Samples from Poetry Zine #3

Disturbing Hate Poems
[a collection of erotic verse and love letters]

© Love Beth Drew with illustrations by John Schultz

Cover Image

[untitled]

Once upon a time
there was a man.

He lived by the ocean
alone with the trees and the rocks and the
glass-sharp sand on the beach.
He would lay in the sun
and his sweat would collect
in crevices and corners
and lobes and shadows.

And at the end of the day
Twilight
He would bottle his sweat
in bottles he pressed
between the rocks on the shore
from the sand on the beach
and hung them to shine
in the branches of the trees
by single strands of his pretty hair.

The winds would caress him
and sing him lullabies
and turn the bottles into chimes
making music
random noise
to soothe away the pressures
of his day to day to day
routine.

And he slept.

Often the man sat on his rock
perched by the sea
watching the waves dance
in sublime freedom
and abandon.

His sweat was sweet
like roses and sugar
and it began to pool in
tidepools along his body
mind
spirit.

Once he picked the sandburrs
from his animal companions
that came to visit from time to time
and pressed them into his flesh.

And when the time came
to refine his essence,
he added the sharp, stinging
memory of the pain
to his day
and hung them in his bottles
colored blue and green
and frosted with salt
from his ocean
and frosted with salt
from his sea.

And the music they made
as they chipped and fell
made his ears bleed
as he lay in his cave
caressed by the twilight winds
that blew in
through the cracks
that time had made.

And he hummed along
to their song
Deaf to the world
and he closed his eyes
blind from the sunshine
reflecting off the water
and he laughed a deep laugh
and he fondled himself
as he huddled himself
into embryo balls
of dementia.

And he slept.

And he knew that
tomorrow would be another day.

Sit for your portrait My
dear one my loved one.
Sit and enjoy
motion of motionless
movement -- just breathing.
Just sigh.
Sit for your portrait and tense
muscles relaxing. Fade, and erase,
and focus on me, as
I see you.
Perching on a stool, borrowed from a
cavernous studio --
windows and white
walls and wood
floors galore. Perched
yet not caged oh my
loved one my longed
for one. Waiting for
completion so you can fly
away.
Sip this tea that I
offer freely. Let it
warm you from inside
out through bloodways
and byways synapses
and causeways. Let
the warmth steam
rise and mingle with
rain outside fog cause
descend.
I brush your lips to
the canvas. Sensual
slowly. Rubbed raw.
Soft murmured words only
confused ignored only
deep trolley noise only
stop moving -- stay still
stand tall.
Brush your hair with
a paintbrush. Tangle
ochre with vines.
Entwine longing with
hatred. Enemies
retorted, drunk wine.
Faded grey t-shirt.
Worn Boots. Placid
smile. Sit for your
Portrait my dark
one my deep one.
Sit drink
dream remember.
My dear one. My
loved one. My longed
for, long ago forgotten
one.
Sigh movement fog
Breath settled.
My good one. My
bad one. Myself and
then some one.
Scrape canvas
length die.

you deserve the truth
you deserve honesty and
the pleasure too.
you deserve your dreams in reality.
it seems.
all the words the meaningful glorious words
were already taken yet I
go on
here
it's a dance
one step
two step
take my hand, spin
twist dip spin
twist dip 'round
the prize a surprise
hidden, wrapped
in gauze and taffeta, linen and wire
to make a pretty picture for awhile
still
ripped on hot coil shame
it's in the beautiful
and it could be so
but it had a stunted growth
but you feed its fire.
lightning storms and salty sprays of rain.
the floor is checked in white and black
and villains dance toe to toe
with respect and pushing
with strength vast wide
from the vast, wide
samson denied.
mercury's in retrograde
and it's a game
dance two three
you deserve more than me
pretty
as a man could be.
there is no more
than an empty echo
of an excuse here.
i am the responsibility
of masses of unused claims.
explain me this
wise sir of youth
inhabited by hostile
forces locked inside
minds.
this dance
this hug
this kiss long time
coming
from one point
mirror room reflected
dance hall elongated
melancholy suffocated
existence
it will break and
shatter
and the wrapper
of a former self
will flutter to
the floor
caught not
on wings
that grow
from support
and love
endless and boundless in
deep pools of earthy rich
soil colored
eyes.
and here,
i see with eyes the
color they will be
a crack in the floor
through which we can escape.

Snap all senses fully awake. She’s learning to do it for herself. Oh, to be so involved and oh so aware. Set the date for the re-trial.

Pierce me with your angel wings
Always black and bloodied
From hiding what you
Think most vulnerable
And Leave
And Leave
And Leave
This new idea
Could be a reverberating
Dead refrain
Of the same model
Make and Size
Fits all
You Dark Haired
Starry Eyed
Figmented
Emotional
Moguls
Of a
Repressssssssed
And altogether
Solemnly laughing
Girlchild

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