Eyeliner | Poems that Suck

I watched him - 
as beautiful as
any woman - from
the doorway of 
the bathroom

as he smudged 
eyeliner along
his ice blue
eyes, an artform
more men should learn.

When he glanced 
at me in the 
mirror, I wisecracked
"You want some lipstick
with that?" 

Causing him to
arch his thin
brows in defiance,
"If you weren't
being such a 
smartass about it
maybe I would."

Desert Fantasies | Poems that Suck

I'm dreaming of
rocky deserts;
dehydrated packed
earth and a
blistering sun.

I'm dreaming of
vultures - those
winged friends -
swooping overhead
in slow circles,

as my body
lies still and
prostrate, feeling
the death and
desolace all
around me -

rising up, and
through me,
cleansing
this body
like a
burnt
offering.

Nola | Poems that Suck

I was thinking about New Orleans today. 
My New Orleans, whose streets and alleys
are as personal and intimate to me as
a pussy stroke. 

Far away from the blaze of Bourbon
where the neon children live their
lives that burn bright, flicker, then die. 

Away from the tourist traps where
Black men are forced to shuck and jive
for those who are simultaneously lily 

White and scaly with sunburn, and who
are all too pleased to press a dollar
in a palm that’s butter mellow or 

burnt sienna to ease their consciences
of what their granddaddies did and what
their grandbabies will continue to do. 

Far, far outside the districts where the 
night air is weighted differently; the sound
of the Zydeco creeping on the wind like a

ghost in the alleyways. Where the slow
drawl of, ‘how you doin’ ‘chere?’ is as
satisfying as the crunch of new gravel

under the heel of my boot; good for the
ear and the Soul. Where the familiar
smell of smoke, stale beer and sawdust 
floors feel like home, and I can dance, 
                                   and dance, 
                                        and dance. 

Biology | Poems that Suck

I want you to cum
inside of me
and say 'fuck it'
to the consequences
because the idea of your
biology and my own - 

of cell and tissue,
swirling strands of
DNA co-mingling inside
my body has become
the height
of romance.

I Wanna Fee that Free Fall | Poems that Suck

I don't know where I'm at
or where I'm going - 
only that I am standing
at a precipice and the
only way forward is 
                   d
                   o
                   w
                   n
                   .

Instead of feeling anxious
or fearful, I'm fantasizing
about what it will feel like
to finally tip over, head first.

I imagine it will be a relief;
the dropping sensation in my 
stomach - like that second you
crest over the first coaster hill -

and the wind in my hair, 
tangling it all to hell,
as I plummet toward the ground.

What a comfort it'll be to
leave the dust of the old
behind; what a delight to
be carried on the thermal
of a new life.

Why He Won’t Let You Fuck His Ass | Poems that Suck

If you want to know
the REAL reason why
your boyfriend won't
let you fuck him

up his ass you have
to ask questions - 
deductive questions -

the kind of questions
that eliminates all the
superficial reasons. 

"Do you think it's gay?"

No.

"Are you afraid you'll like it?"

No.

"Are you afraid it'll hurt?"

No.

"Are you worried poop will come out?"

<<Silence>>


There ya go, ladies. 
Your man won't let you
fuck his ass because

he's afraid his own 
shit will come back
to haunt him.

A Poem About You Doesn’t Deserve a Name | Poems that Suck

They say you can't get 
blood from a stone, but 
you tried to get milk from
my bones to nourish your 

anorexic heart that weighs
love and control in equal
measure on the rigged
scales of parenthood. 

I've grown up in the 
shadow of your buzz
words and catch phrases
for women:

Cunt.
Bitch.
Dyke.
Slut.
Cocktease.
Prude. 
Whore.

Pronouncing with a 
fascist authority what
women can and can't, 
shouldn't, be or do  

And me trying valiantly
to mould myself to the 
exact form for what you
consider the ideal man -

because women, in your
eyes, ain't shit - so 
that I could garner a
single scrap of affection

or respect from you.
But after 38 years, 
I've finally caught 
on to your game - 

better late than never! - 
and I'd rather char my
bones to cinders in the 
crematorium of my own

righteous fury and indignation
than ever let you back in
the door that I slammed in 
your face last April. 

Dangerous | Poems that Suck

The problem with
calling yourself the
muse of a girl 
with daddy issues,

and a habit of
using men's bodies
to masturbate with is
that the love may

be fabricated, and
when she's used 
you up and the well

of inspiration has
run dry, you'll be
thrown away like a 
                   shitty diaper. 

Trash | Poems that Suck

Who the fuck 
are you anyway, 
that my blood 
should turn from
rust to fire
at the mere 
closeness of you?

And who the fuck
am I becoming
with the shiver
of every orgasm, 
under the pressure
of your lips 
on my own?

Who am I?
Because I seem
to have lost
track - seemed to
have forgotten that
I'm only a: 

broken girl,
a fast girl, 
a foul-mouthed girl.

Who the fuck
am I? Because
when I look
in your eye,
and see myself
reflected there, 
I'm not trash
            anymore. 

Oh Shit | Poems that Suck

I forgot I called the
plumber because the 
sinks weren't draining
properly in my house. 

After a strong cup of
coffee, and about twenty
menthol cigarettes, I felt
the tell-tale rattling in

my guts that I have to
take a monstrous shit.
So I ambled to the bathroom, 
produced a bowl-buster, 

marveled at its length
like a proud parent, and
then - without a thought -
flushed my shit baby away. 

About ten seconds later I
heard a horrified scream
from the basement, and 
immediately remembered....

                      Oh shit. The plumber.