~Quodlibet (LXXIII-LXXVI)~
By WordWulf, 25th May 2011 | Follow this author
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Posted in WikinutWritingPoetry
~monster poetry~ she made children with a Vietnamese ninja~ married a native american ~ sex & drugs ~ a blood feast ~ the poet in the sewer gargling acid ~ blotter LSD ~ amnesiac doesn’t remember her attacker ~ bloated & infested ~ the body offers no clues ~
~Yellowstone~
The chemo treatment and its prey removed his life in layers. My mother played the hope game with him but knew better. Brother Jack and I visited them on that far Wyoming ranch.
Jack went with him into town where they got drunk one last time. I stayed home with Momma. She told me the chemo had caused his penis to turn black, shrivel up, and fall off.
“Yet he is still desperate for life,” she wept. A few months later, she laid his ashes on a stiff Wyoming breeze.
I’ll always regret not having gone drinking with them.
~LXXIII. Horse Scents~
He drew diamonds on her chest
a budding roseate... or two
tear drops from navel to forest deep
no tattoo freak, an artist
loved her until his pen ran out of ink
she wore a cardboard tiara
and no scents whatsoever
she came across, she became
some perfect heroin in her own eyes
a quick stab to the brain
much closer than a tongue under
never had a high so low
they work together now
manage a 7-11
~LVXXIV. Blow & Go~
Those whom people the night
beautiful, flawed, exquisite
a sameness of agony
birth of vampire myth
glory in the scent of blood
raw sex on green felt
fine in the bottom of the pool
hustlers and pimps feed
the needs of their victims
we is perfect symmetry
we got phat white cars
instant gratification
like man, no tomorrow... because..
~LXXV. Bubble Breath~
No one so selfish as the poet
who eats you, don’t give nothin’ back
lends truth to lies and lies to truth
no bargains and no returns
these whom peek under the blankets
eat your soul and steal your lips
make kisses, all night wishes
especially never trust a seer
too many wanna-be-ers
ever get stuck on a bubble
puking up from the sink
a belch from the bowels of the city
they is way sick down there
~LXXVI. Toad Mortal~
Obsessed with immortality
she moved through life room to room
once a moment, then a day
she forgot where she was
still frantic and mortal as a toad
she got her bearings with a gasp
managed to find herself
death grinned
on visiting her sacred spaces
a refined technique
she eventually forgot who she was
wandered off and was never seen again
only jane doe knows for sure
~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~For Madmen Only~
~Eagle Bumps/One Step Men~
~Howling Dog Press/Omega~
~Quodlibet (LXIX-LXXII)~
Comments
25th May 2011 (#)
Really nice work, love the pictures too.
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25th May 2011 (#)
Always a trip of intense emotion and visual bombardment through your mix of artful-earthy words... beautifully written each building like a crescendo of feeling and texture of life...wonderfully poetry...painfully real.Thank you
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30th May 2011 (#)
A marvellously entertaining poem. Thanks!
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