Poems anyone?

[SexyDevilGirl]

Helena Broder sobs over Terezin

They say that the wind was muzzled
and breathed neither on the leaves
nor on the children's bodies,
phantoms of life,
portents of death.

They say they had raised walls,
placed watchmen
The children had no pencils
under their arms,
only yellow stars:
Stars tied to the arms
of those children without offences,
without crimes, large or small.
They were children, only children
with their golden stars
and their dark suits
that only deepened the shadows
in that remote place
in that timeless time,
among breathless winds.

And the children learned to follow
the breath of the movement of things
They saw the light of God on the barbed wire

:|

 

[zgodt]

THE ONLY DANCE THERE IS
--Rebecca Byrkit

Oh no! He's going to show it to me --
The gelatinous spore burst like a shot bird's foot --
Splayed, in the nest of his own little egg cup ear. God!
Is it he, or is it I, in my white spikes and Levi's,
Peeling sweaty red labels off Buds, who becomes
Slowly exposed, a pornographic snap developing
At a While-U-Wate Shak? Is it my turquoise lighter holder,
Or my voice, full of coins and strangulations,
That compels the alcoholics, the men I literally live for,
To repeatedly ask what I want? "Hey, what do you want?"
I know girls who dance in bars and marry, like, firemen.
This man here is so unemployed I could talk to him
All night. I'm saddled on a teetering labrador of lust, drunk
And ready to fill up a station wagon. It is

the degringolade of the species of woman I am --
The curl of my big leg and the sure smell of that sweat,
Redolent and in that Terrible Vicinity. Here, let me buy that,
I am transmigrating in the def leppard of my "desire"
And it has happened before, is happening, will happen again,
All of it. It's the old lovemaking in the cemetery routine, Johnny.
The last beauty I fell for drank me AND fucked me
Under the table. He said, "Hey there, you little redheaded sweetiepie, you.
Perfection, my life is an open casket funeral; darling,
Our love is the visitation hour." You heard what he did next.
Frankly I still admire him.
I have nevernever touched myself so well,
Nor could I observe a man jerk off in a sock with such joy.
At times I swear the sex of the earth is a bedwash and sponge for Jesus.
At times I swear I could live with a man I'll call "Tom"

forever: when we met he bound me with Venetian blind cord
And went down on me for roughly nine hours. He delivered
His own daughters' sons. You know how it must be for me.
Drunk in bars, I feel the righteous ness of humidity and cherry,
Initials carved in tequila-drenched grain with "surgical precision."
We are listing toward the primordial wind and I talk about men
To me. (Once my hair caught fire in a tavern.
The man who set it horsewhipped my head, singeing
His shavebrush Stetson.)
An absolute glance. Tufts of a botched permanent wave. O,
You drunk and fucked-up munificence. O, unshaven, Midnight,
Kindly lubricate my introduction to your unspeakable ring of chaos
You understand to be your life. You will surely pull the coil out of my car.
Oh no! He's going to show it to me --
God save the two of us, supernova.

 

[MaidenMadness]

ok i'll try to write a poem

step by step we strive
towards our true selves
leaving all the masks behind
or at least that's the way
it was meant to be
instead of being ourselves
we hide from demons of our past deeds
under various masks
slowly deed my deed
mask by mask
drug by drug
we seek shelter
cause the demons are getting closer
never realising that you can run but you can't hide
cause the demon is within us

so what do you think?