Submissions by L_Munro
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
My Anti-Suicide Note
I would have spent my soul in your arms
but I was never quite petty enough for you,
you couldn't quite reach the bottom
of this shallow man,
so you got scared and swam back to shore.
You wanted the football player type,
but I was just me, plain and stupid,
and my scribbled words and pencil drawings
made you laugh
and press your high heel through my bleeding heart.
What would I give up for you?
I guess that's what you always wanted,
a martyr at your altar,
but I don't have the balls,
not to go that far,
a razor blade...
but I was never quite petty enough for you,
you couldn't quite reach the bottom
of this shallow man,
so you got scared and swam back to shore.
You wanted the football player type,
but I was just me, plain and stupid,
and my scribbled words and pencil drawings
made you laugh
and press your high heel through my bleeding heart.
What would I give up for you?
I guess that's what you always wanted,
a martyr at your altar,
but I don't have the balls,
not to go that far,
a razor blade...
1117 reads
3 Comments
Mind f**k
We wear jeans blue and ripped like our minds,
covering legs and knees and asses and genitals,
hiding bodies hinting at fleshy sensuality,
covered like skulls that point at mental solipsism,
shifting singsong hips sway as tremulous tonal voices,
muscles play and pull and pull against torn blue prisons,
minds play and pull and pull against torn blue prisons,
other minds enter wanting that penitentiary,
other minds enter wanting that ultimate cum,
pushing the mind the slit the mind and torn blue jeans,
laying the seed for new mind but only in the mind,...
covering legs and knees and asses and genitals,
hiding bodies hinting at fleshy sensuality,
covered like skulls that point at mental solipsism,
shifting singsong hips sway as tremulous tonal voices,
muscles play and pull and pull against torn blue prisons,
minds play and pull and pull against torn blue prisons,
other minds enter wanting that penitentiary,
other minds enter wanting that ultimate cum,
pushing the mind the slit the mind and torn blue jeans,
laying the seed for new mind but only in the mind,...
1354 reads
2 Comments
Lying on my Back Looking at Stars
Green sea
Carries my
Frail form
On tides
Without
End.
Up and down,
I lay
On the swells
Perilously
Close
First to
The heavens
Then hell.
Each rise
Is meteoric,
Intensely
Amazing.
Each fall
Is cataclysmic,
Depressing,
Crushing.
But I look
Up always,
At the
Sky
Arranged in
Brilliant
Detail
Just for me.
Carries my
Frail form
On tides
Without
End.
Up and down,
I lay
On the swells
Perilously
Close
First to
The heavens
Then hell.
Each rise
Is meteoric,
Intensely
Amazing.
Each fall
Is cataclysmic,
Depressing,
Crushing.
But I look
Up always,
At the
Sky
Arranged in
Brilliant
Detail
Just for me.
833 reads
1 Comment
Grey Shoreline
I watched a child
digging in the sand
just above the surf,
a hole for no reason.
I should have told him
about futility,
and lost battles,
and life,
but I sat idly by,
so my darkness
could see him fail,
and my light
could see him hope.
*Published in Shepherd University's Sans Merci Literary Magazine, 2007.
digging in the sand
just above the surf,
a hole for no reason.
I should have told him
about futility,
and lost battles,
and life,
but I sat idly by,
so my darkness
could see him fail,
and my light
could see him hope.
*Published in Shepherd University's Sans Merci Literary Magazine, 2007.
1072 reads
2 Comments
Fear of Heights
The little man was a balding beetle
obsessed with Marilyn Monroe
hanging golden and luminous above his bedside table.
He put the teapot on to boil,
and shaking legs stepped
closer and closer to the abyss
till he could ponderously stare over.
No, stare is not the right word,
glimpse is a better fit,
one musttread carefully
amongst all these words,
and fear tripping over the wrong one
lest it send you over the edge.
But one timid glimpse
and a jolt of cocaine terror
were all it took.
obsessed with Marilyn Monroe
hanging golden and luminous above his bedside table.
He put the teapot on to boil,
and shaking legs stepped
closer and closer to the abyss
till he could ponderously stare over.
No, stare is not the right word,
glimpse is a better fit,
one musttread carefully
amongst all these words,
and fear tripping over the wrong one
lest it send you over the edge.
But one timid glimpse
and a jolt of cocaine terror
were all it took.
3119 reads
1 Comment
Denver is lonesome for her heroes
Walking breathless through
night air
made thick
I came to a man
sitting by the road
and told him where I was going
there was
nothing
else.
He looked into my soul
and began to weep
for an empty stomach
and an empty line tied his empty wallet
to his empty life.
I held his hand
and in a hazy motion
pushed
the teardrops back into his head
black as the African night and twice as thick.
We lit up our cigarettes
and puffed
untilwe felt so dizzy
we had to sit or
fall onto the ground...
night air
made thick
I came to a man
sitting by the road
and told him where I was going
there was
nothing
else.
He looked into my soul
and began to weep
for an empty stomach
and an empty line tied his empty wallet
to his empty life.
I held his hand
and in a hazy motion
pushed
the teardrops back into his head
black as the African night and twice as thick.
We lit up our cigarettes
and puffed
untilwe felt so dizzy
we had to sit or
fall onto the ground...
1048 reads
1 Comment
Boozin' Blues
I got things
To do and to see today,
Headed to the Salvation Army
Tradin’ my stupid smilin’ days
For a twenty dollar
Night long alcohol haze.
To do and to see today,
Headed to the Salvation Army
Tradin’ my stupid smilin’ days
For a twenty dollar
Night long alcohol haze.
1134 reads
2 Comments
Autumn's Mourning
The Rococo summer
Breathes its last soft sigh
Into my cocked ear
As russet autumn's
Muted hues settle against the world
Cloaked as mourning
For a friend not yet gone
But as surely lost as the July noon
When sunshine and laughter
Ruled the day
And icy tears seemed
So far distant
Breathes its last soft sigh
Into my cocked ear
As russet autumn's
Muted hues settle against the world
Cloaked as mourning
For a friend not yet gone
But as surely lost as the July noon
When sunshine and laughter
Ruled the day
And icy tears seemed
So far distant
922 reads
1 Comment
A Touch
What exists on earth but this?
The simple caress
of heated flesh on anointed skin,
in a kindly moment.
Lost in thought
far from here, far from now,
but existing at the pinnacle of humanity.
My hand carefully traces yours
I have meaning in this world,
if just for a moment.
The simple caress
of heated flesh on anointed skin,
in a kindly moment.
Lost in thought
far from here, far from now,
but existing at the pinnacle of humanity.
My hand carefully traces yours
I have meaning in this world,
if just for a moment.
940 reads
3 Comments
The Letter
A folded letter waits for me on the table. It’s addressed, unnecessarily, to me. No one else will find it, I live alone now. Her hands made those black marks, which breaks my heart again. I love that inner pain. Pain saves me. Memories make my scars burn. The letter is my life support. Reminding me the razors failed to do their fatal work. I love her for that.
884 reads
1 Comment
Worship
In the dark temple
rumpled sheets form mountains
and valleys.
In silence
my goddess
awaits
her humble devotee.
Our lips move together
in a holy litany
and my fingers pray
a rosary on the ivory of her skin.
Gently, almost imperceptibly,
she tenses,
knowing, anticipating,
my sacrifice.
My eyelids bow
as Eden opens,
milk and honey flows,
the goddess reclines over the altar
and I enter the Promised Land.
rumpled sheets form mountains
and valleys.
In silence
my goddess
awaits
her humble devotee.
Our lips move together
in a holy litany
and my fingers pray
a rosary on the ivory of her skin.
Gently, almost imperceptibly,
she tenses,
knowing, anticipating,
my sacrifice.
My eyelids bow
as Eden opens,
milk and honey flows,
the goddess reclines over the altar
and I enter the Promised Land.
943 reads
2 Comments
Untitled
Her green eyes caress me as she snuggles into my chest. “You have such a good heart,” she murmurs.
I light a cigarette, “don’t talk shit.”
She pouts. Purses lips still puffy from being kissed. I try to follow the pattern on the ceiling.
In a few moments she tells me, “it isn’t shit. I thought it was sweet.”
I drag smoke into my lungs and close my eyes. “Just because it’s sweet don’t mean it’s not shit.”
I light a cigarette, “don’t talk shit.”
She pouts. Purses lips still puffy from being kissed. I try to follow the pattern on the ceiling.
In a few moments she tells me, “it isn’t shit. I thought it was sweet.”
I drag smoke into my lungs and close my eyes. “Just because it’s sweet don’t mean it’s not shit.”
753 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by L_Munro