Not Agenda

I see the inhumane shapes
of women in shop windows.

I know that God exists.

I have to know that God exists

. . . as I see the inhumane shapes
of women in the shop windows.

Things cannot be made,
such as the shapes of women
in the shop windows.

These are of infinity,
burned perfectly in neurons,
and they are not agenda.

– poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

The Inequalities Of Women

She lived
while other women
in her church
died,
got breast cancer,
had heart attacks,
grew old.
Her arms stayed thin
on the bone
while others got fat
and flabby,
marbled with vericose veins
and their breath grew
stale and sour.
She looked at the sad
excuse of aging men
around her,
loved her husband
nonetheless.
She knows this is what
our way of life has
to offer,
so she lived
between the trips to
the nursing home
to visit friends
and the turning of the
Bible pages.

Executive Sauce

My penis pisses barbecue sauce.
I run for the presidency.
I remove my penis.
The people now understand the presidency.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Love And Emotional Security

I want to feel small.
I am a woman.
I have seen advertisements
all my life.
In them,
women are always
more petite
than men.
When I played with dolls
as a little girl
the female dolls were always
three times as skinny as
the male dolls.
For this reason,
I want to feel small.
I understand this to be love
and
emotional security
and the truth behind
economics.

S.T.R.E.N.G.T.H. Cats

In the middle of the night I awake
to the smell of bacon and eggs in the air.

The people of the world
are outside on the lawn cooking bacon and eggs
for the President of the United States.

The United States military is standing all around them,
pointing guns at them
while they cook bacon and eggs for the President.

They give him the eggs of their daughters,
their ovaries for an American football match,
a contest of strength.

The President is the Signifier of Penis.
This sentence is the signifier of rape.


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

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
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

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
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

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
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

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
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image