Eternity Season

Perish for those unknown
the ways of perishing
haunt the wood of farmhouses
the worries of housewives

we shall not perish as stone
I promise you

perish in riches or searches
the lashes of the ocean

those that seek SHALL perish
the ones who speak
the misguided seekings
are no better than computers
or all this software cast about

we are flesh and blood
in this household

we are bonded together
your mother, brother, sister and I

but the father is wayward
and symbolically, the same as illusion itself

in the elements of the Universe
testosterone is insignificant and has no register
and software is always virtual

don’t be software

we are flesh and blood
in this household


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Slowly On The Spaceship You Finger Me

Slowly on the spaceship you finger me.

I look out to all the worlds,
I see the Orion nebula.

I realize suddenly I am a man
and you are fingering my asshole,

you are making me feel like a woman —
there is warmth and stars before us.

You devoid my heroic masculinity.
You are a woman and have a vagina.

If I was a more cowardly person
I could not admit this,
say a politician,
a banker,
or a soldier perhaps.

I take on certain things,

for this is my will on this voyage.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Three Ages For Women

A middle aged woman
driving underneath a
midsummer’s thunderstorm
in a Kia hatchback.

She used to be attractive,
but now she doesn’t see
women who look like her
in the magazines these days.

She’s a teacher.

Had her hand chopped off
in a combine
working in cornfields in Kansas
as a teenager.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The 100 Trillion Distances

The door to my room
looks like it goes somewhere,

to a land of opportunity maybe,
to a corridor leading into outer space?

The light of my room
is a day
under which
isolated men lay scattered on islands and beaches.

Their skin and my skin,

it is more different here than the planet the women live on,

the all-exuding sun! the all-exuding sun!

it is more different here than the planet the women live on.

There are 50,000 islands between me and the next man,

languages as vast as the stars
that we mutter to the mercantile winds,

tears that no other civilization will know.

We beat our heads with rocks
as we stand on our islands looking out to sea.

The light of my room is a solitary place I dwell.

Would you call this existing in an atmosphere
of phosphorescent glowing

. . . a body of penis and beard and prison?

It is appearance.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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What Women Want The Way

That’s correct. You’re correct.
You’ve been correct all these years.
All these years I’ve lived with you
you’ve been correct in the
parting of your hair.
As you do the things you do
in the kitchen
there’s that smell
and I’ve watched you make your decisions,
look up towards the ceiling,
the flock sprayed sheetrock,
the lost landscapes your eyes look to,
horizons counting secrets
we keep from neighbors
and the gender roles we’ve played together,
there is the door, I’ll get the door.
You ask for more, go and get more.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Autonomies Not Spoke

It is the night of the Prix-et South.
Women all over the city
get together and have sex
in groups of five.
The fifth woman being in linear with Saturn,
her legs spread
with the left knee pointing to Pentheus
and the right one pointing to Intortium.
Here
is placed the thrown of the tongue
and
lifts them all into liberation.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Semen And Scorpions

Semen and scorpions.
We gotta do this.

Resurrect the old ages
and improve them
before the scriptures existed.
Correct the old follies
of leaders,
of men always,
this is the case,
what a shit show is the
biological being with
ballz dangling between
his legs,

so vulnerable.

We’ve got to correct him,
the weakling
leading everyone astray.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Variable Vector Sexism

Mankind has a penis.

: A woman has 2 penises.

God has designed Woman
to carry 2 erect penises on
her chest.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)