Submissions by L_Munro
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
EROTIC POEM
Published
24th Feb 2010 4:53pm
24th Feb 2010 4:53pm
Waitresses
I don’t like sitting in restaurants alone,
but I like watching waitresses
bend over
tables with fake smiles
and minimum wage enthusiasm.
I watch until the dirt
in my soul
wells up
threatens to choke me
and I want
to vomit out my guts and cock.
I watch and wonder
what’s in their heads,
what’s in their souls,
but mostly what’s in their panties.
I bet blondie has a boyfriend,
and cherryred got laid last night.
I finish my meal,
leave an extra large tip,
because the tannedcheer-leader type
has a...
but I like watching waitresses
bend over
tables with fake smiles
and minimum wage enthusiasm.
I watch until the dirt
in my soul
wells up
threatens to choke me
and I want
to vomit out my guts and cock.
I watch and wonder
what’s in their heads,
what’s in their souls,
but mostly what’s in their panties.
I bet blondie has a boyfriend,
and cherryred got laid last night.
I finish my meal,
leave an extra large tip,
because the tannedcheer-leader type
has a...
1662 reads
13 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Feb 2010 4:52pm
24th Feb 2010 4:52pm
Recycling
I think of trees sometimes,
and think one day
the earth will wither and be barren,
and trees will be of
historical
interest only,
but we must save
at least one.
We need to build a
gallows,
for the final drama
of humanity’s drawn out suicide.
Then there won’t be
enough trees,
for everyone to have their own
gallows,
by then we may have figured out
how to run them on
gasoline
anyways,
but there’ll only be one
gallows,
and we’ll finally have to
recycle
something.
and think one day
the earth will wither and be barren,
and trees will be of
historical
interest only,
but we must save
at least one.
We need to build a
gallows,
for the final drama
of humanity’s drawn out suicide.
Then there won’t be
enough trees,
for everyone to have their own
gallows,
by then we may have figured out
how to run them on
gasoline
anyways,
but there’ll only be one
gallows,
and we’ll finally have to
recycle
something.
1022 reads
4 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Feb 2010 8:16am
24th Feb 2010 8:16am
Pirate's Cove Park
Cocoanuts oversee
the wooden
playground
aged, cracked,
and faded by Florida
sunshine,
particles of sand
pressed into
the grain
from constant
contact,
sandy feet.
*Maybe not upbeat per se, but good enough. From an exercise following William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow."
the wooden
playground
aged, cracked,
and faded by Florida
sunshine,
particles of sand
pressed into
the grain
from constant
contact,
sandy feet.
*Maybe not upbeat per se, but good enough. From an exercise following William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow."
791 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
24th Feb 2010 8:12am
24th Feb 2010 8:12am
Letter to the Government, Postage Paid
To whom it may concern:
Do you ever get the unfortunate feeling
people don’t like you much?
Of course, the less unfortunate thing
is you don’t like them back.
It’s ok as long as the peasants
don’t figure out the game.
I think it’s brilliant,
if you ask me,
which you didn’t because I don’t vote.
Send more teenagers to the desert,
I’d say with my vote,
if I voted.
After all, they can’t cause too much trouble
over there,
can they?
Send more of them over there
and there will be less of them over here
to use up...
Do you ever get the unfortunate feeling
people don’t like you much?
Of course, the less unfortunate thing
is you don’t like them back.
It’s ok as long as the peasants
don’t figure out the game.
I think it’s brilliant,
if you ask me,
which you didn’t because I don’t vote.
Send more teenagers to the desert,
I’d say with my vote,
if I voted.
After all, they can’t cause too much trouble
over there,
can they?
Send more of them over there
and there will be less of them over here
to use up...
908 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
24th Feb 2010 00:03am
24th Feb 2010 00:03am
Angry Vagina Poem
You want to have sex with me,
but you can’t
because you don’t respect me,
and blahblahblah.
Just so you know,
my vagina’s angry with you.
*This is like ironic angst.
but you can’t
because you don’t respect me,
and blahblahblah.
Just so you know,
my vagina’s angry with you.
*This is like ironic angst.
2851 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Feb 2010 00:02am
24th Feb 2010 00:02am
Summer Time Heat
Ants congregate on sidewalks as
half naked chicks distract me while I
drive home from work,
barbequed smoke rises mixed
with blacktop shimmering heat and sweat,
cold beer grows lukewarm in the sun,
too lazy to get up for ice,
heat does that.
half naked chicks distract me while I
drive home from work,
barbequed smoke rises mixed
with blacktop shimmering heat and sweat,
cold beer grows lukewarm in the sun,
too lazy to get up for ice,
heat does that.
916 reads
3 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2010 3:50pm
23rd Feb 2010 3:50pm
Angry Lover
I fuck you as both our hearts bleed.
We are empty in the depths
but we spend our nights in bed.
Why the fuck shouldn’t we?
I’ve paid you in suffering
and I’ve been damned for you,
will it ever be enough?
I promised you eternity,
but couldn’t deliver?
I fuck you as both our hearts bleed.
Hollow shells of us,
might as well get laid
since we’ve got nothing better.
We are empty in the depths
but we spend our nights in bed.
Why the fuck shouldn’t we?
I’ve paid you in suffering
and I’ve been damned for you,
will it ever be enough?
I promised you eternity,
but couldn’t deliver?
I fuck you as both our hearts bleed.
Hollow shells of us,
might as well get laid
since we’ve got nothing better.
1197 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2010 3:49pm
23rd Feb 2010 3:49pm
Voodoo Priesthood
Tripping on clouds and moon one day
I stood at the foot of a great altar
erected upon a pedestal of thought,
and the altar was shiningso bright
I had to put on sunglasses,
as I did, the 3-D lenses
transformed my 1-D world,
and I could see before me priests
scurrying about their sacrificial
ritual and rite with souls in tow
and smiling rays of godpower
leaping from every set of lips and tongues
that mutter and chatter incantations
but could be better used to kiss
in the Church of Human Sexuality
than in mumbling dusty hymns
at the...
I stood at the foot of a great altar
erected upon a pedestal of thought,
and the altar was shiningso bright
I had to put on sunglasses,
as I did, the 3-D lenses
transformed my 1-D world,
and I could see before me priests
scurrying about their sacrificial
ritual and rite with souls in tow
and smiling rays of godpower
leaping from every set of lips and tongues
that mutter and chatter incantations
but could be better used to kiss
in the Church of Human Sexuality
than in mumbling dusty hymns
at the...
857 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2010 2:59am
23rd Feb 2010 2:59am
The Inmate
Deftly,
Crudely,
He examined
His doom.
Steak,
And potatoes,
Cradled by the plate,
Getting cold.
His stomach,
Up in arms,
And his fork,
Rebels against
The meal.
Brain crying,
“Eat,
What else is
There to do?”
Despite protestations
His hand remained
A neutral,
Silent and still.
Unconsciously
Unable
To glut
His final hour.
Crudely,
He examined
His doom.
Steak,
And potatoes,
Cradled by the plate,
Getting cold.
His stomach,
Up in arms,
And his fork,
Rebels against
The meal.
Brain crying,
“Eat,
What else is
There to do?”
Despite protestations
His hand remained
A neutral,
Silent and still.
Unconsciously
Unable
To glut
His final hour.
1331 reads
8 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2010 2:57am
23rd Feb 2010 2:57am
Summer Song
Summer solstice sunrays spread
their lucrative warmth over the scene,
heated breezes blow the flies
that mutter and sputter
about the carcass of spring, already dead,
and in the harsher heat of knotted sheets
with a lover bound hand and heart
we mumble moans and stifle cries
as orgasmic energy moves between
the piston hips that buck and thrust
and finally vent the white hot lust,
in summer's dead heat we love,
in dirty sultry summer days we fuck.
their lucrative warmth over the scene,
heated breezes blow the flies
that mutter and sputter
about the carcass of spring, already dead,
and in the harsher heat of knotted sheets
with a lover bound hand and heart
we mumble moans and stifle cries
as orgasmic energy moves between
the piston hips that buck and thrust
and finally vent the white hot lust,
in summer's dead heat we love,
in dirty sultry summer days we fuck.
1128 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2010 4:04pm
22nd Feb 2010 4:04pm
Sex, Drugs, and Rock Rape
Press conference cat calls abuse the senses
g-string toothless prostitutes grapple in the mind’s corners
rocknroll suicidal Hendrix Lennon waging war for peace
totally baked like a fucking cake
hippie draft gonna make you one of us
gonna make you one of them cause we all the same
all gonna get high and worthless in the black blanket deathnight
quicksand cunts and heady heavenly penetration of the soul
forcing the fuck into an unwilling virgin rockstar
totally toasted and dizzy with the trappings of cocaine, cock, and rock.
g-string toothless prostitutes grapple in the mind’s corners
rocknroll suicidal Hendrix Lennon waging war for peace
totally baked like a fucking cake
hippie draft gonna make you one of us
gonna make you one of them cause we all the same
all gonna get high and worthless in the black blanket deathnight
quicksand cunts and heady heavenly penetration of the soul
forcing the fuck into an unwilling virgin rockstar
totally toasted and dizzy with the trappings of cocaine, cock, and rock.
787 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2010 4:01pm
22nd Feb 2010 4:01pm
Red Satin Blues
You lost your soul
writhing in my bed,
we were seventeen
in a sex-scented heaven
between my sheets.
The only heaven
you’ll ever know.
I’m pre-marital sex,
birth control pills,
a third sin,
I forget what.
Every Sunday you went
to hear a priest rant,
I stayed home
thinking about
you beneath me.
At least I’m honest,
the avowed atheist,
I never hid my rebellion
beneath red satin panties
and rosary beads.
writhing in my bed,
we were seventeen
in a sex-scented heaven
between my sheets.
The only heaven
you’ll ever know.
I’m pre-marital sex,
birth control pills,
a third sin,
I forget what.
Every Sunday you went
to hear a priest rant,
I stayed home
thinking about
you beneath me.
At least I’m honest,
the avowed atheist,
I never hid my rebellion
beneath red satin panties
and rosary beads.
#sex
#memories
#honesty
2854 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by L_Munro
