30 Poems in 30 Days

[Guest]

1-6 2007 Trees, Over Dressed

The trees wear snow evening
gloves. No one
told them, white was out
and that black was in.

Instead, their leaf buds
freeze while the sun is too
slow peeling back clouds,
revealing blue skies.

We wait with frosty breath, wait
for the thaw to strip them down
to nothing but naked limbs.

 

[4degrees]

9-21

western dust is blown
a natural wind off the sea
sends it to me, the grit
stings eyes that stay open
too long, strain against
the weather only to see
the trail of footprints
is covered.


hooves like thudding drumbeats
spray fine white sand back
into the ocean again, a return
to the origin of man
from sea and dirt he
rose, riding that horse like
that's how he was born
parting the thick waters
like a knife that later
cuts out my heart.

 

[wildsweetone]

9

9.

In a world where black and white
are as honest as true or false,
where pink sometimes pops
through the barbed wire fence
and flushes the sky of morning,
where dandelion angels float
on an Autumn breeze,
I sometimes find it hard
to write.

 

[MissVictoria]

2-6

fold your mouth with mine
pull flesh with teeth
let pillow hands find pillow places
touch a forgotten face
and breathe me

 

[RhymeFairy]

Dreams ...

...

3~3


family gatherings

spoken in dreams, this cry
kept echoing out. tea time at the hacienda,
tables too full of food, people yachting in syllables
only understood by passing memories.

I could not catch the words. gut engorged
from gray hinged netting. I get caught up
in the overflow of; why are all my aunts
wearing my clothes?

red stained droplets, not able to clean'm all.
kneeling in prayer I swiped, as papaws ghostly
vision traipsed in circles. his words whispered.
still no understanding dawned upon
twin departed ears.

tears filled my eyes. dad came walking in,
withered 'n taunt. standing corner only.
he watches me. no words expressed,
as expired eyes haunt.

then another dream. they're all trying
to fool me. dad isn't dead. I saw him.
I feel him, I would know, right?

my subconscious spoke. you know
your dreaming, snap outta it. your hurt
will heal, given time. I realize then
he is really gone. that is his blood, but

why are they all trying to fool me and why
are my aunts wearing my clothes?

 

[vampiredust]

12-10

The Order of Things

Cigarettes, lighter, bible.
This is her order of importance,
laying them out on the desk
as if they were trinkets to be sold.
For a brief moment, I imagine

her descendant doing the same
amongst the bony landscape
of an Irish bog. Peat, headscarf,
crucifix. That is the order
of importance now.

The objects remain still
throughout the class,
slowly absorbing themselves
into her. Perhaps one day
they will share the same coffin,

treasure for a queen entering
Valhalla, the order surviving
through her children, never breaking.

 

[Tathagata]

2-9

,,,,,

 

[wildsweetone]

10.

Beyond goodbye

There are moments, afterwards
when we wish
for the simplicity of a hug,
the close contact
of arms around bodies
and quiet holding
that calms our souls,
banishes the lost
feeling that intrudes when black
blankets the earth.

 

[4degrees]

9-22

i write of smoke and
sound vibrations, and
the low-down aroma of a man
all the dirty plans
sketchy assimilation of
excusable art, lithium
temptation eyes of
someone's father, each
another color
and always a heart
broken or beating
relief in believing that
one day morning won't come.

 

[Guest]

1-7 2007 Fly Kamikaze: a Blue Balls Mission

Double Ds packed in a jog bra,
bounced to the runner's steps
and not to the music that beat
my eardrums until they bled.

After five miles, she's red, I'm red
and she says, "let’s stop for a smoothie".
Wha?

"OK"
Now, more than my calves ache.
Those balls blaze, are in a hell
she created. She knows I want her
but can't have her.
Bitch.

But still, we are "just friends",
sip smoothies at the bar.
A Bluebottle fly buzzes by,
dive-bombs my Fuzzy Orange & Lime,
ker-plunk.

I haven't had a drop of liquor in months,
though sometimes I wish,
like this time, but don't,
I shoot the Fly Kamikaze instead.
Sucker.

 

[vampiredust]

8-11

The Face of My Grandfather

After Grandfather had died,
his possessions were divided up
amongst his wife and children.
His furniture, however, was not.
The bedroom suite made out

of walnut wood was still there
for years afterwards, when I
visited my Uncle. I could smell
Grandfather's poetry in the empty
wardrobe, now tenanted by moths

drawn to his words swirling
in the dust. Underneath the bed
and inside the drawers were pieces
of his death mask. Grandmother
had cut up the shroud,

hoping to bury his image forever.
Tracing my fingers on its surface
made it come alive, and for a second
I saw his face, cradling him
as if he were a father and I, his son.

I kept one of the grey eyes
for posterity, wrapping it in tissue paper
before placing it carefully at the bottom
of my suitcase. I can still see it watching
me, waiting for the other pieces of its face.

But I still don't know its pattern and don't
know how to stitch it back together.

 

[Tathagata]

2-10

.....

 

[RhymeFairy]

3~4


depression sinks, teeth razor
sharp, nibbling mind control
on a daily basis. eroding actions
decompose, revamp
a drunk rage. time never

stands still. all veins road blocked
by shouting memories. memoires
of a broken spirit, to tired to fight.
depression stinks ...


...

 

[4degrees]

3~4


depression sinks, teeth razor
sharp, nibbling mind control
on a daily basis. eroding actions
decompose, revamp
a drunk rage. time never

stands still. all veins road blocked
by shouting memories. memoires
of a broken spirit, to tired to fight.
depression stinks ...


...

 

[4degrees]

9-23

sediment accosting the
natural flow
synthetic mud chokes
a vital vacuity
watch me recycle
living on my offal
sentiments divine
dispite this visual.

 

[wildsweetone]

11

Not all history is written

She holds the family bible
against her chest but doesn't pray
for the recordings inside the worn cover,
births and deaths of family members
tracing back generations written
in ink, flourished capitals
and embossed lettering laying
on the pages, history noted.
There is a name missing,
two generations not included,
and they are the ones I know.

 

[RhymeFairy]

3~5


lured in, by pitch black
magic.


night shades turn me on.
an enchanted new world,
where bodies bow
in bewitchment.

a sleight of hand
conjured up by smoke
and mirrors. candles lit,

keep lightening
feather strokes, fresh.
circles of lust steam.
streaming off twin talesmen.
bathed, in admiration.

this, is
the battle ground,
where soft spoken spells

tame a haunted mind
and lay to rest, the ruse,
of muses playing music
with words, forgery or fake.

it all washes out in the light
of day. when magic mesmerizes
and vacuum seals the soul.


...

 

[vampiredust]

8-12

Little Devils

Little scratches appeared
on the windows of the C1
bus when the groups of kids
started arguing amongst
themselves about who

was better looking,
who had the least, who
bled the most. Perhaps
the creature dragged
out of their subconscious,

kicking and screaming,
knew this, intent on showing
them how it was done.
Dragged inside, adults would prize
open its mouth, thinking

it would show them the root
of any evil lurking inside,
rows of teeth spread like alternating
tracks of DNA, the missing parts
lodged inside the children's mouths.

 

[Tathagata]

2-11

.....

 

[TheRainMan]

8-1

.....

 

[wildsweetone]

12



Layers

I see layers in others, masks
that an onion peeler will not strip.
Identities hidden that allow for the writing
of hieroglyphics on stone, carvings
that outlast the most wretched of storms,
the rampage of unloving mothers who swaddle babies
in an attempt to save their immortal souls -
I am uncertain if they save their baby's
or their own. But beneath the layers
of cloth and secret, lay bare thoughts
of love and loss and the living.

 

[4degrees]

9-24

onward, trudge with thee
a coward who's shame runs deep
afaid of self first
then everything else on earth
this talk comes cheap
but the price on me
on my staggering soul
sets up one for sinkage
take time to torture and
you'll surely reap the very
best beast yet.

 

[vampiredust]

10-13

Early Morning, Westminster

Morning sky,
pale blue ink tipped
from somewhere
above the earth.
Beyond a bent pine,
the Cathedral's taut
tower keeps watch
over the minutiae
below. Reflections
in an office window
expose a twinkling
happening in a god
waking up, illuminating
faces hidden under beds,
teeth glistening like nickels,
flashing their prayers in morse.

 

[sellthecookie]

Aerial Views

Night in [...] is reserved for transactions.
Everyone kidnaps everyone
on the footbridge that straddles the intersection
between martyrdom & merchandise.
Each ascent, an exercise in freedom, a bid for survival.
I climb up tonight, exchange ransom letters
engraved in solemn winks,
and feel counted.

Always the darkness, the arena and ally.
And the sun, held hostage, blindfolded, at gunpoint,
barred from rendering our bodies as mere afterimages
of hopes.

While traffic below listlessly plods by,
handcuffed in exacted lanes and nonnegotiable U-Turns,
the pink & blue atoll is alive. Luminous. Splendid. Entirely
present. You shift weight. On a foot,
or a thought. And the stakes are upped.
No one ever goes back down intact.



-July 2006

 

[Tathagata]

2-12

.....