Old Poems and dusty words.

Last week I was digging around in a box of junk and happened on a notebook full of poems and words. I have no recollection of writing any of the things in this notebook. I have no idea when I might have written any of these things. I will say it was within the last 6 years because prior to that I did not use this sort of notepad.

Most of the poems I can’t read my handwriting so I can’t transcribe them but here are a few.

After so many shady summers
I still feel suspect.
Wrung out and empty.
This is the liminal aspect
of my absurd ego.

I wanted to be hard
-aloof and beautiful.
Sturdy, implacable steel
with tart lips.
I wanted to leave you
bruised and spent.
My secrets will eat themselves.
Devour each other
Along with my tender heart.
Until I am little but glass.
My sight is broken-
perfect mosaic that hides
my secrets odd heart.

The needle did not
penetrate my virgin skin.
But I paid- I paid.

He laments for me
silent tears and ghostly touch
In death he feels all.
Take your time
Tread slowly over
the dessicated terrain
This is no nature walk.
We- are going to war.
I want to be Inanna.
Blessing the solemn with
the joy of my glorious cunt.
I want to birth sun and moon
earth and stars.
Contain all the answers to the great mysteries.
Covet those secrets tight between my thighs.
I want them all to sing in praise of my cunt.
I want to rule the world with wetness and grace.
If my mania can’t be forgiven
Please remember in this moment
Ozone in my mouth and lightening between my teeth.
Before I fall like Icarus-
flaming and insane.
I will know what is sacred.
There is murder on my tongue.
Vengeance- heat lightening in my fingers.
Yes these eyes are calm and smooth.
No one will know my rage.
Slowly burning.
I will lay in wait.
Smile and sweetness.,
Until you are blind as you are dumb.

She sings in summer
Sun kissed gleaming lusty salt sweet.
She is joy
But she is not me.
I am greedy
Groaning gaping avarice
insatiable with my mouth wide open
Atavistic lust.
Until there is nothing left
to devour.
If I feed my roses blood, will they bloom red hot and salty to perfume my garden with murder?


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