deepundergroundpoetry.com
oracle of sorrow
noir in a highball glass & her wicked, quivering heart on a
cold blue plate: last meal for the condemned.
it’s a common story that craves to be unique. it’s about a
man & a woman & how twisted love can be. that’s what
makes it….. common.
I do okay with love, I avoid it completely. but just when you
think you’ve got all the angles figured, a dame comes along
to show you why every man is born a fool.
she got me with her looks at first, long dark hair that hangs
loose like silk vines, & a tight body that moved like a pagan
dancer. but she got me solid with her words: ‘you’re different
from other men, baby, the pretty things you tell me. I know
the kind of dirty loving you want, & I would do that. I would do
that for you, baby.’
and she did, & threw in a few tricks of her own. the way she
held me melted the ice inside me. her moans & her wails, her
deep kisses. it made me something strange & crazy & wonderful.
I could’ve composed an opera or written poems. a bum like me.
but there were nights when she left me alone. she did charity
work, she said.
one night, in the parking lot at Bogart’s, I walked past a ’48 Chevy
that seemed to rock gently in an indiscreet way. I peeked in, &
caught her performing lewd acts on a hipster in a crooked fedora.
when she got home, it came on quick & reckless. I called her a whore
& she slapped me, so I hit her & knocked her down; it was the first
time I ever saw her cry. my mind took off for a beach on a lonely island,
leaving me abandoned & fatal.
my hands gripped her throat like angels of retribution. she stared at me
with almost innocent eyes that were so afraid of death, & somehow my
anger diminished. I felt only the oracle of sorrow, averring that love is the
cruelest thing, even more than loneliness. when it was done, I walked.
I walked a long way.
so here I am on an old wooden bridge that hangs mournfully over a
swift & moody river. it’s a long drop; I figure if I’m goin’ out, I’m goin’
out with a little romance.
I can see just as far as the starlight burning on the water.
I can see her eyes, calling me…
(Artist unknown)
Published 18th Jul 2016
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likes 14
reading list entries 1
comments 11
reads 1428
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18th Jul 2016 4:27am
18th Jul 2016 5:41am
Anonymous
18th Jul 2016 5:53am
Thank you for sharing John.
You are not alone.
You are not alone.
18th Jul 2016 9:19am
18th Jul 2016 12:33pm
18th Jul 2016 2:16pm
Sometimes we must face our demons
to learn exactly who they are,and who we're not.
Painful but pertinent write, John.
to learn exactly who they are,and who we're not.
Painful but pertinent write, John.
18th Jul 2016 6:46pm
18th Jul 2016 7:51pm
Personally, I was born a patsy. Excellent if sorrowful work, and I love the pic of Monica Bellucci.
19th Jul 2016 8:11am
o'dear you my Feddler
as I always
you're just too much,
should have awaited
for this..will be back
A heart's swear
-Howlings
as I always
you're just too much,
should have awaited
for this..will be back
A heart's swear
-Howlings
20th Jul 2016 7:37am
The born fools are lucky. I'm a schooled fool... and it took me a lot of work to get this dumb.
At least I can still read and enjoy your great writes. Many thank yous!
At least I can still read and enjoy your great writes. Many thank yous!
