A Beautiful Poem

 

I watched the sun

as it rose from darkness

and slowly crept upon your sleeping face

like a stalking lover

inhibiting you in places

only a woman could phantom [on a man];

 

I cringed with envy

as I watched that same stalking lover

take flight over your chiseled body

while the vast rays of its translucence

pierced your flesh and ravaged your orifices ~

the same orifices my body

sweated upon

licked upon

kissed upon

came upon;

 

how I ached to strangle that stalking lover

with every strength of my hands

with every beat of my heart;

 

I took a step forward

with the intention

of abruptly pulling down the blinds

but the sun suddenly caught

the naked of my glory

into it’s stalking wrath;

 

I bit back my anger then froze

when my lover awoke

his eyes falling upon me

with a grin that echoed for miles:

 

‘goddamn, you’re beautiful,’

 

he flushed

I blushed

 

‘beautiful. . .like a poem.’

 

 

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Poemless

fields

of whisky

black

 

under

a sunless day

under

a cloudy sky…

heart is a

cardboard box;

 

forgotten rhythm(s)

& impotent stroke(s)

numb these thoughts

of thoughtlessness;

 

versus are shiftless

stanzas wander

prose(s) indisposed ~

drunk is the poet

 

with a leadless pen in hand

& a tattered notebook

with pages of dirty white

crinkle[ing]

against the wind…

                              scream;

 

in quoted brackets

I am read:

 

[Please Insert Poem Here]

 

She Left

she left

ridin’

that midnight train

to Georgia

 

and she left

like a man ~

 

with only the clothes

on her back

 

I could’ve never loved her

as a woman, though

 

especially when she left [behind]

a twelve pack

in the fridge

and

the toilet seat up

 

Blue John

 

we were lovers

once

when

the raccoons came out

to play

with the sky

 

is it so bad

to possess

these liquid dreams

made of corn?

 

I miss your kisses

still, and

vapors eventually do fade,

I suppose

 

I strum one last rhythm

on the banjo

and smell

the burn

of us.

 

 

 

.Jackie.

 

jackie

 

jackie.

 

the first time I saw you

was in a 2nd hand store in ’91

for 65 cents

in a World Full of Married Men

it was then

how I longed to be

one of your fictitious heroines ~

someone you could

glamorize

if “once upon”

 

but in your world

there was hardly ever any “happily ever after’s”

 

but after reading

chapter after chapter

you managed to capture

my own dark fantasies,

and sometimes it wasn’t easy

closing those books

on what “could’ve been”

 

Yes, the World Is Full of Sinners

an occasional Bitch and even a Rock Star

but none of them

will ever measure

to the fabulous superstar you once were

and still are

 

R.I.P Miss Jackie

and keep on writing,

’cause even Heaven needs

a bit of

raunchy drama.

 

 

 

(original photo  Devlin De La Chapa)