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Pretty Poems for Dirty Minds
I'm just a humble poet. I write from my soul about beautiful things I see. Yet everywhere around us the world is charged with sexual energy. Plus my subconscious is bubbling over with repressed libido from a Catholic childhood. Maybe all that explains why my sweet, pretty, soulful poems all seem to be so perverse. Every one of these poems could be about some dirty, depraved, sexual act. So I'm told! I'm too pure--you buyin' this?--I'm too pure to see these dirty, dirty subtexts myself. So I'm not gonna tell you what those acts are. Also, I don't want to give my friend Nellieanna a cardiac arrest. If you have a clean mind, these will look like pretty poems about natural phenomena and that they are. If you have a dirty mind, these will look truly sleazy. The choice is yours.
It's a full moon
And in the canyon
Something moves, something pulls, something
Shudders the very earth;
The rocks come pouring out
With a gasp--
Through the newly-opened cave
I see the dark side of the moon.
There! Isn't that pretty? I don't see what could be dirty about that. It's about finding new passageways in the canyon of life by the light of the moon. Right? Yeah.
Language shuddered in the misty air,
Its bed twisted and pressed;
And the hot lava blistered in sputters
Down the crevice lip,
Along the golden stones,
Glistening the incandescence,
Until the windows began to sweat;
Conifers heat-split in dewy predawn
Til sap met flame and the fumes--
The fumes set the creatures to sleep,
Morning breeze to dry the way.
You can just feel the countryside warmth as the Icelandic geyser seeps warmth into chilled hearts. Does this poem warm you up?
As the bees flew off,
The entrance to the Southern caves--
Where Grails of darker sorts,
Interred, the dead things,
Transgressed arbitrary spirits--
Heavenly invitation to
Treated right--a paradise.
Ah! A metaphysical poem in the tradition of John Donne and the Graveyard Poets bringing us face to face with the truth of mortality and our need to penetrate to our depths to find meaning. I hope it helps you dig deeper.
Reenactments on the plains
Attracted curious tourists.
What a lost art the battering ram,
Since Vikings first parted unyielding gates
With muscular arms and wooden thrusts--
Out of fashion with corset and codpiece.
Roles would be played and gates would be crashed
Delighting and spicing a few tired lives.
And doesn't everyone enjoy reenactments from the days of yore? Actually, this one's just about roleplaying rape fantasies. Gotcha! Hey, couples get up to weird things. It's a fact of life. And a beautiful one.
Well, thanks for reading. If you've been scandalized--well, what can I say, it's your own fault. Actually, some of the best poetry in history is all about hiding imagery beneath imagery. Shakespeare's poetry (in the plays and sonnets) is full of hidden sexual imagery. Poetry has always and still does reward dirty minds. So I'm proud to say I have one.