Dixie slithers against me
her hips grinding firmly between my thighs
and my hands, they roam, happily
over her thighs, up her sides, past her hips
she smiles, smiles at me, her mouse
and i, i am trapped and i know it.
it's a show, our dance, for them, for men
who sit, and stare
while we, we gyrate seductively
but i, i linger in thoughts not fit for man
nor woman either, for that matter
while we dance
she drinks my Dixie
too much, and that's why she dares
she doesn't care, and she knows what she does
with her gullet coated with Jack and Lemon
and the ice that i run down her breasts
from the glass she doesn't ever use
the bottle she deems, fits nicer in her hand
she can float faster that way, and more easily
she drinks with intent, with a hankering to lose herself
her lips, those red, red lips, graze mine
and my thoughts, they sharpen precariously
she grinds slowly against my sex and i blush
they howl, interrupting our "moment"
and i cannot help but glare, as they cut into my time
MY time, with my Dixie, while we dance
she smiles, - at them, no more at me
and motions with a long and graceful finger
for them to come closer
to join, to gallivant
and i am cast aside, no longer fit for their games
used, for the sole purpose of rousing desires
while they, the three, my Dixie and her Tom, and Dick
slink, and slither into another room,
where, doors are locked, barred and i know
that she'll convince them, to fill all of her
and I'll hear them, while i lay
curled up in the corner of our kitchen
her happy moans, while i sob, sob in the quiet dark
drowning myself in Jack, while Tom, and Dick,
and my Dixie, do not care
and drown themselves in each other
Nyx...
Author notes
midnight musings.
my bg, like usually by Judas Denied. (well it will be once she makes it! )
Written September 10th, 2004
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chicago
this contains... universiality.. despite containment of themes and theories and sensibility blinding words that few ever experience, live, or regale to others. it is clear and civil to spite it's subject almost, and it's smooth and dark like the jack it speaks of; it burns and hits like it too. i really liked this piece. it is...... coool. with the extra 'O' thrown in because my mouth hangs open when i read this.
mark -
And hey, I will get to your new bg soon. Promise. Just, er, well, been too drunk.
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You know how I drink and I openly admit to being a lush on and off since I was a teenager. But I never started this "full time" drinking until Mit came along and after that, everything changed, changed this last year or so anyway. The only way I could even have hope of finding some peace of mind was at the bottom of a bottle. I went back almost reluctantly, then I started going with a glee you may not be able to understand. The fact that I was like the narrator here: Loved one minute, screamed at the next and always, ALWAYS cast aside for someone else takes its toll. It kills you slowly, but surely. You just sink into it and you are almost grateful, too.
Edited on Sep 13, 10:29 p.m. because '...'. -
im at work, so when i get home i'll rework those lines! soemtimes you never notice things when you work with them so intimately, it's good to have someone elses perspective. thank you!
N... -
I have viewed the dixie poems from afar and this will be my first visit to leave a comment. I almost sense a side of regret , Almost heatly distorted as she watches down at things transpire. She feels to me , To almost have the perfect killing machine fashion. Always ready to take someone on or out , Always able to kiss while she destroys and keeps her fingers planted firmly where they belong....In the different parts of a persons temper. She is a man-eating , Woman-stealing , Kind-hearted , Black-hearted sinner/saint. What a splendid little series you have going. Nice visuals. The only real critique I have is this:
" her lips, those red red lips, graze mine
and my mind, intensely focuses on her "
- Mind and mine seem a little too close together here. Possibly moving the word further down or reworking those two lines would help. Also the beginning with " her " and the ending with " her " seemed a littlt to repetive for such a close space. Above though you did use an overuse of " she " But it worked beautifully , Just for some reason that one part didn't seem right ot me. I hope I offered something to think about and possibly consider....If not....That is o.k. to.
Love to you nyx ,
James
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i'd like to beat her dead sometimes, i can't seem to write nething BUT dixie poems!
but then again, she's got hot long legs and a vicious temper, so she's my kinda girl.
N... -
awesome! I am loving these Dixie poems. you have created a classic female vixen, and done it all in splendid poetic fashion.
really good writing, nyx!
~travis
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this is making me think, this one; it doesn't even seem to be about dixie (almost), but about rejection and false hopes and inferiority, with some beautiful words to build up the readers' fires and make our empathy that much stronger. to tell the truth, it would really suck if i knew dixie.
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*_*
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