Best Menses Poems

A business lady has a hunch
You will enjoy, "Period Crunch"*
Your monthly cycle
Titillates Michael
Perfect for breakfast, not for lunch! 


* a new raspberry-flavoured
uterus-shaped cereal which
turns the...

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For the woman having menses
A high demand on her senses.
“I’d better I took no chances
That embarrassment enhances.”
A keeping up with the Joneses
On matters of strict...

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My wrapper loose day after day
My motion and emotion unstable
I forget to think
But I wasn’t drunk

I remember in a trance
Stable I was 
My wrapper tight...

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A tiny waist
Imaginary breast

Empower
Don't deflower her

Give her book
Not dick

Care for her lessons
Not her menses

Send her to the classroom
Not your bedroom

Give her book
Not dick

She needs literacy
Not...

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post an atom.
we need one.

subversions
differentiations
of Chantal Akerman reading the Ladies Almanac.
grandpa was jewish,
maybe this summer i'll go to Israel
 and visit the mother of all...

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A Little Boy’s gun with a barometric trigger,
showed a Fat Man how to
blot out an Empire’s rising sun.
Proliferation’s need pushed
Sellafield and Kyshtym to trip chasing...

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Did you know the Gecko cannot blink ?
No I did not, but it sounds alluring that image
Of a focused lizard reptilian in glorious intent
From hide...

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amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row

biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling, 
  ...

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menses contordes birds,
flayer in the narrow tunnels,
keyboards deads, glass, silicat, wires..,
bent the time, memory to rack one`s brain ,
himself and her ,
to penetrate end beaten...

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Visualize the sound of silence
Realize the headstones of violence
Dark dreams constrict your iris
Your visions only raise greed on highlands
Harmonize our voices stained with curses
Our lenses...

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I awoke
in the febrile night again,
half dazed
from my conviction 
of your certainty,
contorted
by the pounding of 4 am, 
and still restless
with vestigial sleep.
My sense for rain
laps...

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Into my head stink in mythic one hissing
of running are ratters, as I hated by  
up nearly level of piled woodsheds rottenly sites
at weediest...

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Rooted

Tied with blood stained ribbons
that bind us to our past.

The moon,
regulator of tides and menses.
The Virgin Mary,
last remnant of Goddess power. 
Dark caves
painted in red...

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Island of femininity of the dark,
Floating luxuriously on a lark,
Mysterious face shadows day.
Glorious glow, nighttime’s way,
Waves of mist make her mark,
Delivering passion in the park,
Luna,...

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NO THROWING OF STONES:

Let it be your culture,my pals...
To not throw stones if you live in a glass house;
Unless your house capably flies into clouds.
That's...

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