deepundergroundpoetry.com
Tereska (don't make me say it)
sure, I should be sleeping instead of writing, coffee cup’s empty,
the night has faded away again, window’s bright with a sun whose
face I don’t recall,
& that woman, that woman, why does she hold me like this, she’s not
beautiful, not beautiful enough for other men, she sits there on her bed
with her bare feet up, a silver shine in her eyes & a song called anyhow
on her lips, tapping in time to the whispering wind outside & the
lonesome whistle of a distant train somewhere down the line,
waiting for me, she says, maybe she’s mistaken me for another dream,
another poet, it’s cold & I stumble around in the dark, can’t find my t-shirt,
the gray one ‘cause it’s darker than her eyes & heavier than her sins,
wondering if I should eat or hang myself, avoiding the den where the ice
blue screen is, till I relent & sign in, freefalling into her arms, she takes off
her glasses & lets her hair down like the girl in the bookshop in a Bogart film,
she shows me her poem which is good but not good enough, so I fix it &
she’s grateful, she takes me to rooms where a woman is not supposed to
take a man, & if she told me what to do I’d tell her she can just shut her
mouth ‘cause I know what to do & I’ve got the shotgun to prove it,
she’s naked & swollen from ecstasy, she’s sticky, little snowdrops slip
down her thighs like the blips on a radar screen, so radiant & sweet I could
lick them & I do, she moans like that midnight train, I take the trolley going
uptown & she takes the one going down,
she imprisons me in the intolerable vacuum of her mouth & right when I
forget that I am not Shakespeare I give her the stuff that dreams are made
of, she swallows & stands & says something that means forever, which is
long ago & far away, she touches me with her Japanese fire,
which is hotter than coffee, hotter than September,
& just when I think I love her, I remember –
she only uses me for sex & poetry…
(Art: Jan Saudek)
the night has faded away again, window’s bright with a sun whose
face I don’t recall,
& that woman, that woman, why does she hold me like this, she’s not
beautiful, not beautiful enough for other men, she sits there on her bed
with her bare feet up, a silver shine in her eyes & a song called anyhow
on her lips, tapping in time to the whispering wind outside & the
lonesome whistle of a distant train somewhere down the line,
waiting for me, she says, maybe she’s mistaken me for another dream,
another poet, it’s cold & I stumble around in the dark, can’t find my t-shirt,
the gray one ‘cause it’s darker than her eyes & heavier than her sins,
wondering if I should eat or hang myself, avoiding the den where the ice
blue screen is, till I relent & sign in, freefalling into her arms, she takes off
her glasses & lets her hair down like the girl in the bookshop in a Bogart film,
she shows me her poem which is good but not good enough, so I fix it &
she’s grateful, she takes me to rooms where a woman is not supposed to
take a man, & if she told me what to do I’d tell her she can just shut her
mouth ‘cause I know what to do & I’ve got the shotgun to prove it,
she’s naked & swollen from ecstasy, she’s sticky, little snowdrops slip
down her thighs like the blips on a radar screen, so radiant & sweet I could
lick them & I do, she moans like that midnight train, I take the trolley going
uptown & she takes the one going down,
she imprisons me in the intolerable vacuum of her mouth & right when I
forget that I am not Shakespeare I give her the stuff that dreams are made
of, she swallows & stands & says something that means forever, which is
long ago & far away, she touches me with her Japanese fire,
which is hotter than coffee, hotter than September,
& just when I think I love her, I remember –
she only uses me for sex & poetry…
(Art: Jan Saudek)
Published 11th Oct 2016
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Anonymous
11th Oct 2016 2:48am
Oh my Sir John....this just....good lawd...poetry can be such a wicked thing, both good wicked and heart breaking...as well is seduction, whether live or through the lines created and read....many of us have been left broken and yet still left breathless...both of which is an amazing thing you do with every single write...you amaze me....With love always - Taryn xoxo
11th Oct 2016 3:53am
which is hotter than coffee, hotter than September,
& just when I think I love her, I remember –
she only uses me for sex & poetry…
Janpanese fire,sex and poetry,a need to love; poetry that burns the page with desire and cools the flame with meloncholy tears. Absolutely beautiful,John,touching in its broken complexity....
& just when I think I love her, I remember –
she only uses me for sex & poetry…
Janpanese fire,sex and poetry,a need to love; poetry that burns the page with desire and cools the flame with meloncholy tears. Absolutely beautiful,John,touching in its broken complexity....
11th Oct 2016 6:32am
" & if she told me what to do I’d tell her she can just shut her
mouth ‘cause I know what to do & I’ve got the shotgun to prove it, "
John this made me giggle I love a man who holds the upper hand with a woman..
Dominate write spanking my naughty ass ;)
love Crim
mouth ‘cause I know what to do & I’ve got the shotgun to prove it, "
John this made me giggle I love a man who holds the upper hand with a woman..
Dominate write spanking my naughty ass ;)
love Crim
11th Oct 2016 6:49am
13th Oct 2016 2:22am
