Posts Tagged ‘men’

Great Fuckin’ Job, Jenny. – anonymous

January 20, 2010

now I gotta compete with a desk

stead a makin love on it, what with

all that magicky shit he got goin on

upstairs.

.

go warble yerself to death somewhere else.

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Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck: Scarecrow Collateral, One Two Three

January 3, 2010

it’s like running too fast and being too tall at the same time then seeing yourself  collide with telephone wires and cut off your own head except it’s not your own head it’s somebody else’s head and you’re screaming because they’re bleeding and they look surprised not because they’re actually surprised but they were surprised ten seconds ago when their head was still attached to their neck and you’re screaming oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck and crying more than you have since first grade at your great-grandmother’s funeral because it was scary not black bat and witches scary but pink wallpaper and boring organ music scary, the scary that tries to hide itself behind nice things and becomes scarier by veiling its-

-elf in flowers and velvet oh god please stop you are terrifying me with your quiet Central Park stroll toward death maggots roasting your eyeballs for kabobs, my cynicism and sincerity have been switching nametags to fuzz clarity for laughs well HA HA HA here they come spitting “we ain’t got time for mental glitches bitches let’s get down to business” then forget Fibonacci leaves & leave out obvious non habeas corpus in accidental oversight of Origens and remove hats in shame to countless straw women losing husbands to canons fired in the wrong dir-

-ection if I’m slightly insane and don’t believe it when you schedule all my friends to sit stiff on the living room couch for intervention in nice outfits to break it to me gently I present you proudly with the perfect evidence to use against me.

The Big Dogs

December 10, 2009

the big dogs eat my heart, oh my god,

the big dogs weave themselves into

my limbs as I sleep like casts for

all-over fractures and breathe deep

to massage my jagged jigsaw bones

back into place.

.

they say things like “we are one” and

“you are ours, and we are yours.”

they howl burial hymns that scythe

men’s souls to shards like murder

mirrors bouncing future pictures

back of awkward, messy ends;

men blush and weep, ashamed

of ugly, indifferent deaths.

.

the big dogs blaze strength like martyrs

in my weakness, they hunt in packs,

they think like us but cannot speak.

I love them, my god, I love them

so much; I feel their souls through

the fur on their necks

because they choose to live

in the open.  the big dogs

have no home but themselves;

I go where they go, I sleep where

they sleep.  they are my guides

and keepers, they know the place

where I will die, they will carry me

on their soft, strong backs as I go.

Vertu

November 25, 2009

there are so many things I am trying to say

in one breath, about how many men

have carved their thoughts into

my breasts and left me an unfinished

story lying belly-up on beds and tables

begging for a merciful ending.

I don’t want this to sound like porn,

I want it to sound like every real

and aching thing you’ve ever

heard, I want it to turn your heart

inside-out and make you feel

fifteen again, tender and green

and without shame.

I want to hold every

dying thing in my lap

so it’s not alone, just in case

dogs and mice and pigeons

can tell the difference between

“something breathing is here” and

“nothing breathing is here.”

I want to drive north on Maurer

past the white house at the intersection

by the train tracks, roll down the window

and yell look what you’ve done, you fucked

us both up ten times over

then apologize and remember

I’m smarter and better now, so

I’m told.  I want you to see

the Tastee Freeze on the corner.

I want you to be there for it

and understand.  I want to

figure out where home is

so we can go there.