I'm bored and don't have much time to write anything new, or edit. Which sucks. Figured I'd bust out one of my favorite things I wrote, and why I like it.
I wrote this on LPP within the first couple weeks of posting there. I like it for a number of reasons.
Werewolf by Reprobus
Nothing in those streets, Nothing ever sleeps
So I am called to them every night.
The Somnolent Bringer,
The Sandman,
Is an asshole. He comes every time I lay and like an asshole
Instead of sprinkling sand into my eyes,
Blows an air horn into my ears.
So I move to make my way to the restless concrete.
I stumble from my covers tripping onto the floor.
I once read Nanakorobi yaoki
or something like that
Fall seven times, and stand up eight.
I am only partially faithful to this advice.
I never fall flat.
I never hit the ground.
I somersault and roll forward back onto my feet.
Is it God? Is it Luck? Is it physics?
I board my Focus.
With unlocking spurs, stab and turn.
It kicks up.
We pass Indiana.
Cross the border to eyes wide open
Whipping past the Indian trail.
A sunroof opens and on display
Dark and dotted like the streets of Europe with the plagued rotting victims
Stars litter the sky
Not a single one to guide
Useless like the dead.
It is desire and instinct, an animal calling, that leads us into and through
The Woods.
Into the Ugly
The Lit Up
The Thin
Where it is night and Spring is arriving as we do.
It is not the warming
nor the first Robin that flies in the sky
that signals the end of Winter in these woods.
It is the smell of desperation
Desperate formoneyforsupportforcrack
And the arrival of another flighty creature that lies with dogs.
The Snow melts. Crawling from her slum beds her torn sheets her stained sheets her sweat and spunk and diseased sheets
She exits her lair
but not before she prepares
weaves her hair
applies make-up here and there
and sheds herself half-bare
Donning red pumps
or black boots
She clicks and she clacks her way towards the very stretch of path in the Woods that we are making our way to, Me and My desire.
A crowd of creatures, clothed but still bestial
Surround the Eternal Lamb.
Curious I glance towards the feast
Knowing better
Aware of a more delicious morsel
I drive towards the Birds.
They whistle and snap their fingers wave their wings tossing feathers and cat calls and clicking their tongues
Peacocks desperate for attention Desperate for the money Desperate to give tricks and smoke crack.
Like a deer caught in headlights
But not frozen, rather engaging
The Birds flock towards my car
calling enticing seducing
Tweeting the same mating calls that speak to My desire.
But I did not come to the woods for them. My desire did not come to the woods for them.
Ravenous, I hunt you.
The scent of the Birds are but background music, subtle effects that drown under your melody.
Stalking down quiet Ashland,
closer and closer
and faster and faster.
I shed my wolf-skin.
I snap a collar into place,
Knock three times
You answer the door.
Take me in.
Scratch my ears.
Rub my belly.
Call me a Good Boy.
Whimpering, and flashing blue.
Comfortable,
We both begin to dress in fur and bite the collars off.
We feast.
My Howls answered.
My Belly full.
The Sandman has no power here, his air horn but background music, subtle effects when compared to the melody of your warm naked body.
My Desire slinks away to find another host in Chicago Heights.
We sleep.
Originally titled And I Duran, Duran So Far Away, I like this one a lot because it basically ends with me and my girlfriend doing it lol. The whole thing makes a lot more sense is you know the Chicago Heights area, and even more sense if you are my girlfriend lol again.
What this stemmed from was from around that time, my girlfriend telling me that the smell changes in the Heights when Spring officially arrives because of all the hookers taking to the streets. I really thought that was funny, so I wanted to write about that. I was reading Prufrock in a class at the time as well, so I modeled it after that poem. The section here
Dark and dotted like the streets of Europe with the plagued rotting victims
Stars litter the sky
was created because I wanted a part like the opening lines that Eliot used. There are other allusions to poems I like, such as Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
The Woods.
Into the Ugly
The Lit Up
The Thin
and this section
A crowd of creatures, clothed but still bestial
Surround the Eternal Lamb.
Curious I glance towards the feast
refers to a small poem I really liked by Stephen Crane, In the Desert. The eternal lamb is the 24 hr gyro stop on Chicago Road, which I always want to eat at but am kind of afraid to because there are always gangster's hanging around the place at 2 AM lol.
I changed the title to Werewolf because I want to follow that sort of theme in 'Haunted Penis', and I plan on editing this, though I don't know by how much because this is one of the few pieces I threw up and actually like. Practically every part of this poem means something to me, and almost every word (save for particles, conjunctions and the like) was picked put carefully, despite the simplicity of the language. I also named it Werewolf because of the last bit. The whole biting of the collars part... well, the neck is a sensitive area. Kiss a girl a bit down there (or even a guy) and you can get 'em pretty worked up lol.
