danse macabre - Hello Poetry

Mar 2017

Gidgette

You see, I know what's real and not
To some degree
I know you're lovely,
crazy beautiful,
Honey in the sun

I have eyes
Ears
I know I'm weird
Hell,
I argue with my daughter over which toys are hers and mine
To play with

Ive tasted "store honey"
And "wild honey"

You
Are
Wild Honey

I wish to drip You
On my dry tongue

Steal you,
from the bees

Keep your golden self
In my glass jar

But,

You,
Are
Wild honey

And a dream.....

Mar 2017

Gidgette

The Barter

He bartered for the remnants of my soul with his blue eyes and quick wit
Slashed skin for a sinful grin
As though my seared flesh weren't enough
And his wicked tongue lapped at my inner being
a kitten with milk
He said he liked the cobwebs in place of my locks and offered butterfly wings for my lashes
Sack of diamonds for a soul
Replacing hearts with coal dust and glowing embers
straight from the hell in which he belonged
And I dwelt
He stood agasp when I took the offer and all he held was single piece of dead, dried, flower petal~A

Mar 2017

vivian cloudy

Steakhouse

met a man once
and he took me to a steakhouse
the type where tuxedo men come back
with a twee bite-sized piece of meat on a plate
he ordered my steak for me
and though it glistened
the slab barely satisfied
the crack in my teeth
i was starving
and he kept talking about
business deals
and networking
to the type of cars that make him hard
which one of these thousand ******* forks
is best to stab?
making friends
with a bunch of pruned men
chatting business
he introduced me
she speaks Spanish
how exotic
raw and juicy
STEAK
sure does go well with potatoes
i started ordering loads of wine
when they all agreed that it was time
to make America great again
i downed even more down my throat
‘till I was seeing spuds in Versace
drinks for everyone!
we ordered like five bottles
so drunk
that I started mooing
but if this gasbag ever hopes to get laid
he’ll need to go to the slaughterhouse for that
meanwhile, let the bartender do the milking

Mar 2017

Gidgette

The Ravages Of Time~Less

To age and die
Natural, beautiful
Meant

But for her,
Lain waste to no clock
Only her smile has turned ashen,
Pale,
For what to smile about
When all whom she loved,
Is long since past?

She sits under the Bradford pears
Watching the snow of white, falling petals
Remembering a hundred years ago
When the old downtown was new
The streets were dirt and brick

She remembers a warm August day
When she watched them paint a Lady
on the side of a new, brick building
To advertise Tuxedo Tobacco
A good day then

She goes there still, to look at that Lady
Even the mural gets to fade
But not she

She faces
The Ravages Of Time~Less

Mar 2017

Gidgette

Don't Make Friends With The Dead

Don't make friends
          with
The dead

          We see far more than we should
The thirst for life,
Is
          quite overwhelming,
With us
           We are hungry
No sleep for we
Never any solace
          We are,
That we are
Dead things

                  Ever living

Ever thirsting....

                  For you

Mar 2017

Senor Negativo

If I Possessed True Magic

I would place my hand on your breast
dig my fingers into your flesh
and pull the taint out of your chest.
But, magic's a gift I don't possess.

True Magic
belongs to greater men than me.
I cannot even conjure a simple cantrip.
If I had a bottle or lamp
I'd rub it for you.
But, I have so few possessions,
and I don't think any of them are magical
If a song could invoke or enchant
I would play all day for you,
but I fear it would be wasted energy.
All I have to give to you is prayer.
and prayer is just surrogate magic,
and it doesn't always work.
But, its better than nothing.
And the truth is, it has worked before.

Mar 2017

Lora Lee

timespill

depleted
of energy,
a weight of gold
upon my heart,
its heavy dull luster
pushes down hard
squeezing out
        the light
suffocating
    my staccato
of breath
     I crouch
quietly
in the brush,
the next step in
my process
                 pending
a dense rock
of pendulum
swaying time
  tick ticking
in my blood
cells reaching
the boiling point
just shy
of spilling over
into froth
waiting for
this conundrum
        to unravel,
my inner tigress
about to unfurl
             her heart
    to leap
and pounce
from
   within
into the
  tight
white
          of blinding
snow, the silent
storm of
      the unknown
forever

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2LQdh42neg

Thank you, everyone, for your support and lovely, warm comments!! It is so appreciated <3

Mar 2017

zebra

Cross Road

theres a juncture
a crossroad
ask
Papa Legba
voodoo god
doorway to the loa
and Baudelaire
poet extraordinaire
when youthful passions and eroticism are sullied
and pretty pretty flies away
from years used up
and gravities command
a slow draying
suffocates leaps of consciousness
and leaves in its wake
belly bloats sagging gut
callouses
****** lines
slowing metabolism
and a host of other accumulated degradations

cruel revelations unpeel the chilled soul
as the light of the body is eroded
by time
and the horror of solitude sets in

a conjunction of creeps moon and Venus
show us new enticements
Satan's *** nail
an independent morality
flowers of evil
the eroticism of aesthetic suffering.
like idle hands in something filthy to ******
the glistening buttery *** of youth gone by
and in its place
forbidden undulations of dark dreams
and the beauty of ****** horror

or what then may i ask
the imagine-less drab canvass
of the castrated high minded middle class?

#social #*** #adult #explicit