The Words Just Will Not Do As They Are Told

This is just a fragment, not a complete poem and it contains an idea I have been trying to articulate but just can’t seem to get right.  It is the best effort so far, but is not even close to what I am really wanting to say, however, this is a blog about writing, not necessarily good writing as some of you may have noticed.  So, here it is, in all it’s amputated glory, hobbling onto stage for you to look at, poke with sticks and perhaps throw rotten produce at.  Thank you.

Give me a room

Fill it with smoke and shadows

Give me bodies pressed dangerously close

Sweat slick faces and arms lit

By cool blue fizzing neon beer light.

Give me bass and drums

Thump-stomp mumble beast jungle pulse

Give me guitar

Steely whine groaning, pulling

Tugging at hips and loins

Give me sweet and low down

An invitation to fuck without words.

Give me gin joints and Jezebels

Rounded thighs and little, clinging dresses

Cold beer, a hot night

Visceral motion

Mean and dirty and animal.

So there it is.  Just a few lines that struggled out from behind the bars in my head.  I wanted to depict something sultry, passionate, urgent and primal and I managed kind of a weak Hallmark version of that.  I will of course try again some other time, but for now this is what I’ve got.  I do hope you out there might like it some and give it a pat on its head like the three legged mongrel that it is.  Cheers.


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