for D.B.A.
what he gettin'
what you givin' 'im
ta make him feel like number 1
ta make him feel like he's der man
what are you withholding from me
to give him
what are you giving him that's mine
how could you, how dare you
when I'm all yours, when you're all mine
wanted to avoid swallowing you
like a bull frog swallows a bull frog
you leave me no choice
must show who's boss
show who's in charge
must gobble you up
must swallow you down
must leave him and others to wonder
where you went
your croaking will become part of mine
your croaking inside
able to be heard
only through me
through my belly
when I open my mouth
anybody in the world
able to get his hands on you
must place you beyond
the reach of such persons
how could they appreciate
how precious, how priceless you are
they will when you are not available
to get their paws upon
no longer able to sully or insult
with smutty possession
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
8:54 p.m. 22.04.10
1 Comments:
You said that you wanted to avoid your poems having a up-beat rhythm a little like a jingle but I sense some undertones of exactly that in this poem and I love it.
One as possessive, must not share so much of me, internationally, No?
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