deepundergroundpoetry.com
evanescence of wild things
to go where the wild things are. it’s a compulsion, it’s a bad move.
but some guys can’t help it. some dames too.
these sordid encounters, they happen at night. & the night is not
so mean & cold after you’ve made friends with it. an anonymous
cocktail lounge, just off the highway, where the shooters are
lethal & the music is not danceable. but it doesn’t matter, I just
want to hold her close to me.
she’s there on a bar stool with a couple jokers already layin’ out
their bait. moonlight cruise in a Cadillac, fancy hotel suites,
maybe even hard cash. nothing smells as sweet as a fresh
hundred dollar bill.
and it doesn’t have to be that much. I’ve seen dolls do some very
dirty things for a lousy twenty bucks.
she spots me & gives her pinstripe romeos the slip, says she’s
gotta go talk to her agent. we embrace like familiar lovers, my
hands exploring the clinging fabric of her dress, mapping the
body beneath it. her fingers making warm spots on my neck, till
we don’t know who is the predator & who is the prey.
in the trembling shadows of the motel room, her body is exciting &
yielding beneath my carnivorous assault. she absorbs my bites, my
intruding tongue & fingers; her moans, her untamed eyes, are those
of a she-wolf. she pulls me in to where I need to be, & it’s almost…
but it never is. because her face is not the face of the woman I loved
once, long ago. the woman who walked away, tearfully broken by
my terrible obsession – to run with the wild things. & once again, I
remember Marquez’s words: sex is the consolation you get when
you can’t have love.
maybe next week it will be a different town, a different bar.
a different dame.
with a bullet, it’s quick: one shot, over & done.
but love can kill you a thousand times…
(Art: Jeanloup Sieff)
Published 27th Jun 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 18
reading list entries 4
comments 16
reads 1641
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
27th Jun 2016 2:06am
Your poem, this one and others, is like reading a Raymond Chandler novel... the noir seeping out of the cracks in the pavement, filling the glasses on the bar, and in the dancers' eyes. The dancers in the latest episode of the unfolding drama of life.
27th Jun 2016 2:14am
"with a bullet, it’s quick: one shot, over & done.
but love can kill you a thousand times…"
isn't that the truth John love kills again and again..
fantastic noir..
love Crim
but love can kill you a thousand times…"
isn't that the truth John love kills again and again..
fantastic noir..
love Crim
Oh yeah, John, I RELATE big time. Ya did good, ya! As the man said once, been there, done that.
Anonymous
- Edited 9th Nov 2018 2:45pm
27th Jun 2016 3:11am
<< post removed >>
27th Jun 2016 5:53am
It's nothing short of brilliant poetry story telling wrapped in mini prose form. Your ability to connect that left hook in every stanza's subject was very pleasing to read, John... Love it... top favorite write of yours for me... Undoubtedly...
-ed
-ed
27th Jun 2016 7:21am
I don't know anything about form or flow,but this one inspired me to want to learn.Thanks for the inspiration.
27th Jun 2016 7:43am
God I know this, so very well. The swell of wanting to consume anything troubled, troubling your spirit until it happens despite once, having something good.
27th Jun 2016 10:47am
27th Jun 2016 12:32pm
"but love can kill you a thousand times" ... yes, yes it can ...
excellent write JohnFeddeler ...
excellent write JohnFeddeler ...
27th Jun 2016 5:15pm
Marquez is one of my favorite writers.
You've used his words perfectly, as the
subtle reference to Berry's poem -
and that's a high compliment.
Beautifully real write, John.
My wild things are in nature.
You've used his words perfectly, as the
subtle reference to Berry's poem -
and that's a high compliment.
Beautifully real write, John.
My wild things are in nature.
27th Jun 2016 6:56pm
Love kills but somehow one keeps hoping. I've bit the dust more times than I can say but still stumble from one prospect to the next. I particularly like your strategy of making friends with the night, an ally in dealing with the wild things. Fine work!
28th Jun 2016 11:52am
Love the tender truth lurking in the harsh reality of these lines
Fav lines:
she pulls me in to where I need to be, & it’s almost…
but it never is. because her face is not the face of the woman I loved
once, long ago. the woman who walked away, tearfully broken by
my terrible obsession – to run with the wild things
Fav lines:
she pulls me in to where I need to be, & it’s almost…
but it never is. because her face is not the face of the woman I loved
once, long ago. the woman who walked away, tearfully broken by
my terrible obsession – to run with the wild things
29th Jun 2016 2:03pm
30th Jun 2016 12:17pm
I for one had never heard Marquez's words but man are they the truth. What an excellent piece.;as they always are. You're a wonderful poet sir and seem to be filled with stories of the dark side for us to read and save. Great ink Mr F.
John
John
Anonymous
2nd Jul 2016 3:01am
You are so deliciously ambitious.
..I love the mesh here
makes me lose my words to shivers
-
..I love the mesh here
makes me lose my words to shivers
-
4th Jul 2016 10:03pm
I must follow Crimsin and jemac, love kills a thousand times
Worse than the death by a thousand cuts, yet always more full of bliss than the one thousandth kiss
Your words express what I have felt so many times
Thank You Sir John
Worse than the death by a thousand cuts, yet always more full of bliss than the one thousandth kiss
Your words express what I have felt so many times
Thank You Sir John
