Last Edited Prose Poems (1,150)

My next trip to Bali - I was twenty-four
Going there again with a few mates.
We each had a room (like the time before)
I'll not bore you with flight details commonplace.
Returning on a holiday to score
Some p*ssy and drink till we're off our face.
We had spending money and a cheap airfare -
All I'll say suffice to say we got there.

Arriving on the beach in steamy Kuta
To watch a sunset dying in the west.
Sipping Bintang beer in a pool bar
(Memories I made there were the best).
Knowing that I was now from Sydney far
It was time to settle in and to get pissed.
To tie one on but not get truly rotten
The smells of Asia not quickly are forgotten.

The first girl I met her name was Donna
(An Aussie girl from Broome as I remember)
And that first night I certainly got on her
(It's hot and dry in Bali in December).
By the pool at 3 am is where I saw her; -
I invited her into the balmy water;-
And now I'll tell you something really cool -
In two minutes we were at it in the pool!

The next night was quite different I tell you
A moon came up full wan wild and wicked; -
And having nothing better now to do
Went out again intending to get shickered.
Now by myself (not with the other crew)
The meal cart's cooking fires brightly flickered.
Next something now that I won't soon forget -
I think the chef put mushrooms in my omelet!

In half an hour I was feeling strange
And went into an expensive nightclub.
I lay upon a sofa on a stage
And watched the moon shower silver from above.
Now trapped in a bright psychedelic cage
My senses one by one had taken leave; -
The music they were playing - the Eurhythmics
I heard the gifted voice of Annie Lennox.

On the stereo, Annie sang her song "Why"
Why indeed? I ask now (taken deeper).
I looked into the silver moonlit sky
The trip upon me (and my will grows weaker).
Something strange now (like this poetry)
To wake now from a dream (but not the sleeper).
I stared transfixed at the black silhouette
Of palm trees edged in moonlight (stranger yet).

The next day I didn't feel so good
(I muttered curses underneath my breath).
I thought about it - and I really should
Have had police arrest that wicked chef.
If I could find him - then I surely would
Have told them all about his bad omelets.
I searched about in every street canteen -
But nowhere was the scoundrel to be seen.

Well not much more to add now - two more girls
Both were Indonesian and were prozzies*.
Just names on a list now - that is all -
(In Bali there are worse things than the mozzies**).
A strange holiday in a place tropical -
Tourists on the beach in skimpy cozzies***.
Eight days of sun, and then time to go home -
The weirdest holiday I've ever known.




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There is a serpent Eve which crowns your wreath
If nothing there to hide then down below -
For something good I had to go beneath; -
Your mound of Venus and its moist furrow.
After I've finished you may feel replete -
Or beg for more - and moaning as you go;-
To push you close - and then over the brink -
Thoughts I now write down in this black ink.

With you girl at twilight your temple falls
Assailing now tonight your palace walls.
All Nature's strength in destiny now calls
Your moaning of contentment caterwauls.
Onto the coldest bathroom floor, we crawled
(Good reader you're the first that I have told)
She and me now - so strong then was our lust -
And lying spent now in a pile of dust.

So that is why I must now "tip the velvet"
(My first time with a girl in the Blue Mountains)
What's the point in life of having regret?
Regret runs in torrents down every fountain.
And I'd do anything to find her secret -
To hear her moan would surpass ev'ry doubt then;-
Velvet speckled stars on a dark backdrop -
The only pity is that we could not elope.



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Not long after my encounter with Lorraine*
(At twenty-nine the loins are rather restless)
Two months, nineteen days later - the time frame
(I went to a bordello - I confess this).
Sometimes to go with a "girl on the game"
Is all I have (though they will never kiss)
'Cept for this poem - I will kiss and tell -
Another memory - and I may as well.

If ever you're in Sydney, near Rockdale**
And find yourself down by the Seven Ways
(It's not so far from where Cook*** once did sail
Though a fair bit has changed since those days).
This is where you may come to avail
Your self of some of the finest ladies -
Well, at any rate, most are rather sweet -
Go at night if you want to be discreet.

So there I was, I entered the bordello -
The fabric on the walls was finest silk.
On that night I was a restless fellow -
(As I suppose were many of my ilk).
I felt like a prince (somewhat like Othello
Was). I went there to seek affection's milk -
Exchange the money for this one hour's trade
To play at love - though only its charade.

The girls came out, I chose one - she was Tori
(Her working name was this at any rate).
She now forms the subject of my story -
Part of the fabric time has made my fate.
She'd be surprised to be in my poetry
Long ago on a double bed, she sate.
It didn't take so long though to disrobe
On a chair by the bed now were our clothes.

Her hair was black - in ringlets and in curls
With skin as pale as the moon - alabaster
And sweet unlike so many working girls
(Who think only about the money); now her
Soft body spoke of intimacy's Worlds
Two spirits joined in this time and place were.
Skin on skin - a type of electricity
Which I write of in my eccentricity.

I came to worship close to Venus' mount
I bow before my lady (now Goddess)
And seek to find creation by this fount
Where tenderness is in her hot caress.
To make this hour something that would count
(And worthy of a story to confess).
I bow before my lady - taste her sweet
Soon two souls in the dark are made complete.

The hour was gone and that hour gone too soon
From below I hear the madam ring her bell;-
And thus we must vacate our private room -
So broken now is intimacy's spell; -
Though for that hour we played a lover's tune.
You can guess the rest of what I do not tell
Now my poetry has paid its deference -
Another notch on the belt - experience.

So there you have it, now its bye bye pride
Another angel fallen in her grace.
Not someone I would choose to make my bride
(Though to be fair she had a pretty face).
In this poem, there's nowhere left to hide -
(Just the circumstance of that time and place)
Sometimes - it seems - we're searching for that light -
My loneliness was banish'd on that night.




© lovecanbereal
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Yes, I am something of a scoundrel
Though I have been forced
To be one
Through nature
And circumstance.

Through early grinding poverty
And a childhood
That would rip out your heart.

I am Virgo -
My ruler Mercury
Number 14 my birth date
(That's 5 in Numerology)

I am a gambler
Because of my nature
And of necessity

I am a gambler
For money.

I am a gambler
For love.

Money comes and goes
In a flash
And goes
And comes again

Women
They've been many.
(They seem to come and go also).

This is Mercury operating again
(Through conjunction with Venus I suspect).

I have only loved twice
The first time wrung
The last drop of blood out of my heart
When we broke up.

The second time much later
(More like domesticity)
Genuine affection nonetheless
For eight years of contentment
Which ended for reasons
Which I will not describe here.

I've never cheated
In these relationships

Now I am much older
Women still fascinate me.

Will I ever find "the one"?
Maybe it's third time lucky?
Who knows?

I have my faults
We all have our faults.

I make no apology
For what I am.
My poetry anthology

Describes my life
For what it is*



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In the pride of his knowledge,- he soared too high;-
His wings of wax and paper come undone;-
He plummets down now;- from that same blue sky;-
(And I am cow'd as Icurus' son).
Who feels the mortal damage to his pride;-
(And so I write of how I've come undone);-
The splitting and the splitting;- of wounds that run so deep;-
As sentimental tears course down his cheeks.



© lovecanbereal
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I walk along the street
And I'm blue and lonely.
My childhood hurts this love
For my one and only.

Searching other's eyes
For love's deep abyss.
The ocean in my soul
Drowns in a stranger's kiss.

I'm lost without a woman
Directionless and vain.
I seek what is not common
In this world of pain.

Oh for a stranger's eyes
To then return that glance.
The ocean in her soul
Cries for a lost romance.



© lovecanbereal
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I've given myself to many women,
Although I am not cheap.

My heart is hard, from life common,
(Although I still can weep).

I'm damaged from my childhood,
(That black emotional sin).

Every day I stay alive,
Is a day I win.

And I don't fully know myself,
(But then again - who does?)

I'm scared sometimes to show my heart,
(Wounded from a lack of love).

I spend most days writing here,
In silent introspection.

I know one day, I'll heal myself,
And find a new direction.

Maybe it's my nature,
And maybe it's my curse;-

To see the beauty,
In most women;-

For better,
Or for worse.



© lovecanbereal
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In my heart, in my past lives
I must have been a female; -
(Not that I would be one now, -
And all that would entail).

It just feels right, when I see
A pretty pair of eyes;-
To drown in her deep ocean, -
Would come as no surprise.



© lovecanbereal
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The red rose is touched by dew :-

Tears from a red rose
Blood from her womb
So few will know.

Known by so few
Tears from a red rose
So few will know.

Blood from her womb
Tears from a red rose
So few will know.



© lovecanbereal
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The fake,
The hollow fake;
The Impostor.

The one-dimensional one;-
Shallow as a wading pool.

The empty vessel.

The one, who puts on another's robes;
But who, underneath, is just a monkey.

The one who wishes,
To turn the freely given;
To a profit.

The one, with no discernible talent;
Will be exposed.

Beware, the anti-plagiarism software;
Beware, the originals, on my USB.

Beware, the original Time and Date Stamps;
Beware, the CS Copyright Warning.

Beware!



© lovecanbereal
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