Seduction without Reduction

So, you think you want a ‘stocking and suspenders’ kind of girl?

I’ll give you a twirl and rock your world,

Lick my lips slowly – no not for that,

I’m warming up for intellectual combat –

You better be packing some long, hot words –

In this case size really does matter,

I need to know that you’ve got the patter

Those pastiches of lust are just absurd –

Ugly bits of nylon , compared to the word –

Words are more seductive,

Words are less reductive

Rolling smoothly off the tongue,

A delight to be heard.

 

Ideas can wriggle behind feathers and fans,

Titillating – little by little -things to expand

Your mind,

A burlesque of a different kind,

A burlesque where you might just find

Yourself craving more of the mysteries,

The little-known histories

Coyly revealed from behind the feather –

You’ll feel ill at ease,

Confused by the tease,

At the end of your tether…

At a loss for why it’s more engrossing,

Than those cheap bits of clothing

But you’ll never

Forget this psychological striptease.

All words and images are the original work of the writer and may not be reproduced without their permission.

bad baboushka

Thank God It Wasn’t a Child

‘Thank God it wasn’t a child’

Seems to be able to be applied

To almost anything

To lessen

The impact of doom:

‘The votes are in – we have a new Prime Minister.’

‘Thank God it wasn’t a child!’ the public cried!

For all the difference it will make –

Still, it eased a nation’s heartache

And made a nice accompaniment

For the tea and cake.

 

All words and images are the original work of the writer and ay not be reproduced without permission

child

Groomed for Gunshots

Regimented robots

Groomed for gunshots

Not at all acceptable

To reject a less delectable

Dish if the orders were given

And the food had been served –

Don’t be absurd!

But the revolting slop refused to comply,

Stuck in your throat like a lie –

It wouldn’t obey,

Couldn’t be swallowed in any kind of way –

13:00 hrs – little robot thinks it will die

But won’t dare protest’

It’ll just have to digest

In the preordained manner

Dictated by the captor –

The lunchtime supervisor…

Gastric brutaliser.

 

Little robot usually did well

Knew the drill for the lunch bell,

Knew how many times to chew

To avoid being hit by the spoon,

But this culinary horror

Was causing some bother,

And though the little robot hated to admit,

It really was about to vomit,

Its eyes were secreting distress;

Its stomach about to violently confess-

It wouldn’t suppress,

Nothing would make it acquiesce

To this one last request.

 

Then from nowhere

The jug tipped over,

And the lunchtime supervisor

(Gastric brutaliser)

Was momentarily distracted by mopping,

So the little robot’s sobbing

Could be brought to an end,

With the secret swapping of the plate with a friend’s,

Who would make the ultimate sacrifice,

And eat the dish twice.

 

Good little robots,

Groomed for gunshots.

All words and images are the original work of the author and may not be reproduced without their permission.

little robots

 

Bits

Wherever she went she left bits of her life behind her –

Not surprising to anyone who knew her

(And frequently chased after her with her forgotten keys, phone, coat)

That scattered round and about were her memories,

For what was the use of keeping them with her?

Bound about her like a tefillin,

Keeping the commandments of pain wrapped in?

What does it matter if that argument got lost on a train?

Or that heart-wrenching loss got washed, by tears, down a drain?

Anywhere will do that isn’t the brain.

Wherever she went she left bits of her life behind her,

Not  really a surprise to anyone who knew her

(And sometimes picked up after her how she felt lonely)

That scattered round and about was her past –

It didn’t matter though – it didn’t last.

Throwing stones had shattered the glass

But it couldn’t catch her if she never fled

And it couldn’t hurt her if she never bled.

 

bits1

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Winter Sun

Aviary Photo_130646977958715665

Cold and broken

Free of emotion,

He would not love anyone –

He would not thaw in the winter sun,

There would be no commotion,

He’d won.

All that was left for her to do

Was to become frozen through too,

She would not love anyone,

She would not thaw in the winter sun –

This was the cost,

She’d lost.

All words and images (c) of the original artist 2015 and may not be reproduced without permission.

Now You, Then Me

NOW YOU, THEN ME

rock star

So now you know how it really feels,

To be given permission to go off and be free,

To never hear the words ‘God, please don’t leave me.’

Because being possessive and clingy just isn’t PC,

Because to admit this thing and commit to this fling

Just wouldn’t be hip,

Your fangirls and boys wouldn’t tag it as rad

Or comment ‘I dig’

And the reality of our freaky bond

Would no longer be hid.

And if you ever actually did

Let them know

Or even dared to show

Me then it really would defy convention,

And strip away pretensions.

You’d be the hipster outside the box

The One with the really neat fox,

But you don’t believe in it that much,

To go round admitting it and such,

So go ahead and be free,

Chase your own tail and dreams,

And if you ever need me

I’ll be back here in reality.

If you love someone let them go

But what if they don’t though –

Love you?

Does it work then too? Will it work for you?

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,

So now I’ll make my own propaganda,

And make believe I really am the star,

That you clearly already think that you are.

I must have missed you getting famous

So I must apologise,

I must have missed everyone judging us,

Before my very eyes.

I had forgotten that they mattered, you see,

I had thought that it was just about you and me,

So when you’re alone out there among the masses and life is hard

By all means send me a postcard,

But don’t scribble ‘Wish you were here’s

Because I would have been

If not for your fear

Of chipping your polished veneer

And letting someone real get near

My dear.

(c) Words and images belong to the original artist and may not be reproduced without permission.