Submissions by JohnFeddeler
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
My poems are blue collar; they work hard.
american bohemia
from out of the lonely beyond she came
reaching into the void with mystical arms,
searching with a reckless predication.
her hands found me in my bohemian sanctum
& she offered to keep my secret passions safe.
we had no permanence nor security to exchange,
no blessings nor happy endings.
so we put a heart up for barter
(when a heart is so easily broken.)
we noted our thoughts & our desires;
it was music, it was poetry spoken.
we were soldiers in a war of attrition,
& we found a way to make love
outside of our physical...
reaching into the void with mystical arms,
searching with a reckless predication.
her hands found me in my bohemian sanctum
& she offered to keep my secret passions safe.
we had no permanence nor security to exchange,
no blessings nor happy endings.
so we put a heart up for barter
(when a heart is so easily broken.)
we noted our thoughts & our desires;
it was music, it was poetry spoken.
we were soldiers in a war of attrition,
& we found a way to make love
outside of our physical...
154 reads
13 Comments
'tell us a story'
as I stumbled toward the cantina, shimmering in the desert heat, I hoped
it wasn’t a mirage that would fade as I approached it. my wounded Land
Rover had broken down several miles back, & I walked toward the setting
sun, until I wandered into this unmapped town on the outskirts of Hell.
somewhere far from here was a cathedral, a congregation of secret sinners
on their way to sainthood, singing ‘amazing grace.’
in the cantina, I would rejuvenate with tequila & a stew of iguana meat, & the
pervading cigar smoke, the odor of which testified...
it wasn’t a mirage that would fade as I approached it. my wounded Land
Rover had broken down several miles back, & I walked toward the setting
sun, until I wandered into this unmapped town on the outskirts of Hell.
somewhere far from here was a cathedral, a congregation of secret sinners
on their way to sainthood, singing ‘amazing grace.’
in the cantina, I would rejuvenate with tequila & a stew of iguana meat, & the
pervading cigar smoke, the odor of which testified...
134 reads
22 Comments
devil's bed
life is a joke
so you go for broke
you’re a rebel, a fool
but you’re crafty & cool
the notorious kind
but it’s all in your mind
so you shoulder your load
down a blacklight road
the drugs that you get
are laced with regret
the lovers who shake you
are the ones who will break you
your lyric’s refrain
is engraved in pain
you’re reckless & wild
a beggar beguiled
when the angels forsake you
the shadows will take you
it’s a juggernaut
it’s the battles you fought
all the...
so you go for broke
you’re a rebel, a fool
but you’re crafty & cool
the notorious kind
but it’s all in your mind
so you shoulder your load
down a blacklight road
the drugs that you get
are laced with regret
the lovers who shake you
are the ones who will break you
your lyric’s refrain
is engraved in pain
you’re reckless & wild
a beggar beguiled
when the angels forsake you
the shadows will take you
it’s a juggernaut
it’s the battles you fought
all the...
187 reads
21 Comments
beautiful (with codicil)
nothing is so beautiful that it isn’t flawed.
wabi-sabi, the Japanese call it. a passion for the austere:
in hagi, ikebana, shibui artifacts. transcendental beauty
derived from the un-beautiful.
she has been touched by men. the marks are still there.
she has a certain reputation: ‘bad girl,’ they have called her.
who is so pure that they can parade in the city, naked &
unashamed? is there one among us who can cast
the first stone?
she’s been abused & beaten; bruises so lucid that they
glow in the dark. broken, but not...
wabi-sabi, the Japanese call it. a passion for the austere:
in hagi, ikebana, shibui artifacts. transcendental beauty
derived from the un-beautiful.
she has been touched by men. the marks are still there.
she has a certain reputation: ‘bad girl,’ they have called her.
who is so pure that they can parade in the city, naked &
unashamed? is there one among us who can cast
the first stone?
she’s been abused & beaten; bruises so lucid that they
glow in the dark. broken, but not...
140 reads
17 Comments
trouble was always a woman
so I’m leanin’ on a lamp post
in the cool fog like I’m waitin’ for a bus.
it’s 2 in the morning & the last streetcar
ambled away at midnight.
she walks outa the bar with a brand new
Chesterfield between her deep red lips.
her bombshell hair drops around the collar
of her trench like an auburn waterfall.
she comes over to my little circle of amber
& says ‘light me up mister.’ I’m right away
ready with a clever dirty retort, but I figure
she don’t need another bum like me tryin’
to make a pickup. especially after the night...
in the cool fog like I’m waitin’ for a bus.
it’s 2 in the morning & the last streetcar
ambled away at midnight.
she walks outa the bar with a brand new
Chesterfield between her deep red lips.
her bombshell hair drops around the collar
of her trench like an auburn waterfall.
she comes over to my little circle of amber
& says ‘light me up mister.’ I’m right away
ready with a clever dirty retort, but I figure
she don’t need another bum like me tryin’
to make a pickup. especially after the night...
151 reads
24 Comments
surreal
do not linger here,
time is too precious.
do not be misguided
by the evasiveness, serene & shallow;
it may have incalculable depth.
not to engulf, nor consume,
but to allow luxurious breath.
all of our world & our universe
may sojourn here:
all that is unfathomable,
all that we yearn to fathom.
upon its untenable road, we may stumble.
if we gaze at its far horizon,
& do not see art
(as we perceive it)
would we turn away?
we come here merely to explore.
what we find, we may keep.
...
time is too precious.
do not be misguided
by the evasiveness, serene & shallow;
it may have incalculable depth.
not to engulf, nor consume,
but to allow luxurious breath.
all of our world & our universe
may sojourn here:
all that is unfathomable,
all that we yearn to fathom.
upon its untenable road, we may stumble.
if we gaze at its far horizon,
& do not see art
(as we perceive it)
would we turn away?
we come here merely to explore.
what we find, we may keep.
...
147 reads
16 Comments
she conjures, like destiny
205 reads
16 Comments
Story of Dorothy Hale
Dorothy Hale, fancy & frail
Was drawn to men with money
She made her way to Hollywood
The land of milk & honey.
Dorothy Hale attracted the male
A lady, sultry & slick
A beautiful young actress
Who couldn’t act a lick.
Dorothy Hale, remark & regale
Threw a party for her friends
To announce her long, long trip
And achieve her final ends.
Dorothy Hale, stodgy & stale
An angel without a halo
Her sixteen story fall was
Immortalized by Frieda Kahlo.
...
Was drawn to men with money
She made her way to Hollywood
The land of milk & honey.
Dorothy Hale attracted the male
A lady, sultry & slick
A beautiful young actress
Who couldn’t act a lick.
Dorothy Hale, remark & regale
Threw a party for her friends
To announce her long, long trip
And achieve her final ends.
Dorothy Hale, stodgy & stale
An angel without a halo
Her sixteen story fall was
Immortalized by Frieda Kahlo.
...
102 reads
13 Comments
beguile, blue angel
she kidnapped me, into that place in her poem.
a field of scarlet crowned flowers, intimidated
by a spectral wind, beneath a sky that was
something bolder than a sky. & all this conceived
by a painter whose relentless passion caused him
to hack off his own ear.
I don’t understand poetry, it’s so elusive.
it’s conflicting, it’s untamable.
it is also an overdose of euphoria –
the feeling is the same,
whether you’re stoned on art,
or love.
and so I blatantly ripped off her ethereal paradise.
I made a bed of her lush...
a field of scarlet crowned flowers, intimidated
by a spectral wind, beneath a sky that was
something bolder than a sky. & all this conceived
by a painter whose relentless passion caused him
to hack off his own ear.
I don’t understand poetry, it’s so elusive.
it’s conflicting, it’s untamable.
it is also an overdose of euphoria –
the feeling is the same,
whether you’re stoned on art,
or love.
and so I blatantly ripped off her ethereal paradise.
I made a bed of her lush...
135 reads
10 Comments
the night calls
for him the night calls
out of the dawn and sunset
who has made poems.” E E Cummings
do not imprison me in a love poem.
I need to wander, in pursuit of art;
to follow the ever hidden, unwritten
passions of my wayward heart.
speak my name, the words that define me.
how many shades of blue can stain a man’s
life? the Alice blue of tears. a tincture of vanity,
royal as any beggar. glaze of solitude (alone by
design), dark as a midnight sky. indigo ink that
bruises the page with these vainglorious words.
like the last...
out of the dawn and sunset
who has made poems.” E E Cummings
do not imprison me in a love poem.
I need to wander, in pursuit of art;
to follow the ever hidden, unwritten
passions of my wayward heart.
speak my name, the words that define me.
how many shades of blue can stain a man’s
life? the Alice blue of tears. a tincture of vanity,
royal as any beggar. glaze of solitude (alone by
design), dark as a midnight sky. indigo ink that
bruises the page with these vainglorious words.
like the last...
113 reads
15 Comments
voir les anges
your love is a tyrant,’ she told me.
‘it is a cruel master that beats me with tender
lashes; it brands me with a passion that I can
only regard as fire, because I burn for you. it
binds me in sterling, unflawed chains, & it makes
a prisoner of my heart.’
she tempts me with her naked need; she is a feast
of raw flesh, & I am the unleashed Hound of Hell. I
bite, I claw her hedonistic temple with the fierce
integrity of a wild wolf, & she echoes my intensity.
our destination is obvious: it is a place you cannot
get to without...
‘it is a cruel master that beats me with tender
lashes; it brands me with a passion that I can
only regard as fire, because I burn for you. it
binds me in sterling, unflawed chains, & it makes
a prisoner of my heart.’
she tempts me with her naked need; she is a feast
of raw flesh, & I am the unleashed Hound of Hell. I
bite, I claw her hedonistic temple with the fierce
integrity of a wild wolf, & she echoes my intensity.
our destination is obvious: it is a place you cannot
get to without...
241 reads
12 Comments
Krystallnacht
the preliminaries are over. we’ve discussed the latest
best sellers, a trendy art house, a French film that you
had no interest in, but it happened to be chic at the time.
abruptly, the conversation ends.
in the silence, we gaze at each other briefly. our lips touch,
your mouth opens slightly at my urging, our tongues engage
in the lovers combat. as my hand is about to cup your breast,
it is deterred by the small barrier of your own hand, and I
allow you that victory, like a man without a backbone,
without a hunger.
are we afraid? fearful of...
best sellers, a trendy art house, a French film that you
had no interest in, but it happened to be chic at the time.
abruptly, the conversation ends.
in the silence, we gaze at each other briefly. our lips touch,
your mouth opens slightly at my urging, our tongues engage
in the lovers combat. as my hand is about to cup your breast,
it is deterred by the small barrier of your own hand, and I
allow you that victory, like a man without a backbone,
without a hunger.
are we afraid? fearful of...
126 reads
13 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by JohnFeddeler