Betty Boop Was A Slut

This may come as a big surprise but
Betty Boop was an out-and-out slut.
How she fooled them all, it was a joke,
She would never turn down any bloke.

Her life of depravity you see
Started with Dick (whadda name) Tracy.
After scouring the city for crime,
Upon his nightstick Betty did climb.

Oh my, yes, Betty was such a mess
Just a smile and she would drop that dress.
Moon Mulligan had her to play with,
Or in a pinch she'd take Snuffy Smith.

The Boop had Flash Gordon, the spaceman,
Taught him more ways than a moonbeam can.
It was all to make Steve Canyon mad,
Oh, Betty was a mean one; so sad.

She didn't cull, she welcomed them all,
Even rumors about Olive Oyl.
A wild child, she lived life at full tilt,
She could, you know, look how she was built.

Joe Palooka found he could not fight
With Betty, she had an overbite.
That made it interesting and oral,
When all done the men had no quarrel.

She starred in Tijuana Bibles
And Mary Worth sued her for libel.
Grabbed Popeye for a sexual brawl,
Then told everybody he was small.

A gourmet lass, she worked like a chef
Even double-teamed old Mutt and Jeff.
Batman too, he wrote her a letter,
She snickered, said Robin was better.

Shared her slut title with Nancy Drew,
Between the two they had quite a queue.
Blondie gave her a run, did not shirk,
Hurrying Dagwood, quick off to work.

Loving the man of steel was her plight,
Why not, it was hard as Kryptonite?
What a pitiful shape she was in,
Superman was in love with Betty's twin.

©February 14, 2005 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Being There

I squirted red wine
From a goatskin flask
In a besotted Greek salute to
Bacchus, god of wine and revelry.
    But I wasn’t there.

I wore fine linen garments, powder in my hair,
A manly rite of passage
In perverted old Europe
And stepped gracefully to the
Minuet with Lucrezia Borgia.
    But I wasn’t there.

I jitterbugged in the Speakeasy
With the Flappers of Chicago,
Kicking high and lovin’ hard
On bathtub gin, free expression
And Marxists philosophy.
    But I wasn’t there.

I dug the scene at The Duplex,
Kerouac’s favorite watering hole
With Ginzberg spewing righteous
Beatnik intellect there in
Greenwich Village.
    But I wasn’t there.

I draped love beads
Round my neck,
Standing among the faithful
Digging Janis in San Francisco with
Big Brother and the Holding Company.
    But I wasn’t there.

    But I’ll be there in the flesh,
Decked out in my costume of choice
At the World’s First United Mardi Gras
Celebration in the Mojave Desert,
Puking on Gila Monsters and
Chasing Roadrunners.

Apostrophé

I can converse with you, apostrophe,
for you see we both plot to hide the key
ingredients in a relationship,
when you are used, certain letters are skipped.

There are times I feel I am in the dark,
like, when I get used to seeing your mark,
making a word not really a word, see,
just like I'm not who I'm supposed to be.

An inverted slant is all that you are,
you make a word obscene, give it a scar,
gullible patrons of the written word,
don't stop to think that you might be absurd.

Ah, but we are kinsman, that is a fact,
look at me, you only see the abstract.
I'm saying we are both fraudulent sluts,
subtracting our total, we are just mutts.

Rogues that we are, we're not unlike the rest,
giving the world something for them to guess.
You and your inverted slant, gives you style,
like you, I hide parts of me with a smile.

©March 9, 2006 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Clear Water

    turbulent sixties
    CCR had clear water
    but it all dried up

    ©April 20, 2006

Tricks

three of them

drinking hard liquor

barely weaned

spoke to me in language

they thought was adult

picking up what they might have heard their fathers say

braggadocio

trying to make an impression

on me

the whore

or maybe to each other

didn't matter

they were having a good time

or thought they were

cracking jokes

laughing loudly and insanely

high-fiving each other

drew straws to see who'd go first

and last

boasting about what they had to give me

I went along with it

I'm a whore

that's what I was in the cheap hotel room to do

whatever they wanted

soon the room stood silent

it was time

the two who wasn't first

left

leaving the one who'd been loudest

joked the rudest

leader of the pack I guess

thing is

he went speechless without his buddies

I undressed

he didn't

he wouldn't, I think he was gay

begged me not to tell

gave me everything he had in his wallet

not to tell

we waited the right amount of time

he left

could hear him talking about how good it was

the second one came

then the last

neither of them had a problem

"doing" it

even so I quite understood

they fantasized I was their mother

©December 4, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton

The Guys

     she is petite

     wears little girls clothes if she wants to

     fresh-scrubbed-appearing face

     popular with the guys

     and . . . why . . . not

     never bothers me

     the guys

     with their perfumed lower regions

     they fuck her

     they do

     but don't know how to make love to her

     she told me they

     one and all

     like to position themselves

     so they can watch their performance

     in mirrors

     egomaniacal male harlots

     why would I worry

     she needs to prove something to herself

     some dark thing

     she hides

     then comes home to me

     orally inclined to swallow me dry

     no

     I don't mind the guys

     ©November 23, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Blues Creeps In (The Diatelle)

 fear

snuck in

it had been
hid until now
it smiles and then it grins
I have to wipe my fevered brow
fear I refuse entrance, I won't allow
it wants to torture me for things I did back then
this time fear will not find me I avow
I am not like I was back when
living for pills and gin
please tell me how
blank out sin
its twin
tear

©May 30, 2006