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I'm in land influenced by smoke
Lakes of *****
I see mermaids
They only talk
When they take their midnight swim

I am not invincible
Not like Perseus
Who found a love
That made him defy the gods

Dante found a love
He jumped into hell
To find her
I don't feel love
Not even strong enough for
Me to send a text

Maybe I am invincible
Not like Perseus
But like Ralph Ellison
Maybe she can find my footsteps
Imprinted on the dirt
Maybe after her swim
She can grow legs and
influence me to begin
My journey
 Dec 2012 Tallulah
Wrenderlust
Most women do not
cook and and clean house
in preparation
for violent invasion.
But you did,
the countertops ache for lack of dust,
the appliances self-conscious in their sterility.
More than sufficient-
for anybody but the figure on the doorstep;
who, using only a key
has already torn through
your first, only, and tastefully painted
line of defense;
has pulled pins from verbal grenades to throw upon
bursting into the kitchen,
where you waited
white tablecloth of surrender and
tea like a peace offering.
Not quite finished. Playing with punctuation and word choice.
Domesticity, Betty Friedan-era housewives, abuse and the silence that feeds it.
 Dec 2012 Tallulah
PoetWhoKnowIt
What
     we
        sea
Not                  
       What
     we    
here

Rather Silly-
           Rather Queer?
 Dec 2012 Tallulah
Ayaba Babe
I've been meaning to ask you-
What do you think about a ménage à trois
Mary Jane
And You and Moi.
And
I can envision
You without that shirt.
And you without those draws.
And me without these *******
And me without this bra.
And me on top of you
And you on top of moi
And me screaming your name.
And your eyes glazed in awe.
Meanwhile
My tongue leaves a wet trail along the edge of the blunt,
Your eyes leave a wet trail on my lips.
Lets be upfront
I'll tell you this
The blunt isn't the only thing wet and sticky
And ready to be blitzed.
 Dec 2012 Tallulah
Ayaba Babe
I don't want to be in your bed sheets.
And I don't want you tangled up in mine,
I made my bed this morning.
I don't want you in my bed sheets,
Tangled up in them
Entwined
As if they were the vines of lust,
Binding you to the mirage of Us
The vines of love are coated with dust,
It's dangerous.
It's slippery.
Wet like the ocean as soon as you dip in me.
They say the ocean is deep and within it lie secrets...
Kiss me farewell and dive to the bottom of the seven seas just to keep it.
I don't want to go swimming in my bed sheets.
Then they'd be drenched from the high tides of expired desire
I don't want to wring out the deception that you perspire
I don't want to make my bed again.
My laundry is clean.
 Dec 2012 Tallulah
Li Ching Chao
Search. Search. Seek. Seek.
Cold. Cold. Clear. Clear.
Sorrow. Sorrow. Pain. Pain.
Hot flashes. Sudden chills.
Stabbing pains. Slow agonies.
I can find no peace.
I drink two cups, then three bowls,
Of clear wine until I can’t
Stand up against a gust of wind.
Wild geese fly over head.
They wrench my heart.
They were our friends in the old days.
Gold chrysanthemums litter
The ground, pile up, faded, dead.
This season I could not bear
To pick them. All alone,
Motionless at my window,
I watch the gathering shadows.
Fine rain sifts through the wu-t’ung trees,
And drips, drop by drop, through the dusk.
What can I ever do now?
How can I drive off this word —
Hopelessness?
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