Submissions by JohnFeddeler
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
My poems are blue collar; they work hard.
woman of inclemency
in this city, women come in one flavor:
the dangerous kind.
she sat on the bar stool with her silk covered legs
crossed, all the ammo she needed to gun me down.
I nursed my drink as I carefully observed her bosom,
but not just for the obvious reasons; I almost expected
her to draw a Derringer out of her bra.
two prominent men that she was known to have
caroused with, were found strangled in seedy motel
rooms. one of them was a judge, so the case was red hot.
all the flaming neon arrows pointed to her, but you can’t
hang an enterprising...
the dangerous kind.
she sat on the bar stool with her silk covered legs
crossed, all the ammo she needed to gun me down.
I nursed my drink as I carefully observed her bosom,
but not just for the obvious reasons; I almost expected
her to draw a Derringer out of her bra.
two prominent men that she was known to have
caroused with, were found strangled in seedy motel
rooms. one of them was a judge, so the case was red hot.
all the flaming neon arrows pointed to her, but you can’t
hang an enterprising...
239 reads
15 Comments
can't love a fallen Angel
Heaven is full of love
so full you could choke on it
it’s all angel hugs & angel kisses
keeping the halo shining,
the wing feathers properly fluffed,
the virginal gown buttoned to the neck
and bleach-white.
sometimes a wayward angel catches the
troubling notes, the jungle beat of the music,
so she peeks through a hole in the sky. she
sees the party, revelers & rebels moving in
dub steps, electro swing, industry, trance, rock&roll!
she scans the dark haired gigolos who haven’t
shaved since Tuesday; the wind-burned Vikings,...
so full you could choke on it
it’s all angel hugs & angel kisses
keeping the halo shining,
the wing feathers properly fluffed,
the virginal gown buttoned to the neck
and bleach-white.
sometimes a wayward angel catches the
troubling notes, the jungle beat of the music,
so she peeks through a hole in the sky. she
sees the party, revelers & rebels moving in
dub steps, electro swing, industry, trance, rock&roll!
she scans the dark haired gigolos who haven’t
shaved since Tuesday; the wind-burned Vikings,...
278 reads
16 Comments
Darling Roses (Blue Shadow House)
Kandide Rose left college when she felt she had learned enough;
enough of the lusty perversions of upperclassmen whose dalliances
enriched her with an ardent affection for thrilling orgasm, & the skill to
deliver that same nirvana to a variety of sexual partners. she loved sex &
money equally, & the Blue Shadow afforded her a plethora of both.
she was a vision in her glossy manicure & light makeup, long lashes
before flirtatious eyes, Mona Lisa smile on cherry lips. gentlemen bid
highly for this glamorous mistress, who plundered the thick...
enough of the lusty perversions of upperclassmen whose dalliances
enriched her with an ardent affection for thrilling orgasm, & the skill to
deliver that same nirvana to a variety of sexual partners. she loved sex &
money equally, & the Blue Shadow afforded her a plethora of both.
she was a vision in her glossy manicure & light makeup, long lashes
before flirtatious eyes, Mona Lisa smile on cherry lips. gentlemen bid
highly for this glamorous mistress, who plundered the thick...
164 reads
8 Comments
you're such a poet
if you make love in the moonlight
you have only made love in the moonlight
you have not written the great romance novel
you have not composed the poem that would
shame the sonnets of Shakespeare
or painted your dreams across the sky dome of
the Sistine, in the faces of gods & angels
you have not transported the vessel of your
travesties to a utopian fantasy adorned with
oloroso rivers, Dali wildflowers & winged unicorns
you are still here
in the place where you made love
if you make love in the moonlight
I won’t look...
you have only made love in the moonlight
you have not written the great romance novel
you have not composed the poem that would
shame the sonnets of Shakespeare
or painted your dreams across the sky dome of
the Sistine, in the faces of gods & angels
you have not transported the vessel of your
travesties to a utopian fantasy adorned with
oloroso rivers, Dali wildflowers & winged unicorns
you are still here
in the place where you made love
if you make love in the moonlight
I won’t look...
174 reads
15 Comments
Slattern-Angel
she’s a wink & a smile
if the cash is right, she’s the party
she’s the kiss-off when the money’s gone
she is made of sparkling champagne & hard drugs
bitter candy & illicit French postcards
she has the flair of a chanteuse
& the acumen of a courtesan
if you’re a man, you want to possess her
recklessly, you would abandon your faith & your woman
for the taunt of her flirt & the winsome sway of her skirt
& when you’ve been used & rejected
you want to beat her & rape her
you...
if the cash is right, she’s the party
she’s the kiss-off when the money’s gone
she is made of sparkling champagne & hard drugs
bitter candy & illicit French postcards
she has the flair of a chanteuse
& the acumen of a courtesan
if you’re a man, you want to possess her
recklessly, you would abandon your faith & your woman
for the taunt of her flirt & the winsome sway of her skirt
& when you’ve been used & rejected
you want to beat her & rape her
you...
121 reads
9 Comments
blues for outlaw duet
you can meet your fate on a one-way street
while the world keeps on turnin’
ride my steel wheels straight to hell
I feel the passion in me burnin’
a life of thunder, a life of crime
I hear the angry spirits callin’
the earth is quakin’, the mountain shakin’
& the shattered sky has fallen
in the drivin’ rain, I stand & call her name
a woman for my pleasure
take her savage breast for a moment’s rest
& a heart that I can treasure
plunder the night in the fire’s light
screams the madness in my head ...
while the world keeps on turnin’
ride my steel wheels straight to hell
I feel the passion in me burnin’
a life of thunder, a life of crime
I hear the angry spirits callin’
the earth is quakin’, the mountain shakin’
& the shattered sky has fallen
in the drivin’ rain, I stand & call her name
a woman for my pleasure
take her savage breast for a moment’s rest
& a heart that I can treasure
plunder the night in the fire’s light
screams the madness in my head ...
134 reads
10 Comments
Hardkore!
![restricted poem](/images/extremecontent.jpg)
438 reads
10 Comments
sunset junction
we sit at a dimly lit café table
hot coffee & cautious glances,
among your blue ghosts.
conversation is sparse: ‘how’ve you been?’
‘okay. okay, I guess.’
so we sit in the lulling smoke
sizing up our commonalities:
eyes that no longer cry,
hearts that are ever lonely.
it gets quiet, & I try not to think of the night years ago,
when I woke up on the steps across from your place, &
saw you standing in your doorway, your robe half-opened,
& your latest pickup grinning & sucking in the fresh morning ...
hot coffee & cautious glances,
among your blue ghosts.
conversation is sparse: ‘how’ve you been?’
‘okay. okay, I guess.’
so we sit in the lulling smoke
sizing up our commonalities:
eyes that no longer cry,
hearts that are ever lonely.
it gets quiet, & I try not to think of the night years ago,
when I woke up on the steps across from your place, &
saw you standing in your doorway, your robe half-opened,
& your latest pickup grinning & sucking in the fresh morning ...
148 reads
13 Comments
the scarecrow always loved her
the land stretches flat for miles
in austere black&white
so Victorian & without drama.
our homes are gingerbread redundancies
adorned with dry floral wallpaper
and ancient furniture made sturdy
by long dead artisans;
bleak & oblique.
but we make it cinemascopic
by telling ourselves
there’s no place like it.
the colors are non-technic even in our dreams
where romance is a stoic procession
of tin men & catatonic lions.
the farmhands have done what they can
to rob the richness from the soil
and an old...
in austere black&white
so Victorian & without drama.
our homes are gingerbread redundancies
adorned with dry floral wallpaper
and ancient furniture made sturdy
by long dead artisans;
bleak & oblique.
but we make it cinemascopic
by telling ourselves
there’s no place like it.
the colors are non-technic even in our dreams
where romance is a stoic procession
of tin men & catatonic lions.
the farmhands have done what they can
to rob the richness from the soil
and an old...
158 reads
11 Comments
can't give love
you can’t give love
like you can give
a cup of coffee
or a slice of pie
old clothes to Good Will
& blood to the Bank
(along with sweat & tears)
coins in the basket
passed along the pew
by regretful hands
wrinkled dollars to whores
& Tommy the bartender
excuses to the judge
& a kick to the groin
of your cellmate
who has a crush on you
a sip or two
from the purloined pint
to the hobo
who shares your gutter
so I can’t give you
what I want to give you
but I can give you
my poems...
like you can give
a cup of coffee
or a slice of pie
old clothes to Good Will
& blood to the Bank
(along with sweat & tears)
coins in the basket
passed along the pew
by regretful hands
wrinkled dollars to whores
& Tommy the bartender
excuses to the judge
& a kick to the groin
of your cellmate
who has a crush on you
a sip or two
from the purloined pint
to the hobo
who shares your gutter
so I can’t give you
what I want to give you
but I can give you
my poems...
175 reads
16 Comments
in her darkest place
![restricted poem](/images/extremecontent.jpg)
392 reads
9 Comments
Woman, thou art inscrutable
every woman is made of mystery. and sex.
I proclaim that because I’m a man, & my view is parallax.
a woman knows she is much more than my chauvinist
appraisal, & she & her sisters would destroy me if I were
in reach.
I look at a woman who represents beauty to me, & I
am impassioned; because I live for passion & beauty.
my reason cannot penetrate the barriers, the enigmas,
that protect & defend your spirit, & your heart. but my
eyes can pierce your garments, & reveal the sublime
treasure of your nakedness, as if...
I proclaim that because I’m a man, & my view is parallax.
a woman knows she is much more than my chauvinist
appraisal, & she & her sisters would destroy me if I were
in reach.
I look at a woman who represents beauty to me, & I
am impassioned; because I live for passion & beauty.
my reason cannot penetrate the barriers, the enigmas,
that protect & defend your spirit, & your heart. but my
eyes can pierce your garments, & reveal the sublime
treasure of your nakedness, as if...
264 reads
13 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by JohnFeddeler