Beginnings to a poem
I do not know if entries still qualify for my class, so this is a new poem I have been working on
Holocaust de la Femme Brutale
I.
In front of steel gates under a gray sky
trot the bitchwolves back & forth
they know no master but one,
And in the towers high chant those brute bulldikes
with whips, and spears
they brought us here in stolen buses,
and never explained
our offenses,
Snapping the red whips of scorn
all the way to those steel gates
ominous and foul,
The men surround me, bickering
about the latest confusion
but the bickering stops, The husky driver
turns her droopy face and all is lost,
Leise, unwürdige Geschöpfe,
Die Zeit Ihrer entscheidenden Abzahlung ist jetzt!
II.
Beneath the pale bone sky the bunkhouses
are restless with screams, with snickering
and gambling. The roofs leak urine and poison rain
through my hollow tubes, dead drains the river from malnourishment.
On my bed etching in blood, the others surround me,
Like a cobra most nights I sit awake
And the others lay, gazing,
No answers to their questions, declarations to my own,
Je n'ai jamais déshonoré
une lesbienne de taureau,
J'ai payé mes droits appropriés,
aux femmes sévères. Pourquoi ?Pourquoi ?
The fellows speak many languages, yet my declarations remain
enigmatic to most, Pourquoi ? Pourquoi ?
In the morning, the whistles will blow
and severity shall begin to pour down like dawn in a crisp valley.
Holocaust de la Femme Brutale
I.
In front of steel gates under a gray sky
trot the bitchwolves back & forth
they know no master but one,
And in the towers high chant those brute bulldikes
with whips, and spears
they brought us here in stolen buses,
and never explained
our offenses,
Snapping the red whips of scorn
all the way to those steel gates
ominous and foul,
The men surround me, bickering
about the latest confusion
but the bickering stops, The husky driver
turns her droopy face and all is lost,
Leise, unwürdige Geschöpfe,
Die Zeit Ihrer entscheidenden Abzahlung ist jetzt!
II.
Beneath the pale bone sky the bunkhouses
are restless with screams, with snickering
and gambling. The roofs leak urine and poison rain
through my hollow tubes, dead drains the river from malnourishment.
On my bed etching in blood, the others surround me,
Like a cobra most nights I sit awake
And the others lay, gazing,
No answers to their questions, declarations to my own,
Je n'ai jamais déshonoré
une lesbienne de taureau,
J'ai payé mes droits appropriés,
aux femmes sévères. Pourquoi ?Pourquoi ?
The fellows speak many languages, yet my declarations remain
enigmatic to most, Pourquoi ? Pourquoi ?
In the morning, the whistles will blow
and severity shall begin to pour down like dawn in a crisp valley.