Submissions by Betty
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
“Nothing will come of nothing, speak again.” King Lear (1:1)
LOVE POEM
Published
24th May 2012 4:38am
24th May 2012 4:38am
Dear Clark, catch
I saved that image.
I meant to let it go as quickly
as it stabbed me in the fucking heart,
but instead I wrapped my hand around
the hook and pushed the barb in deeper,
eating the idiocy with bare hands and raw eyes.
I saved the image.
The one that made me listen to breakup songs —
where you were Superman and I couldn't
make eye contact
without
falling
(in... .)
I mean, without...
I meant to let it go as quickly
as it stabbed me in the fucking heart,
but instead I wrapped my hand around
the hook and pushed the barb in deeper,
eating the idiocy with bare hands and raw eyes.
I saved the image.
The one that made me listen to breakup songs —
where you were Superman and I couldn't
make eye contact
without
falling
(in... .)
I mean, without...
880 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th May 2012 5:11am
19th May 2012 5:11am
Flawed theory of forms (that philosophy lesson you slept through in school)
Platonic realism suggests
that what may be
(doesn’t really exist)
save as a reflection of the
perfect form.
I fear I’m on the wrong
side of realism, love,
because you’re so
damn beautiful
(in both realms)
that it’s hard to make
eye contact.
When you do gaze upon me,
I’m certain that I’m on the
wrong side, because
the true form could
never compete
with the image you
let shiver across
my sun-kissed shoulders
You make me feel like
I’m wearing a ...
that what may be
(doesn’t really exist)
save as a reflection of the
perfect form.
I fear I’m on the wrong
side of realism, love,
because you’re so
damn beautiful
(in both realms)
that it’s hard to make
eye contact.
When you do gaze upon me,
I’m certain that I’m on the
wrong side, because
the true form could
never compete
with the image you
let shiver across
my sun-kissed shoulders
You make me feel like
I’m wearing a ...
1062 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th May 2012 6:08am
18th May 2012 6:08am
Bad black-and-white films with happy endings
I want to have fun with you,
like the cheery assholes in chick flicks.
And, I have bad-movie moments to spare
behind the cinema of my eyelids.
Let’s try out…
You. Me. Shower curtain. Baby oil. Trampoline.
When we finally catch each other
(after much cussing, and an
oddly-shaped sunburn on your back)
I want to be laughing against your lips
while you examine me for broken bones,
until I forget how to laugh.
Let’s try out…
That stupid beach-movie
where we’re frolicking like kids in the...
like the cheery assholes in chick flicks.
And, I have bad-movie moments to spare
behind the cinema of my eyelids.
Let’s try out…
You. Me. Shower curtain. Baby oil. Trampoline.
When we finally catch each other
(after much cussing, and an
oddly-shaped sunburn on your back)
I want to be laughing against your lips
while you examine me for broken bones,
until I forget how to laugh.
Let’s try out…
That stupid beach-movie
where we’re frolicking like kids in the...
1244 reads
10 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th May 2012 3:50am
18th May 2012 3:50am
(separation in the key of frenetic)
(breathe)
It’s like…
It’s like…
(breathe)
It’s like jumping
into a lake
in the middle of
January
fully clothed
wondering if
memories of
being warm are
enough to keep
me alive
It’s like
fucking
fucking with the
lights off eyes
closed door locked
like we're dead drunk
whiskey numbed
can’t even
feel anymore
(which is like
not fucking at all
and more like
making…)
making
it(’s)...
It’s like…
It’s like…
(breathe)
It’s like jumping
into a lake
in the middle of
January
fully clothed
wondering if
memories of
being warm are
enough to keep
me alive
It’s like
fucking
fucking with the
lights off eyes
closed door locked
like we're dead drunk
whiskey numbed
can’t even
feel anymore
(which is like
not fucking at all
and more like
making…)
making
it(’s)...
1126 reads
12 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th May 2012 5:04am
17th May 2012 5:04am
Juxtaposition
The difference between romance and fucking is simple.
Romance is the time I
(never)
stayed up all night,
just to watch you sleep,
propped on one elbow
etching the way your
face relaxes when you
finally let go,
onto the indelible
part of who I am.
And it makes me feel like
the first sunrise inside,
wondrous, beautiful, unique in all the world,
and absolutely smitten.
Fucking is reminding you
in the front seat of your car,
in broad daylight,
that I am a tailor-made ...
Romance is the time I
(never)
stayed up all night,
just to watch you sleep,
propped on one elbow
etching the way your
face relaxes when you
finally let go,
onto the indelible
part of who I am.
And it makes me feel like
the first sunrise inside,
wondrous, beautiful, unique in all the world,
and absolutely smitten.
Fucking is reminding you
in the front seat of your car,
in broad daylight,
that I am a tailor-made ...
1165 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th May 2012 6:17am
16th May 2012 6:17am
Supine ruminations
It was that day:
When you told me my
stomach was your safe place.
It was that day.
I looked down, sick with desire,
straining against your attention
as, with eyes closed,
you reverently
kissed the lines
on my
abdomen,
and, almost in earnest,
rubbed your cheek against the
slight dip at my naval,
your arms wrapped all the way
around my body,
my back slightly arched under
your arms.
In that one moment we were still.
It was then I knew I was really fucked.
...
When you told me my
stomach was your safe place.
It was that day.
I looked down, sick with desire,
straining against your attention
as, with eyes closed,
you reverently
kissed the lines
on my
abdomen,
and, almost in earnest,
rubbed your cheek against the
slight dip at my naval,
your arms wrapped all the way
around my body,
my back slightly arched under
your arms.
In that one moment we were still.
It was then I knew I was really fucked.
...
1171 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
15th May 2012 7:02am
15th May 2012 7:02am
Ostentatiousness. (noun)
I’m lying on the couch,
fingers bored against the
pages of my inner thigh,
mind numb against endless
lengths of dead classics.
I’ll never say I love thee,
nor count the ways:
But baby,
if we did a little digital voodoo,
slammed a classic
against the hood of a car
and fucked the sentiment
from behind,
I’m sure,
quite sure,
I could be inspired enough
to count the ways
I want you.
I want you...
Raw...
like a whore on my knees
in a filthy alley,
with cheap red lipstick...
fingers bored against the
pages of my inner thigh,
mind numb against endless
lengths of dead classics.
I’ll never say I love thee,
nor count the ways:
But baby,
if we did a little digital voodoo,
slammed a classic
against the hood of a car
and fucked the sentiment
from behind,
I’m sure,
quite sure,
I could be inspired enough
to count the ways
I want you.
I want you...
Raw...
like a whore on my knees
in a filthy alley,
with cheap red lipstick...
1297 reads
10 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
15th May 2012 4:55am
15th May 2012 4:55am
Karmic unicorn f**king
I intended to show off,
get my prose on,
kick someone in the balls with my
erudite social commentary;
but then I remembered
I no longer think
about anything but you.
While you’ve slept
I’ve come to the stunted conclusion
that I must have fucked a unicorn in a past life
to unbalance my karma,
disperse my wa,
and pee on my parade
on this galactic a scale.
It had to have been an entire herd, really,
that my reward for
beating down one addiction
turned me into a junkie for you. ...
get my prose on,
kick someone in the balls with my
erudite social commentary;
but then I remembered
I no longer think
about anything but you.
While you’ve slept
I’ve come to the stunted conclusion
that I must have fucked a unicorn in a past life
to unbalance my karma,
disperse my wa,
and pee on my parade
on this galactic a scale.
It had to have been an entire herd, really,
that my reward for
beating down one addiction
turned me into a junkie for you. ...
#love
#lust
#addiction #passion
#addiction #passion
1187 reads
11 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th May 2012 5:08am
14th May 2012 5:08am
Playground
I want to use you like a slip-n-slide in the unfenced, suburban-backyard of my mind;
open, with the eyes of the world on me
as I become a physics teacher
to demonstrate friction
and lubrication
in minute detail,
from the tips of your toes,
to the ends of your hair.
I want to be covered in fantasy
(and other... things)
slick with sweat, need, fulfillment,
and I want to do calisthenics, stretches...
push-ups along your naked...
open, with the eyes of the world on me
as I become a physics teacher
to demonstrate friction
and lubrication
in minute detail,
from the tips of your toes,
to the ends of your hair.
I want to be covered in fantasy
(and other... things)
slick with sweat, need, fulfillment,
and I want to do calisthenics, stretches...
push-ups along your naked...
#lust
#erotic
#seductive
1104 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
13th May 2012 8:51pm
13th May 2012 8:51pm
Irrelevancy
I don’t know in which part of the
“my-slim-ankles-on-your-shoulders,
your-strong-hands-under-my-ass,”
conversation to insert
the unimportant matter
that I have loved you
since before the heavens
and earth fell from each other;
and I will still
long for the taste of
myself
on your lips,
when the world is
a faded dream in the ether,
and I am but a ghost
on its surface.
“my-slim-ankles-on-your-shoulders,
your-strong-hands-under-my-ass,”
conversation to insert
the unimportant matter
that I have loved you
since before the heavens
and earth fell from each other;
and I will still
long for the taste of
myself
on your lips,
when the world is
a faded dream in the ether,
and I am but a ghost
on its surface.
#memories
#sensual
1291 reads
9 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
12th May 2012 4:05am
12th May 2012 4:05am
Trite, cliché, pretentious
I do so want to compare thee to a summer’s day,
and let your temperance fall like spun sugar on my lips:
But face it, baby,
you ain’t temperate,
and
I live in the subtropics.
So fuck it.
Fuck the peppermint dreams I’d think
if it wasn’t
(if you weren’t)…
So…
Damn…
Hot… .
When I compare you to a summer’s day,
I’m thinking humid, sultry, sticky, wet,
so damn hot I have to pull apart my thighs,
as your candy kisses melt like welts against my bare shoulders.
And...
and let your temperance fall like spun sugar on my lips:
But face it, baby,
you ain’t temperate,
and
I live in the subtropics.
So fuck it.
Fuck the peppermint dreams I’d think
if it wasn’t
(if you weren’t)…
So…
Damn…
Hot… .
When I compare you to a summer’s day,
I’m thinking humid, sultry, sticky, wet,
so damn hot I have to pull apart my thighs,
as your candy kisses melt like welts against my bare shoulders.
And...
#erotic
#summer
#sensual
1673 reads
29 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Betty
