Submissions by Betty
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
“Nothing will come of nothing, speak again.” King Lear (1:1)
EROTIC POEM
Published
24th Jun 2012 1:33am
24th Jun 2012 1:33am
Push me, pull me (a motherf**king sonnet)
I whispered fuck you like a sweet love song
when you bound my hands with your black silk tie
you pulled back yet my spine stayed straight, stayed strong
your hand in my hair, violence in my eyes
I struggled, knees weak, your tongue traced my need
just as hungry to touch you in return
You eased in me gently, I did concede
As my soft longing turned into slow burn
Then raging heat, sweaty skin, open eyes
your fingers clamped on my waist as you slammed
hard...
when you bound my hands with your black silk tie
you pulled back yet my spine stayed straight, stayed strong
your hand in my hair, violence in my eyes
I struggled, knees weak, your tongue traced my need
just as hungry to touch you in return
You eased in me gently, I did concede
As my soft longing turned into slow burn
Then raging heat, sweaty skin, open eyes
your fingers clamped on my waist as you slammed
hard...
1612 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
23rd Jun 2012 5:37pm
23rd Jun 2012 5:37pm
Green beans and loneliness
On the way to the town dump
is an absolute orbit of shit;
plastic bags that blew
off trucks now float in the
Florida scrub like Christmas
decorations, wafting, "hello"
and, "fuck off" in the breeze.
Wayward flotsam washed
to the sides of the road,
an ebb-tide in carelessness,
comprised of endless bits
of life, like
half a stained mattress,
which once dreamed of lust;
moldering notebooks,
which once dreamed of love; ...
is an absolute orbit of shit;
plastic bags that blew
off trucks now float in the
Florida scrub like Christmas
decorations, wafting, "hello"
and, "fuck off" in the breeze.
Wayward flotsam washed
to the sides of the road,
an ebb-tide in carelessness,
comprised of endless bits
of life, like
half a stained mattress,
which once dreamed of lust;
moldering notebooks,
which once dreamed of love; ...
898 reads
10 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
21st Jun 2012 4:13am
21st Jun 2012 4:13am
Breaking writing rule No. 1,340
You are the blistering rain,
from a category three hurricane
and I am a sidewalk chalk drawing
on a vacant four-lane highway.
And all of the flowery, poetic
bullshit in the world
can’t show you
what it means to drown in you;
can’t show you
that delicious hollowness
in my core,
can't show you
that windy ache
in my chest.
Or, the way your
traveling fingers
smear my features;
redraw my boundaries;
and outline simple desire
making it all a whole new thing.
I can’t show you
why I...
from a category three hurricane
and I am a sidewalk chalk drawing
on a vacant four-lane highway.
And all of the flowery, poetic
bullshit in the world
can’t show you
what it means to drown in you;
can’t show you
that delicious hollowness
in my core,
can't show you
that windy ache
in my chest.
Or, the way your
traveling fingers
smear my features;
redraw my boundaries;
and outline simple desire
making it all a whole new thing.
I can’t show you
why I...
1405 reads
19 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
20th Jun 2012 12:59pm
20th Jun 2012 12:59pm
plot twist
The intent was to strap you to an altar,
worship you with lust,
and maybe carve out
your still-beating heart
while fucking
your soul.
The reality is: I'm strapped to your bed,
flayed from the inside,
and you gently press
one damp finger to my lips
and tell me this will
only hurt
everywhere.
While I try to reconcile
the odd turn of events,
inside I'm jumping
up and down,
screaming,
"Yay!"
worship you with lust,
and maybe carve out
your still-beating heart
while fucking
your soul.
The reality is: I'm strapped to your bed,
flayed from the inside,
and you gently press
one damp finger to my lips
and tell me this will
only hurt
everywhere.
While I try to reconcile
the odd turn of events,
inside I'm jumping
up and down,
screaming,
"Yay!"
1391 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
19th Jun 2012 12:36pm
19th Jun 2012 12:36pm
parallax
The reason the moon follows you in the car
is that it's so fucking huge,
and it's hurtling so fast through space
that you can't see the movement
with your primitive vision.
So you believe,
childlike,
that the moon follows you.
It's called the absence of parallax,
and I always had a problem with the concept,
but I never let it bother me.
Until today.
Today, I laced up my shoes,
and hit the road, determined to
punish you out of my brain
for a moment,
just for a moment,
by putting one foot in...
is that it's so fucking huge,
and it's hurtling so fast through space
that you can't see the movement
with your primitive vision.
So you believe,
childlike,
that the moon follows you.
It's called the absence of parallax,
and I always had a problem with the concept,
but I never let it bother me.
Until today.
Today, I laced up my shoes,
and hit the road, determined to
punish you out of my brain
for a moment,
just for a moment,
by putting one foot in...
1033 reads
9 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Jun 2012 6:01am
17th Jun 2012 6:01am
mislaid
I was wearing a
white men's dress shirt
as an umbrella
in the midst of a hurricane,
the rains I so love plastered
the shirt to me like
my own sick devices.
The wind shifted,
and I begged you,
voice nearly lost in the storm,
to not leave me like that,
to get me the fuck out of the storm
and under your body
where you could warm
my chilled limbs with your vitality,
and teach me about heat,
and...
white men's dress shirt
as an umbrella
in the midst of a hurricane,
the rains I so love plastered
the shirt to me like
my own sick devices.
The wind shifted,
and I begged you,
voice nearly lost in the storm,
to not leave me like that,
to get me the fuck out of the storm
and under your body
where you could warm
my chilled limbs with your vitality,
and teach me about heat,
and...
819 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
17th Jun 2012 4:03am
17th Jun 2012 4:03am
Indolence 2.0
You heard the word indolent that night
and said it made you soft...
But lover, indolence is a Cheshire smile
from a white sheet in a dark room,
and as you approach me,
my prevaricating body language
taunts:
That I expect
to remain inert,
defying the third law of motion;
that I can't be moved
won't be moved
by you;
that I will not react
to the pure magnitude
of your force;
that I can remain
completely unphased
as you grab the sheet around me
and use...
and said it made you soft...
But lover, indolence is a Cheshire smile
from a white sheet in a dark room,
and as you approach me,
my prevaricating body language
taunts:
That I expect
to remain inert,
defying the third law of motion;
that I can't be moved
won't be moved
by you;
that I will not react
to the pure magnitude
of your force;
that I can remain
completely unphased
as you grab the sheet around me
and use...
938 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
14th Jun 2012 9:11pm
14th Jun 2012 9:11pm
Inside the distance
Motherfucker I'll step in the ring, and
chest to chest,
I'll go 12 rounds,
though I'll only need one
to make you sit the fuck down,
shut the fuck up
and maybe
learn something
about the art of
(fucking)
war
in
my fists
You're a brawler in a fighter’s game,
I can see it in your swagger
and your stance,
you can hit it hard,
god baby, you can hit it hard,
but do you have the finesse
to go the distance along
the soft curve of my hip
the length of my waist
the taste of my need ...
chest to chest,
I'll go 12 rounds,
though I'll only need one
to make you sit the fuck down,
shut the fuck up
and maybe
learn something
about the art of
(fucking)
war
in
my fists
You're a brawler in a fighter’s game,
I can see it in your swagger
and your stance,
you can hit it hard,
god baby, you can hit it hard,
but do you have the finesse
to go the distance along
the soft curve of my hip
the length of my waist
the taste of my need ...
1364 reads
17 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
12th Jun 2012 9:16pm
12th Jun 2012 9:16pm
Bartholin's gland
you inspire me
to do great things
and if i could
stop masturbating
they might
be possible
Author's note:
(Trying something new after admiring the short form on another poet. Tell me, does this form make my butt look big?)
to do great things
and if i could
stop masturbating
they might
be possible
Author's note:
(Trying something new after admiring the short form on another poet. Tell me, does this form make my butt look big?)
922 reads
12 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Jun 2012 12:44pm
11th Jun 2012 12:44pm
baiser de l'âme
It's like the sweetest, hottest, most unguardedly-cliche kiss in history;
the kiss that makes poets barf, because it's just so damn overdone.
But it's like that,
when you knock me off guard
in those in-between moments.
Like the one that went from
'Let's like each other' to
'I'm not sure how
be sane again with
that carnal vision
tattooed in my mind.'
The one where we were
drunk on bad wine and
good conversation,
the night flowed
with tension
but it didn't get overwhelming
until...
the kiss that makes poets barf, because it's just so damn overdone.
But it's like that,
when you knock me off guard
in those in-between moments.
Like the one that went from
'Let's like each other' to
'I'm not sure how
be sane again with
that carnal vision
tattooed in my mind.'
The one where we were
drunk on bad wine and
good conversation,
the night flowed
with tension
but it didn't get overwhelming
until...
1073 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Betty
