UNDERGROUND VOICES MAGAZINE/CYNTHIA RUTH LEWIS


	UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY

CYNTHIA RUTH LEWIS

Lifetime Commitment

You always wondered when it would start.
You knew someday it would begin--
the day would come when they wouldn't
take 'no' for an answer,
when their relentless hard-ons would not
leave you alone, no matter how much
you resisted, in fact,
the more you struggled, the more excited
they seemed to become

You can't even remember when it all started,
but there you were--short skirt, red lipstick,
the desperation shining in your eyes like
a fucking beacon, homing them all in,
while you were simply grasping at straws,
looking for attention, searching for answers
to questions that hadn't even formed
in your mind, yet

It was exciting at first; you felt beautiful,
wanted by every man who saw you,
but after awhile it all wore off,
it all came down to a lot of panting
and rubbing and groping, and for what?
It didn't seem to make much sense anymore,
so you tried to stop it; you tried to
put them off, while they persistently
panted on your doorstep like hungry dogs
who only wanted to use you, to take a
bite out of you, and didn't give two damns
about your problems or your feelings, just
used you for their own pleasure, to take
out their anger or to escape from their
own troubles

After awhile you began to believe it--
you resigned yourself and went through the
motions, never turning down an offer,
convincing yourself this is the bed
you've made, having given away so much
of yourself until you didn't even know
what day it was, anymore, just plugging
along like you punched the time clock,
waiting for your shift to end,
wondering if it ever would, wondering
if the ride home would be free of heavy
traffic and headaches, wanting nothing
more than to crawl into bed, pull the
covers up over yourself, and pretend
you didn't even exist

Underneath

No, it's not all anger,
hatred and bitterness--
I have a soft side

I hurt
I bleed.
I just don't let anybody see it

I can get more attention with my acrid
sarcasm and raunchy humor;
anyone can shed tears and attempt
to make someone feel their pain,
but I never believed in that--

it's hard enough to understand
what it is I'm feeling, let alone
trying to convey it to someone else,
so I channel it all into an off-beat
direction, complete with asinine verbiage
and crude jokes--

let everybody think there's something
wrong with me;
this writer of sarcastic and strange poems,
with her heart of stone and harsh views
of reality...

Bury the soft side;
hide it from sight.
Make them laugh
while I cry

I'm 38, having written poetry for the past 17 years.
Currently back in the publishing world after having
taken a 2 year hiatus due to creative apathy and
temporary insanity--which, actually may have enhanced
my writing. It has certainly enhanced my weirdness.

I currently have a book available, "Piss On Your
Parade," up for grabs at a mere $5.00. Contact me at
bookas6670@yahoo.com