Thursday, June 23, 2011

in tact

sex object. not afraid of the words.
I've used many objects for the sake of sex.
in fact my body has been pretty disposable-
I don't really mind it being used as
an "it" or a "thing" or a "that"
I've been cataloged and numbered-
like a returned book.
none of this is new to me.


but when my mind becomes saturated
with the secret darkness of manipulation
and it is slimy with half-truths
and unbelievably trite poetics.

forgive me, but this I will not stand for.
use me up and leave me out in heat.

but leave my poor mind, in tact.
Posted by at
Labels: ,

10 comments:

  1. BubbaJune 23, 2011 at 8:35 AM

    The mind is the most important sex organ we have.

    (Ever heard of a mind-fuck?) ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownJune 23, 2011 at 9:04 AM

    Interesting perspective the disconnection of mind and body to keep some salvation. Evocative write ~ Rose

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wine and WordsJune 23, 2011 at 9:41 AM

    I agree with Eric. A mind-fuck is just as important. I also agree that I am not bothered by my body being used as an it, or a thing. I find it powerfully stimulating to be "used" in a passionate need. Manipulated is another matter. Slimy half truths are sorry excuses for transparency. And now we've come full circle back to mind-fuck!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Sherry Blue SkyJune 23, 2011 at 12:47 PM

    Well done poem, and an interesting response to the prompt. Good one, Amy!

    ReplyDelete
  5. EllaJune 23, 2011 at 8:27 PM

    So raw and open like a wound! I liked it :D

    ReplyDelete
  6. madhumakhiJune 24, 2011 at 3:08 AM

    Sad. The poor object is a witness to the baser qualities of humans. I like the way you've brought it out.

    ReplyDelete
  7. AnonymousJune 25, 2011 at 10:15 PM

    I like the combination of emotions... How you seem relaxed with so much, but then really says 'enough' when someone tries to f*ck with your mind. Powerful read! I really like it!

    ReplyDelete
  8. bttrflyscarJune 26, 2011 at 6:56 PM

    ;) thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  9. UnknownJuly 4, 2011 at 2:43 PM

    oh yes to this. yes yes yes.

    ReplyDelete
  10. bttrflyscarJuly 5, 2011 at 7:21 AM

    Dana :)

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

  • storm
    driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
  • self
    nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
  • Day 28
    in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
  • interview
    Today I was interviewed for Poets United small stone: July 13th so many things for granted, taken: two kinds of silverware.
  • last waking hours
    A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
  • Day 2
    Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
  • Day 15
    At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
  • where I went
    and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
  • small stones
    July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
  • blooming
    No one cares for me, because I once cared for you. futile attempts to invigorate the soil with hands un-gloved, dirty deeds to provide my li...

Poets United Contributor