meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   263783 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Coming Off Small

Counting The Long Days, Tilling The Greens

All Tarted Up

Don't Tread On Me.

why We celebrate the losers



Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)

I Long For Stars

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

All Beings Considered

Little Water Bug ( learning the lesson of true pain)

Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

And Even Stars Die

Crowded Out

I Feel Fine(r)

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Used to Think I Could Fix Them.

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Max on the max

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

Boy Restored

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

Life's A Candle

Malla Batsick

(A Prayer of Intercession--Brief Joy)

Love A Cat

Cuba Libre

Fragile Shell Of Morning

Disappear

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Better Than A Cyanide Capsule



Oh
you wouldn't want me
she said
I'd be you're
goose-step, goose-egg
Strop Stasi Mamma

he blinked hard twice
she was beautiful
strong-willed, strong-jawed
a large-boned, blue-eyed
cornflower woman
really, just a girl

now how could this be true
how could it
possibly be

I'll be your German disaster
I'll be your Task Master
a darlink Schutzstaffel

her commandments were mere whispers
but her commandments weren't given in jest
she asked by way of command...
he felt inclined to give into her demands
though
over her heart she wore
her best new bullet proof vest

his love was already half-broken
thumping high-hard in his schest

maybe he should've run far in the other
direction
away to the west
faster and slicker and quicker
like the villagers with pitchforks had advised
like the villagers had sworn to attest

she was a real lovely live-Monster
yah-yah

he should have seen
her initial clues
embroidered in dark scarlet hues
bleeding onto her handkerchiefs
huddled deep into her bra-est

but he was so drawn into the site
of her dead-on Nazi blues

and his brain
addled by her girl-woman coos
her kisses that tasted of
biter-sweets,  almonds
leaving him drunk on her poisonous
wah-woo's

(ach-du, beware the taste of almonds)

how could he ever
hope to escape
her death-spiral gape
her achtung-baby wiles
that high-goose-leg-kicking style
and the spring-loaded traps
of her
send-him-to-hell-in-a-fury
Nazi blues


Copyright June 16 2016 All rights are reserved
by this author/ Meloo
Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
Meloo/Melissa A Howells

all ideas /rants/poetry/proses are the
expressed legal property of this writer

edited 6/19/2016
edited 6/20/2016
edited for effect once more January 21 2017
10:31 am PST

Copyright and written June 16 2016 7:17am PST
all legal rights to this piece belong
to this writer Melissa A Howells/
copyright site title Meloo/Tilt-a-World

Originally titled Her Big Nazi Blues/considering other titles





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem