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Image for the poem beautiful (are the bad)

beautiful (are the bad)


Sensual.   Loving.   Unutterable.   Temptress.

if I call them sluts, will they object?

when I come to this place, I could call it Perfidia;
I could call it Isla Mujeres.

I come without intrigue, seeking the allure of the women
who read me, because I crave the beautiful, & the bad.
if I haven’t seen them unclothed, I imagine them that way.
& you can tell I have an austere imagination by the
carnal confessions that I write:

my imagination is a bordello on the wrong side of town.

the paper is laid out like a naked whore
waiting to be abused,
& my pen is erect…

we’ll play a little blues on the old Victrola, sultry as a
southern breeze on a hot night. let the moonlight spill
on your beauty, & your rebel song.

if you weep, I will touch your tears,
I will taste each one on my fingers.

I’ll hold you closer than a slow dance,
& I’ll know you’re dangerous when you say
‘you don’t give a girl a chance!’…


(Art: Peter Martin)






Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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