30 Poems in 30 Days

[AChild]

16

the days slipped, so here is one to keep it honest.

I know what I am doing.
the light is on without the lamp shade
its my alarm clock
my dream beater
I do homework
between impossible scenes
rest closed eye
when my juice
craps out

for breakfast is vodka
and hash candy
I know what I am doing.
on the bus I don't have a pen
but I do have my ladies mascara
i stoke the paper due
not for longer lashes
but to compel a coke bottle frame
getting artistic to make it sexy

people on the bus stare
I laugh higher than
leep jeep

on my face book wall:
"What is better the educated or uneducated artist?"
all the true believers in my life reply
I respond I don't know what I'm doing.

 

[Tzara]

28

Gray’s Anatomy, Used as a Doorstop

It’s all those pages of bone and meat
that give it enough weight

to keep the Door of Curiosity open
even for those who’ve never split a earthworm,

pinned on that lumpy plain of black wax
in the dissection tray. Someone has to learn

to negotiate past those straps and bands of muscle,
pluck through the stringy tendons, feel

his careful pathway through the sulci of the brain.
It’s nice to have a map, even if it’s an old one,

for the roads haven’t changed that much,
despite the intervening years.

 

[AChild]

17

sorry doctor
I'm not a brave
human
my bones get brittle
at the gurgle of beer foam
need to feed the well empty
pushing past the cash regret
I need to dance

health is not as simple
money lack is easier
to figure out
the need for better function
stays far away
like i wish the work day would

 

[Tzara]

29

Tactic

He wore his tattoos
like a uniform or a haircut,
the kind of thing that girls

would talk about among themselves
when they liked the way he walked.
He knew they would want

him to take off his shirt
so they could trace the map
inked along his body

and that they'd have to reciprocate
when he smiled and asked
and that this meant

he could march among their opened limbs
all day long at full attention.
I mean, what else is training for?

 

[Tzara]

30

Champagne

It’s thirty days of constant rhyming,
Alliteration, and free verse
And by the end, church bells are chiming
As you’ve now exorcised the curse.
(Or maybe it’s your ears still ringing
From Muse’s slap that sounds like singing.)
Well, anyway, you wrote poems down
Each day for thirty days and found
Perhaps your verse should have been hidden
Some place that’s dark and safe and deep,
Like underneath a garbage heap
To form its own poetic midden.
What archaeologists may say
Is Futurery. You’re through, today.

 

[AChild]

18

street legal

shine on street people
my money is funny
cold bone, snot runny
my privilege is
pothole gravel
watch the changeling
lamps glow grow
to unravel
watch to time travel
the staples in the light post
all claw in to waft story

 

[VincentNew]

Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.

 

[AChild]

1 Alarm clocks for sound sleep

I

I have my dreams
resting with the light on
Gunpowder fuse
Peeling cuticle to
Gasp breath

not memories
but knowledge
a self science
full of unnamed laws

I know all kinds of meditation
counting, breathing, projection
Just enough to kill computer

Switch

II

Stay woke running,
the Amazon women
are out for my teeth
Again

They got me
In that tumescent cage
Killing me cat wise
This Robert Crumb
Apocalypse

III

Game day SC
Brown toddlers
Recycle privilege
It is a beer can in the mud

if it cuts their fingers
it becomes a diploma
as they become pigeons
they fly away scholars
unseen by the world
that feeds them crumbs
the sadness is they wouldn’t know
what to do with a loaf

IV

White plane paper falls
Intersect wood pulp marrow
Blank faces call for ink feature
Weak at the mountain
Climb the summit

Look up, another mountain

Undone freeway cliff
Slave symbol
Ego chain, ergo goal
breaking frame
My name is nothing
but, work’s worth

V

Empty, smashing toward
The lamp light
Bludgeon up the dream
knuckle skin won’t speak
Curse the cunt lack
no blood

Sleep body sweat twitching
That’s all the power of emotion cumming
Will is more than
tumescent cuticle pulp cutting up
some raw throat

slipping out the wallpaper
foreground is poor and cold
waking up computer
it blinds me like the sun god’s urethra
I type out that last line
Just to delete it
Because it is too stupid and poetic

 

[AChild]

2

Love jones

the morning is not here yet
the new day has not dawn
this is just a clock phase
ticking out of rival sequence

no tragedy for tomorrow
my girl is smiling
through the time signature
breathing hard on me
expecting bittern music

she won't let me kiss her on the lips afterward
but will be sure to bite my fingers.

 

[AChild]

3

good news is just a door step
change
no standing in the walk way
leagues

the music
is a swollen breath
a sticky whistle
it's feast days
so something got
to famish
pay blood and ashes
to the broke down manifold

realize it's the world howling
the wild dogs only compliment

habit keeping
out of reach
looking for teachers
to mold a mood
to bring it back from
lowness

good news is just a back door
know
no sitting in the doorway
getting all set for good news

 

[AChild]

4

thats going to take more thought

on the way to grandma's
we listed to every type
of christmas song

the clouds lay
stacked and unbleeding
in the wake
of sleigh bells

we talked
family

my brother driving
leaning into curves
leaning on the horn

there's no turkey yet
but I'm dancing in my seat
family is gathering

 

[AChild]

5

The rapper will not rhyme recipie

over soup
we talk creativity
he says
food aint real

I remind him
that everything
has pre existence
and the transformer
region of skill

he talked about crack
and cocks-man ship
to cushion an
IHOP referance.

--
Thanksgiving

blacker than the boom box
the spirit of thanksgiving
has grey hairs and a golden can
of old english
his tongue is low streets
in a townhouse condo
garage fit for banquet

he doesn't eat the expensive
cheesecake his step daughter brought
he just sings to his can
occasionally swooping toolder
to puppet them into the music.

 

[AChild]

6`

oh the dreams

flash edit the strong hold
nothing is wrong, but old mind
here I am as good as the last
transition

 

[AChild]

7

my poetry ideas are
nocturnal cloud sheep
they stampede at the
light from blank paper

------------
I've never seen
writers block
I've seen
writers pride

too busy caught up
in what I should be doing
instead of doing something

forgetting that
half the quality
is found on the way
by mistake

concerned that my
body will be defined
by the next movement

foolishly slipping myself
between the paper
and the pen

 

[AChild]

8

waiting for the poem
a thistle in the wind
today was a two walk day

I noticed the leaves
under the sun and moon
fog beads of sweat my brow

now it's really out there
in the open like the scratch
behind the tree door false and open

merriment changing struggle in
chagrin I wish
I could move my poet voice
down the road up the street
get those groovy jazz tone accents.

I don't know the deity
of my holy

just hope the system
is not for justice cause then
I would fall through the cracks
fall through the marshmallow
center of the universe

craving some other kind of zen
to hold onto some
other kind of world to call my own.

that is the secret heart
I put my soul on paper
just to push it on you
push it on you
litter in the streets make
me that good confetti
like yesterday's news
in a frame good for the moment
that exploited the individual

I learned to hate groups by
being set out by the majority
of everywhere
so to me it is not a myth
just a loose expression I wear
tilted like a favorite hat that never seems to come off

 

[AChild]

ha

hold on.

coffe drug

coffe dragged

The fire is coming over the mountain
brown bunny is moon beaming
across the trail

it must have been
her cousins teeth I found
the other day and put
among the floors

bucked, but blood
licked clean
a scavenger process

tangled in the sleep strings
warble in my mind jelly
this folly isn't pure
its got fancy
vibrating chemicals
so fuck it
sleep is away today
that's the way I planned it

gimmie caffeine in an IV drip
cause I don't drink coffee

let the sweat tattoo itself to my arm pits

 

[AChild]

10

Night of the Living Leaves

the trees are
wind felled
its all stakes and split wood

but the leaves are alive

brown, yellow, green
rolling in the streets
they speak reggae

I'm like a stepping razor
don't you watch my sides
I'm dangerous

in the valley
the high city
is blacked out

the murals fit
like tattoos on a
wrinkled man

police cars and fire trucks
lend light patrolling
the inviting store fronts

christmas songs
on the radio
ghetto bird above is looking to
kill holidays

the leaves run free
dancing with the wind
the wind humming
like a scream queen

together
it's a death duet
leaves are flesh
departing with the passed moment
the wind is the music carrying it away

 

[AChild]

11

do you backspace or delete
there was something in my day
something that was the good bones
of a poem
but I guess I must have left it on the train

---------
day thoughts as I lose
my eyes

I want to learn brail
just n case it all goes way

I'm spoiled off the
electric mice poop
easy knowledge

magic used to be
a symbol
before urls

now its just
the view count
for the spirit of
power

all of this is true
I'm updating it
to Wikipedia right
now

do you backup or delete
hard copy poems
I carve them into rock
and graffiti them in
sand boxes, on beaches, in zen gardens
and I always sign them
"wish you where here"

 

[AChild]

12

Night owl

whoing at the noon
swimming in a temperate breeze

 

[AChild]

13

Gathering the let go
we set to blow blue
let me show you why
the mad animal
you keep behind your eye
wants to taste its own tail

waiting naked on the twitch
page
seeming just a bit more
electric light
I stuck my hand
into a dragons mouth
to recapture the pilot

I'm slipping down the mean
changing what a can do
collection all the exhalation
a pushing it away from my face

 

[AChild]

14

sun rising on a new day
all I have to say is excitement
the thing about crazy times
is you can't really talk about them

 

[AChild]

15

what is control
but a formula
against freedom

show me a new
wild way
everyday

I won't be happy
but I'll be strong
and that is enough
for now

 

[AChild]

16

at the feeling of the next best god
suffering pride

 

[AChild]

17

these aint my usual rounds

I want to be used up

so I can be renewed
like in the horror show

like in the scifi movie

I keep one eye closed
so I can always see
the dream

that's the screen eye
the open one is to add
reality edits

 

[AChild]

18

poets in a Paris
toast
water or champagne

don't wanna be
where you are
just how you do

the money bird
squaws overhead
letting out
the false intention
of will

make no mistake
and you will be rewarded
9-5
but my urge
is to be 24/7 put
everything up to the
art tree cut down confetti
live the arabesque
scene

loaf out with me there
come on you know
you want to