LOUDSPEAKER:: Poetry by Wylie Burrell

Writing

Aug 16

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WUSSY is proud to present poetry by Wylie Burrell.
If you would like to send in a writing submission, please contact Nicholas Goodly.

Necrophile

Ten folks
listened at the knot hole
for a whole lot more
you could get ten fucks,
ten four, at best leaves
one unvexed.

I want to live in the House of 1,000 Corpses
and fuck Rob's zombie daily
Tim Early and Tyne Daily
for fucks sake, chime girly
or better yet, best ever, act surly
when you see me fucking greenly
in the House of 1,000 Corpses

Folksy women hate rock music
but I love raw cock
too sick for love
but flow with lust
too much or not enough
the brain eats where it wants
though hurts slaking thirsts
no firsts
if you always do it in thirds.

Autograph

I'm a moody bitch in need
I'm needy even
molly doesn't free me
it doesn't make me happy
cuz I'm pissy
everything I want before me
take stock of gratitude
but my attitude inevitable
it's whack bad like I've never been had
or seen red, the
Scene red what I undo
from my clogged seams
the silent scream seems
untimely, so wily, when
I get free don't find me
cuz I'm actually hiding.

Rich Boy

Love lies
my love lies limber on the porch seat
timber wicker whimper in the thick heat
lines enter nose drive proper
around the golf cart.
Soft art sculpture in the big yard
so far, punctures lighter than my skins are
Pissed off, the old guard
driveways with broad gates
gilded page how the rich behave
How I relate
it's all disgusting
mighty troubling in fact
how they pilfer the love lane
no tact from on high
their sky, cranes.

Love lies, my love lies limber on the dock side
hugs and kisses him like his dog died
still I linger, peaceful, place a finger
muss his hair and haunted
stare passed on away
at some pretty houses there.

Still I long and strung along
flights of fancy without care
fucking finally fairly boring
awful guys for the lark
I stumbled down upon the
dark to where
I once came unbound.
Life's abound with bummers (haha)
he's the liar that I lied to
Unfairs all true it’s tough
Life’s simple,
lacks love n stuff.

Wylie Burrell is a writer and painter from Massachusetts, where he writes poems and paints monsters. He just graduated college.

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