deepundergroundpoetry.com
passion trail
stars stuttering in the black sky, there for the taking.
how many times have I plucked one with my bare fist,
palmed its trenchant fire, used the diamond tip of it
to carve a poem into the hard earth.
then the rains come. the flowing mud fills in the ruts.
who will remember…
I’ve know women; I’ve touched their stormy places where they
want to be touched. they have harlot hearts, & in the throbbing
Valley of Venus, that is sometimes veiled by lace & sometimes
not, their passion is so succulent a man could eat it.
a trundle bed becomes more royal than Cleopatra’s barge when
you share it with a girl who left home at an early age, who knows
how to take a man to that heaven that has no overlord. she will
caress him & beat down his worries with her kisses. and she will
make him her lord. call it making love if it needs a candy shell,
but it doesn’t have to be.
it’s the purpose of this devil flesh, the carnival that the
clowns & the cabaret dancers chase after. I could say
I remember them all & I loved them all, but I’m too
corrupt & selfish for that.
memories are inescapable things, the residue of all that’s
dead. if you remember me at all, remember this –
that I lived for beauty, and I died for love…
Published 1st Feb 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 12
reading list entries 2
comments 11
reads 1554
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The author encourages honest critique.
1st Feb 2014 9:45am
1st Feb 2014 2:23pm
1st Feb 2014 2:28pm
1st Feb 2014 3:58pm
1st Feb 2014 5:14pm
Wow, that first stanza really sets the stage at an imperial level. This is pure greatness. Every line screams quote me, note me, never forget me. You always bring me to another place in time that thrills my mind in the experiencing of it. Lovely art work too, she is plucked perfectly for pleasuring her Lord. :) Nice written work, as always, John****
2nd Feb 2014 00:44am
Keeping it for the first stanza alone, which stole my breath away with its beauty.
3rd Feb 2014 2:57am
okay, aviator girl, break off that piece. sand down the rough edges. put it on the mantle. say that guy's a good writer, in bits & pieces...
3rd Feb 2014 6:43am
You evoke raw and then dance with finesse ..hammer and weave, juxtapose, jump and paint surreal and visceral with your signature poems that emote real to me in a kaleidoscope of expression that only you can.
3rd Feb 2014 9:36am
I love your writing but I find your poetry difficult to read. That is not a criticism, although it may sound as a critique more apt for a lot of superfluous poetry around. In your work, I mean the difficulty in such lines as 'stars stuttering in the black sky', 'the purpose of this devil flesh', 'the carnival that the clowns & the cabaret dancers chase after' and 'memories are inescapable things.' It is not drugged vision or experience, but I think rare mastery of the language.
3rd May 2014 6:18pm
"she will caress him & beat down his worries with her kisses. and she will make him her lord. call it making love if it needs a candy shell, but it doesn’t have to be."
I've been looking for these words awhile
I've been looking for these words awhile
