deepundergroundpoetry.com
lovers: a chronicle of torment
if you’re looking for poetry, look elsewhere.
it perished long ago, in the vespers of acrimony.
this is a story that has no hero, only characters chasing
the pleasures of the flesh. & survival. you might recognize
yourself in the crowd.
how many hearts have you broken? how many times has
your own heart suffered? how many sordid copulations, &
how many tears…
I sit in a dark anonymous bar, obliterating my soul with hard
liquor. I scan the chiaroscuro obliqueness like a sexual
predator. in moments, I approach a girl of the street nomads,
or she approaches me. the price of sex is debated & finalized,
& we hasten to a room in a seedy hotel.
a crusted shade covers the window. a lamp with a bare bulb,
perhaps twenty watts of illumination; enough light for me to
observe her Galatean body as she undresses. this girl who sells
herself. what scars, I wonder, does her frosted beauty conceal?
how many beds has she labored upon, in her young years.
she bathes my penis briefly with a damp rag, & we engage in
the primitive rite of male dominance & feminine submission.
there is no romance, no poetry, simply the instinctual act of
carnality; two human animals debasing each other.
when my craving is drained, I retreat to my private corner, to
wash away the filth. I douse my cock with alcohol, to kill the
the vileness of a whore’s cunt.
for a night or two, I marinate in my own disgust, arguing with
the devil who thwarts me, & almost resorting to prayer. almost.
I live saintly, until my depravity is again erect.
when you have slept too long with whores, you see the makeup
of a whore in every woman.
y las damas de la pristinas jardines nunca me conocera...
Published 13th Nov 2014
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likes 22
reading list entries 9
comments 17
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The author encourages honest critique.
13th Nov 2014 1:56am
Love the truth of this write. Be careful of the bed you make, it truly will be your resting place someday. You are amazing
13th Nov 2014 7:23am
Very candid write..n ur poetic narrative is stark and sarcastic of motived human survival..parallely could feel the immense pains, frustrations n desperations.
Still, ur words only makes me feel the world spins out of hope,love,truth.. N ofcourse that's how we land upon ageless n pure soulfull poetry..the wordful art we read n write n respond to. Bftl revelations JF. Reading u after a lil long, n feeling gr8 to be at dup. Tq:)
Still, ur words only makes me feel the world spins out of hope,love,truth.. N ofcourse that's how we land upon ageless n pure soulfull poetry..the wordful art we read n write n respond to. Bftl revelations JF. Reading u after a lil long, n feeling gr8 to be at dup. Tq:)
13th Nov 2014 8:44am
guileless, stark poetry served straight up.... you never leave room to hide from introspection Mister Feddeler. much enjoyed
13th Nov 2014 9:01am
A great relief for someone who lost his love[whoring]. But once our carnal desires satisfied, we felt empty, bare. vulnerable.
Brilliant ink...
Brilliant ink...
13th Nov 2014 10:30am
a deep, heavy, truthful write JF....
and there'd be women out there who'd feel sure they could change a man like this if he only let them ...
and there'd be women out there who'd feel sure they could change a man like this if he only let them ...
13th Nov 2014 1:48pm
13th Nov 2014 2:17pm
Bad boys and bastards we are! Some of humanity's weaknesses conveyed so bluntly with your touch of smeared painting within your art of your pen John. Only as you can.
14th Nov 2014 00:32am
This is the second piece I have read today about "ladies of the night" and both so very different. This one is colder and more about the customers emotions than the seller.
A raw truth in this John, very vivid. Great work.
A raw truth in this John, very vivid. Great work.
14th Nov 2014 9:38pm
Heart wrenching n brilliant Mr Feddeler
Its such a privelage to have access to ur work
Its such a privelage to have access to ur work
15th Nov 2014 00:50am
What power told of the impotence we hold
Love the alcohol douse - proper write of been there done that - with real words in the right place
Love the alcohol douse - proper write of been there done that - with real words in the right place
15th Nov 2014 4:02am
17th Nov 2014 5:24am
18th Nov 2014 7:49pm
18th Nov 2014 8:08pm
Interesting, raw and pessimistic in ending. You grate over us with humanities crudest elements with pristine slices. Purging of the soul. I love it, as always. Thank you, for sharing this, John. Great artwork too!
24th Nov 2014 12:12pm
3rd Dec 2014 3:19am
24th Jan 2015 6:35am
The image accompanying this poem has the reminisce of the The Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel García Marquez, the love and hate relationship in surviving, fulfillment of that moment, to just get by. The red light district may very well be more real than anything else.
The line "I live saintly, until my depravity..'
is probably the most profound line, pulling everything to the center.
I've been browsing through your gallery of work, and I find the recurring theme of examination of the relationship between the sexes, quite interesting and vey well depicted.
The line "I live saintly, until my depravity..'
is probably the most profound line, pulling everything to the center.
I've been browsing through your gallery of work, and I find the recurring theme of examination of the relationship between the sexes, quite interesting and vey well depicted.
