THE GIGOLO’S LAMENT  – a passing tilt at TS

to grow old, to wear my trousers rolled

WARNING: contains adult themes


 

(edited 17th December 2020)

 

Monday is the cruellest month,

The day when Judas flowered,

And I have neither youth nor strength

To keep the budding storms at bay;

They strike to quicken my decay,

Washing past paint and broken panes

To rot the bricks of my peeling face,

The façade of a blunted age.

 

Time has blistered me;

A shattered lamppost from a dulled past –

Disclaimed by those on whom I shone

My firm but gently passionate gaze –

Known now just in passing by their pets.

 

The women come with the night

And I wrap them in fondling shades.

 

The fertile seasons are now ghosts,

Soft bones wreathed in perfume and lace.

 

The limed streets of Paris, Berlin, Stuttgart,

The deceptions and the cunning corridors

The taut strung mannekinds subtly employed

To gain a creaking fuck, a handsome suck,

They now rise as my hunger grows

To mock my once proud shrunken hoe,

Its craving for breasts rich and slack,

For wayward bellies kept in trim

By cyclic fasts, the scalpel’s cut.

 

The women pass without a glance

A cold frost falling from their heels.

 

I will sit at the window

With the red light on

Cementing my face

And when the night freezes on my limbs

Go out into the street, walk straight,

Immaculate in my crotchless pants,

A bunch of keys hung on the left,

My tailored shirt of faded silk,

My brushed suede shoes

And sell my arse

Face crushed against a backyard wall,

keys tolling, “Oh, It’s time, it’s time.”

 

 

© Bhi 2021
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critique and comments welcome.
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Ifyouplease

do you mean day? or is this poem based on another type of a seven month calender? also do you mean Mannequin?

yep it tells a story, and implies a lot here: A cold frost falling from their heels and here Disclaimed by those on whom I shone (family issues?). Perhaps the reason he then sells his arse

Last edited 4 months ago by ifyouplease
Franciman

This is such a splendid metaphor:
Time has blistered me;
A shattered lamppost from a dulled past –
Disclaimed by those on whom I shone
My firm but gently passionate gaze –
Known now just in passing by their pets.

This is poetry that has everything. I particularly like the baroque feel to the Gigolo. The compromise at the finish is so sad… I feel sorry for the subject, but want to take a shower. Does that make sense?
Wonderful picture painting, and one of my favourites.
cheers,
Jim

ChairmanWow

Very good verse that does what verse should do, which is shine a light on the other and expose their humanity. T.S. was a sexually defeated man, they say, until he married a young girl late in life.

Stormwolf

Absolutely fabulous! My kind of poetry. I love the sheer exposure, the reality of the feelings of the loss of all things young and ripe. The horrible realisation of the passage of time and the futility of that life.

It comes to us all but set in this scene it is very dreadful and hopeless. The choice of words was very necessary and potent used in this way. This would go into my favs if we get that back in action.
First class poetry.
Alison x

Stormwolf

Don’t give it another thought.

I totally concur. I myself have availed myself of the medicinal benefits and am well on the way to restoring myself to the rudest of health.

slàinte mhath!

Last edited 4 months ago by stormwolf
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