When I spied  

on my grandfather 

watching porn  

in the basement,  

his buttocks twisting 

and turning,  

his hip rising and falling 

like an Irish lilt  

while his hand drifted  

everywhere — 

his thighs, his belly,  

his nipples and his cock, 

I developed an obsession  

for obscure poetry. 

I don’t know how the act  

of my grandfather


created in me

a love for esoteric 

poesy riddled with allusions,  

quotes and strange symbolism,

but it did,  

and I didn’t realise how severe 

my addiction was until  

I read a poem on the blogging 

platform Blogstar by an  

anonymous poet.  

The poem’s strange cadence  

and lines like guarding the gates 

to anaphylactic towers/

they stand 

in circles/ saying,  

Battre le fer pendant

qu’il est chaud/ 

while we grow younger/ 

like Benjamin Buttons/  

fed the livers of muttons 

captivated me so much that  

I read it 15 times.  

In a year’s time, I’d read it 5000 

times and knew it by heart. 

Every time I read it again or  

recollected it, I thought of 

my grandfather in the throes  

of passion, bobbing about,  

drooling, holding the seat of the 

cushioned chair and squealing,  

and I jumped up and down,  

howled, groaned, got on all fours,  

lifted my arse, farted, and rubbed my  

face like a bunny with the itches.  

It aroused me in a pre-sexual  

way (that’s the only way I can  

describe it). I got no erection,  

but I was in a trance, in heat like 

a mongrel salivating and chasing  

a car, thinking it’s a bigger  

female dog with a big backside.  

The father clock ticks while 

they await the fight between  

the past and the present/

the romantic 

and the modern/

La plus belle des  

ruses du diable  

est de vous persuader  

qu’il n’existe pas.

Awoo! Fuck, fuck, 

fuck, I couldn’t take it!

The novel without  

an e/ the Knight

of Infinite Resignation/  

the ogres watch

the trembling  


chained by idealism.

Hoo! Haaa! 

Damn! Fuck! Shit!

Mercy! Mercy! 

I grabbed my crotch like 

Emiliano Martinez and made  

an obscene gesture.  

I’ve now read

the poem 100000 

times, and it’s

all I can think of. 

I’ve stopped

eating regularly,  

piss on my bed

and crap on the floor. 

Today they admitted

me to an institution, 

but a friend visited me,

and I paid him  

to read the poem aloud

again and again.

They’ve given me

a cocktail of drugs 

but I can’t stop!

I backhand the nurse,  

jump on the bed,

fight off the doctors  

and shout, “Des Teufels

liebstes Möbelstück

ist die lange Bank; 

the book of Enoch,

the Watchers fell,

but they’ll 

return; aw-awoo!”

Photo by Ahmed M Elpahwee on Unsplash

10 responses to “Obsession”

  1. I should not be laughing, but this is in equal parts hilarious and sad. 😂😪

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s a tragicomedy I guess. I laughed aloud a little when I wrote it 😂 but felt a little sad afterwards.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. There is something amazing about how you took your grandfather, porn, masturbation, and poetry itself and turned it into something so unique and awesome

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much JYP! I’m very flattered by your comment. Sometimes, it’s fun to take random things and create something 😊

      Liked by 1 person

    2. I’m a little scared that people might not think this is fiction though lol. You never know with blogging. With published literature, it’s a different story. Philip Roth can write a crazy, humorous, nutty novel like Portnoy’s Complaint and even though there might be a few autobiographical elements, everyone will agree it’s fiction. Here everyone takes themselves too seriously like you said, and reads too much into things.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I had no idea if this were true or fiction, but I didn’t care – it was a great read.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you 😊 I know you didn’t care, but I’ve gotten attacked here sometimes because people think everything I post is real. And what if this post was real? I guess that’s the attitude I should be taking.


      3. *I don’t mean ‘I didn’t care’ in a callous, uncaring way; I would hope that if this had any basis in reality, that the experience of witnessing your grandfather watching porn was not too traumatic. I meant that I didn’t need to know whether this were truth or fiction to enjoy reading the piece.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. This is raw, provocative and powerful. It definitely incites a smirk, but equally drums up melancholy emotions. Well written. I can always appreciate bold, unafraid work.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you very much, my friend. I’m glad you liked the poem. Your comment means a lot to me.


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About Me

Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.


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