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Stephanie Kjaerbaek Poem
The Virgin
The virgin was the daughter of a retired surgeon
Who enjoyed imported beer and catching sturgeon.
At a seedy hotel with no blinds and garbage bags
For the provision of relief from the sun
They entered by the will of an old desk hag
With a hairy chin and breasts that would sadly sag.
Her father's disbelief as he circled the town.
In his car, no story about the library accepted,
He went through her wardrobe and suspected.
Still as he drove around and search the sky, the street,
The windows of restaurants, and the ground
His precious dirty little was nowhere to be found.
An advert in the newspaper, $200 in bills, a hungry tongue
And she emptied her bank account, the act was her will.
She wanted a stranger, not a nice boy who told her to lie still.
A monstrous walrus of hard flesh from the shower
Though she knew she was the one with the power
And she had appreciated his arrival upon the hour.
She found his instrument shocking to the senses
As she rubbed and 'polished' him back and forth
Cantankerous, red, and alarming in size.
The virgin soon realized the pleasures of her demise
She could hardly keep her speculation in disguise
Reminiscent of sharks out of the water
Ready to devour the girl, as was her wish.
Her father kept looking around
But as she screamed in pleasure,
He found she was nowhere to be found.
Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2013
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Stephanie Kjaerbaek Poem
Yellowhead Highway
(Outside the doorsteps of wilderness).
Riding in the back of the car
Smell of gas leaking, gone too far
Engine filled, should remain empty
Down this #1 Highway to oblivion
The road signs get his attention.
Now he knows it's time to go
Wandering through the fields they shall go
Back to the bad seed they have sown
Land ripped up and root of good fruit exposed
Bad seed scattered around by the human hand.
Seeds scattered across the land;
Underneath frozen fields like tundra
Where the land begs him to wander
Land of burning fields, scented of ash
Mixed with the blossoming wild rose.
Land of volcanoes by the sea
Land of endless space into eternity.
Haunted by its flush fields left fallow.
For future yields with many more
Harvests through the coming years.
Burden of development, dreams in tow
This bag of seeds across a ship on the sea
Eyes through the firelight into descent.
Upon shadows beneath aurora.
Hollow aphorism except for life.
All visions a trick of the mind
Eyes blinded by not the heart
Made with valour through years of strife
Fields of mourning for soldiers
Died upon fields of flowing blood.
Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2013
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Stephanie Kjaerbaek Poem
Bullet between the eyes, graveyard of dreams, demise.
Running bloodily through the fields
As the poppies to opium, they do give yield
Out on the fields with the mujahideens
Praying to an empty sky, drinking out of latrines
Loyalty to excess, their seventh heaven machines
Out of a book misused, misquoted, for such
‘heavenly’ deeds.
Up the Silk Road fast as he can
Out to raid the gold-loaded caravans
Enemy in his territory
Headed out to Afghanistan
Going to buy himself some powder
With this prizes of fine jewellery
Ore from the ground, black gold, opal
Measure against the dollar, coal and coffee
He made a bet he could bring them all down
Before they crossed into Tibet.
The darkness amidst innocents in the danger
Zone of despair, nobody cares for a stranger.
There is intimacy in conversation
That causes me a little hesitation
The cautious investigation in the eyes
All angels are just manipulators in disguise.
Holier-than-thou is a convenient act for now
Soon, the promises broken behind backs
After the wine and the taking of a vow
Dig in heels into the sand, and get in the bed now.
If the railroad’s end comes down to her
As a destination, I will jump the rails
And run just to get away from her
The kind of friend she is, an enemy
Stalking in the night while talking familiarly
All the time, in secret, laughing at me.
Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2013
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Stephanie Kjaerbaek Poem
At the Hospital:
Those flowing fields of red in the wind
The flowers abloom blow in the distance.
The psychotic struck that night.
Pyromania in the sky
Aurora house fire on a cold night
She was a lady who lost her knight.
Left alone with two children in her plight.
Busted and burst into flames, the body bled
Into the notion of whatever remains,
Then taken away to the hospital
Dying in vain, for the psychotic pain.
My mother said with a sense of dread
That she once met her for tea at her house
With those dark eyes and warm smile beguiling.
Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2013
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Stephanie Kjaerbaek Poem
In the Bedroom
Cool, callous, catatonic in the calm silence
About to experience the virtues of violence
In his mind, the blind eye was violations seeing
What flicker of light in her eyes, simply fleeting
He came to project what he was believing
In order to justify the self-deceiving of rape.
Unable to move from her schizoid shape
She rested motionless, awake, without
Possibilities of sudden escape.
The removal of motion from the still body
Cold, clammy hands on a summer's day tawdry
Then, the dripping of sex from a butterscotch sunset.
Without violence, he took her against her will
To the visions of black nightfall.
Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2013
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