Thursday, November 04, 2010

the roles we played

how does a woman cum-

a sutra psalm a spoken poem
17 with these sweaty palms
a reoccurring scene
this wannabe man

an 80's romance rerun
manifest in infatuation
climax like heroin
everything you've ever imagined

17 on your bed
this kiss
17 on your bed
kitchen knife your wrists
17 on your bed
or was it mine
telling you that i'd love you
like reagan
or any other b-movie
hetro hero heart-throb

a 90's spectacle breakup
something indie like death

19 on your bed
this blood becoming
19 on your bed
a wish that i was falling
19 on your bed
numb but free
staring not speaking
scribbled plato's reflection
and anarchy
on your wall and flesh

the observer 'comes real
an ad' break from monotony
and then

21 on your bed
without protection
21 on your bed
machinelike penetration
21 on your bed
a daydream of boredom
sleeping until 2pm
the remorse
of a loss of a feeling

no more heros
no more heros

25 in my bed
memory sentimental
25 in my bed
these hands now regretful
25 in my bed
or was that 35
fucked and loved
forgotten and held close
but always gone

never coming back.


Blogger Coral Carter said...

yeah raymondo i loved this at the slam... and it looks even better on the page... you should read more....your reading was better than the week before... practice makes perfect...ha... C X

9:40 AM  
Blogger Jezzebell said...

This mellow thing was a subversive surreptitious explosion of light
The way you held my sacrum that night
The most magnificent delight

How it felt to have and be held
To have and to hold

This is what I felt


You can take me now
And whenever you want

For you know women's bodies
And you smell like sex

And the emancipation
Was better than near death

For I have seen a thousand healers
In attempts to free my soul
And none could ever quite cum close
To the fuel and fire and hot burning coal

For I have seen a thousand moons
And watched a hundred thousand suns
And for the longest time I've waited
To have a want to zip your pants undone

One day I did it.
My hands took over from my brain
Thank God
They moved as if they had their own free spirit and
There was a pause and uh oh? what have I committed?

For My body has all this fucking meaning
Like a goddamned loaded gun
With breasts that for some reason say something
No matter how much I wish there was none

Because if I were a boy I'd fuck like you
And If I were a boy I’d drive a truck too
If I were a boy my arms would feel the surf for hours
And I'd all take the ladies such sweet flowers

I'd skate from fern tree to the tip
And I'd go on crazy alcoholic trips
I'd use my big arms to defend us all in fights
And I'd walk the street all hours of the night

With the sweetest of knowledges that I have no fear of rape
I have no fear of a darkened stranger
Going and hiding behind a hedge like gate

I'd have no fear of stupid old men
Leering their drunken slurry garbles
I'd have no fear of leacherous leering douche bags with
Smelly moustached words

I'd have no fear of being felt up in a clothes shop
Nor have some freaky stranger stare at my chest singing about bumps in bad hip hop

I'd have no freakin' fear about loss of life, loss of blood, loss of something so deep it can't be re done. Like a flowers bud

(For) I know the way to knit.
The way to sew
The way to mend
Because I've done it for awhile
Sometimes it has sent me round the fucking bend

Anyway I digress now
But fuck it
It's my own goddamned poem
Basically sex is fucking awesome and truly beautiful
and fucking terrifying at the same time.

9:56 PM  

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