Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

20 Housecoats / The Dog Sleeps Outside

It’s no longer burn the witch it’s drown the virgin purity only attainable when it’s served as a death dessert, martyr Mary do you understand TV dinners made the housewife go extinct or berserk, I think that’s how it goes catching their heads in ovens as protest but listening came in through the door as a catcall, festering on ottoman chairs smoking that new cigarette with a cautionary tale at bedtime the ends  being ground, like the beef that we’re all guilty of starting between sighs, or the coffee beans blistered trying to come up with an excuse as to why high heels won’t break that man’s spine, and it won’t in that new suit he’s so possessive of because he paid for it with the sweat of his back as the gaggle of his fellow businessmen scuffle over who gets to lick the perspiration that earned him that respect, that bought the privilege of feeling like a man that stands out from the wolves in offices, waiting at midnight for the froth to begin to foam and to claw at reasons why the bed is always empty when he’s everything everyone wants to be and I think you begin to sympathize, I think you begin to understand why balancing a ballpoint pen between your forefinger and thumb is equally as drinking the cup half full the modern man with his chiseled teeth and overt way of speaking throws up at the American Dream, standing naked in the glory of publicity fame there’s too much lights, the makeup is too intense the crown of jezebels Belongs to the hardworking man with the unkempt lawn, and the natural features of a god it’s no longer burn the witch it’s freeze the whore while they stand flirting with the boondocks trapping fireflies and weak Christians in their hair and will you listen to me now? as the hordes of provoked believers stand in crowded bars and in your own home fucking themselves mentally as they chew and spit into each other’s mouth what they’ve always wanted to hear and the pleasure comes from not knowing and not wanting to know and will you touch me now? that the fantasy is created in your own image and will you worship me now? that I agree with these shackles telling me that they were always meant to be there that bondage is next to holiness and will you accept me now? that the book has been rewritten and the villain is not you nor me but the refrigerator with the lizard that tempted humankind and banished them from ever entering paradise again and will you fuck me now? that comedy is only worth in whoever has the longest tongue
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
nosebleedbaby
For You?
Written by
nosebleedbaby
Published
Jun 5, 2017
Lines·Words
73·455
Notes

in order to understand you must first listen.

Tags
#feminism#absurdist#political#ideas#thoughts#businessmen#witch#witchcraft#post#modernism#women#depression#society#death#sex#anxiety#love#marxist#absurdism#life
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell nosebleedbaby how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write