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Catman Cohen May 2014
Hours
Spent
Straightening her
Tangled blonde hair

Thousands
Spent
Taming her
Wild
Golden locks

Ages
Spent
In front of a
Dishonest
Mirror

That lied
And lied again
About her
Beauty
Within

Don’t you know
Those curls are a treasure
My curly friend?

When I play with them at
Night

Again
And
Again

Wrapped round my fingers
Feeling your original curly sin

Don’t you know
Those curls are a pleasure
My curly friend?

As they tickle my
Soul
In their
Serpentine
Intent

I want to mess your
Proper blonde
Into a wild naked disarray
Curls and more
Curls
A field of windswept
Growth

I want to bury my nostrils
Into the heady bare
Perfume
Of your silent
Curly
Oath

And
I
Won’t
Let
You

No,
I
Won’t
Let
You

Defile those curls

Again
Catman Cohen May 2014
Stop resenting me
For the way I shop
The things I do
To make sure
My  food is fresh

I confess I feel blueberries
In my fingers
To make sure they are firm
Not too ripe

I confess I shake
Cans of spaghetti and ravioli
So that I know
The sauce is not
Congealed

I confess I pull  frozen waffles
From the back of the freezer
Less likely that they thawed
And refroze into
Oddball shapes

I confess I smell trout
Before I buy it
Placing it against my nose
In the most unabashed
Way

Spare me your hate
About my consumer habits
When I know it has nothing to do with
Food

As long as I bring you warm release
In the darkness of your desires
Pull your tangled hair the way
You like
Bite your darting tongue
In mad hunger
Deep appetite

As long as I reawaken the
Woman
Primal animal hidden
Within
Turn your heat into a river
For a long passionate
Swim

As long as I attend quickly to your
Every ***** command
The craving of your ******
Insatiable
Demand

Then  I can squeeze french bread
In quiet and peace
I can sniff cantaloupes
Without suffering ire
Or grief

I’ll take you tonight
In that filthy way
You like

Until then

Leave me alone

I’m shopping.
Catman Cohen May 2014
You stole my shirt again
The one with stains
Beneath my armpits

You lied and said
The shirt somehow fell
Into your suitcase

A dark black shadow
That hurled itself off a cliff
And landed inside your
Sad blonde soul

And when you sleep alone at night
In the naked stretch of your wine-soaked skin

Do you smell my harsh manly aroma
In the pillow of your theft?

Do you wet yourself in the taste of
The baby felons we might make?

Do you imagine yourself wearing
My body
Upon the sharp thrusts of my
Contempt
And
Love?

For a liar, a thief, a fetishist for
Fabric
That revives memories
Of lust long faded

You stole my shirt again
The one  that has faint traces
Of your drool, in the way you
Drip yourself upon me
In the hot slumber of your
Babbling incoherent dreams

Give me back my shirt
It was a present from my sister
Who rarely bought me anything
Except for a blue cotton candy
Vivid blue
Like your icy sullen eyes
In the childhood
Of my lonely
Indelible
Lament
Catman Cohen May 2014
There’s a gun upon my bed
Not the kind made of metal
A vivid tattoo color
Above my lover’s
Secret devil

And that gun is like a demon
Aimed toward her pleasure zone
Urging hunters to take a shot
And take the trophy
Home

I see blood upon the doorstep
I smell ****** in her fold
I  fear ghosts will haunt her body
In the bullets I have sown

I hear hungry infants crying
The ones she gave away
And the ******* she is hiding
Are my regrets from yesterday

I feel the gun blazing
As she ***** my breath away
I’m a hostage to her body
In the mayhem
She  purveys

In the middle of the night
I’ll make my escape
Run, run, run
Run away

I’ve got to run

In the middle of the night
When her back is turned
Run, run, run
Run away

I’ve got to run

There’s a gun upon my bed
It belongs to my baby
Burned deep inside her
On a night she went
Crazy

And every time I think
I’ll flee
Her dangerous painted gun
She draws it against me
And I feel myself succumb

I see blood upon the doorstep
I smell ****** in her fold
I  fear  ghosts will haunt her body
In the bullets I have sown

I hear hungry infants crying
The ones she gave away
And the ******* she is hiding
Are my regrets from yesterday

Save me from her gun
She’ll never let me go
Save me from drowning
In her young and wanton soul

I’ve got to run
But there’s a gun

My baby won’t let me go.
Catman Cohen May 2014
When she stepped out of the shower
In pale wet skin
And splendor

She wore water like a queenly robe
Dripping *******
Made of gold and treasure

Such beauty deserved
To be inscribed
Something no man should forget

In case I couldn’t memorize the bite of her
Kiss
The trembling release of her depth

In case I might forget the flavor of  her
Cries
The  excited rasp of her  breath

I needed a photo of that naked pout
A vision
Never to forget

“Don’t take my picture,”
She warned me
In ferocious warrior tongue
Daughter of Nordic barbarians
Beauty unlike anyone

What did she think I would do
With the image she might surrender?

Sell it to the highest bidder
For thirty pieces of silver?

Send it to perverts and *** addicts
Specialists in self-pleasure?

Post it on church walls
So celibates might be tempted?

Raise it upon a flag
For an entire nation to be offended?

“Don’t take my picture,”
She warned me
In ferocious warrior tongue
Daughter of Nordic barbarians
Beauty unlike anyone

But I defied her fierce instruction
Spit from heroic luscious lips

Picture snapped
In a flash

Naked beauty captured
At last

And

Never saw that warrior again.
Catman Cohen May 2014
She called herself London
On that day
She fell from the sky
Child of apple blossoms
Dancing wildly
Into your mind

The snake that hung from her neck
Bites your hand
Expels you from Eden
Tears into the cool flesh
Of your madness
Posing as reason

London
Kisses you like a sweet lover
As though she really cares
Lets you
Taste the passionate orchard
In her body’s secret lair

London
Wrestles with all your demons
Nothing quite compares
To the pain
The indecent pleasure
In the waters that you share

Her name was London
Call her London

She called herself London
On that night
She prayed to the moon
Apollo’s lyre
Played darkly
In a portent
Of your own doom

The hell she hides
In her soul
Toxic drug you’ll never escape
You crave the milk of her touch
Her strange and dangerous ways

London
Kisses you like a sweet lover
As though she really cares
Lets you
Taste the passionate orchard
In her body’s secret lair

London
Wrestles with all your demons
Nothing quite compares
To the pain
The indecent pleasure
In the waters that you share  

Her name was London
Call her London

My baby, London
Call her London
My moon-girl, London
Call her London

I love her, London
Call her London
Forever, London

I call her London……
Catman Cohen May 2014
You’re a 3AM
Wake up call
With another sob story
About the latest boy
Who pumped you
Then dumped you
And left you
In a sweaty lonely pile
Upon another
Empty bed

And you cry
Baby girl tears
All over my phone
And you wonder why handsome
Boys
With shining white  teeth
With full heads of curly black hair
With six-pack stomachs
And  tight muscular
Rear ends
Can not be more like
Mature
Older
Men

“Just like you,”
Baby girl says
“Just like you.”

And you cry
Baby girl tears
All over my phone
And you wonder why reckless
Boys
Who party all night
Who down countless ***** shots
Who shout “muthafukka,” “dude,” "******,"
And other raucous
Victory chants
Can not be more like
Mature
Older
Men

“Just like you,”
Baby girl says
“Just like you.”

You want me to empathize
You want me to criticize
The nasty boys
Who took you for another
Cruel and pointless ride

You want me to father you
In a way he never did

But I’m sorry
Baby girl
I’m sorry

I can’t

Because I admire and envy those
Boys
In the prime of their life
Not yet defeated
Not yet haunted
Not yet beaten
By the disappointments that
Await

They are a national treasure
A precious resource

From the exuberant crude shouts of
Irrational wild boys
Come the builders of shelter
The providers of sustenance
The conquerors of enemies
The explorers of frontiers

From the exuberant crude shouts of
Irrational boys
Come the daring adventurers
The first one into the burning house
The last one out of the burning house
The one still standing when everybody else
Fled

From the insatiable ***** of such
Irrational wild boys
Come the fierce wild girls
Who dance insanely upon tables
Who run naked through the streets
Who make love without limits
In open fields
Upon damp grass
All through the night

From the insatiable *****  of such
Irrational wild boys
Come the fierce wild girls
Who cat-fight for their lover
Who **** for their children
Who wail passionately for their dead

From such boys
Baby girl
From such boys

You were born into the world

My crazy baby girl
You were born into the world
Like father, like daughter

And if I could be that young wild boy
Again
The one that you hate
And love
In such a maniacal way

It would be an honor to be with you

An honor to hold you
An honor to love you

Until my dying day.
Catman Cohen May 2014
Rose hips lady
Your field is ripe
Bury my torn body
In that rain-soaked night

Taste those sweet confessions
On your baby breath
Lift this wounded flag
Into your burning nest

Oh, yes, I will
I will

Rose hips lady
Your field is ripe
Bury my torn body
In that rain-soaked night

Tame the roaring tiger
Never lets you rest
Take my last reward
From your moonlit *******

Oh, yes, I will
I will

Daddy’s gone hunting
He’s gone away
Daddy’s gone hunting
Won’t be back for days

Left you with a lover
Makes a shrine
Of your skin

Left you with a lover
Takes you down
Roads of sin

Left you all alone
Alone

And the knots cut deep
Through the musk and flesh
Of hot regret
And the love you need
It’s a shadow
Never lets you rest

You release the Beast
From a well that’s wet
You will confess
That the love you need
It’s a shadow
Never lets you rest

Rose hips lady
Aaaaaah......
Catman Cohen May 2014
In dreams I appear and take her
Down a path she dares not wander
In a town beset by plunder
I shake her blood and bone

In dreams she asks my guidance
How to live in holy silence
Beyond the anger of her father
Enrich her mind and soul

Hold me inside all the night
Your leader’s your baby
Hold me inside all the night
Your teacher loves you crazy

In dreams she feels me beside her
As I stoke her female fire
In a world that feels so lonely
I fill her need and hope

In dreams I appear and take her
On wings of heaven’s power
Beyond tears that stain her pillow
She takes my love and poem.

Hold me inside all the night
Your leader’s your baby
Hold me inside all the night
Your teacher loves you crazy

Hold me
Catman Cohen May 2014
Don’t send me more
Of your tragic poems
My dear
Covered in blood
Of your monthly flood
Of tears

Don’t send me more
Of your angry poems
My dear
Carved with the knife
Of your molten spite
And fears

I’m just a peddler
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

Don’t send me more
Of your bitter poems
My sweet
Forged in the fire
Of your endless ire
And grief

Don’t send me more
Of your hopeless poems
My sweet
Ripped from the womb
Of the lonely room
You keep

I’m just a peddler
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

(You see that shadow on the road
Trudging ‘neath its heavy load
A heart weighed down by sands of time
And your poems only make him cry
And he won’t add them to the pile
So he can walk another mile)

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

(They make him sad
Make him cry
Beat him down
Deep inside)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

They make me sad
Make me cry
Feel as though
I want to die

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

(A heart weighed down
By sands of time
And your poems
Only make him cry)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

— The End —