"Slam Poem" by T.C. LenWorth
"Penchant" by T.C. LenWorth
"Elle Ryder" by T.C. LenWorth
[Plug: Irene]
We heard about your bitch sister
That little cunt in her wares
We even prepped for your swallows
I heard you even pulled back your hair.
Claiming God of some nine people
Spitting out our caution with your lips.
Heard we played God too
They said we
cracked our old whips
Letting some play slave to your anger
Tempting us to fight back
Like fucking your ex
Only shame…
Talking: I smashed but didn’t kiss that.
How the drowned out peoples of Katrina do laugh.
Like us inflating water prices
Like mothers killing souls in baths.
Look how you made us remember sad
Remember we are as soft as your hair
Taking all that we had
Tornados eyes that do leer and quakes that do shake
Standing guard like we’re Kings –our grimaces at fate.
Stuck on neutral
Staying the same as it diverges
Blatantly cackling, hysterical at power surges.
You’re my truth –my totem
My mother who tells me it is not a dream
You’re Nature
We’re fragile;
My dearest
Sweetest Irene
[Plug: Customer]
How does that chocolate zip up your desires --where letters are not words, rather a long list of promises. Taking orders via heartstrings...pulling my customer close --climbing, tilting those long legged posts. Have you in sheets stained with the part of me that does not smile. Begging and tugging, beckoning for just a lil while. Longer and wider and stronger inside Her I wine her and dine her never deny her for ever a buyer...a customer, a crier, a truth, a liar in front of a fire I make love in dire. And die here. And lie here. And take Her. And sip slow. And let go...and tug and tug and sell and flood. I'm overdone. Overwhelmed. In awe. A realm. Just created...always debated...never relayed it. How that chocolate does buy Her desires...
[circa 02.03.08 4:40a]
[Plug: Recanttous]
[Plug: Writing-Thru: Kahlil Gibran's "Song of Love"]
[Plug: No Saving Grace]
[circa 02.03.08 4:40a]
[Plug: Ode to the Foot]
None have been written of feet. Of toes and soles. Those not that flee to heaven but rather the ruler of this earth's ground. Stepping above and upon, arches molding against. Trickle a tickle of round mounds that supple mouths do nosh. Of scratchy heels and ankles posh. Of the flawless disgust most fetish a must. None have been etched in stone and passed down as lore, of brown bunions cruising about kitchen floors. Or camera capturing baby steps fumble as those little tiny piggies break down and crumble. There is not one. Not an ode to the foot. Not a line or verse dedicated to boot. And so I write. Just for you all. How I love those ten, sole and ball. Feet and foot and sock and shoe. How I have a poem for every part of you.
[circa 02.03.08 5:36a]
None have been written of feet. Of toes and soles. Those not that flee to heaven but rather the ruler of this earth's ground. Stepping above and upon, arches molding against. Trickle a tickle of round mounds that supple mouths do nosh. Of scratchy heels and ankles posh. Of the flawless disgust most fetish a must. None have been etched in stone and passed down as lore, of brown bunions cruising about kitchen floors. Or camera capturing baby steps fumble as those little tiny piggies break down and crumble. There is not one. Not an ode to the foot. Not a line or verse dedicated to boot. And so I write. Just for you all. How I love those ten, sole and ball. Feet and foot and sock and shoe. How I have a poem for every part of you.
[circa 02.03.08 5:36a]
[Plug: Recanttous]
She paces for me.
Back and forth through –
Trudge and dirt
Fro and to from—
Beneath the wells.
Those orbs receded behind
Cloudy shields
Tics ruling tears—
Tears taking them.
So she waits.
On branch and perched
About the world,
Looking hither
Upon guilt in me.
Onto a future
Un bright
Broken as steps in sand.
Pacing so…
Waiting there.
Asking me…to
Play in her hair.
[circa 09.16.09 5:38p]
Play in her hair.
[circa 09.16.09 5:38p]
[Plug: Writing-Thru: Kahlil Gibran's "Song of Love"]
eyeS, and the spirit’s
nOurishment. I am a rose.
My heaRt
The viRgin kisses me
UpOn
beauty. When youth
forgets his toiL,
Whole lifE becomes
poeT’s elation,
I aM
sacrEd
My fuLlness pursue
claim Of the vOice.
hiS
I rEvealed myself
WisdOm From
I sMiled at Helena and
she destroYed Tarwada;
like the ageS –
crEates and ruins;
a vioLet’s sigh;
GiFts alone do not entice me;
[circa 04.24.09 1:26p]
[circa 04.24.09 1:26p]
How weary is the song of my unwanted heart?
-- How you do love thee…yet only in theory.
happiness is =when you make me whole.
So just remember now;
how slowly it hurts to want you this way…
my tears dripping from these odes
my screams going unheard.
How sullen is the poem of my bleeding fingers?
…How I write to you…and what you do not do –
sadness is =when I wake alone. Unwhole.
So just forget it now;
the unyielding devotion…
how it is set in stone
how it rocks me awake in the night.
How funny is the design of my unchanging mind?
-- How I whisper to myself…“go get her”
life is =going to get better.
So just dismiss this now;
all these lines of script
they mean nothing to me
without the sight of Her face
or the sweetest lip-locking taste
or the gentle love-making pace
and never without…my saving grace.
[circa 09.17.08 5:07a]
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