Neighborhood Postcards

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Preta
Preta
2 Followers

1

He was a misanthropic old lung fish
breathing in great pantomime gulps,
fish mouthed bass inhalations
and cursing the very air that sustained him
on each chest rattling exhale.

Talking with a drowning victim
all burps and bubbles,
wet spittle lips,
the urge to clear your throat
to set an example.

Cigar smoke draped him
like a decaying Christmas wreath
brown and void of any warmth
dead celebrating death.

2)

You are nothing without her,
it all becomes nothing,
nothing funny,
nothing good,
nothing,nothing.

Nothing rears up,
slothful and poison and consumes hours
like eating peanuts,
discarding empty skulls
as shells underfoot,
the crunch of moving
toward nothing,
back to nothing,
emptiness is not nothing.
Nothing will help
Nothing makes sense at this point
Nothing washes away the dirty scum of belief
Nothing answers all your questions
Nothing helps your pain
Nothing

3)
The cross becomes an obstacle
to pleasure.
She eats bitter bread in her mothers kitchen and listens to Pink Floyd,
while engulfing sacred icons,
reverse birthing
as if to spit them out
with disgust
and life.

The Leonard Cohen records hint at the echo
that resounds in her cavernous womb,
dead births all,
dead and blind.
She takes herbal tea and regain her balance
ignoring zygotes
that swim in curdled cream.

4)
The first kiss,
his heart afire,
burning with
what?
what?
New sensations invade,
a small death
welcomed,
anything for her.
Yes,
anything.
The dead childhood falls off,
umbilical remnant,
of a life that can no longer support his dreams.

5)
To hit her again
is no big deal,
the precedent has established
anonymity.
Motherfucker,
deserves it.

He sits waiting,
praying the meal is cold,
right hand just itching.

6)
After 6 weeks
she smiles at the voice of her grandfather,
her body opens to the love he emotes,
there's no separation
no language to distinguish
he and I.

There is just warmth and love.

Years later
she will seek this in drugs and sex,
the last fix will bring
warm white light
and she will murmur " Grandpa'
in the alley.

No one will hear.


Preta
Preta
2 Followers
  • COMMENTS
5 Comments
LeBrozLeBrozover 16 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 36,500 poems.

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champagne1982champagne1982about 17 years ago
I liked

how nothing and nothing and nothing more became something and then turned invisible in the dark.

MyNecroticSnailMyNecroticSnailover 17 years ago
Uneven

#2 to much nothing

#1 is good of the sort, does not fit with the ultra realism

of #4 and #5 which as also good

#6 plays to audience, a little too much

steve portersteve porterover 17 years ago
Postcards from the edge...

...sounds like my neighborhood...loved it, thanks.

unapologeticunapologeticover 17 years ago
Wow

Preta,

You've spoiled me. This is one of the first poems I've read at Literotica - having just recently found this part of the site - and it's incredible. The variety of subjects, the subtle playing with assonance and alliteration, and the way you paint a picture with just enough words...

All I can say is wow.