dedalus Posted November 21, 2010 Share Posted November 21, 2010 (edited) You go you lovely lonely lady walking in your socks two dry martinis at cock crow and then the whole world rocks you shaved your gorgeous locks you use no makeup on your face of all your feminine tricks today there is no trace white on white is the room you pace panther-like, absurdly happy the world calls on your intercom say what you want but make it snappy! The female dasein is soft and sappy: you could see that, young, obscure. I'll make this damn world pay for me of that you can be sure. II. Men! Their sickly syrup of desire was never made for wedded bliss: geisha. heitari, grand courtesans from early days taught you this. Now there is the yawning abyss to conjure with, Monsieur or Madame Death, here in a white room, with a white poodle, disconnected, alone, a single breath away from life's perfection. A living male erection from time to time is required: one call can do it all. One puts on a wig, applies lipstick, eye-shadow, revels in a garter-belt, sheer sexy stockings and in half an hour it's all over. No money ever changes hands, no names, never never the same young man, so very discreet, so professional, so very satisfactory! The porter, some man called Jim or John or Alfonso (as if I care) handles everything beautifully, the groceries are always on time, and his large Christmas tip is assured. Been living here for the last ten years safely cocooned on the 45th floor. A Luftmenschin, I shall never come down. Why should I any more? --------------------------------------------------- Luftmensch (pre-Nazi Yiddish: an air-person, someone who has no visible means of support). In this case it has a very different New York sort of meaning. There are people who literally don't come down to street level from their high-level apartments for weeks and months at a time. Edited December 1, 2010 by dedalus Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted November 24, 2010 Share Posted November 24, 2010 Yes, this is not an unfamiliar concept. Though I do venture out, I can be lazy to do so, causing me to remain pleasantly self-contained here at home. Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted December 1, 2010 Share Posted December 1, 2010 Very wise writing. Always careful with outspoken details and references. If this poem was mixed in many others, I would guess that this one is written by Bren. Nice job. Aleksandra Quote The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tinker Posted December 2, 2010 Share Posted December 2, 2010 Hi Brendan, How do you know all this stuff? I have always been a fan of your lyrical style of writing, but the content never ceases to amaze me, you often take me into worlds I have not even imagined. This is one of those. Thanks again for the education. The imagery is almost shocking in its impact throughout the poem, But these lines especially stood out for me, nothing shocking here, just turth delivered in a unique way, which is what poetry is. Now there is the yawning abyssto conjure with, Monsieur or Madame Death, here in a white room, with a white poodle, disconnected, alone, a single breath away from life's perfection. ~~Tink Quote ~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~ For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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