Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetic T Feb 2020
Woeful of degenertaive
        Misgivings..

I walk the streets looking
       For mister right.


Then I hear Neanderthal
      Callings....

"All right darling,

Fancy some meat in between
        Then bones....

I look upon there fingers,

   Looking for a rope of shame.

I smile, I play nice..


    Pulling them into an Alleyway,

        I asking them,
          does your wife mind.

What she doesn't know
    Won't hurt her...


"Maybe not her but you,

As bolt croppers loose his finger
    From his palm..


Screams were to ensue,
   But gagged by lace *******..

Shoved deep within
   his dry throats...

Did you know gold rolls
   when its not weighted down
  

by the fidelity of indiscretions.

He'll not be using that finger on
        another's crying tears...

They came up with a name for me?
    I was honoured,

The guillotine of divorce..


I giggled as the amount of rings
          that rolled decreased..

Finding those who were single just
         looking for a night of fantasy.

Ok, some never learnt,

                       my box of collectables...
so many little lies in my box..

I saved my ladies a lifetime of lies,
    and I have a reminder that some men
                             are worthless...
  

but some are just out for a some fun,
         just like me....
Mari Dec 2019
NO. But he'll always remain
A special person to me
'cause I
Loved him once.
L
Poetic T Dec 2019
We are only as
                  wise as our

last mistake.
  
            For without hiccups,
                 we never realise
that we can also be wrong.

   "Yes you may be hungry,
                      but eating to fast

                 has its consequences..

Learn well, chew well
              and remember that
             with every error...
                          we can climb


one more step.

And realise that,
           we may trip over our ego
and tumble,
              but once we learnt from it.


We know to take our time.
Erin Suurkoivu Nov 2019
Peel back the layers
of my rural purgatory.

Figure out
the critical junctures
of where I once stood,
with this one,
now on TV, and this one,
surfing in Hawaii.

I was a **** girl, spreading
my legs for sailors, and
getting crucified for it.

I am guilty
of still imagining
our beautiful possibilities.

Death may yet
claim him, and my ****
are still round
and firm.
Still Crazy Aug 2014
no mean feat to reestablish,
palpitating those few seconds
when arms-in-motion wave frantic,
in desperation,
in fall-prevention mode,
comical and tragical,
a salty suite,
and the semi-familiar
taste of fall/failing
the freshest fear,
jalapeño hot on the tongue

some months ago,
the thinnest tightrope,
not an obstacle feared,
what I lacked for,
I could not say or now recall

the kindness of calm prevailed
now tension lines drawn,
under the feet,
around the neck,
high voltage wires that
no artist-survivor-breadwinner
can walk without trepidation
though you don't see my arms flailing,
there are faint marks on my soles,
parallelograms on my throat,
where fear has tested
the prowess of its equipment

my life retrospected,
have miracles
made and gained,
given and taken

nine lives used up so many times,
thought my allotment was
nine X nine to the power of nine,
stupid-stopped looking over my shoulder

the poems came so easy,
every phrase overheard was a
story explicated, and the insights slid
from throat to paper so fast
I did not count myself blessed,
just merely fortunate

well fortunes veer,
turn left bad right,
no direction home,
and what was easy,
now impossible

how the story final beds,
will keep you posted,
right now all I can predict
with 100% surety,
the fall is surely coming
for the summer-man

the sun cannot burn off
the fog that paralyzes his
ship to shore,
invisible the safety of port,
the horn sound more of a croak,
his voice, ashamed of failing,
has this man both
landlocked
and lost at sea
this poem was once centered
too
Next page