Poem: "Fuck Chaucer"

"Fuck Chaucer"
- for Bukowski.

At the old joint
on the corner of
Hollywood and Vine
where the homeless scatter the street
like flies with their shit stained pants
and wrinkled upturned, gleaming teeth

"Spare some change, fella?," he asks

I ignore him and keep walking
lost in thought, my mind rambles
to the moment of the open door
when I caught my woman
in bed with another
fresh faced dancer
burying her tongue deep inside
her nether parts

"The bitch", I thought
oh, how I wanted to yell
and stomp and kick her
cheating ass out
and onto the cold, hard street

But no, like a pauper
I left without a word
went down the stairs
as Sinatra played
on the old transistor radio

"I'm fucking up," I said to myself
lighting up a cigarette
and taking in the cool night air
with each anxious breath
ever closer to the climax
of pathetic hands
on the jarring wheel.

Copyright: 2010, by Raymund Diaz Delizo

Poem: "Want"

"Want"

Your lips
the softness of your mouth
the sweet taste of your kiss
lingering in the aftermath

Your smile
the music of your laugh
the magnetic pull of
your radiant eyes

Your subtle touch
every beautiful curve
of your sensual body

I want you feel
your love so deep inside
the desire coming out
in the moment of our
inevitable intersection.

Copyright: 2010, by Raymund Diaz Delizo