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“every man wants to be a tyrant when he fornicates"— marquis de sade (philosophy in the boudoir)
in murky region of my mind flickers shanty town of wickedness and all who burn betray me are tortured murdered buried on outskirts of this moot province not entirely devoted to revenge shadows dart lascivious exchanges shadow economy back alley shenanigans soundproof rooms filled with hunger for beautiful women sole source of my arousal female lust japanese silk braided ropes bowls hoses drop-clothes vibrating toys anticipating mischievous acts town’s folk love esteem me applaud my fiercest turpitude fathers offer their daughters mothers perfume girls with wild flowers in their hair whispering accommodating instructions ultimately i decline their generous offerings opting instead for steadfast soul confidante accomplice closer in age she knows how to mommy my genitals get me off and i the same for her churning simmering caldron of desires dazzling aromas through center of town runs sacred blue river constantly replenishing innocence upon dust filth criminality also many enchanting bridges connecting dark side to bright side in elegant rundown art museum hang several of my paintings next to jackson ******* ad reinhardt anselm kiefer gerhard richter albert pinkham ryder francisco goya susan rothenberg and public library shelves brim with volumes of my writings next to james joyce william faulkner sophocles sylvia plath rainer maria rilke milan kundera franz kafka gabriel garcia marquez thomas bernhard patrick suskind  pablo neruda oriana fallaci annie proulx lydia davis during mornings everyone busies themselves making things practicing yoga swimming cooking friends gather for lunch munch comically gossip about previous night’s dramas in afternoon go back to their interests at sunset all citizenry come together look to west watch fiery orange globe sink beyond purple mountains wonder reflect sniff their fingers as night falls on little village each goes about deciding what to wear then meet for cocktails in local taverns and commotion begins
Robin Carretti Dec 2016
He's singing
Bergdorf Blonde
Conde Nast Traveller
Rude or ****
Explode Bombshells.
He's singing I'm getting
married
Such a Pushover puppet?

Slave over the silken magnet
Oh so swift and swell let
the show begins

Those ritual love sin's
Miss Polly String smile say cheese
He's the Maneater enticing grins
His Trump Tower bell?
Oh! Hello Poetry
People like twin packing
Playgirl smooching
her lips pillow talk

The puppet stalk
their suitcases, but surprisingly
she falls down and trips
Play up your string's
Love act of rings
Her killer lace went into his face.
They all had a puppet inside.

A daredevil ride
Nowhere to hide
Las Vegas Nevada,
Like no other place.
She was in her prime
Diva,
Donna so Dollie, he had
a craving bank her they all
had to thank him
The foursome the Follie's
Do him
Torn to be so trendy
Such a spendy

Walmart of walnuts
Two amazing dollies
She's the magazine of
Italian Fendi.
Pulling her hair more flair
The whole shebang cashew's
Pushed by his split so
picky pecans.
How it went to her
Big little liar nephew's.
Like puppet curfews
  Hello, Poetry New.
The white wedding blue's
Magnifying big lip's.
He needed a Holly-doll
The next clue?
Silk strings taped up
That puppet took a mighty
long trip...

Did I say plastic puppet is real porcelain skin faces?

Playgirl's cries needed
a dominating diet
Hefner smoking jacket suit

What a demonstration,
pulling on hemming mini
skirt trims chances
dangerously slim
So condemning
caused a riot.
The other crowd what
Oscar Meyer Wiener.
Going to the Vet doggie collar he
was tied to be fit silk suit
Las Vegas show trainers.
Who got caught with the puppet
Honey tricked peanut butter playgirl
Puppet show went all hobbit
over "Twitter" mixed whirl
        
What a nut sometimes you feel
like a nut
sometimes you won't and she
knows you don't

The rest going to H---.
Must I B dreaming?

He's singing I'm your puppet man,
Elephant nose cleaned out the planter's
Such a big spender and tipper.
Brooklyn his name Lucas @ the circus!

Like a physic knows your inner thoughts,
hanging on a string.
Everything that comes out of his mouth is two!

I have a puppet surfing the internet
wrapped her around
Felt an undercurrent_ it was
like pieces of glass
soundproof,
his crafty fingers.

Is he doing the best he can?

He's pulling her madly
Puppet computer search
Penny the dreadful
He expects us to jump when
he's oversexed active
looking for his puppet chair,
in the back.
A ****-day puppet!
He's the pig face twilight zone
muppet's
Well doing the can-can two
Playgirl's
hit the fan
The puppets became
the Gentleman

  Playgirl's shuffling "Rose" deck
   Hollywood screen bedding
    Puppets skillful  making

        The Poem Day.
         Puppets pray
         String cheese display

Obsessed stories Puppets.

Playgirl's color gypsy Rose Leah  
Miss Natalie from the woods preach
Silken Marionette.  
So wrapped like someone's gift
But used thrifty bed
He's in his red-hot Corvette.
Instead of roses, his thing french brie
Stock market up and away tie
I rather have my pasta bow-ties
Swiss, the air she's the playgirl
  Swiss Alp's skiing
he ripped his pant's Swiss Alps hole.
Marilyn Monroe playgirl presidential
dancing on the Christmas pole
Love tropic Pineapple dole
  The bed red hot Corvette. console

Instead of roses, his thing was cheese.
"So Swiss" with holes of lace my face
I hate to burst your cheese,
He dragged his shirt open

Twice the fun playgirl she eloped
I became his string cheese pet!!
I'm not your string cheese.
Hello Godzilla, puppet collection
Bella bella Genie mozzarella

"Puppet overpriced sales
All your friends are a puppet male.
Make a wish blowfish

In all the year how I tracked men's nuts,
she had to string together nut job's,
eat a string cheese.
Polly didn't want animal crackers,
Groucho became like a ******.

The puppet master showing
his game piece
and pull on someone else's
This is kinda playful and with quite strings of an edge
Andrew Rueter  Apr 2018
Rhythm
Andrew Rueter Apr 2018
She may be our metronome mother
But when was rhythm first discovered?
Did ancient nomads hear it in the sounds of walking?
Did they like how it sounded over them talking?
Did they view the melody
As a felony?
And start to sway their hips
To the crack of whips?
Maybe that wasn't good enough
Maybe we needed more stuff
So we started crossing swords
To create more violent chords
That interested us more

Violence has a catchy hook
That can't be found in a book
But started with a ***** look
Until our brain begins to cook
And we learn to love the beat
As the harmony depletes
We take concert seats
At a darkness feast

There's an iambic pentameter
In the middle eastern theater
That sounds all too familiar
The troubling treble
Of mothers screaming
While superpowers meddle
And innocence is leaving
The reaper is reaping
To a situation heating
Empathy fleeting
Fascist seating
Rhythm beating

Our soundproof homes
Create acoustic cones
That our cries can't escape
Taking the container's shape
Filling our mind
Until we're blind
And only see political teams
Instead of childhood dreams

We fall into a rhythm
Based on deadly decisions
With lethal precision
Like surgical incisions
That don't make us healthy
But support the wealthy
Who whistle a different tune
That will **** us all soon
And as the world crumbles
Their bellies still rumble
Creating a disruptive bass
Their music we must face
With an impossible grace
Or else we'll be replaced

I hear instruments of percussion
Causing concussions
Deflecting discussions
Making us harmfully dance
So we'll have a fair chance
Which seems wrong at first glance
But it's actually a pragmatic trance
Provided by Mister Rhythm
Who carries misery with him
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
Sunflower Girl  Jan 2016
INFJ
Sunflower Girl Jan 2016
I see you.
Hiding behind your flesh
Raw and red and utterly human
Hidden
Afraid
I am hidden too.
Looking through glass windows
Reaching out to touch cold panes
And never reaching past them
Because to do so I would have to break them
Reveal so much
Reveal pain
Or maybe beauty
But who can say?
Mixed together in my conflicting, confusing mind
Pain and beauty and lover and passion and anger
In soundproof walls
Would it be too much?
Silence broken, revealing the truth
My truth
I see your truth, partially
But what does it feel like?
Mine is fast and unrelenting. Warm and cold.
Loving,
But lonely.
Will anyone ever know the worlds I create?
The lives
The hearts
The stories
And will I ever know yours?
Because I am stuck inside cold Windows
And though I love it,
I love the sun too.
Mystery Girl Feb 2016
They say your eyes are windows to your soul
Well I got blackout curtains
My feelings will not get out
I got soundproof walls
This is the end of it
No more peeping toms
Or ears pressed to doors
No one will ever know
What hides inside of me
Me secrets and my past
Are mine and mine alone now
Those who know will know
But those who know nothing
Will be left in the dark
With the bright exterior I will display
Poetic T Aug 2015
She was beauty personified, but in truth
She was a wish upon a star,
Like folk lore of times before,
Buttons blue,
Straw veined,
Cloth used from plague victims before, she was
Diseased,
Afflicted,
Unclean
Of mind and body that would bind a soul
Vilified by what was sewn in before,
She played her part well, A real girl,
But the toll on a father now frail and bone,
Two sisters not of blood
And a mother not her own,
A father pasted on midnights charm,
Was it cinders or the sisters?
No one knows.

"Sisters two. What time does mothers clock chime,

And for those words in the basement mother kept,
but old houses have space in walls,
And cinders spied on all,
The letter came of a dance at princes hall.

"We three shall dance the heart of the prince,
"My daughters two,
"One will be queen and we shall rule,

Cinderella anger spent, now just vengeance,
She called upon the one who brought her life,

"Fairy godmother,
"Entombed am I to the palace,
"I must dance,

"My child birthed from my wanton words,
"I will gift you freedom,

As a wand did flourish and skin was nicked,
Blood will birth your desire as arcane words were spoke,

"Let the rats be you steads as black as night,
"Eyes redder than blood moons night,
"The pumpkins out of season but will have to do,
What of a dress my mother of magic?

As barley cloth did hide modesties touch, I have
Suffered this indignity for far to long I need to be
As I was when flesh did grant upon my touch.

"A dress from the blues of your eyes,

As whispers and smoke descended
Out of tatters did beauty radiate,
A goddess seen in all men's eyes.

"Beware the time little one,
"At midnights moon,
"The Twelve chimes shall undo this magic's words,

Upon steeds and a carriage crimson orange
She travelled though ranchers wood,
And the kingdoms castle did reach upon the clouds

"Introducing,
Are you on the list,

Cinders  looked for witnesses at what was to perspire?
And blood specks did taint the floor,
As wiped was the shard, a heel diamond  
That cut like a  guillotine upon soft flesh.
In awe were those who saw her beauty,
A Princes attention taken from sisters two,

"My lady, pardon your name.

"Cinders kind sir,
"Would you like to partake in a dance,

The moments were gaining pace,
As midnight was about to grace, lips so near to touch.
Chimes counted down as Cinders ran,
A slipper did slip it fell.

"I will find you my beauty,

As steeds did squeak,
Pumpkin did fester and burst covering
Cinders now once again tattered clothes.

In the basement found tears did pour,

"Mother cinders is here filth and all,

Then the knock of authority did strike upon the door,
Unlocked,
Forgotten,
Released
Was cinders from her hell hole,
The prince did enter this home
Crystal slipper in his gentle hold.

My ladies please would you honour one with a foot,
As one did try then another,
Mother did try but size twelve was her foot.
Is there another to greet this glass as a whisper came
Though another door,
A shoe was passed through shy was she,
A farce to make the princes curiosity peek,
Mother and daughters rushed in and words did speak,
Then silence for moments,
Is in the room shard did cut upon flesh and
Mother,
Sisters,
Blood
Not of her own did spill, And into the basement limp
Bodies blooded fell.
As glass touched foot,upon the spell,
A dress did knit on her body well.

"Dear sir the shoe does fit a foot so well,

"Does your mother not to wish you farewell,

"No there just killing time in the basement,
"We said our goodbyes all is well,

Cinders now queen, but still tainted at the core,
Her festering unnoticed hidden from all and everyone,
If even a notion of thought she saw,
Then glass slipper was her weapon of choice.
Years did pass many vanished without a trace.
Then the news of Cinderella's upcoming birth,

"breath your majesty,

As new life to birth, with screams in the soundproof walls
A baby girl, of tainted cloth and rotting straw,
She had her mothers old eyes two blue buttons and cute nose,

"Fairy godmother,
"Make my child all new born as I am now,

As words of arcane gestures spoke,
Lightning graced upon ground,
Glancing others,
Flesh did cinder and smoke.
A new princess was now born,
But the prince now ending under lighting smoke,
Child and mother did rule in kind,
For now they festered in evils cloak, and the kingdom
Had an age of despair that had  never been seen or spoke.
Andrew Quilles May 2013
We were just lifting weights.
Then she went off to yoga class.
I was doing my reps.
She came back tired and worn out.
I told her to call it a day.
She said she wanted to do more reps with me.
How could I resist her big brown eyes begging me?
It happened while we were doing suicides.
She began to slow down.
I turned to look back at her.
She was on the floor.
I ran to her and turned her on her back.
She was coughing.
She was barely breathing.
I asked her where her inhaler was.
She shook her head and whispered she has lost it.
She began to shake.
Then she fell silent.
I yelled for help.
Forgetting we were in a soundproof gymnasium.
I gave her mouth-to-mouth.
After six tries she woke up.
She steadied her breathing.
She sat up and held onto me.
She said thanks and hugged me.
I picked her up and put her in the car.
Now we are home.
She is laying down.
I am watching over her.

She could have died.
It would have been my fault.
She almost died today.
I couldn't live without her.
Ghazal  Oct 2012
Heart of Stone
Ghazal Oct 2012
The fortress is soundproof no more,
And the voices I had once blocked out,
Are creeping in, seeping in, towering over me,
They accuse me, they shout.

Peaceful silence marred by vengeful shrieks,
Blissful ignorance quelled by demanding questions,
Pristine air darkened by black tears,
And surrounded by all, I stand in the centre.

A spotlight of love-turned-ugly encircles me,
And for the first time, I feel insecure, alone.
I take my hand and place it on my chest,
Trying to feel, in vain, my heart of stone.

Silent  heart.
Pulselessness.
Vacant chest.
Airlessness.

Such a curse- this emotionless machine
that swells up on others’ despair!
The robotic pump that never breaks down,
That’s never needed any healing or repair.

I hear the frantic beats of all the hearts
I stomped upon, nonchalantly broke.
Then, smothered by the darkness of my own being,
I gasp and wheeze, I choke.

When will my veins distend with passion?
When will my heart spout unhindered blood,
And add into my lifeless existence-
Fire and pleasure, pain and love?

I’ll unlock now, these strong iron gates,
And stand outside into the hot, harsh light,
I’ve been huddled up in the dark all my life,
I’ll expose my soul now, to set my wrongs right.

And for the one-
Who’ll unfold, unfurl, enter, penetrate,
And my stony abrasiveness, slowly grate-
I’ll tear open my chest, and silently wait.
Meg B  Mar 2015
Epilogue
Meg B Mar 2015
White.
Female.
Middle Class.
Heterosexual.
Agnostic.
Libertarian.

Yeah.
That's me.
That's that first layer,
thin as the paper you could
read it on.
Just a
Jane Doe,
a nameless, faceless
demographic.

But peeling back the layers,
ripping through page on page of a complicated novel,
digging
down
into
a
bottomless
hole
to
China,
unravelling
­the intricate
web of
stereotypestruthsliesassumptionsprejudice
and
there you will find
me,
a colorless genderless asexual
spirit whose frame
is crafted and molded
not with how the world
chooses to see me and
who "they" deem me to be;

no.

A guy that didn't know me well
once told me that I
spoke more urban than he
expected,
and I couldn't help but wonder why
someone from an urban area
couldn't speak like they were
from a city,
like somehow what he saw in my
whitefemaleheterosexualmiddleclassagnosticlibertarian
prolog­ue forbade me
from speaking in colloquials and
abbreviations.
Oh, I apologize,
I laughed later to my friend,
law students are supposed to speak
with an ostentatious vocabulary and
an heir of
(superfluous) arrogance.


I am rarely a prototype
of what it means to be
White,
of what it means to be
female;
middle-class* or not,
my parents insisted at age 8
that I begin to understand
the value of a dollar;
my sexuality indicates little
about my level of attraction
to the world around me;
agnostic is really just a term
I put because I'm still trying to
figure out whether I really
believe everything I was forced to
learn at Catholic school;
and isn't Libertarian just a fancy
word for I don't want to
choose liberal or conservative?

It's insulting to
ingest how much is
insinuated about
my depth in
the shallowest of pools.
My cheeks burn hot
with frustration as I
try to balance on a beam
cracking underneath the weight of
a world that is constantly begging me
to go back in the neatly
wrapped package from which
the world would prefer I
came.

I'm not someone
you can put in a *******
box and
label;
you can't contain my
shine behind
blackout blinds;
I will burst out of your bubble
and break your glass ceilings;
I will scream at the top of
my lungs in a soundproof room
until you HEAR me.

I'm not meant to be judged
by my cover,
and neither are you.

We are meant to be read.

— The End —