deepundergroundpoetry.com
porn for the unloved
I measure the purpose of my life in Saturday nights.
where I live, there are two distinct seasons: cold & hot.
the days of my calendar are a spin cycle of unorthodox
colors squeezed from a plastic tube, kinda like a
Jackson Pollock painting.
I spend too much of my time in red light districts & dive
dance clubs, trying to hook up with a 15-minute girlfriend.
when I find her, she’s made of ginger & sin – she looks
like every girl you’ve violated in your angriest dream.
she ignites the flame of her counterfeit passion, like she’s
the one with the erection. she’ll even call me baby, as long
as the money’s on the dresser first.
after I peel off a few Andrew Jacksons, I hide my wallet in the
drawer with the Gideon bible; a hooker never looks there, she
doesn’t want to get that close to the Ghost Rider in the sky.
writing about sex with a lover takes fancy rhetoric; with a street
girl, it comes down like trashy pulp. she does her oral tricks,
then plants herself on her hands & knees. she’s skilled, & grips
my ramrod tight enough to jerk my incarnate blast into a slim
Trojan. the details are laid out dirty, see? there is nothing
poetic about it.
once the fireworks have come & gone, she Summer-Eve’s in the
bathtub to spice herself up for the next repulsive refugee, stashes
her condoms & she’s out. I’m stranded in the low-wattage afterglow
mourning the loss of fireside romance & sixty fkn dollars.
…if I knew how to make love, I wouldn’t have to waste my sex on whores…
(Art: Baldomer Roig)
Published 14th Jan 2016
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likes 27
reading list entries 5
comments 25
reads 2581
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The author encourages honest critique.
14th Jan 2016 2:17am
There is this darkly raw and vulnerable quality in your writing that I so love. You don't dress it up, it's not romantic, but it's still beautiful. And I totally relate to that, that need to touch something beautiful, however fleetingly. You make loneliness taste sweet, if only for a second, and that's a very admirable quality in a writer. To take something people fear, and don't want to feel, and make art out of it.
Anonymous
- Edited 25th Sep 2020 3:45am
14th Jan 2016 2:28am
<< post removed >>
14th Jan 2016 3:08am
Eloquence so smooth so flow in as if you dip your so called not poetic into treble espresso potential of elegant speak . I must give your special smashing pen the salute of nodding cordiality. Because you waxed inner those phrases so tactsome so analgesic . So quipful . Fine blossomatic as well. Wish you ave soon strokes of luck outcapping it the usage of slang lexicon.
14th Jan 2016 3:13am
"…if I knew how to make love, I wouldn’t have to waste my sex on whores… "
Powerful brew, John! Feeling the heat from this flaming piece of poetic art. Dramatic down to the last breath. Love it! - blue angel
Powerful brew, John! Feeling the heat from this flaming piece of poetic art. Dramatic down to the last breath. Love it! - blue angel
Anonymous
14th Jan 2016 6:15am
'…if I knew how to make love, I wouldn’t have to waste my sex on whores…' <----------Damn, this line is such a poetic mood killer, and why you went there is strictly beyond me?. . .Now as for the rest of your piece. . .*stellar*, it left me breathless & restless from beginning to end. . .I said it once, and I'll say it again. . .this is why you're the King of Noir. . .fedora hats off to you, John. . .~xo, Devlin/Doll.
14th Jan 2016 9:59am
Bukowski would agree, you've painted a vivid picture of a lonely and desperate soul - yet he is complete and unapologetic about his place in the world, and what he has to do to survive ... And what she has to do
14th Jan 2016 11:41am
'...low-wattage afterglow' captures the sense of barely satisfied beautifully. Wow, what a write!
Anonymous
14th Jan 2016 1:00pm
another amazing read for the depth of introspection alone and that last line is one of the best I've read yet.
write on, John.
write on, John.
14th Jan 2016 2:51pm
after I peel off a few Andrew Jacksons, I hide my wallet in the
drawer with the Gideon bible; a hooker never looks there, she
doesn’t want to get that close to the Ghost Rider in the sky.
I just love this stanza - like a noir narrator... Spade or Marlowe would be honor those lines
drawer with the Gideon bible; a hooker never looks there, she
doesn’t want to get that close to the Ghost Rider in the sky.
I just love this stanza - like a noir narrator... Spade or Marlowe would be honor those lines
14th Jan 2016 4:45pm
14th Jan 2016 5:25pm
Too experienced to try and pretty up something that is nothing more than a biological need. I like it. Sometimes I just wanna fuck without the baggage or pretense. We don't pay hookers for sex. We pay them to leave when the sex is done
14th Jan 2016 7:36pm
I have been pondering a worthy response to this since last night and I still can't come up with one.
Not much leaves me wordless except Love, or the deep desire for such. Well done.
Not much leaves me wordless except Love, or the deep desire for such. Well done.
14th Jan 2016 7:39pm
This one was really gritty and all the better for it. I loved it. Ghost Rider? A Rush fan perhaps? Excellent work once again Mr F.
John
John
14th Jan 2016 8:34pm
Makes one feel the pain and then that last sentence just sends a K.O. to the head. Maybe he doesn't want to learn because it's easier not to?
15th Jan 2016 6:03am
15th Jan 2016 9:07am
15th Jan 2016 7:56pm
Love at a price is far better than no love at all. I'll shell out a few bucks if I have to, and turns out I usually do, a trick waiting to be turned. Excellent work!
16th Jan 2016 4:42am
lmao! not laughing in a way
of cruelness but it made me
laugh
because I love love love your
honesty and rawness but
the last line...
made my airs leave with the
words: Ahh, my Feddler!,
honey ..you love to rip through
our cores.. .no one has
patience these days to teach us
these things. So many of us
are left up to our own devices
-Howlings
of cruelness but it made me
laugh
because I love love love your
honesty and rawness but
the last line...
made my airs leave with the
words: Ahh, my Feddler!,
honey ..you love to rip through
our cores.. .no one has
patience these days to teach us
these things. So many of us
are left up to our own devices
-Howlings
16th Jan 2016 7:36pm
Absolutely awesome, John. You nailed the goings on that lurk behind closed and calloused doors !
Where many of us as poets have gone, but can only commiserate when it comes to speaking with all the rawness of the night life of the no life it buys you beyond the hour paid is up. Excellent ink, John.
19th Jan 2016 00:14am
Pretty raw picture here. No bullshit. I love the tone and the excited apathy of the description. I guess it makes sense since the experience is a sort of excited apathy.
Nice poem man!
Nice poem man!
This picture of a prostitute posing provocatively gave rise to this rhyming caption lately:
Her ladyparts now well in view,
She got positioned for the screw.
His manhood easily went through
As he moaned, hollow, "I love you"!
As if that line was something new,
But men before him oft did do;
He wasn't the first man she knew.
At end he paid what she was due
For laying on this game for two.
Her ladyparts now well in view,
She got positioned for the screw.
His manhood easily went through
As he moaned, hollow, "I love you"!
As if that line was something new,
But men before him oft did do;
He wasn't the first man she knew.
At end he paid what she was due
For laying on this game for two.
6th Jul 2016 6:46am
A raw,primal beast of a write.Tell it like it is,JohnFeddler for the rest of us hide it away so carefully that it may never be found again.Another masterpiece.
