Thursday, June 26, 2008

Omnipotent Pimp

Whoa, back up Mister
Or would you prefer I ask, “Pretty Please?”
With my bottom lip sticking out?
Don’t expect to find me strewn and pouting all about your laces
Loosely hanging from your vapid shoes
There is not enough bitter salt or rusty nails
Adam’s Eve, ‘Bating-the-Master’
Best played out while you console your limp ego
To all you disillusioned boys, praying to find something alabaster and malleable
Dreaming of sticking and squishing it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth
Its tough skin and red fiber making a sweet and grainy resin
But don’t forget—something you can protect
Making daddy proud as you detach from your mother’s hip
To give me your last name and seed
With a womb for which to carry it
Like this makes me biologically incapable of actually enjoying a good fuck
Heh, well now that’s a calling to save my soul
All us pussy-cats and paper dolls causing you to salivate and lust
They’ll try to sit my dirty ass in a velvet pew, kind of kinky don’t ya think?
Listening to a man drone on about my proper submission
What? To you? Ha!
Shnookums, I thought you liked it when I was on top?
“But not past this patriarchical line,” some of them bock!
As they circle signs and petitions declaring my body a lawsuit
How dare we carry such a natural power
And if it was just one night, would you just call me a fornicating slut
Healing your self-respect as if I was in need of some special humbling
Or, if I said, “No!” Sit begging while prescribing me a tease
Could I then be your wife?
For example, Deuteronomy 21, 11-14

11: And seest among the captives a beautiful woman, and hast a desire unto her, that thou wouldest have her to thy wife

12: Then thou shalt bring her home to thine house, and she shall shave her head, and pare her nails;

13: And she shall put the raiment of her captivity from off her, and shall remain in thine house, and bewail her father and her mother a full month: and after that thou shalt go in unto her, and be her husband, and she shall be thy wife.

14: And it shall be, if thou have no delight in her, then thou shalt let her go whither she will; but thou shalt not sell her at all for money, thou shalt not make merchandise of her, because thou hast humbled her.

Well, let me give you a Revelation, particularly

14:3And they sung as it were a new song before the throne, and before the four beasts, and the elders: and no man could learn that song but the hundred and forty and four thousand, which were redeemed from the earth.

14:4These are they which were not defiled with women; for they are virgins. These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. These were redeemed from among men, being the firstfruits unto God and to the Lamb

God, your hero, the Man’s man
Staking me his “Bride,”
Oops, stole your trophy
In this gorgeous white lace and gown
Honey, sugar, baby, I dare you to make this fruit my fault
Trying to mold me into something that makes you more comfortable
As if I was a syrup tart, satiating only to your saliva
Put that damn chain away, I am not an extension of you
HE couldn’t handle that, could you?

Susie E.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

A Devious Innocent

Were I to peer out of those green and sometimes bluish spheres, could I still sing?
All along, the crow’s purple feather crookedly pointed
But never toward any glimmer or stream of warm sun
Yes, you have seen this grin
Indeed, I am well aware of my place behind these pores, bent teeth, and smirk
Childish runaway that is me, do not mistake my integrity nor my deeds
Summing me up to a 9 x 3
Selfless, please, any mention of my intention
None is above your shun and tease
And so, my shining steel and silver plate, or so you say
How dare I not recognize your saving grace when I am but on my knees
Here, within the round dents of clay and grey moon moaning for its blessed birth
I beg you to make sense of this?
Newly painted nails tirelessly chipping away, expecting me not to hurt
While misconstruing my very words only to have them shoved down my throat and choked up for tonight
I never meant to let you down, nor color those pupils sandalwood
Always, I promise, I loved you every inch of the way down while crossing the waist line and belt
What a shameless, pathetic thief
Tell me what I should think of myself…a bitch?
Better yet, why not just call me a slut
Tossing and braiding my hair into perfect pigtails, “Smile but never feel.”
If not animosity, then I am at a loss and finally put these two hands together
Pray tell me, “What then?”
My pulse has slowed and my mind numbed as you keep demanding,
“What did you expect from borrowing MY clown!”
Betrayed hero, I never meant to disappoint you nor thought I could
And you were right, I am hurting
Though, not by whom your crystal ball had formerly predicted
Silly girl was I…

Susie E.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Resign Yourself to the Risk

I stand in awe at the end, thankful I can hurt! Yes. Thank this biological mystery that allows for the bitter twang of vulnerability; as were I to close its door, what would life offer? The passion I posses for all that encompass my existence has filled my body with joy and my days hope. Indeed, I have a need to share love. If this human condition exposes me to the possibility of pain from unreciprocating adoration, only then to be left alone and betrayed, then so be it! Emphatically I resign myself to the risk, gladly fling myself upon it. Fore, I have laughed a million times since.

--Susie E.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Stitching a Tailored Dress to Suite Soul

Wicking a honeyed background through my finger-tips
Licking its lambent flickering air
Shameless digging for that mood
Trying to get that slight slit in this smile
Coming to terms that my teeth are not the color thought of as bone
But I'm told it's genuine
Though I know stitched to skin freckled with perfect ivory hues—
Warmed and at times removed
Noticing the stone has finally been smoothed and found adrift
Underscored with a mask that tirelessly draws
Nonetheless, finding I am prone and susceptible
So I hold it gently in my hands—
My within and vulnerable core
Praying for it to root and blend itself with my soul—
"Guard me from becoming concrete,
Keep my feet soiled with summer and dust,
Dancing ballet in rolled up jeans and belly button free"
If only at the end to keep one inspired verse
To paint it in grey and eggshell
I think of this as the street's lamppost rhythmically puts aflame that atmosphere
Like fireflies at dusk by their pond
mmmm—the hunt pours out with ambient glows about this room
Living, if only a moment, in this unguarded tailored dress

--Susie E.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

My Bare Soles

If it had been yesterday
I would have been but an imagination
But that night, my flesh fashioned to the humidity
As the crickets hummed their low vibration
And the moon's evil grin stirred the tips of my nerves,
For air they begged


To what term do you know best?
You didn't directly ask, but emphatically I acquiesce
What had been last year my pelvis twisted to erase
Her favorite song, long forgotten guilt
Indeed, I sung as my curves lifted from the deep indentions of cotton
Let me go—and, so, my stomach stretched and back bent
While fingers dripped the salt from mesh and skin

The morning hint tip toed across the floor
Hinges hollowed out a shallow squeak
My state of mind held me through tomorrow's half luminescence
As I kicked off my shoes to feel the dirty pavement spin under my toes—
and soiled it did—my bare soles

And what summer could it be, without that one night only?
My heart finding content with life's complexity
Another chapter, by chance, I scratch down on blue lines and type
With my beloved friend—
Who twirled under the same warm bright night
While mellow tunes danced between tin walls and leather
To embrace choice, laughter, and to enjoy what it is
This is "last-year's" lesson—gracefully mastered
And if I could choose, nothing I would change

Susie E.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

New Day

I felt smooth cotton wrinkle under my toes
Slinking and tangling between peach and bone
While watching yellow slip through slits blurring lines into waves
Weaving a warm ocean and all its little specs or creatures
Exquisitely dulling all geometric shapes
Interrupting, but invited none-the-less
Swung past favors served on a broken plate
Yawn and stretch,
How I wish I had a frame for those turning points and gold ribbons
Soft, sable, poof, bouncing, licking my fingers, begging—pick up that round stringy thing
So here's to the next day, no longer dreaming to live,
And…to those who dare to brave dirty hands