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Nachos and A Loaded Gun
Contributed by
ina
on
Tuesday, 7th December 2004 @ 02:31:17 PM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Empty nacho container near his bed like an empty Mexican ashtray
bottles of dry gin ( I---am--- wet ) vomiting inside plastic cups
these cups are like beads: red, green, and blue; a bracelet for my palm
read my palm as it slides down your chest
can you predict where it will go?
of course you can,
with me no one needs to be a psychic,
legs begin to twirl, my hips begin to rock, you hands begin to grasp and rip,
buttons go to hell, zippers wake up, clothes travel into remote corners of the room
and my breasts, tight against my body run under your fingers
the whole world moans
and I slide my body over the warm vertical you
like a deck of cards, I face away
as long as your palms secure my hips, and I am where I am where I go when I am,
all that matters is the shock radiation and my flesh exploding like a NOVA
all that matters is …
me.
Wait…o…wait
“can you make love?”
No.
“Try.”
And the poster of a gun-with human bullets- laughs at me.
“You-- make love? You heartless B*tch!”
I am the gun.
(cold lifeless steel)
He is the bullet.
(made out of flesh and heat)
I have always shot with blanks.
Sudden flip, and I am no longer the Queen from the deck of cards
I am the Joker facing the King of Hearts---
I can’t make love! I cheat! I play war with all Jokers, all Joke..
br />
I shoot.
He misses.
Slow now. Thrusts that last an hour
moans that bend the oceans.
And I speed up, just so I wont have to look into the eye,
just so I wont have to think about pulling the trigger,
but flesh listens to flesh; bodies share a common goal.
And outside the window the rain imitates the beach
flowing up to the window, receding, louder! until my breath is
eternity.
I use to be able to make love,
I use to touch and hold and rock and sore,
I use to whisper “love” and “peace” and “embrace”
It was all about us and him and me and needing more
until he flipped open the box and spilled out my soul
Mexican food invading my nostrils
the slime of semen under my eye
the taste of his swollen lips
everything inside me, packed
like those human bullets on the poster
on the wall, laughing
but secretly crying.
When all is said and done
my life, my soul, my body
stands like a loaded naked gun.
Copyright ©
ina
... [
2004-12-07 14:31:17]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Nachos and A Loaded Gun
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Tuesday, 7th December 2004 @ 04:48:12 PM AEST
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Terrific ending -
Thanks for writing. |
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Re: Nachos and A Loaded Gun
(User Rating: 1 )
by zenmind on
Tuesday, 7th December 2004 @ 05:34:13 PM AEST
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Holy sh*t. This is intense. Very very good. I don't even know what to say. It left me speechless, which doesn't happen often. Damn. I think this is something that only you will understand at the heart of it. I cannot even comprehend what has brought you to this moment. I cannot concieve of where your mindstate, regarding intimacy and sex, is at. We all relate to it differently. So let me read it again.....
Empty nacho container near his bed like an empty Mexican ashtray
bottles of dry gin ( I---am--- wet ) vomiting inside plastic cups
This is great. The way you set this whole poem up, is disgusting. Gross.....filthy....I love it. It totally represents how you feel. Great way of showing it. Vomiting inside plastic cups. This is insane. I love the way that you write.
exploding like a NOVA
all that matters is …
me.
Ok, now I am starting to understand where you are at....
Wait…o…wait
can you make love?
No.
Try.
I like poems where the poet is adressing the reader. It allows the poet, as a person, to come through. Your thought process was real.
And the poster of a gun-with human bullets- laughs at me.
“You-- make love? You heartless B*tch!”
You've got a lot of negative feelings toward yourself. I understand....so do I.
I am the gun.
(cold lifeless steel)
He is the bullet.
(made out of flesh and heat)
I have always shot with blanks.
Good metaphore.
By the end of the poem, it seems that you returned to the same place that you were at the beginning of the poem...
Mexican food invading my nostrils
the slime of semen under my eye
That is an utterly disgusting image! It's great. That's what I mean, by coming back to the beginning of the poem. I don't know if that was your intention, but it is well done.
I have to read more of your stuff. It is very intriguing. Some of my favorite poetry on the site.
Be True,
zenmind |
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Re: Nachos and A Loaded Gun
(User Rating: 1 )
by Ina on
Wednesday, 8th December 2004 @ 12:27:10 AM AEST
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Ok these Crazy stuck up administrators (by the way I am a moderator at another poetry site and I have never NEVER edited poems like they did, here, to my poem).
"I am the Joker facing the King of Hearts---
I can’t make love! I cheat! I play war with all Jokers, all Joke..
I *****!
I shoot.
He misses.
*and *
as long as your palms secure my hips, and I am where I am where I go when I am *****,"
guys come on, you have already deleted two of my poems. Liberal, lets be.
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Re: Nachos and A Loaded Gun
(User Rating: 1 )
by Ina on
Wednesday, 8th December 2004 @ 12:29:32 AM AEST
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Thank you Senmind! A lot. I am all cheries and lillies about your comments.
and that is "F*ck" and "F*cked"
i am going to get banned from this site, no? |
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Re: Nachos and A Loaded Gun
(User Rating: 1 )
by reilt on
Monday, 13th December 2004 @ 02:27:20 PM AEST
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| oh ina how happy i am to see you posting again. i love this. a great and intense write. |
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