Wicked Naked

By James M. Piehl

This book is a collection of poetry that invokes visions of past memories that are both vivid and imaginative. It describes the contemporary setting that gave inspiration to the prose and puts the reader in the moment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483666747

James M. Piehl

James M. Piehl was born in Worcester, MA. This is his fi rst collection of poetry. He began compiling this in college while working on his BA in Journalism. He graduated from the University of Massachusetts. James is also involved in his community doing theatre. He is also avid in photography and painting.

Book preview

October

One last day to hang onto

like a noose

One last gasp

before winter shuts the door

One last note

like the show is over

and I am walking off stage

to some grand applause

Like someone cares

that the sun will prostitute itself

through the cold season again

and I am pimp slapped

with winter’s deadly hand

Like someone even cares

One last gasp of summer

before autumn yields to the chill

Before an innocent herd

are sent to slaughter

like pumpkins from the field

gutted by a greedy horde

Night will start

its vicious dictatorship

Night will beat me

into a wicked frenzy

until I drown again and again

desperately clinging

to the only thing I can hold onto

Steady my hand

shaking with addiction

Baby,

Baby please

And the wind whistles goodbye

like a horny old man

About a girl like you

You say

there should not be

a poem

about a girl like you

But I write of dark

cold nights

where what is between us melts

the winter frost

I write about how the world disappears

when you touch me

This is what I write of

I write of how I tingle

because I need you like a drug

Now the flowers

hang their heads

like sulking children

in the grey light of day

And I would hang my head too

if I lost you

If I could not write

about you

Dusk will come

and sweep day away again

Soon winter will grip the land

Soon loneliness will grip our chests

with death’s cold palm

and you will rise like the sun

and chase night

away from me

So Angel

So soft like flower petals

Sew something