30 Poems in 30 Days

[AChild]

10-12

Glory days
where have they gone
I used to be a man of means
but now it seems all I do is dream

with out waking
the crystal palace in my eye
peels back to revel my dirty home

 

[AChild]

10-13

Water Clock

dripping me to madness
wheels and ways to let the juice out
regretful hours turn icy
blocking terminals
notice of the day gone
by with a flush

 

[AChild]

10-14

love in sinful places
she give me pure
the softest testament
to the steel I carry
willingly
but always bites the pillow

 

[AChild]

10-15

vanity equates greatness to size

so sad.
pride can't
see the worth
in little lines.

 

[AChild]

10-16

there is no unifying art

too many strands
for the hive mind
to anthem

but if you will
lend me your voice
for just a sample

we are better than
we think, know or feel
this is not ego

it is written on the pride
of lovers and friends

because we don't always
work our hardest
life turns out the fire
in "accidents"

just what we need
to test our metal
to melt into
some unified theory

 

[AChild]

10-17

women in the walk

I watch sitting under a
tree as muses flow by

each different in her
outlook, clothing, posture

some go
their heels sliding off
the little stones
pulling down dresses
making sure
there is not a hair out of place

some go
quitely through
the grass
patterns of boots
molesting the mud
piercings shining in the sun
that comes down through the leaves

some just instantly
make my dick hard
cause they know how sexy they are
or because they have no idea

some are my kind
others aren't
but I love them all
because

to look is easy
to touch is hard
letting go is impossible

 

[AChild]

10-18

don't fear the imperfections
hold them high into the sun
let the heat go straight to the mildew

there will be times when
the skin just slunks off
but that is not what we are here for
don't let the story tell itself that way

push against what makes you
drag your feet
expose the whole
bruises and all
through the filter
of definition

 

[AChild]

10-19

hard ways kissed

 

[AChild]

10-20

tired

spinning top
wheels among the go round
when am I destined to stop

is there a reward other then peace
because I really like the pain
and don't think I could give it up

if it's my choice
I choose to struggle on
even though
my head throbs
in time with tribe music
making the heart seem tame
in it's love dub striking

what I am tired of
is the

silence

there has to be something
on the other side of the manifold
why doesn't it
speak directly, other than pushing
back among the senses

I want to un-do a seam in existance
to see the source with eyes
just once

 

[AChild]

10-20

Midnight letters

playing games
spelling word in
starlight

grasping for a meaning
learning is not changing
its fate
------------
Slice intercourse

I escape the bedroom
to get a glass of water
she,
still in bed
a flower after dew
her petal pink with brown trim
it waves from the swap

I make her smile
just by being
naked in the doorway

sitting on the bed
she grabs me and says
"your nipples are covered
with pieces of sweat
pieces of sweet pie"

she draws me with her tongue
sugar crystals in her eye
refine the meaning of a kiss

 

[AChild]

10-21

Jailbird

I

word don't
escape

by tongue
or blowtorch

they just burn
black flags signing in the wind
singing songs
the world cant hear

 

[AChild]

Jailbird

II

I don't
escape word

atom comet
bloom in
the gray matters

screaming for the
old ink paper

treatments
almost of another
mind

put it to an alias

flood every scrap
of pressed wood
in my environ
with dark mark

not even in rest
can I rest

pad by the bed
in case a dream
wants out

 

[AChild]

10-22

Jail bird

III

Treatment vision
round every scrap
of paper
crawling with my mind
but not me

versions that know
part of my name

people think they
need my eyes to touch
me

believe that I won't
understand until they
own my gaze

but that is just another part of me
the words have pieces of me
in goodly soul

they nag to be expressed
poured into other brains

 

[AChild]

10-23

Can't decide
which words to choose
put the art inside the temple
in the stained glass
I am a heathen
and ever attempt is
blasphemy

 

[DrewberryLess]

Bout Rime

?

?
?
?
?

 

[AChild]

10-24

defame defame

what real world wrought words
swimming in the mirror idolatry
in the path ways of my mind is pride
in the path ways of my mind is passion

passion subdues pride
pride is faith without wisdom
with out need
confidence watches as I hang my pride
upside down

in the middle of my torso
between the skin of my chest and back
is a network of nerves seen through
the glass of my mind

there are storms there
that is where the tears are made
in electric bolts that pillar inside
my frame

that is where poetry is made as well
if I let if flow forth
if I remember to stick
a pencil in my hair

that is where we string up pride
where we slip the ball gag in his mouth
with out the restriction of perfection
or embarasment
there no straps on my straight jacket
no limit to the color of my wings

 

[AChild]

10-25

There was traffic

coming home
from work

I took the winding streets
easy rolling through the hills
and burning sun of
way afternoon

in china town a man smokes
out side his tourist hut
unaware that a hawk on the roof
eats a pigeon

among the tee-shirts, mugs, cups and pens
crying out their worth as artitacts of experiance

the hawk takes another peck
not looking at the cars
and sends feather spining
turning toward the ground

 

[AChild]

10-26

I can find her lips
in the dark
rubbing noses
I know she's smiling
when I kiss teeth

 

[AChild]

10-27

cycle through
the choices for a dream
I don't sleep
Not for "FEar of Dreaming"
like a king
passing on entertainment
shaking each
vision off
as it attempts to bond
to my nerves

 

[AChild]

10-28

I am a bad writer

don't practice hard
not in the paint
don't live it

like some jailbird
I rock among my
words as if they were bars

I am often with out pen or paper

my house is dirty
with combinations that are not my own
they are not for study either
just bill, ads and coupons

one day I will be a good writer
and have a file for every genre
every night I go to bed hoping
that is tommorrow

 

[AChild]

10-29

Closer to the end

inching worm
savoring spaces
other authors
give me faith

 

[AChild]

10-29a

I live with the artist

there is a sketch of me
for every poem I ever wrote
anytime I sit still long enough
I feel myself become captured by
her work

we flip through the books later
in those four corner worlds
versions of my verisimilitude

reading, laughing, twisting bered
features warp around body language
whistling, breathing, shaking leg

I am no still life impression in a frame
but a real boy,
there
fixed on a verb
breathing in my contour lines
lit in depth by an eye that finds me beautiful

it is in that perception
changed - not myself
but more
drawing from the me that is
a bridge between the artist and myself
we exist in different realities together

"don't those look like your hands on my butt?"
the first rays from my smile
comes from knowing I am a part of her poetry

 

[AChild]

10-30

Lapis lazuli

Drifting, dreaming
In an azure mood

Moon mood
blood
from humble creeks
trouble is a water spirit
jazzing through the street light

fight or flight
the song of the stars
turn knives
lenses of perception
trying not to,
try to
alter the direction

breaking broke
feeling the slick lines looseen

been wating for this mind all day
a blank space for lines
to lie between
feeling

evergreen the tips of plants
curse curling toward that first bit of light
too soon
the wanting flower, I

inkwell doses
taking
joy with out the illusion
of balance
it is nature but
it is not me

high stepping
preforming the assumption
of a midnight summer's caper
early birds rub money feathers
friction is a neon open

some drinkers are still about from last night
wondering where the good times got to

Ella's guiding
puling by a mucus
rope around the heart

speak these words to a dreamer
a hollywood star for a pillow
under the no star sky of LA

Drifting, dreaming
In an azure mood

 

[4degrees]

22-1

Leave me, I say
So that poetic sadness
Sets in, and again
I feel pulled by a fresh
And self inflicted wound
No words I try to bleed
Can do justice to this
Raw stinging heart
Something ending before
It's start, and again I am
The unkind killer to you
A mercy killing it would
Never be- you can't see
How now your pain is less
Than it would've been
If you'd have stayed until
The end.

 

[4degrees]

22-2

pressing gravel into
a tender exposed nerve
it almost feels real
my heart is wrapped
in stinging nettle
yet tears have ceased
singing sad songs of
yesterday to myself
recalling the joy of pain
is it her, is it you
or the one i'll never know
the search ends at a
red painted tattoo
that the colorblind
can't see.