deepundergroundpoetry.com
trailer girls
sailors coming into port
soldiers at a lonely fort
angels who had risen from hell:
the trailer girls have loved us well.
harbored off-road, just beyond the gates of our post.
those trailers of solicited passion; a platoon of demoiselles
made for love crazy love.
I could smell the fragrance of their spiced bodies & hear
their song of arousal. I am among the walking wounded of
loneliness: cradle me.
in her bed, I was unaware of the little pillows of decoration,
the neon candles unlit, the untasted wine in plastic goblets.
I felt only the elation of being folded into her infamy, locked
in the minor prison of carnal immolation. this fugitive lust of a
soldier & a whore, who were merely any man, & any woman.
after, there is a glowing, & a silence, in which we learn to
breathe again; to let a tear fall from its lost home. we were,
briefly, two creatures alone in a somnolent universe. we were
stars that had burned in a faraway sky…
when our regiment was loaded into trucks & sent to a
beleaguered outpost, the girls in their trailers followed at a shy
distance. they were part of us, & would not falter.
trailer girls. they bartered the temple of their flesh for tarnished
gold. harlots who carried me when I burdened them; who loved
me when there was no other love –
for the mercy of whores establishes no borders…
(Artist unknown)
Published 13th May 2016
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13th May 2016 6:24pm
this has such a melancholy undertone JohnFeddeler ... exquisitely told ... a troubled scene painted meticulously .. when the dust settles, love can be found even under the harshest of circumstances ...
13th May 2016 6:30pm
John your beautiful ink moves me deeply such a heart you have..
your art comes from pain and a worldly knowledge there is no measure to it's depths superb..
love Crim
your art comes from pain and a worldly knowledge there is no measure to it's depths superb..
love Crim
13th May 2016 7:10pm
Better these than the ones in limos, seems to me, down and dirty all the way. If there's a price to their mercy so be it. Intoxicating write.
13th May 2016 7:13pm
This poem reminds me of when I hit New York
in my teens, fresh out of the Arkansas sticks.
The whore's of Forty-Second street took me in
hand and gave me an education no amount of
schooling could possibly best.
in my teens, fresh out of the Arkansas sticks.
The whore's of Forty-Second street took me in
hand and gave me an education no amount of
schooling could possibly best.
13th May 2016 8:29pm
13th May 2016 9:06pm
Whores have the ability to make soldiers feel like Greek heroes instead of the whore-mongering
drunks they typically were. Heroes that had finally come to liberate them from their selves.
This brought it home, John.
drunks they typically were. Heroes that had finally come to liberate them from their selves.
This brought it home, John.
13th May 2016 11:28pm
...the speech of your pen takes my breath away. Always satisfied visiting your page...
14th May 2016 3:06am
'...the girls in their trailers followed at a shy
distance.'
Could there be a better use of the word shy, ever? Stunned that one word can encapsulate so much...
distance.'
Could there be a better use of the word shy, ever? Stunned that one word can encapsulate so much...
14th May 2016 1:10pm
You always paint a picture that is so vibrant John :)
In particular, these words...
'after, there is a glowing, & a silence, in which we learn to
breathe again; to let a tear fall from its lost home. we were,
briefly, two creatures alone in a somnolent universe. we were
stars that had burned in a faraway sky…'
In particular, these words...
'after, there is a glowing, & a silence, in which we learn to
breathe again; to let a tear fall from its lost home. we were,
briefly, two creatures alone in a somnolent universe. we were
stars that had burned in a faraway sky…'
Anonymous
14th May 2016 11:00pm
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
- Edited 8th Nov 2018 00:49am
15th May 2016 4:05pm
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
18th May 2016 4:14pm
Sir John - speechless again....With love always - Taryn xoxo
"I felt only the elation of being folded into her infamy, locked
in the minor prison of carnal immolation."
"I felt only the elation of being folded into her infamy, locked
in the minor prison of carnal immolation."
