poems etc.

Woman

It was a thin wire

Spindly thin

And she walked on it

Carefully fast

With her pink clown shoes

As she tried to keep

Her diminishing locks

From prying into her one eye

For the other eye

Was a blind glass

The beautiful Nazi blue

 

They gave her

 

 

So, with her tired arms

And bony fingers

She wobbled

The deadly waltz

With a sly hoop

Dancing on her neck

And twisting into her hair

 

Holding her back

 

 

And the hall gasped

As she spun

And almost slipped off

Unexpectedly

But the greased line

A loving mother

Kept her bleeding heels

 

Steadily sloped

 

 

“It would be a miracle if she made it”

they whispered

in between their thin mints

and garlic popcorn

 

Two tickets for a dollar

Tampons were more expensive.

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poems etc.

The election 

They won the only coin toss

Before the others knew how to play

And then they stood appalled 

From higher moral ground

Wearing coats with green lapels

Hints of gold in their salivating grins 

Preaching dreams only to tax them

In barren lands rain a sin


And yet the hollow people followed fast

The humourless constitution of the dream weaver

Afoot on a cloud above 

Lambs electing butchers as their leader


Finally they reached the alter

Their carcass stinking of despair 

As he perfumed himself with power

The illustrious illusion of order

Was only for the civic fair


And thus the carnivore sat on the throne

Lined by the hide of your forefathers 

While your flesh drops off your bone

The fat man’s dinner party a slaughter


my life, poems etc.

On being a slut

My cotton briefs sit by my lacy braleṭte  

Ink stained fingers wear seductive reds

My hair dishevelled and lobes twice pierced

Legs pour out of the shorts stretched across my derriere

Christian faith nestled in boastful cleavage

My morals looser than my lovers by the sewage

Brought up in elite upscale high rises

 I drive downtown for my sunrises 

The thunder reigning over me

Making your structure a mockery

And yet I am a slut for nothing more

Than all these sins my sisters branded me for

All these luxuries I allowed myself

Cashed out on the moral credit I once held

This generation they call themselves new

Rebels like me the deviant few

Monogamous monotonous daughters and mothers

On your wrinkles the dark age hovers

The feminist you claimed to be

Pigs more understanding than she