Bewildering Stories

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Love Poem #1968

by John Edward Lawson


I will profane you excepting molest...


For the sake of everyone involved I had to throw the milk out.


a) MMM — by my troth! That be some fine booty...
b) “Oh! How dare you!”


a) “If you force me to remove my bra [at gunpoint] I will do so with pride.”
b) If that’s going to be her attitude I will feel guilty and look away.
c) Just pull the trigger already!


a) She’s got “The Look” and the heart of a mad dog. Did she keep the heart? Ingest it? Does it beat within her breast? If so, that’s a strange place for a heart (I guess that’s why we men are heartless, eh?).
b) Blue, ice blue, sky blue, pastel blue...I envy them all.


Cemeteries of the temporary centuries...


Her flavor should not be known to mortals.


How can you sleep?


At work I worry about home; at home I worry about work.


Don’t bother judging me.


The one thing you learn in life is that there’s nothing you can do but rip your own child’s throat out with your teeth if you want to get ahead.


a) She reveled in the carnage. The broken nose was, above all else (pain and humiliation included), a badge of honor. The shotgun in her hands was an Olympic torch (light on the “limp” but heavy on the big “O”). The screams cheered her on. Has she gone insane or is it just me?
b) She has been with child. No! Pregnant, curse your sick mind! I will not contemplate any other interpretation, nor shall I tolerate it in others. Refer to #11 above, although that was a self-reference and does not reflect on her or her child-rearing in any way, although I do find myself reflecting on her rear quite often.


Recipe for a strung-out mind: well-burned grits (made with milk, not water, and not that milk I had to throw out either, damn it all [don’t try to get smart on me now — readers are supposed to be “gentle,” remember?] — but hey, no harm no foul, as they say, so let us move on), two tablespoons margarine, two peanut butter cups. Stir while hot...stir crazy when consumed.


a) With a handful of hair he held her against the mirror. Sure, differing shades of red were decorating her face by that point, but I was feeling more violent than he regardless.
b) However helpless she was under the circumstances I was even less capable of rendering him lifeless.
c) To circumvent the circumstance was impossible, that was my stance so I could only vent.


[at which point one must admit that I look like a mushroom in my photographs]


I’d seen her a total of four times, growing more impressed with each successive encounter, before realizing that I had been meeting the same person. She can be tricky like that.


No eclipse on record — irrespective of its mystical nature, sublimity, or fear-inducing power — could surpass her majesty, usurp the place of the portents just concealed by her pupils. One shared trait between them is the transfixing nature of the illumination born of their darkness...and yes, looking directly into her radiance can induce blindness (even through a telescope all the way down here 3,000 miles below her).


a) I watch them sitting there clapping blandly and think, “Yep...if I had a gun leveled at their heads they’d be a hell of a lot more enthusiastic.”
b) “They might even remove their undergarments, appreciatively no less.” It goes without saying that I’d feel guilty as all get-out under those circumstances.


This has nothing to do with Pennsylvania.


In the name of the repressed geriatric proletariat masses I refuse to turn down the music.


a) What the hell, her sister ain’t that bad either...
b) Oh, so they get freaky like that?! I, for one, refuse to believe libelous lies and slanderous slop (although the thought will, in fact, keep me “up” late at night).
c) Let’s move to Utah!


a) Last I heard she killed him dead.
b) Elvis dropped in.
c) Every girl and boy need a little joy.


I’m looking to fail.


a) The jury is dead.
b) “Life” is an anagram. File. Lief. Ifle.


I feel so cool (you only have to tell me once, thank you).


female holding

and important position in religious or other

female parent, especially of address to announce again or anew; to devise, make, or construct, as off spring; to bring, to fabricate. Mother me


Frustrations, inanities, and the need to relieve my bladder: I submit that there is a correlation.


a) If by “liking it rough” you mean homicide then yes — a thousand times yes — she likes it rough.
b) I never did resist.


a) Some of us are ashamed of our bodies.
b) Feathers are an extension of the skin; however naked a bird is it remains obscured by its skin, unlike humans.
c) Maybe birds of a feather will stand naked together.


Being “An Innocent Man” is BJ’s area of expertise; leave me to my specialties, which can be mined in the province of inexplicable dementia (emphasis on the “demon”).


If ageless beauty were a burden her back would be broken.


She’s made bedroom pugilism the celebrated pastime it is today.


a) I’ve never met anybody with prehensile breasts.
b) Let’s make an atom bomb. What’s that you say? Please allow me to demonstrate (no need to comment on that again).


I’d better just slap myself, wake up, and get on with my life.

Copyright © 2003 by John Edward Lawson