Posts Tagged ‘sex’

Slugs Don’t Want Your Pity

February 18, 2010

you are an asshole.  that is fine.

you live in my house.  that is fine.

you invite slugs over for dinner.

they refuse to leave.  they are assholes.

you offer them drinks.

after the slugs are dead you say

you gave them saltwater.

that is fine.

you feed my children the dead slugs.

they are hungry.

they have strong immune systems.

they will grow up to be assholes.

that is fine.

my children are pissed.

you said the slugs were fries.

my children cannot tell the difference

between slugs and fries.

my children are stupid.

I tell them to stop crying

and go to bed because

it is late and no one cares

about their feelings.

you slither over and stand

in my intimate space.

your cheeks are flushed

and your pupils are dilated.

I will not have sex with you.

you are an asshole.

.

do not feel sorry for slugs.

they don’t feel sorry or anything else.

you are still an asshole.

.

get out of my house.

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Your Elation is in Direct Opposition to Idolatry.

January 27, 2010

the nuclear family is about to explode

and splatter bloody chunks all over

the minivan, which I hope explodes as well

because that would be badass.

we as molecules will multiply out from

and onto each other without restraint,

cracking jokes about subatomic schisms

and waking up cradled by our friends’ forearms

and backs.  we will live slap-happily together

and save fossil fuels, because dead dinosaurs

are real pissed off about

gettin’ milked all the time.

.

our cats and dogs will sleep

in the trees and vines, hunting

with us in calico war paint mirroring

streaks of earthy joy running

down our chests and backs, parallel

columns of priceless sinew purring

hammock sighs in August darkness.

.

we will dump spare change

into the streets and hand out bagels

for free, we will fist bump grandmothers

and play air guitar in the frozen food

aisle, we will sprint down stairs into

each other colliding with a sound

like strings and bells and choirs

proclaiming the anniversary of

a new beginning.


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.

Yeah Baby, You Know What I Like

November 30, 2009

We’re only this age once,

you know.  Someday twenty

or thirty years from now I’ll

whine and sigh at a bathroom

mirror about how smooth my

shoulders used to be when I

was young.  It might make me

cry.  It might make the mirror

uncomfortable, not knowing

how to soothe me without

getting more involved than

it really wants to be. I’ll punch

the mirror in the face because

I’m feeling angry and don’t

have a healthier available

outlet.  I’ll want sex real bad

because I’m feeling vulnerable

but kind of strong and sexy too

because I just fucking killed

that mirror like I get paid by

the hour to be a total badass.

Since this is my poem and I

am in control, there’ll be

someone there who wants

to have sex with me and

thinks it’s hot that I just

destroyed the bathroom mirror.

Neither of us will have to go

to work in the morning.

 

It will be the best night

I’ve had in a long time.