Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Newer Niceties

I am dissatisfied
Being a woman everyday
I am false.
My friends know who is inside me
There is strange warmth
In losing
Outwitting the ardour of impatience
Knowing not why I laugh
At you all so much
Strange theft
Monotonous escape from people’s lives
Marked with knowledgeable
Bubbles
Fears of the neon self
I too am like that!!
I write poems from Robert Frost
I am false.


I am not a prized story
I am only a surface
Curves
Tortuous
Senses
Children
Tears
Madness
Reading Plath.


Nothing makes it special.
To be married before 30
Or god won’t give me
Another chance.
Except for that
Laughter of the bitter blood.
Clotted
Silent and sterile
Stench of the past.


Who wrote this before me?
I am false.
This is a stubborn hell
A feast where I must sell
Gain
Bargain
Chaos
Laughter
Sex.


Tricks of the trade.
Belittled by foolish women
My confused race
My confused men say.
Belittled by foolish men bred by them
And our fathers
I am false
For some who must not know
How much must go into a day
Of gathering sanity
Farces
Vodka and slime
Empty womb
Fun.


Liberty is another name
Of discounted men
Who came your way
And make you a wife
Out of lashed love
And funny eyes
That strays between you
And the sky of hopelessness.




3 comments:

Margins said...

This is really awesome...
Stinks of the medinas covered in the frosted gun metals of our souls..
You are a demoness of words...
An ephemereal angel casting shadows
Beside my plastic perspirations!

Margins said...

This is really beautiful love...
Smelling of the ambers and perfumes
That you odour your absent voices with...
A magic that is you!

Margins said...

You could name the poem Absent Niceties...
Really wordsmead!
You have ebbed a tincture of known pinings in so beautiful a language...!!!