July 20, 2006

Poetry Thursday- July 20th

This week’s Poetry Thursday prompt is: SEX

I have been thinking about this prompt all week, and realized I have rarely, if ever, written on the topic of sex. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how hard it was for me to write about sex. I thought back to all the sexual experiences I have had, and I had a really hard time picking one to focus on. I had finally decided to simply copy a Bukowski poem, when I thought it would be best to at least give it a shot. So I sat down and simply started to type. Halfway through, I realized that this side of my sexual past may not paint me in the best light, after all my mother occasionally reads this blog, but these acts of self gratification are a part of my past, and as a poet I feel it is important to be honest about the role they played in my sexual life. I tried not to paint the picture in any sort of judgmental light. You decide:

we are all lonely

you are hard
before the door is locked.
the smell of disinfectant
and cum soaked floor
not a deterrent.

get your quarters in line
eight usually does the trick,
lick lips.

even here
and degraded
forged intimacy
makes the space bearable.

beyond the flecked glass
under the clumsy lights
they languidly
sway their pale hips
pinching their nipples
like bored chimpanzees.

one shuffles toward you
looking over her bony shoulder
talking to the other one.

eye contact
a smile smears across her face
though she is tired
perhaps hung-over

you stoke faster
the barrier dropping
she starts to walk away
insert more quarters
you are breathing harder.

she is up to the porthole now
you are connected
she slaps her ass
leaving an evaporating scarlet smudge
her pinky is in her mouth.

outside it is daylight
in here there are no clocks.

her cunt is dry and neglected
like leather
she rubs faster
then slowly
you are in sync.

her lips quiver
her eyes sparkle
she is a great actress.

the doorknob rattles
an old man peaks in
a quarter falls into the pool
of other people’s fantasies

you cum
but when you look up
she is gone and you are alone
in the darkness.

the only light
an orange slot that
says insert quarter

Author’s note:I realize that 2% of poetry is inspiration and magic, while 98% is hard work, revising, revising and revising. The poems I post here for Poetry Thursday are not finished products, but first thought best thought first drafts. I hope to use this forum to motivate me to produce drafts that I can work with to produce better crafted work. I would appreciate any comments and feel free to critique actually craft points, such as word choice, rhythm, tone etc... Please be constructive about what works and what doesn’t work, but please keep in mind these poems are not meant to be read as finished work. I would appreciate if you would stay polite, but I don’t always need to hear the poem is “good” or “bad” please try and tell me why. Thanks in advance; I am so excited to be a part of this forum.


  1. Hey BZ...

    Reminds me of the days... 14 years ago... when I managed an Adult Entertainment Night Club for 2 years. My dancers were "girls" (young women) and being in Canada they strip butt naked! Emotionally... this work was a challenging environment to be in. In regards, I have many many stories to write about. This reminds me of some further soul searching I will have to dig through in finding words to share.

    Beneath black lights many fake promises of Love were traded for money. Secrets were desired and in the end... we all went home lonely...

    Keep sharing your Heart! We all have a story to tell...

    Libra Moon

  2. Your words really carried me along, you had me gripped. Moving and poignant.

  3. I really admire your honesty in this poem. I felt it was strongest when you spoke for yourself...I'm not sure if you need the old men...might be tighter without them.

  4. stark and graphic but very vivid. not ever having been in a place like that- i got the picture pretty quick! almost like it was a scene from a movie- boondock saints came to mind.

  5. The strength of the poem is that the speaker doesn't really kid himself about any of it.

    I would first work on pruning the poem, as a few details are overly elaborated upon, such as "she is a great actress" (you've already have shown it) or "with impulsiveness" (already implied). Nicking off some of those excesses will sharpen this sharp poem.

  6. Thanks Jim. That kind of advice is what i am looking for. I think you are right.

  7. I thought the best lines were:

    "they languidly
    sway their pale hips
    pinching their nipples
    like bored chimpanzees"


    "her cunt is dry and neglected
    like leather

    You paint a great picture of what the reality is, even though that experience was meant to be a fantasy

  8. You can never go wrong when posting words by Bukowski!
    Raw Words

  9. Oh...BZ, my friend... Your writing exists on many levels, it lives and breathes in a 3oo floor apartment building in a run down city or on the outskirts of a large thriving metropolis...

    I would differ with Jim and keep "she's a great actress" it is the moment in the poem that reveals most... The illusion is we do not know, or at least in the throes of passion we do not remember that she is acting...