New poetry today! Here they are!!
Untitled #61: “Hot Freaks” by Guided by Voices. This poems surprisingly turned out to be about my nephew Myles. I expected it to be random but it just ended up that way. I don’t know if it will remain about him once it’s revised.
Untitled #62: “None of us are Free” by Solomon Burke. This really took its lead from the song itself. The song, for those who aren’t familiar, is basically a protest song…somewhat. This poem ended up with the same feel.
Untitled #63: “Brass in Pocket” by The Pretenders. This song has been running around in my mind for a while now. I kept picturing Chrissie Hynde as the waitress in the video. I needed to get it out even though I love The Pretenders and we’re going to see them in concert when they come to town. So it had to be a poem song. The poem itself was fun to write. I’m not really sure what it’s about (weird, I know) but it seems to be about a dog. We’ll see what happens in revision.
Untitled #64: “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz. This really got out my inner hippie. This song is a guilty pleasure for me because my husband really does not like this style. The poem was a lot of fun. Like a smooth ride. It was easy to write and I’m looking forward to revision.
____________________________________
And here’s today’s poem for your reading pleasure, “Obscene“, is from my chapbook, Urban Tumbleweed, Vol. 1: In Search of Greener Grass. NOW AVAILABLE, you can find it HERE!
Obscene
I know all he wants to do is fuck
me like that song I’ve come to hate. His bullshit
is bigger than his pecker,
as I watch him stare at my tits.
I called him a cocksucker,
and gave a coy smile. He called me a cunt,
he didn’t like my sense of humor. I’m a cunt
because he’s ugly. (I bet he fucks
like a warthog) Because he’s the cocksucker
who can’t take my shit.
But he’s still staring at my tits,
and now his pecker
shrinks like a wilting dandelion. His pecker,
immense in his wildest dreams, now disappears in front of me, The Cunt.
So he ignores my words because my tits,
to him, are worthy of a good fuck.
It’s too bad he won’t have the chance, cuz he’s full of shit
and, as I said, I don’t do cocksuckers
That’s the big joke in his eyes. Cocksucker,
the word becomes amusing to Peckers
who won’t see the truth. And my shit
becomes easy to take, because he wants a taste of Cunt.
And he still thinks he’ll get fucked
tonight. And he’s still staring at my tits
like he thinks my tits
make the decisions and ignore cocksuckers
who think they can fuck
like Valentino, or have peckers
like Tommy Lee. But remember that I’m the Cunt
who won’t take shit
from anyone. I don’t take shit
from guys who look at my tits
instead of my eyes, or think of my Cunt
as a goal. I don’t humor cocksuckers
who depend on small peckers,
and think thy can fuck
the shit out of me. I don’t do cocksuckers.
I tell him, no longer coy. My tits, ignored.
His pecker non-existent.
The Cunt won out. He walked away fucked.
(c) TygerLily Ernst Wonch
____________________________________
And, if you haven’t checked it out yet, my photography is on EXHIBIT at New Chemical History. Take a look! I hope you enjoy it.
The best poetry writing tip, though, is to read poetry to write a good poem. Brooks Tits