On Future Readings

I had been thinking that reading my poetry again would not be a good idea.  It's not fear of griefers but rather outrage over what happened that prompted this thinking.  Life is too short for stupid shit, blah, blah.  However, taking this approach does nothing to the griefer as the only feelings such people have are what they read in books.  What it does do is punish Cat and that's the last thing I want.

The biggest conflict comes in what I'm writing as it isn't realistic to paint a Pollyanna world while the drone wars continue and children starve in Africa (among many other places).  The conflict comes in whether I'm trying to be entertaining or real and why can't those be the same thing.  Perhaps they are and I have been limiting myself unnecessarily.

I did read "The Whores of Amsterdam" at Circe's New Poets Sanctuary and it's pretty damn dark.  I got a quite sharp reaction to it in that I was told the hookers in the windows have medical plans and all manner of good things, most of all they have free will.  This is a puzzle to me as I know what I saw and what I had been told.

I was previously dressed-down for saying the women are Moroccan whereas they are actually from eastern Europe.  There's no doubt in my mind this was hogwash, at least for the ones I saw, as I was told they were Moroccan by Dutch friends and they were clearly not European.  I was advised multiple times of the Dutch contempt for Moroccans and why them rather than Greenlanders or whomever, I don't know.

I was also told the Dutch hookers don't have pimps but I was also told quite specifically not to take pictures in the Red Light District or the pimps would most assuredly remove my testicles.  I hadn't brought a camera with me but I stood duly advised.  So there are multiple puzzles, none of which are likely to be resolved any time soon.

I doubt I will read that one again, not because of the reaction but rather for the same reason as my songs as I don't really want to repeat much of anything.

So, we shall see what comes!


The Whores of Amsterdam


We walked past the whores this evening
the windowed creatures of the dark.
Leering mud-packed eyes of promise
for something lost in freakshow farce.

We turned into an alley
and she pulled me to one side.
We moved to a dark doorway
as a sheltered place to hide.

She said I need you in me
against the horror all around
I want you now to love me
and I won't make a sound.

In loathing and in passion,
we kissed each other hard.
Growing more to the cold moment
in this ancient stone courtyard.

She freed herself to take me
We moved quickly then as one.
The fire burned so brightly
as the passion in the sun.

Exploding into rainbows
we stopped and didn't move.
It only stayed a moment
and then again alone.

We walked past the whores this evening
the windowed creatures of the dark.
Leering mud-packed eyes of promise
for something lost in freakshow farce.