30 Poems in 30 Days

[4degrees]

11-6

personal dis-value in
ideas of coincedental
whether purpose is
discovered or
may never be
a reason lies behind
every piece, every me
every you
fives, strung together
lead to things like
star wishing, straining to
see the gas rings of a planet
looking up in endless space
searching for a twinkling constellation
that was named for you
or you for it, vice versa
order here is of no use, like
was it the egg or the bird...
none of that matters anymore
today, i rallied round
a circle jerk...you were in
the center
although we were but strangers
it never seemed random
not for a second
and today is proof
that it wasn't.

 

[AChild]

2-14

light cupped
mother with magician hands
crown me umbra

 

[loserstyx]

6-7

Filler
This poem is here
to hold the place of another.
Time
Time
Time
It runs our lives and slips away,
so there will be no poem today,
however tomorrow you will see,
a true poem where it should be.

 

[vampiredust]

------

 

[darkerdreamer]

4-15

I've got a slow burn for you.
You're the jumbo camping propane tank,
I'm the candle with the flicker-flame
dancing across the top.
Only a matter of time 'til you get too damn hot
or my wick burns down too low,
and this whole damn city is going up in flames.

 

[annaswirls]

2-love-3 the problem with the fires of passion

I cannot see beyond the glow
only when everything goes cold
am I desperate enough
to rub sticks
crack flint
cut the belly of the wolf
anything to thaw fingers
and write red memories and longing
across the very snows
that blind, consume

 

[champagne1982]

2007-2-26

A Prayer To The Wind

Blow away this funk I seem to find
myself lolling around in. They
don't call it funk for nothing.
There's an unhealthy stink rolling
through, like fog; breath-stirred
miasma, if you know what I mean.
Come here and cleanse the air,
to change my perception of exactly
how dark this black and if this
white's as clean as it seems.
Fresh air will set me right.

 

[AChild]

2-15

saturday
driving in the sun
move on shadow knowledge
smoking till my fingers burn
clouds strip the setting
of color

 

[wildsweetone]

75

The Secret Sister

Her face is a reflection of mother's.
The same green eyes and long nose
are tilted slightly upwards
as if royalty had been passed down
through genes minus the diamonds
that herald taste.

Her hands are the same too,
less twenty years of hard grafting.
Callouses and bent knuckles
taken for granted,
graded on bitter curses,
cleaved from family gatherings

where waifs and ex spouses
expunge the links
created to chain relatives together,
to purge the blood
until brains deprived of oxygen
rant and rave without fear

against the enemy named deceit.
Until the family dissolves
within itself
and each hides behind the shadow
of others.

 

[Guest]

07 2:7 Memory Dump

Sometimes when I sit here, my comp. .uter talks to me. It says
that everything is all right, it is not paranoia. No one is out to get me.

I agree while pop. .ping Xanx, looking over my shoulder as virtual hardware
bur. .rows under my nailbeds into veins. It wires me up,
erases memo. .ries and makes room for a whole new platform.

Vista is such a pig, there is nothing left except an outdated bod. .y.

 

[annaswirls]

2-love-4

First he turns his fears into a team of white sharks and then he turns the sharks into snow. Oh poet, fair poet, wherefor art thy metaphor? Does it hide in the plastic garden beside the cat who plays the cello?



my fear is a ceramic cat
playing the cello on the widow's shelf
if we screech down the scale it is by accident
among the scratched random chord and low vibe bass line
that hums me into calm sea
deep, my fear is white sharks
snapping at the cat on deck
praises be, she will never dive!
fiddle dee dee
shark, cats and me
pop in three more amino acid pressed powder pills
washed down with a capsule of fish oil
ah my fear slips through the glycerine sea
yes, yes
my fear
turns to snow on the ocean

 

[TheRainMan]

9-1

.....

 

[TheRainMan]

9-2

.....

 

[darkerdreamer]

4-16

finding a molecule of caution
in the blinding whirlwind that is your
sub-atomic composition
is the same as
finding a piece of hay in a needlestack;

the more one digs,
the more they dig in.

 

[4degrees]

11-7

weakened
a full week into
this thing again
i ate my muse last night
my crave got the best
of me, and him
now poetic ambition
digests in an acid burn
and will re appear
as something
less than appetising.

 

[vampiredust]

1

Seaweed

Carrageen Moss

Fergus scrawled a line
from Mahon on a council
wall. At the heart of the
ridiculous lies the sublime,
British watchtowers wailing
like banshees as Belfast burnt.
His Nike trainers sang Just Do It
as he flew on his Pegasus,
lobbing a molotov at patrolling
coppers. Nero had it easy.

 

[champagne1982]

2007-2-27

I Need To Get My Car Fixed

This obligation is to myself
so why should I find
it an effort to fulfill?

Just let the words happen
without fret and anxious
struggle to build a poem.

Maybe I need to take a break
after this and let my thesaurus
find the words, alone.

 

[wildsweetone]

76

The Decider

I will walk where there are no paths,
no street lamps,

no streets.

I will walk in waist high weeds
decisions of where to place my next step
foremost in my mind, thoughts

of what I will leave behind
will be the boulders that bar my way,
block the clear path, divert
me to the 'next best' way, tricking
my mind like sugar substitutes
that leave that bitter aftertaste on tongues.

I will walk, and
I will decide.

 

[Guest]

07 2:8 Junior's Scar

It passed by last month
and I hadn't noticed the pang
of sudden loss, the one SIDS can do.

I guess they are right.
They whoever they are say,
"time heals".

It is true because there is no longer
an open sore, infected
and never purging the grief.

It was where your tiny fist
thrust into my chest and held
the best part of me.

Though now, I have two that fill
the hole while the first lives
in a shiny, mended over memory
and like wounds, scars fade.

 

[AChild]

2-16

This is not the fear of elements
fear gets put in the box
and all the cast listen for the
knock, don't let it out
just watch for caution sign

we know just how to hold
this input, curing philosophies in
the salt bowl
speaking,
in drafts of beer

pour
mind left at the bottom like live
yeast count the bubble for a thought
you can put faith in

 

[vampiredust]

2

Laver (nori)

Filiberto never quite
understood the point
of red pubic hair. Or,
more accurately,

the point of any pubic
hair. He'd pull down Nora's
piranha hemmed panties
and examine the copper

fringe staring back. No
matter how hard he tried
(even using his patented
submachine gun smile)

he couldn't see what to do.
Breakfast time consisted
of hay and lots of water.

His salty breath was the one
thing his mother never
understood. And there, caught
in a crown was a thin strand,

waiting for the fish inside
of him to leap up and catch it.

 

[TheRainMan]

9-3

.....

 

[champagne1982]

2007-2-28

I've been working on this so I'm counting it as today's

Sweet Boy

Sweet boy. You travel through my dreams
and leave these windings of cerebral cortex
unstrung; stretched tight along pathways
of thought I should never explore.

Selfish visitations of your voice inside
my heart keep me greedily listening
for more whispers of delight, and promises
of adventure, in a journey my soul makes.

Sweet boy. It's your footsteps in my salience
that keep insanity at bay, when its dark shadow
slithers down the hallway of my medulla to find
the lizard brain awake and hungry.

Sexual invitations waft through the air. Scents
of musky welcome tickle my nose and I know
the pheremonal evidence stirs more than lustful
ideas. I'm aroused and ready, just like you.

Sweet boy. Climb out of this labyrinth of dreams
and give your need to me. I know you imagine,
in those secret corridors, that I must wait
behind a door. Your mind or mine? I don't know.

 

[darkerdreamer]

4-17

Lathe

shave inch after inch
until you are satisfied
with my shape,
i twirl within your clutch
endlessly
for even wear.

i hope you will realize,
i exist within the discarded sawdust,
not the finished product.

 

[Guest]

07 2:9 Brown

I cut it after a fraction
of an inch because of the lunatic
next door does his that way.

He does it to not be out done
and I do it because
I don't want to be a bad neighbor.

I'm always doing that,
not letting the baby grass grow.
I don't want to make
good on what dad said.

Be seen as lazy or ass-backward
with dead Fords and washing machines
on the front lawn.
Or worse, look dumb, not able
to run a John Deere.

I cut it short, until growing season
has passed. Some days
it's harder to push that mower
not because of the hills,

or how thick the lawn gets
after a Northwest rain. It's harder
when I see the the grass
turn green to brown to just dead.

I've killed it;
so much like everything else
in order to look good.