromptu exit
on 55th street in Chicago
i disappeared from his life
in an old checkered yellow cab
never again to return
not even a phone call
to him
every hole
in a woman’s body
is an invitation to violence
ears are for filling with bile
the mouth is for gagging
the tongue will scream until it is cut out
lips for splitting with fists
the sex organ and anus
interchangeable
meant only for acts of desecration
in the temple
the stench of his sickness
mixing with old lady perfume
filling your nose
as he guts you
his final act
waxing romantic
about telling his mother
“I hope you get cancer of the eyes”
as your bride of frankenstein flesh dies
left to rot in the square
for all the pitch fork and torch bearing
townspeople to behold
yet he is overjoyed
with his trophies left behind
some red nail polish
a few lipsticks
and our clothing
hanging carcasses
in his meat locker closet
as he made sure all of us wore
his perfect dress size