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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 11-June 04:38:33 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 151438
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Against the Harem
[time] => 2009-07-12 15:22:00
[hometext] => A poetic bit of prose about women, men and religion.
[bodytext] => She dreamt of OCD, cod philosophy, calls of duty. She saw mirages of mendicants, supple youths caressing phallic candles, pinkish with blood lust and throbbing ideation. She tossed and turned over, a new leaf of poetic justice; a man in a hoof self-flagellated whilst a horned underling fed him rose petals. A crown of gummy bears sat perched on top of a tonsure, surely a ton of sugary and diabetic provocation, an inkling of rotted teeth and be-speckled vision? Wolf's weighty and womanly woes usurped her preconscious lasciviousness, a brocade of stones, a girdle of glittering gems weighty and hastily burdening a crest of bemoaned fragility. A mental mendacity, alacrity of altruism washed over her. Suicide, matricide, belated fratricide? No, merely a meandering mind, a flitting and fretting formation of id, mostly always hid in the recesses of matronly suppressors. Her husband, moreover, hogging the sheets, was replete and under surfeit. Was she to tug unceremoniously at the Egyptian down, or strip his soul, travel all the way to town in her quest for quilts? Guilt, she felt, was permanent, though miss-spelt. Give and take, some little remark, a quip, never have a showdown, firing from the hip. Men responded to bodily humours, testosterone tumescent and ever-present like a child born with tumours. She was wrapped in warmth, yet she noticed her paunch. Had her partner, erudite in Sartre, cited her an object, a mere prospect of meaningless sex? Arrest her thoughts, she said to herself as she slid from the bedding (of sorts), mostly knitted pattern nation, grandmotherly boredom, and sly invocation. Her Grandma wanted chillins and kids, positive pregnancy tests and chore-charts in grids. Her Gran had had a gob full of procrastination, ‘Bring on the rapid fertilization or in vitro implantation!’. She exhorted, insidious in its lamentation. The woman yawned like a carnal hyena, maybe she could take out an AVO, a legal attestation, a subpoena? Against the irritating humdrum and come-once-done tedium of housewifery's medium? She sighed like a bemused fury, another simpering dawn, another day amongst the stale scenery. She glanced at the sleeping beauties on their slip-shod mattresses. God’s indictment, mistresses. She shed a single tear that held the waters of Allah’s daughters.
[comments] => 1
[counter] => 213
[topic] => 31
[informant] => stufrey
[notes] =>
Corrected spelling as requested. Moderator_18
July 13, 2009
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 6
[ratings] => 2
[editpoem] => 0
[associated] =>
[topicname] => StoryPoetry
)
|
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