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"fuckee" poems
I have long sought quiet. And please, let me be clear: quiet. Not the quietus Hamlet desired, No “consummation devoutly to be wished” for me. No, with or without a bare bayonet, UNBEINGNESS is hardly what I seek. It is not the predicament of death, But the quiet spectacle of the grave I envy.   Originally a city mouse, I am familiar with the urban soundscape. I know city noise, amped up in decibels. Noise-induced stress, shrill and enervating, Add to the mix a working-class neighborhood, Where someone is always hammering, Using a power tool of some kind, Repairing, improving an older, somewhat decrepit home; But a steal as the realtors say. Or vehicles, like Old Havana relics, Held together by secular prayer, And thriving underground Cuban capitalism. Then just for fun: *"Let’s send the son of a ***** to war."* Tympanic membranes be wary and be ****** Stretched and perforated, Compressed and torn, Shredded like wheat. Pummeled by shock wave. I was Lear wandering the heath, Your ass-cheeks cracked: *“Cataracts and hurricanes . . . Oak-cleaving thunderbolts . . . Sulphurour and thought-executing fires . . . Singe my white head!”* Cue Cabaret music (Cabaret (1972) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0068327): “Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome . . . to Indochine,” First a Weimar-Saigon suckee-fuckee, Then out to *The **** Mind-numbing concussion, Reek of jellied gasoline, Charred meat, Assorted red entrails, Obliteration of thought complete.
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Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
"Quiet"
Do you think me a fool? Have I given you reason to think I drool Upon my own ignorance as some lowly Uneducated boy? Let me speak to you slowly; I know how hard it is for you to comprehend Spoken lines and get said words to transcend Further past your own self reputations. So from now on I will speak in simple communications: I know of your affair With him, the ****** the one who shares lust's glare With you, the fuckee, the one who gives a tease And tantalizes to alleys where you sit on knees Then lick his **** to sip its corrupt happiness. You enjoy it don't you, this ravenous Savagery? I do not blame you, fuckee, A ***** thinks nothing better of herself besides good *****
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Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
You Are Who You Are