Submissions by passingon
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Mar 2011 00:27am
4th Mar 2011 00:27am
Tired of tough guys
I’m tired of tough guys
and I’ve had ‘em all
loggers, oil-rig workers, construction
workers, bikers, sailors
don’t get me wrong
love the way they do me
love the arms
of a working man
the smell of coffee
heavy jackets
and cigarettes
and a pair of size 11’s
at the front door
god, I love a pair of workers boots
on the front step
better than a dog
for keeping out
the creeps
but they’ve all become
one flavor
and change is as good
as a holiday
right?
so I look around...
and I’ve had ‘em all
loggers, oil-rig workers, construction
workers, bikers, sailors
don’t get me wrong
love the way they do me
love the arms
of a working man
the smell of coffee
heavy jackets
and cigarettes
and a pair of size 11’s
at the front door
god, I love a pair of workers boots
on the front step
better than a dog
for keeping out
the creeps
but they’ve all become
one flavor
and change is as good
as a holiday
right?
so I look around...
925 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
27th Feb 2011 5:57am
27th Feb 2011 5:57am
The smell of ugly
me
the addict
in a strange city
on a day off from the new job
a corporate hi-flyer
if only they knew
out, lookingfor my fix
the itch becoming scratch
trawling the brown side of town
to score
can’t decide whoto trust
feel my ownugliness
wafting
as I drive through streets
of busted fences and
busted children
playing
games
in the shit
and dead ends
they stare
at me
and my feed-a-family-of-five-for-a-year
new car
finally,rancid...
the addict
in a strange city
on a day off from the new job
a corporate hi-flyer
if only they knew
out, lookingfor my fix
the itch becoming scratch
trawling the brown side of town
to score
can’t decide whoto trust
feel my ownugliness
wafting
as I drive through streets
of busted fences and
busted children
playing
games
in the shit
and dead ends
they stare
at me
and my feed-a-family-of-five-for-a-year
new car
finally,rancid...
876 reads
10 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Feb 2011 5:11am
27th Feb 2011 5:11am
My rules
we flirted by email and finally met
I thought you were the shiniest yet
my two rules “No bum sex. No pain”
you stuck to the first rule withouta stain
the second rule a tougher test
I fell to hell from idolatry’screst
first night spent, our bed of pleasure
no man breathing's had headierleisure
but as is often the real world case
like no angel I wasfucked from grace
less a fall than an opening of eyes
I, mere woman, to your surprise
steeped in past lovers lost-love songs
filled with screams for other mens wrongs...
I thought you were the shiniest yet
my two rules “No bum sex. No pain”
you stuck to the first rule withouta stain
the second rule a tougher test
I fell to hell from idolatry’screst
first night spent, our bed of pleasure
no man breathing's had headierleisure
but as is often the real world case
like no angel I wasfucked from grace
less a fall than an opening of eyes
I, mere woman, to your surprise
steeped in past lovers lost-love songs
filled with screams for other mens wrongs...
833 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Feb 2011 7:15am
25th Feb 2011 7:15am
You wish
people wish they could create but they bruisetoo easy
they don’t know what creation is
it aint love
it aint paint by numbers
it aint wishing and not trying
it’s knocking chips off your block
it’s knocking chips off your shoulder
it’s laying chips down at the table of yourfailures
roll the dice, you fucker
roll the tape, cue the music, drop the lights,drop your guard, loose your bullshit
say it, mean it, start it
if youaren’t gonna get in then get the fuck out
what do you want?
what is your need to slay us?
what is the gift...
they don’t know what creation is
it aint love
it aint paint by numbers
it aint wishing and not trying
it’s knocking chips off your block
it’s knocking chips off your shoulder
it’s laying chips down at the table of yourfailures
roll the dice, you fucker
roll the tape, cue the music, drop the lights,drop your guard, loose your bullshit
say it, mean it, start it
if youaren’t gonna get in then get the fuck out
what do you want?
what is your need to slay us?
what is the gift...
1145 reads
5 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Feb 2011 7:52am
24th Feb 2011 7:52am
No spring chicken
I’m no spring chicken
so I know how this’ll go
the untwining of lives
until We
are just him
and me
not Us
kitchen cuddles
gone
surprise morning sex
gone
that awareness of each other in the room
when we’re out
gone
the small things have started to matter
“it’s your turn to cook”
“I paid for dinner last time”
“why do you always wear that”
they tell the story that’s coming
plain as day
love is leaving
somehow infidelity would be cleaner
...
so I know how this’ll go
the untwining of lives
until We
are just him
and me
not Us
kitchen cuddles
gone
surprise morning sex
gone
that awareness of each other in the room
when we’re out
gone
the small things have started to matter
“it’s your turn to cook”
“I paid for dinner last time”
“why do you always wear that”
they tell the story that’s coming
plain as day
love is leaving
somehow infidelity would be cleaner
...
969 reads
13 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2011 11:04pm
23rd Feb 2011 11:04pm
Too young too tight too wet
Thank you...you have participated in a social experiment to see how many hits can be generated off a title alone, in the erotic category...and you really should be ashamed of yourself :-)
1802 reads
13 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2011 11:55am
23rd Feb 2011 11:55am
Makes me wonder why I drink here
I should warn you
I’m probably too drunk
to finish this poem
but then
you are probably
too sober
to care
we’re out of step
arse-about-face actually
you should be drunk
and I should be
sober
should is the wrong word
but then that’s writing drunk for you
writing drunk is like fucking drunk
all desire
no performance
(with apologies to the Bard)
and at least we didn’t fuck
my study feels like a cage tonight
makes me wonder
why I drink here
tell you what
you buy the drinks,...
I’m probably too drunk
to finish this poem
but then
you are probably
too sober
to care
we’re out of step
arse-about-face actually
you should be drunk
and I should be
sober
should is the wrong word
but then that’s writing drunk for you
writing drunk is like fucking drunk
all desire
no performance
(with apologies to the Bard)
and at least we didn’t fuck
my study feels like a cage tonight
makes me wonder
why I drink here
tell you what
you buy the drinks,...
1011 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Feb 2011 1:54am
19th Feb 2011 1:54am
Who are you to me?
Who are you to me
but the butt of a long ugly joke
about unrequited love
that you repay cheaply
with lust
the dirty mirror of your heart
colorblind to any subtlety of tone
always it has been safest for you
when I submit to our bodies meeting
only on that barren playing field
that you mistake for love
didn’t anyone ever mention
that love is a bigger game
than what you play
with far less room
for exchangeable players
no, probably not
once I had anger for what you cant...
but the butt of a long ugly joke
about unrequited love
that you repay cheaply
with lust
the dirty mirror of your heart
colorblind to any subtlety of tone
always it has been safest for you
when I submit to our bodies meeting
only on that barren playing field
that you mistake for love
didn’t anyone ever mention
that love is a bigger game
than what you play
with far less room
for exchangeable players
no, probably not
once I had anger for what you cant...
1013 reads
9 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Feb 2011 00:53am
19th Feb 2011 00:53am
We could have been sisters
we met as travellers, both taking the lowroad
you, the same age as me
and as lost
in the smells and sounds of Burma
we shared a lunch
and bitched about the horny western men
in the backpackers hostel
who think women travelling alone
are game on
somehow, for them, we are part of thepackage
travels broadens the mind
not opens the legs
we could have been sisters
for that moment
even down to the familiar detail
of my envy
for your great
tits
you, the same age as me
and as lost
in the smells and sounds of Burma
we shared a lunch
and bitched about the horny western men
in the backpackers hostel
who think women travelling alone
are game on
somehow, for them, we are part of thepackage
travels broadens the mind
not opens the legs
we could have been sisters
for that moment
even down to the familiar detail
of my envy
for your great
tits
858 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Feb 2011 00:06am
18th Feb 2011 00:06am
Sooner or later, drunk or sober....
the men are quiet tonight
low talk in dark places
a day of days
their most sacred moment
a new hero born
the truest kind of hero
one none can envy
off the coast from here
at night
on a swell-whipped sea
in a current you couldn’t swim against
over a reef famous for its sharks
on a fishing boat
while pulling up a writhing net
of soulless silver fish
young john palmer
went over the side
they couldn’t find him
he was gone
into the dark
on or under
nobody would say
but everybody...
low talk in dark places
a day of days
their most sacred moment
a new hero born
the truest kind of hero
one none can envy
off the coast from here
at night
on a swell-whipped sea
in a current you couldn’t swim against
over a reef famous for its sharks
on a fishing boat
while pulling up a writhing net
of soulless silver fish
young john palmer
went over the side
they couldn’t find him
he was gone
into the dark
on or under
nobody would say
but everybody...
723 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
17th Feb 2011 4:32am
17th Feb 2011 4:32am
The ballad of One Crazy Bitch
how do I interpret my dreams
that start with lust and end in screams
maybe I’m just one sick fucker
like my mother used to mutter
yes, she was famous for her cursing tongue
from well before I was very young
but in her words I find no reason
for my mind-eyes ugly treason
so maybe then, if not her, dad
who was, by all who met him, bad
and lovable as road kill grime
which is why mum fucked him for a time
but he was gone so early on
that blame on him is a stupid song
still the question lays unanswered...
that start with lust and end in screams
maybe I’m just one sick fucker
like my mother used to mutter
yes, she was famous for her cursing tongue
from well before I was very young
but in her words I find no reason
for my mind-eyes ugly treason
so maybe then, if not her, dad
who was, by all who met him, bad
and lovable as road kill grime
which is why mum fucked him for a time
but he was gone so early on
that blame on him is a stupid song
still the question lays unanswered...
2501 reads
7 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
17th Feb 2011 00:36am
17th Feb 2011 00:36am
And then He rested
God made me?
This woman who bleeds to create?
With my “monthly curse”
Did He, God, bleed to create?
No fuck no
Mostly he stood around, waving his God-arms, and then He rested
Good for Him
That is how a man would write it
No pain, and a bit of a lie down after, and lots of praise
God hates women
Look it up
See for yourself
When I have a son I am unclean for seven days
When I have a daughter I am unclean for fourteen
Because He hates my daughter too
At least I bled to create her ...
This woman who bleeds to create?
With my “monthly curse”
Did He, God, bleed to create?
No fuck no
Mostly he stood around, waving his God-arms, and then He rested
Good for Him
That is how a man would write it
No pain, and a bit of a lie down after, and lots of praise
God hates women
Look it up
See for yourself
When I have a son I am unclean for seven days
When I have a daughter I am unclean for fourteen
Because He hates my daughter too
At least I bled to create her ...
1166 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by passingon
