Linda's Literary Home

Tag: Unveiling the Devil

  • City Boy 

    249a Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem.jpg
    Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem

    City Boy

    what she got for marrying the devil . . .    

    He was a peacock about his manhood,
    Measured his mind by the length of it.
    He was kicked out of high school but cut his wisdom
    Teeth on the Encyclopædia Britannica.
    He went to tell President Nixon
    How to run the country,
    And ended up in jail—in Wyoming.

    He told stories about planting his seed, 
    Claimed he was directed
    By an expert in eugenics. Threatened
    To incest his own daughter.
    But his head served as a block of meat
    His co-workers at the wire factory
    Would slice off at the lunch break..

    His mother was a gentle, efficient woman.
    His father was just gentle.
    But his brothers were determined
    To shit in every yard in the north end.

    He gave people the creeps.
    He was too self-slung to know.
    Narcissus breathed on his mirror.
    He made people cringe:  like when
    He took pictures of his sister in her coffin—
    The sister he told his brothers only he could satisfy.
    He wanted to remember her before she rotted…
    One can only guess…the way you remember 
    Road kill before it goes to flies.

    A slightly different version of appears in my collection Turtle Woman & Other Poems

  • Dreams and Days

    191a Image-Created by Grok inspired by the poem.jpg
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Dreams and Days

    “His tongue cuts / Slices of meat / From the hearts / And livers / Of those / Who would love him . . . ”       –from “Between Slices of Bread” in Linda Sue Grimes’ At the End of the Road 

    I quote myself, well then,
    I quote myself —
    I include multitudes —
    Uncle Walt taught me that much.

    The man in the poem
    Cannot bring himself to say
    Or to pray about his own lividness
    He shuts out spaces and commas
    Lives in his own irrelevance.

    He murders his own children
    With his viper attitude
    And nibbles the ankles
    Of prostitutes
    Who erase his will to power on.

    You have seen him
    Perhaps did not recognize him —
    He has sat in your parlor
    Sipping your coffee
    Dusting off his duplicitous moves —

    He fears death but not yours
    He imagines you at the bottom
    Of a cold, black ocean
    Your tongue bait for the fishes
    His Bolshevik brain conjures.

    Your freedom is a fantasy
    If you remain too close to his heat
    Get your life back – get your love back
    Where God made you in His image
    And you are close to seeing it.