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Susann E. Haimes

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Batavia, IL, US

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Corruption on a Saturday

by

Susann E. Haimes

Want to Crucify it.
Want to put it on the Rack.
Tell it to shut up and push it back.
It pushes me and tells me to
Take it.
Make it.
It. MAKES. me.
I look at my pen-
Could it be a weapon?
To stab out the cord-
his eyes...
Never been in a place
where I couldn't
talk about words.
The meaning,
their meaning.
Mine.


Not My

by

Susann E. Haimes

Lips of fire.
I think you'd have me-
Not my place to
feel
betrayed.
Not my claim.
Attachment in other places-
and you to the thong (the prong).
I think you just like
my Shoes.
As long as they're strappy.
Just as long as they're
strappy.
Strapping Boy.
Not my claim.
You'd like to have me
but only for the
Wet
of my lips.

Germinate Me

by

Susann E. Haimes

I don't appreciate the plantation.
The way you swing me-
to and fro.
Trying to tip me
for your collection.
You won't have me.
Germination of bodies
foreign- can't know
where
it's going.
My own place is Fuzzy,
Right for me.
I don't appreciate your plantation:
the hope of knocking me
out
on my own.
This soil won't take kindly to your seed.
Well, I'm going back home now.

Standing Outside a Church Door

by

Susann E. Haimes

Got a cigarette lit- funny I donít smoke. Oh well, itís enough to keep me warm.
Hmm. Satisfied yet, Mr. Sir? Iím my own saint, but you say Iím LOST with dirty boots. Iím not invincible sir, I swear to you- even Willows break. But with this fag lit up like a CHRISTmas tree, I wouldnít believe me either. No, I couldnít.

Watch the nicotine, reminds me of Frank and Myrrh hanginí with a Motherís crib. Holy. Yeah and her first Son- your first sun. Satisfied yet, Mr. Sir?
My mother was a lovely child with a manís hand in her pants. Sheís not crying now, but dreams still carry. But with this cigarette lit up like a hot poker, I wouldnít believe me either. No, I couldnít.

Daddy, am I still here? Daddy, can you call me out to preach gone my forehead? Iím tired of swaying, here in the cold of Your House. Collection plates for services, but only on Sundays. For you Daddy. All for you.

So Iím still standing with that cigarette. People grasping lies in concepts untrue. From me and this light. Ha. Iím not invincible, I say- but Willows whisper for those who take time. And Iím still pure beyond this. I am still pure within this. I am still pure_ Outside this Church door. Mr. Sir. Mr. Sir, I donít believe in you either- even with that light. Your Stained- glass Light.

This poem is not in reference to "God" per say. I readily believe in a higher force and praise it. No, this poem is to the wealthy, white, sinning men who conduct a skewed and limiting version of what is something truly incomprehensible by so small a being. This poem is about limiting our search for greater knowledge, and the corruption that closed doors create. I have been assaulted throughout my life to believe in only Him- through the words of men- in their houses that the Earth was spread and raped to create.
I personally, believe in trees. That one shouldnít have break into the Earth to learn about/praise the Universe. I believe our concepts are small in understanding the power of all things- what ever they may be. I will never censor my mind from searching for the greater understanding of things that are. That is my self promise in this vehicle (this life).

No More Loose Talk

by

Susann E. Haimes

I am a silly child. Child, I again repeat.
Analyzing too much.
Taking action too much.
I wanted to be cheapened- enjoyable.
Now Iím a whore in his eyes.
Well.
I want a response.
I NEED a response.
Things canít just lay.
Want to tell him he was
more the me, than I was
to him.
Considered his MOUTH.
Considered his hand.
His thrust_
Maybe too far? Absolutely.
Cutting out the Tumor-
Making the V in me, die.
Not showy, or fashionable
for the purposes of seduction.
Gonna be a nun.
Wanna be a nun.
Get my PURE on-
not the swerve.
Disregarded my moral, my worth.
Need to dig it up again.
Need to wear it,
D I G N I F I E D.
Rat hole to field- Iím gonna get back up.
Be a lady
minus the Disgrace. Yeah.
No more loose talk.

Wanting Enough

by

Susann E. Haimes

Lacking the Gold Rush-
Lacking just the right...
Swivel chair.
Don't think my dirt
is quite dirty enough.
Maybe something cheaper
in the soul.
Knock me down for a
Pole
and a Parachute (gone hole-y).
Don't question.
Don't inspire.
Lifetime will want your story-
"Jezebel, Out of Her Shell"...
I know I can't sink
so low.
But the urge to
anchors me...
Wanting enough
to be a whore.

You Said

by

Susann E. Haimes

Blue ties,
Maiden skies.
You told me that poetry
that didnít rhyme
wasnít worth your timely mind.
Now that weíve kissed
Are you still sure about that?

Probable Extinction

by

Susann E. Haimes

Hotels-
You wanted me in the
exposed
sheets of countless
others.
I am a willow
I am a willow
You cannot break me,
my will.
You named me
"prude."
Do you think so now?
I name you
"sly."
I think you know
I am a danger to you.
Your probable extinction.
I tempt you to feel
I tempt you to feel
You know I will convince you
if only you listen a little while.
I am a danger you cannot afford.
You wanted me in a hotel.

Jealousy (Your Eyes on Her)

by

Susann E. Haimes

Obviously just another # (name)
Another face on the pillow.
My lips must be cheap-
my thighs, in between
and my only worth.
Glad my sacrifice was
never
made.
Years for an hour-
two at best.
You grow weeds, and open palms
D A I L Y.
You wonít have me.
Not now.

Fertilized

by

Susann E. Haimes

Fertilized you in ink.
Ha. I think you want
"growth-" regression: Whatever.
You donít move your lips for words,
just lays. Leeís- you wanted mine off.
Rebuttal.
Muddled.
Funny how I donít want you now.
Your friendship, still a hope...
Marked me "fool" in your thrust.
I am NOT a child.
They say youíve pinned me-
funny, I have the ink.

Intentions

by

Susann E. Haimes

You made me feel funny
down
there.
Made an unnatural twinge.
My husband couldnít touch me.
He couldnít touch me-
your fingers were dirty
of others whoíd CAME before...
Playgrounds lost to moments of
jilting lust.
You hurt me.
(Read it again.)
You hurt me J.
I could have loved you.
(Still could.)
I could have been your
welcomed
anchor-
but you.
You had dirty hands.

Good Eats

by

Susann E. Haimes

Meat for sale-
I mentioned your name,
and I find my sticker's
just
gone
clearance.
Why 3 days?
Why 3 days-
you arenít Jesus you know.
Wait till the memory
seems an
"as-if" dream-
then call her back.
My red line isnít inches J-
not inches.
Considered quiet compartments
for your mouth.
There it goes again-
my tagís goin' a-clearance.
Hope I rot OUT of your mind,
like you have IN mine.

The Pantheonís Response (Giggles)

by

Susann E. Haimes

We donít hate you-
we canít hate you.
You sparked a TWINGE-
Ms. Venus just giggled.
You bring her back from the beach just to hear her laugh.
Juno says youíre "an ass
who will leave us once we hand over the goods-"
once your hands have HAD the goods.
Maybe sheís right.
"Maybe sheís just tight."
There goes Ms. Venus again,
giggles.
Strangely, Diana isnít speaking up.
Sheís still hunting down Orion,
if you know what I mean.
Maybe she supports this notion?
"Blue eyes, ties and goatees?"
I think she just giggled.
Giggled- Diana?
What has happened here-
what have we let you do to us?
These smirks and smiles despite it...
You see,
we have the inherent knowledge that
our Empire will fall,
at the cusp
of your
lip.