Archive for the ‘Musing’ Category


 

WILD MAN

I had worked there

a couple of months

when I was invited to a gig –

Peter & the Test Tube Babies

were playing in a local pub

and everyone was going.

I went along and had one

pint too many

let my hair down and

got a bit too lairy.

The shy and quiet persona

I had assumed in the office

was gone

and the mad punk drunkard

was loose.

I don’t recall the incident

but the story goes

that as we danced to the band

I punched a colleague

square in the tit

and was last seen

in the early hours

howling at the moon

like a wild man.

I missed work the next day

with a brutal hangover

and never lived the night down

for as long as I worked there.

She got her revenge weeks later

when she threw a pen

directly at my face

as I talked on the phone

to a customer –

I let out a yelping “Fuck!”

lost the sale

and had to terminate the call.

 

 

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Well BoySluters and Alike
today BoySlut turns the big “6“
and who would have thought
I`d last this long!

Though BoySlut has not pub`d anything
in the last couple of months
doesn`t mean that it has quit.
BoySlut will resume [at any given moment]
or as soon as I can get my shit together!

Until then …

Devlin De La Chapa

Posted: May 9, 2017 in Musing, Poetry
Tags:

 

love with a Poet sucks

 

I read your poem

I liked your poem

it said everything

but conveyed

nothing worthy

of redeeming us

just a disclaimer

and a discretion

attached to a refund

of words

written just for me

 

 


 

KYLE

 

It was freshman year of college Kyle

you and me hanging out in your room.

Me crying over the boyfriend

I left behind back home,

you doing the same about your girl.

It was a new city for me, Kyle

and I didn’t have any friends yet really

and I thought that maybe this could be

just that

after you hugged me goodbye

and held on for a little too long.

But it wasn’t until two years later

outside poetry class

when you came up to me

angry

and called me a tease

told me that I had started something

that day that I didn’t finish.

Made me remember

10th grade when Rob told me

the worst thing a girl can do is give

a guy blue balls.

When he said that I started to think I had some kind of power

over boys

a power I needed to be careful with.

Something that could medically cripple them,

I thought of this

as the word

slut

bubbled up out of your mouth

and I realized there is power here

but it does not belong to me, Kyle.


 

Any problems?

Yes, I’m standing at the window

Watching the streets, watching life:

Blue herons, red packets of JPS,

Cobalt blue pills, my closest friends –

Too bad the blind and their dogs,

Too bad the crippled in wheelchairs

Don’t give a damn for this set,

Such a waste of colours!

Oh, fancy that, an old man in green trainers

Is spinning a green windmill, is it hope’s day today?

Heck, no one to ask, Cassandra lost in her thoughts

Wondering ‘are souls for sale?’ while staring

At an empty bottle, the draught is looming,

But no one listens, of course,

Kore shrugs it off, lost in her longing

For those wild white waves

Where she can drown fears and failures,

‘Cept they keep afloat smearing the water –

Plastic is a tough thingy, sister,

Only the fire might dissolve them

But she says no, no, dunno why –

Before I forget, where the heck are you, misery,

Still dragging across the desert

Looking like mad for an oasis?

There, only few miles and you’ll camp in my mind

As soon as the sky flakes out before the screen –

But mind the sins, they’ll cut loose until dawn

And no, don’t ask who gave them flesh, limbs

You must fill, feed, slake, those bodies

Ridden hard and put up wet:

Water, joy, light –

Oh say you can see Pan dancing wild

Among the crowds before the Earth falls silent,

Say you can hear him shouting if my heart

Is game for fun and blast when the shocking moon

Highlights my failures and the blissful lovers –

You can’t, right? Well, neither can I go

All Django Unchained on my earth, my sins,

My heart waiting for the bloody rhythm to quit –

C’mon, God, c’mon border life, we are great pals,

That’s why I so enjoy our jokes, our spats,

That’s why you know I’ve fouled things up

‘Cause I was in love with gardens, dreams

And Jewish blondes –

Only, the writer killed off the lights

After a fast ride on his bike –

Madly in love, I mean, God,

Simple as that, border life –

I kid you not.

 

 


 

a monster, truly 

it’s a shame

you can’t drink tea

anymore

perhaps you ought’ve

stuck with

drinking coffee,

but no one would say

you were the most

sensible;

you did trade a ruby

for a marble

you were the wolf that turned

to shatter the heart of a girl whose

only crime was loving you—

i remember you told me i didn’t have

a temper,

but you should have felt the impact

of a hurricane by now;

i hope every time you’re with her

you’re haunted by the shadows of my name

that the sunsets of my dreams shatters through

yours causing only nightmares

until you can look yourself in the face and see yourself

for what you truly are:

a monster.

 

Devlin De La Chapa

Posted: May 5, 2017 in Musing, Poetry
Tags:

 

she wasn`t a Playboy Bunny

 

she spat toothpaste

into the sink

mumbling

that there was

nothin`

“underground“

about my poetry

nothin` worthy

of Bukowski & ink;

she had

pink pubic hairs

and her old man

drank a lot of

nothin`

while I stood there

thinkin`

on how

I was a fool

to believe

easter eggs

fell

out of her snatch