30 Poems in 30 Days

[4degrees]

14-16

she's got gran'pa roach
and gramma bones
leaves bobbypins in
my bed, hairs of black
and red, and this smile
that never ends
even in her sleep, a grin
is visible to me
lets all the kids wear
her rings and things,
and i think
and i think
i am just enough man
for her.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Mabeuse In 1-1

1-1


Rainslash downcut all the streets the gutters gush
Splash Cars skid thunder leaves beat raucus stunned under foot
Run to /////here/////…\\\\\there\\\\\…….nowhere
Nails of rain. Knives of rain. Axes, Hatchets, Guns of rain,
Arrows, Shotguns
Cows of rain! Gorillas driving Battleships filled with Rain!
Axial Pluvial Vesuvuial Rain
Pull down the socks of God with Rain
And now— now —

!! Godawfulflashcanblinding !!

LIGHTNING

now scared hiding waiting and

the soft butter rumble of thunder
The earth digesting her roar
Rain's patter mother fingers
haircuts for the garden

Rain makes us remember our skin
That outside is out and inside is in
And the world is a place that things happen in
And we have nothing to hide when we're wet
I bet.

 

[wildsweetone]

1

...

I was a child as he lay there
yielding to the lump
growing in his brain.
His eyes soaked in each of us
and I knew there was a time limit,
a counting of breaths
that meant soon I wouldn't see him,
would no longer be able to touch him.
The smell of Drum receded
months ago, now it was disinfectant
in a room void of beeping machinery.
There would be no straight line
for him, just a last breath
lifted on the breeze of angel wings.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

3-8

1.
A shaman said to me,
“People eat drama because they have no real food.
Drama's better than nothing.”
If you're still worried
do they love you?
Do they know you're an impostor?
Is he coming back to you?
Are people talking?
If you still worry
you're eating drama. Not real food.

I have learned to eat time, and the sunset.
I eat fuck you, I eat judge not
lest ye be judged. I eat your disapproval.
And god eats me.

2.
When I was a little girl
they read me that bible verse
about not being lukewarm,
because god would spit you
out of his mouth.
Then I was scared of god,
because what was I doing in his mouth
in the first place?

Later on I read in this other book
how this soldier had a long talk with god,
about whether or not to go to battle,
and he asked god to show his true face,
and what he saw
was everyone, everyone he loved
streaming into god's mouth,
being devoured. He took it to mean
that we were already dead,
and that it didn't matter if the people on the field
were his friends and family,
because if they were in the wrong
he had to help them along into god's mouth.

What feast
do the gods prefer? Does the taste
of souls sour in the mouth
like gossip, like pain?

 

[manipulatrix]

2-7

.....

 

[RhymeFairy]

......

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Dr.M I-2

I-2

This is where the wheat moved where the beast walked through to die
You can see his path of passing, his trail of was and gone
and each flexing wheat stalk has its tale it thinks upon
This was the lover that broke his heart
This was the basement that flooded
This was the dog that died
This the spot on his shirt
This, the look in the mirror, that haggard, used-up face
This, that final decision never to try any more
And this stalk of wheat,
waving so wildly,
That long, empty tunnel
Seen in the mirror behind him
His decision not to traverse it again.

There are birds in the air and they wheel wide and fly
There is blue now too unreflected by his eye
The wheat stalks chafe and rub themselves and sigh
He won't pass this way, dears, again.

This is where the wheat moved where the beast walked through to die
You can't call it responsibility
You can't call it a crime
Just things touching things
As they pass each other by.


This is the bathroom where the murdered man was found.
This is the toilet, the tub, the shower
They came in through his heart, they went out through his head
They took everything. The made not a sound.

Let's get out of here. The place stinks of neutrons
I've seen that woman before, in the park, by the zoo
It's his wife. I recognize her feet
I dream of them, walking on my tongue.

All night long, walking on my tongue
And behind me, an empty tunnel in a mirror
I won't traverse it again


You sit at the zoo and who sits across from you
You see love in a black suit and mask
And next to him, you see your girl too
You've dreamt of her feet on your tongue
So many times, you think—
Love, bring her to me
Bring her to me Love, do
But Love gets up and leads her to another
And sits down and looks at you, a fool

What made you think Love would be good to you?
Because his name is Love?


I can't find my way through this wheat field
The sun is a tongue and I want to die
The wheat cuts my skin and the place stinks of neutrons
And I am running. I am running as I die.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

3-9

Compassion

Watching him now, on the white
bed, I remember when they told me
my morphine pump was as high
as it could legally go. I'm told
I was praying, silently. They could see
my lips moving, my eyes
rolled back.
Now he moans and yells
and snaps at the nurses
and I hate the thought
that I am stronger than he is,
and more than anything,
I will never forgive myself
for being ashamed of him.

 

[4degrees]

14-17

poetic manifestations
of a physical sense,
flows like softish curvature
pierced and tanned with
adjectives like a thesarus
everything is subject to change
in the bat of a lash,
the blink of a mascara'd hazel eye,
but until it does, contented
doesn't come close
to what i am right now.

 

[wildsweetone]

2

...

It seems only a momentary loss.
Friendships once connected
have faded over distance
and time.
One moves out,
another, in
and carries yesterday with them -
some consistent reconciliation
between past and future
playing in the present,
in the dust motes
and steam devils floating upwards,
as if knocking on the pearly gates
will guarantee entry to all, equally.

 

[manipulatrix]

2-8

......

 

[4degrees]

14-18

who dis?
who dis?
papa's belt?
i get lost...
he pads around, barefooted
while brother sleeps and
we both have peace
making poems with
little boy babble
most still not quite
intelligible
but he'll come around.
he's my cuddley baby still
even though hes near to
forty pounds
loves the tickle, and the kisses
and clings to me round
my one leg, my little
siamese boy.
thinking back i cringe
about how much i used to
not want him.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Dr. M. 1-3

1-3

There are things I need to say but I can't pin them down
At the museum of feelings they don't know what I mean
If the animals have gone, perhaps their breeze will do
Where the water has all flowed, perhaps a memory of blue.
But I try to tell a fish by the water from his tail
And all I can tell is that it’s cold and that it moves
And it seems so much to me that my life has been like that
A series of holes and I can't tell what's been removed
Anyone can see a fire but it's the changing shape of flame
That I need to understand to do what I need to do
Her love was something round yet it ended with a pain
Bullets do that too.
So I need to know how the log shapes the flame
I need to know how the star designs the fish
I need to know where the rains in oceans go
I need to know how death designs the wish

 

[wildsweetone]

3

...

If I thought it would slow
the race of the sun,
I would cry enough tears
to fill an eighth sea.

I would swim in that sea,
shave my head bald
to hide the hike of grey.

I would watch the change
of distant mountains,
the way they strip for summer,
and don their winter whites

bathing in purity and peace
from above. Somewhere
in between the sun, the tears
and the grey

I would pray.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Dr. M 1-4

I-4 The Poet, to His Heat

This heart of mine it sends me reeling to the bathroom
It slams me against the wall sends shampoo bottles crashing
Scaring children, waking babies, sending toothbrush cups rattling,
Flings me down the stairs and through the hall my shoe tips dragging
My laces untied, my fingertips bleeding
Out into the street dragged drunk across the sidewalk
"Please! Help me lady!" "Mister, you're disgusting!"
I hear cars and busses screeching, squealing and crashing
Hydrants crack and gushing, sirens screaming flashing
"Can't the SWAT boys help him?" "Forget it, ma'am, it's poetry"
It drags me to the lake it flings me to that tree
It slaps me in the face and makes a spectacle of me
And my heart turns my head
But I know what I will see
It says: Look, fool look!
It says: Moon in Majesty!

 

[manipulatrix]

2-9

.....
​

 

[4degrees]

14-19

it's 7:02, do you
know where your ego is?
it feasts on raw soul
leaves behind crumbs of
carnal pride
that when combined
with anything that's left
of the god in you
makes the perfect
manipulation
a scathing trace of martyrdom
lingers in this hull of
assimilation.

 

[wildsweetone]

4

...

The aftermath of love stays with you
like the pain of a slow bleed,

a knife wound
seeping the remnants of life

until all that is left
is a syringe of memories

and a halo for the one
who did not go under.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Dr M 1-5

I-5

September

I'm September.
I wait on the fence.
I watch you as you go by and wonder why you walk so slow
Don’t look at me, you don't want to know
Who I am at night, when I'm lonely as a star
As his empty bed, a deserted beach
That farewell wave, the cricket's regret
(You should have kissed him
You should have pulled him down with you and
should have kissed him
should have put his hand on tit and should have shown him
should have // should have // should have // should have)

But I'm September
And I stand outside your window in the lamp light
And if you invite me up,
My loving will be non-objectionable
Good, but bitter, tasting of farewell
And you'll say, "Oh God, you're good!"
And I am. But I make you remember so much, how love is real
And so essential. You need it, and the leaves are falling
Real things change, and even now as I take you
In my elegant hands and slim dick and fuck you
The leaves are letting go, time is drifting.
The stars like engine wheels are turning in the sky
A hole is forming in your life, you choke saying goodbye
Your climax is sharp. The leaves fall from your heart
The joy is swift and entire, but then your heart is bare
And what you need is summer talk, but you won't find it here.
Because I am September, and I must be going.
I'm September, and I only stopped by to say
I must be going.

 

[wildsweetone]

5

.

 

[4degrees]

14-20

100mg more of a
man today, but
from what i heard
and felt, and tasted last night
today's shot wasn't
a necessity;
i'm already he.

 

[4degrees]

14-21

the way warm legs fold around
my back, something like a silk
cloud embrace, like a soft steak..like

the contrast of nails and teeth
short orgasmic breaths
hot on my face
clawing away, from behind
clinging and grinding like...
like
wow. i like you.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Dr.M I-6

I-6


I tied her
Because I had to dress her in my grip
Caressing her and keeping her in unmoving lines
Watch her muscles working where she could not outwork mine
To weave her still and outstretched and make her part of my design
So I tied her, and the tying was a sign.

I whipped her
Because I couldn't say what I wanted to say
I couldn't say how it felt to want her
Sharp, flashing hot, making me jerk, making me snarl
Yellow eyed, panting hungry angry
Foul-in-heart nasty pleading feverish
And rule breaking, violational, fire on the pale white skin
Ferocious, predatory, ravenous, greased with sin

And I fucked her
Because the rest was not enough
Because I had to fuse myself within her
And I didn't want her trust
But fear and fire and chimes of cataclysm
The bloody skin of beastial baptism
In sexual catechism, wordless redemption
In tenderness remembered, some things are eternal
To save me she gave herself utterly
To save her I took to me everything
We met in a place where there was nothing at all
And from that place we took all that there was
And that was all that there was
That was all that there was
Just the fire and us
That's all that there was

 

[wildsweetone]

6


The Story of a City

It is usually daylight
when I find myself in the city.

No neons greet me,
it is simply the hot tar
and concrete breeze
that bump into me,
send me swirling

from garish shop front,
to plain iconic delight -
Starbucks with loungers
and coffee that steals notes
from my purse.

Sometimes there is a busker,
the inevitable accordion, screeching
some old song
and you can see passersby

take a curve, as if
their ears can deal better
with pneumatic drills
and the honk
of badly driven buses.

I am a country girl.
The colours in the city
hold brief appeal.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

DrM I-7

I-7 What We Were


When I was the wind
She was the trees
I caught in her branches
She tossed her hair at me
We made love that way
I strained her branches groaning
Peeled back her leaf blossoms
Wild and rain-sweet weather
Everything she was to me
She was Everything she was

When I was the river
She was the swamp there lying
I flowed into her
And we embraced in thick rich channels
Flowery green and oozing
Suckhole, colors glowing
Clitoral iridescence
Trembling butterfly wings
It was good, slow like that
In the swamp where things stuck
Sucked,
Stayed

When I was the dirt
She was the flowers growing
sucking rich and deep
Ass up her panties showing
Blowing me good
Exploding my come and making
Savagely gorgeous wonderfully elegant
Festooned love flowers, grossly extravagant
Embarrassing her dirt-lover
To make my love so evident

How many ways
Can the things of the world come together
In each it come to me,
that obvious sexual tether
That angle that shadow that foothold that hole
That wet spot slidingthing pushbone soul
The squeezecock grabslick shuddercunt pole
That where-I-take-her spot where she won't say no
That what is it? me in you, holy us Eroticus
It's me in you. It's I want you. It's I am you. It's we are you.
It's what we are, we are that, aren't we though? aren't we though?