Her body's God to me.
Springing from an ancient well of joy,

it yields to my fists.
I knead its hills and valleys

like a giant crawling through Yorkshire.
Which god would deny man its beauties?

(The same god who created
and filled it with hate for man and his urges.)

She's dead tonight,
lost in an artificial sleep no-one could approach.

Lecherous physician,
childish necrophile,

I touch and lick, breathing hastily,
an African boy at a trough of meat.

She'll wake tomorrow and read scripture
while torturing herself,

unaware that I've broken our pact.
Picture her stuck to the cross,

nails where nipples should be,
poking through her tits in halos of blood.

Her cunt is a tangle of thorns
no husband could touch or child escape.

And on her face are the orgasms she's denied man,
as rivers of heavenly light pour from her eyes.

formed my opinion but will let the ladies go first. (after me. ,-) )
style: quite impressive.
flesh: hmmm? heavy metal metaphors.
I dunno. destruction of mother earth, mother metaphorised as mother earth/life.
it is a read for mothers, i think. I am out.
cheers
a son

i shouldn't have but i sort of laughed at the yorkshire line on the first couple of reads. it's pretty powerful stuff jack and i think i'll come back to it tomorrow.

I touch and lick, breathing hastily,
an African boy at a trough of meat.

impresses me greatly but will give it some thought before posting a line by.

I was going to change "Yorkshire" to "dales" because I thought it was too giggle-worthy Thanks for your comments, serge and Bilbo

(04-13-2013, 10:54 AM)Heslopian Wrote:  Her body's God to me.
Springing from an ancient well of joy,

it yields to my fists.
I knead its hills and valleys

like a giant crawling through Yorkshire.
Which god would deny man its beauties?

(The same god who created
and filled it with hate for man and his urges.)

She's dead tonight,
lost in an artificial sleep no-one could approach.

Lecherous physician,
childish necrophile,

I touch and lick, breathing hastily,
an African boy at a trough of meat.

She'll wake tomorrow and read scripture
while torturing herself,

unaware that I've broken our pact.
Picture her stuck to the cross,

nails where nipples should be,
poking through her tits in halos of blood.

Her cunt is a tangle of thorns
no husband could touch or child escape.

And on her face are the orgasms she's denied man,
as rivers of heavenly light pour from her eyes.

Shit,
I KNOW that girl!!!
Yes to this Hes. There is never going to be a better word for cunt so it will become the only one word cliche in the english language. All hangs together nicely but "her body IS God to me" works better for me. Nipples, tits and cunts in close proximity keeps the overdose local and I kind of like that. In out, shake it all about.
Yorkshire...my birthright. Yes. Bosom bens in Scotland, but Yorkshire has clefts and cracks as well. Love it for its edginess, too. Serge Gothicifies it, as he would say. Now't wrong wi'that. Si'the in Whitbi, yorks.
Not nitty. Punctuation perfect. Do it again.
Best,
tectak.

hello,

there is no way i can go through this line by line (at least not now), but there are a few things that stuck out for me:

'nails where nipples should be' --- outside of the poem as a whole, this is just great, and again, as with so many things I read here, I wish i had written it, for my on ends and purposes (i.e. the shifting organs, "sexual organs sprout up everywhere, anuses open and close all over the body" [and Deleuze is clear that this is not a metaphore!] and one could add 'nails where nipples should be', damn that sounds so creamy

the next line is problematic for me though, the word 'tits' is such an awful word. Furthermore, if it were me I wouldn't shy away from the repetition of 'through', as in: poking through her tits, through halos of blood.

the last four lines are good, in fact possibly better than good, but I havent time to analyze them in depth. Although I would question the concept of 'the orgasms she's denied man' only because it seems one could play with the ambiguity a bit more here, but maybe not.

anyhow, very interesting read and enjoyable, if not disturbing... but what more could one ask from a poem.

Thank you, tectak and shemthepenman, for your kind, in-depth and thoughtful critiques I'd forgotten that you're a Yorkshireman, tec! I think you told me you are in a PM once.
shem, repetition is something I'm almost OCD about. I torture myself making sure I don't repeat words. But it's an irrational compulsion, I'm aware, and I like your suggestion about repeating "through".

Wow... powerful. Primeval and dark. I love it.

Sorry Jack, I can't get past the idea that this is just pure shock value. The words themselves instantly repel me. Perhaps that means you've achieved what you set out to do, and written a poem that men alone can appreciate.

It probably is pure shock value. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't get a petty thrill from being repellant, but my intentions weren't in any way misogynistic, and I sincerely hope that this poem isn't construed as such; I also wanted just to create surreal images. If it helps, it's written from the perspective of the husband in this poem: http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/showthread.php?tid=6249&highlight=the+passion+of+the+wife I didn't mention that originally because I thought it'd be a bit cheeky to promote another of my poems within a post when I haven't been around for quite a while Thank you for your thoughtful and honest feedback, Leanne

---

(04-14-2013, 04:39 AM)Crepuscule Wrote:  Wow... powerful. Primeval and dark. I love it.

Thank you, Crepuscule

Thank you for your honest feedback, trueenigma

It's fairly plain I've read this differently from some others. I read rawness and lust... worship even... frightening, dark sexual ugliness, but didn't read it as misogyny (or non-consentual?).

The one line I felt uncomfortable with was the African boy at a trough of meat bit. Okay, starvation is a recurrent feature in that continent, but it's a bit of a generalisation. Bit like the discomfort I feel at Plath's use of the "n-word".

All right, let's look at why I find this gratuitous.

(04-13-2013, 10:54 AM)Heslopian Wrote:  Her body's God to me.
Springing from an ancient well of joy, -- already she's set up as a "body" -- she is unimportant -- and that body is needed to fulfill expectations of perfection. Putting a woman on a pedestal is in no way respect, it's forcing her compliance with a man's ideals

it yields to my fists. -- this doesn't sound consensual to me
I knead its hills and valleys

like a giant crawling through Yorkshire.
Which god would deny man its beauties? -- what right has she to stop me? I worship her, therefore I own her.

(The same god who created
and filled it with hate for man and his urges.)

She's dead tonight,
lost in an artificial sleep no-one could approach. -- no, it's definitely not consensual, she's drugged into unconsciousness

Lecherous physician, -- and clearly, it was the husband who drugged her
childish necrophile,

I touch and lick, breathing hastily,
an African boy at a trough of meat. -- not only are women fair game for condescension and generalisation, but so are other races

She'll wake tomorrow and read scripture
while torturing herself, -- of course she'll torture herself -- it's what she's been taught she deserves

unaware that I've broken our pact.
Picture her stuck to the cross,

nails where nipples should be,
poking through her tits in halos of blood.

Her cunt is a tangle of thorns
no husband could touch or child escape.

And on her face are the orgasms she's denied man, -- because of course, the man's orgasms are the ones that matter
as rivers of heavenly light pour from her eyes.

No matter how many pretty metaphors you hang around it, and whether it's in a marriage bed or not, rape is rape. It's not something I want to be a voyeur to.

Okay, I'd like to clear something up: I don't support molesting women (or men, for that matter) while they're drugged. You're right, it is rape. How can it be consensual if she's unconscious and doesn't know what he's doing to her? The suggestion that it might be consensual was an individual reader's interpretation, not mine. Also, in my opinion, she drugged herself; as I wrote this I envisaged her taking sleeping pills and her husband taking advantage of that. I don't believe that I'm condescending to women or that I'm justifying the husband's actions. My intention was simply to tell a horrific story and create surreal, disturbing images within it, not to apologise for rape or impart any serious message. Still, if you want to feel that this poem is misogynistic, that is of course your perogative. Also, I fully understand your point about the "trough of meat" line. It is condescending and generalising, and to be honest it's the one line I have a major problem with, because it's talking about a race as opposed to one person. I personally don't think I'm being misogynistic because nothing in this poem suggests to me that I think all women are self-abusing victims. As an endnote, I'd like to say that writing from a certain perspective doesn't mean you share that perspective. Is Jeff Lindsay a vigilante sociopath because he wrote the Dexter novels? Again, thank you for your thoughtful and honest feedback.

For the record, Jack, not once have I used the word "misogynistic". I've only called it repellent and gratuitous

This is about the poem, not about the writer, remember?

let's sort it out before it makes enemies..... the poetry is in question not the poet.

(04-14-2013, 08:57 AM)billy Wrote:  let's sort it out before it makes enemies..... the poetry is in question not the poet.

I don't want to make any enemies I like Leanne and respect her opinion greatly; I guess I'm just overly-sensitive and feel the need to remind people that, deep down, I'm not a monster, just a bastard

that's better, now lets keep this thread on topic.

(04-14-2013, 08:46 AM)Leanne Wrote:  This is about the poem, not about the writer, remember?

That's fair enough, and I apologise if I was too sensitive. I've deleted my previous comment because it sounded touchy and accusatory. Which, you know, are qualities I just don't have

You make some very good points. I could try to justify the horror and voyeurism by saying that the poem's written from the perspective of a horrible, voyeuristic man, but I fully understand your point about taste and respect. I've criticised others for writing poems from the perspectives of real-life serial killers because I find it creepy and disrespectful, but it could be argued that fiction should also meet such standards. Thank you for your feedback, trueenigma.