Butcher's hook - a poetic cocky rhyming-slang meat-fest fandango

NPhew! That's a meaty mouthful! And as anyone who has ever shared a trusty tryst with me will know, I do love a meaty mouthful.

I wrote a poem. I wrote some more. I drew pictures, one for each. I put them together in a little book. I published the fucker. 

It was only then that I realised nobody reads poetry anymore. No one gives a fuck. Or maybe nobody gives a fuck about mine. Either way, it is out there still. Gathering virtual dust in Amazon's virtual store. Which, perhaps, is poetic justice. Though, then again, perhaps not. Here she is:

'Once concealed: now revealed' on Amazon

Here's a snippet, a chop off the old block, about a girl whose grisly Saturday job turns bloody-well wonderful, despite her vegetarian leanings. As for me, I will never quite look at a salami the same way again.

Have a great weekend! Hope you get lots of all you desire, if not all you deserve.

Take care,

Alexandra xxx

Butcher's hook

Hacking bones, I glance askance

At Graham in his bloody apron

Sawing through a clump of muscle

Trimming fat and severing tendons

Oh, those hands! now gloved and crimson

Skillful as a slaughtering surgeon

Operations never ending 

Always reaping, never sewing

Grisly gristle, loathsome lites are

Minced for barbecue delights; I

Stuff obscenely swollen skins

Hope Graham sees me tease the meat

Yes, meat is murder, this I know

Yet swallow all my bile for him

Each Saturday for Judas' pay

To see his ruddy butcher's face

He chops then slams the cleaver down

Into the block with bloody stains

'Give us a hand wi' this one, Sally'

Nods towards the freezer door

Breath clouded by the deathly chill

My quickened heart eviscerated

Tripe, in stripy red and white,

His carcass wardrobe, I surrender

Handprints, carmine DNA from

Countless nameless murdered beasts

Is evidenced across my virgin

Smock, my curves delineated

Vibrant flesh, the steak I crave

Is in my grasp; I tease the meat 

Obscene, the sausage swells till, oh!

His joint roasts in my oven mouth

How dripping drips despite the Arctic

Cold; we cling, we kiss, he lifts and

Hangs my living corpse amongst 

The racks of ribbed asymmetry

My collar hooked, he strips this fishy

Mammal, till I'm shaking, naked

Graham cleaves me raw and gaping

Stabs me with his beefy skewer

Juicy breast and brisket cleave 

Together, weaving shanks around his 

Tender rump as lips and tongues

Entwine and baste the tasty flesh 

Loins lock while the silent herd 

Dismembered flocks around our frozen

Fevered fucking, marking urgent 

Rutting stark against their corpses

Pumping life into this place of 

Death unrecognisable we

Consummate our co-existence

Glory in our life extended

From the silent frosted tomb two

Red-faced Lazari emerge to

Throngs proclaiming disbelief as

New life swirls within my womb

*