all of a sudden passion suddenly

[champagne1982]

When does white turn to silver
to grey then dust?
Can a smile ressurect
the brilliance that has faded
from the blue that once was the sky
but is gone.

Gone to the burdens of snow
carried over the lake
to land on the shore
trees over there.
Blue or grey, winter frosts
all to silver and then white.

 

[vampiredust]

Waking

I've been thinking of going back
to the coma I've just woken up from,
life seems to have lost its shine, nothing

excites me anymore. Not the sky, not the
clouds, not even you. Life seems to be
draped in a perennial grey cloth. I hate the way

people walk up and down like the tides of the sea,
I hate the way they shove and push for the things
they want in life. I'm so fed up of seeing crows scrape

the desert of mud and bones that occupies the centre
of my mind. I'm sick of it all, so sick of this life, which
is nothing more than a eulogy - something to be consumed

and spat out like the notion of life in the twenty first century.

 

[vampiredust]

Potholing In The Snow

A man with stars at the end
of his fingers is sipping chamomile
tea through a straw, it cascades

through his translucent chest,
lighting up his mechanized
organs on its way down. No,

I've never seen anyone like him
but then I doubt anyone has.

 

[annaswirls]

I was 13
I wanted what John and Yoko had
the love that knows no tone
needs no color

my mother said
it is not natural
I remmember mother being discusted as I swooned not for john
but for the love

what isn't natural?
I must haeasked five times
and the noly thing I could get from her was
something about how he watched her go to the bathroom

and god
I did not understand
but it seemed perfect
and I did
understand

how I want to share our everything
have you kneel on the pale yellow carpet
between my knees
hold me while I let go
your teeth on my nipple you such from me
what you cn get
how can this be unnatural
what comes from me what comes from you it is ours
to do with what we please
and I am still there
with my head down tears
he holds my shoulders
I stand behind
we move

 

[annaswirls]

it will not make up for the times
I reminded you of who
paid
the
bills
in grad school and it will not erase
the told you so traffic tickets but baby can I try to make it right
with my cock loving slut mouth
crawling to you crawling to you undner desk
unzip and unfold your softness onto chair leather
take you in and in the machine signals new messages
i I want you to try to read baby
try to read as I open you further tungue you in opklaces
that make you
twitch and flinch

it will not make uop for the times I woke to find the recytcling still in the kitchen
slamming doors in exasperation
no
and I will never iron your shirts darling like those other wives god their houses so clean
their children so behaved
and
bills
never
late

but baby can I make it better if I beg you
and spoil you and demand you take me harder and now
and across the table at lunch you know
you know you must be the onjly motherfucker married to such a dirty
all fours satin wrapping fuck me anywhere
slut wife who wakes you only with her ass
sliding you in spooning style
good morning god I love you
bitch dont make breakfasta
half awake you are cumming up her back
good morning god I love you
with a clear glass of water
and a towel

 

[Maria2394]

i want you to show me
a picture of you ar recent one
i want you to buy a copy of USA TOday
and hold it to your face abd click, click
BOOM< fire away, a shot of your face
in my inBOX dammit, I hate you
your liars' face, your liar's words,
I want a picture of you on a carton
a milk carton, I want to know youre real
really real as in missing, as in i will never
fucking touch you, have you, hold it
hold it steady to your face, i want to see
the stippling of my tears on your cheek
as both our lives slip slip away

 

[annaswirls]

he tells me baby you have to find her
someone like you
me I think I would be better off paying someone
no no no

what, write a personals ad?
wanted:
one woman.
30ish-50ish
must not know how to make conversation
must know how to allow me to remove her skirt without
knowing my sign
or address

shall I write
how to go to the grave
without knowing your scent on my fingers
your flavors the feel of tissue hardening in my mouth

mwf seeks same
please do not speak
but arch and beg and hold my head in closer
must have musclke to pull and demand

multi-orgasmic is a plus
but not necessary
shall I write that my darling?
how I am looking for the pulse
of a woman under my tongue
like Pretty Woman
no kissing
leave your boots on
they are made for walkin baby
looking for someone who knows how to use them
step step step away

 

[annaswirls]

oh girl I wish I had it in me to let go
with the liar yes and god I hate you yes
god so jealous of your diamond slice and melted gold burn
because god I know that feel
I know it
I know it
but I cannot say it


used to ba all I wrote was bastard poemtry
is it the wine?
is it the age?
is it the discconnect that eases my anger
my pain
or has it eased my standard
to not expect a face
a name

maybe I just forgot howto care enough
to ache
to dip below the ride
shhhhh be sweet little jenny
be sweet

i want you to show me
a picture of you ar recent one
i want you to buy a copy of USA TOday
and hold it to your face abd click, click
BOOM< fire away, a shot of your face
in my inBOX dammit, I hate you
your liars' face, your liar's words,
I want a picture of you on a carton
a milk carton, I want to know youre real
really real as in missing, as in i will never
fucking touch you, have you, hold it
hold it steady to your face, i want to see
the stippling of my tears on your cheek
as both our lives slip slip away

 

[annaswirls]

I thought I would write a poem about I and I wrote it
and I wrote about my
my
my
m
y

and I

did I read about me
the time when I
and we
and there was even a you
and maybe when I
I
I stumble upon a hot flash
or
or
or
what shall I do
write of war
of from the perspective of someone I shall never meet
when I I I have so so much to say about me me me
don't you agree
oh
how
dull
pink
dull

so self absorbed
the sponge drips heavy

 

[annaswirls]

and the news said
silesia
Silesia
my home land
can I roll back the generations
back to painted cedar chests
when Mozart was not yet born
shall I stirp the mutts from my pedigree
and call you home?

not a drop of my blood remains
on my homeland
not a drop of blood spilled
under fallen metal and concrete
their blood was frozen thickness oozed around the crystals
that were not mine

purified
purified
purified

why do I see my father
in your graves
why do I hear my son
calling to me
save me mother save me
packed into quilts
in the middle of the night
the bastard children of silesia
sprouted under our toes

my toes
yes
my toes are the part of me
that remember
the numb death
or our children

 

[annaswirls]

I am what's wrong with internet poetry
she said

I have the abc and the snap shy star sign
glow my teeth white
I write poems
like most people shake a hand
and say
hello
how are you

it has been so long
it has been so long

and again
tomorrow
something new for you
another hand out
another flip chart snap shot
of this struggle better left pencilled in

 

[Maria2394]

dear anna dear-

anna im glad you admire
that diamond slice that leaves
me aching lonely in the dark
craving the glow of the melting
gold splattered across an absent foreskin

i wanted him come to me naked
like a bushman, like a Zulu warrior
instead he appeared to me as a vision
a ghost of a memory draped in cartoon
anger, he is a wild man in his dreams

in mine he is the one from Borneo
do you remember little rascals?

Yum Yum eatem up, and he would have

just for a ball of candy,
just for a ball of candy

 

[4degrees]

as real as this smoke
i suck into my death
my breath
chest
heaving and seeming
to rise and fall
with my twin
never leave me

entire twisted tryst
of fate and fuck
backdoor black dog
feed my frontal lobe
repition
repition
its a condition of us
a grain of time
and a fragment of matter
a billion stars
a hundred billion unseen planets
and you ended up on mine

a lush garden
made for you
soft and one with nature
pure perfection
my one selection
i love the you of you

 

[bogusbrig]

This is from last night when I looked across the back of my studio and saw a naked woman at the window.

The sparse light undressed her
Naked and undressed again
By the window’s raised blinds
Her highlighted form lighting up
This ungodly hour

Outside my studio window I sit
Glowing in the light of a cigarette
I do not hide as she stares
Towards and beyond me
As if lost in contemplation

I assess the contours of her form
Her full breasts and broad hips
The smooth slab of her belly
My eyes straining to penetrate
A tuft of hair and shadow

Does she appear every night?
Inviting the delinquents who refuse to sleep
To mentally unfold her
To cut their tongue, like a callous blade
Up between her legs

His hands reached about her
Turned her and pulled her into the room
The globes of her buttocks
Melting like a moon on my memory
The night returning its lonely hour

Well I've had the good fortune to see her this morning, dressed unfortunately. She looks Arabic or at least middle eastern, not a classic beauty and but sex radiates from her. Maybe it's my fertile imagination but who cares?

 

[Maria2394]

about dimensions more than three
the website said that TIME is number four
and mere humans could not wrap their brains
around the possibility of a dozen more
or more. I was thinking that were thinking
about it the wrong way, it cant always be
tangible, cant awalys be flat or round why not
consider the imagination as a dimension?
why not consider sleep another, why not
consider dreams the ultimnate, because
then someone must assign an equation
to explain why I can fly when I sleep
why I wake with a poem hanging
on my lips like its about to fall from a cliff

I believe in strings and superstrings and I believe
in silly strings and shoe strings and that the fibers
are threads of all our souls in harmony
and in flux, yes it sucks, takle that and tuck it
into the deminsion of the undefined, the one with no matter
the opposite of here or there, the opposite of
the opposite of time

 

[champagne1982]

I need to tell you about this
place I've been dreaming
the music as riffles skip
over the stones
the stones imperfect instruments
send prayer notes along
the stream caught in an eddy
current carries the song
back up the bank
only to be invested again
in the flow and get
carried off.

Bank Notes?

 

[Maria2394]

my friend Gonzalo told me
about his horse, he was proud
of how he rode her into town,
and the horse was mistaken for a burro
by a girl, he thought it was funny
that she didnt know the difference,

and the next day he told me about a blanket
his maother gave him when he was five
it was made of sunshine, and he covered himself
with it as the sun went down, when he wasnt in town
and I laughed at him and he toldme, in Mexico
we were never cold, mama warmed up with sol
and stories and we had each other,
fourteen sisters and brothers.

i miss him....

 

[vampiredust]

Story

My mind wanders through alleyways,
in search of something but I'm not
quite sure what. It weaves in and out
of the floorboards in my neighbors'
flat, peeking when they row, dissapating
into the sewers when its time to eat.

It flaps its wings and leaps off the tallest
buildings for a dare. It climbs lakes
in search of treasure and builds houses
on mountains just to say it can.

My mind occassionally returns, but my pen -
that's been gone a year.

 

[TheRainMan]

the right thread . . .

Blind Spots


Our genesis
was our own creation,
like Escher’s hands—

a symbiotic concoction
.....to turn our flat surfaces
..............to spatial perplexities

nourished by the ink we lavished,
by the water and good fortune
of our crossed cups.

Eyetricks hard-wired in the brain
ignore the dark space
of the other side—

like retreat from a mirror
........................it appears

only when you stop looking.

 

[Angeline]

Blind Spots


Our genesis
was our own creation,
like Escher’s hands—

a symbiotic concoction
.....to turn our flat surfaces
..............to spatial perplexities

nourished by the ink we lavished,
by the water and good fortune
of our crossed cups.

Eyetricks hard-wired in the brain
ignore the dark space
of the other side—

like retreat from a mirror
........................it appears

only when you stop looking.

You remind me of a man.
What man?
The man with the power.
What power?

The power to see the back of his head.
No one will ever see the back of their own head.

Barring mirror tricks you don't--
in spite of what my mother claimed--
have eyes in the back of your head

The man with the power
reminded me I am powerless to know
that landscape of myself

unreflected

so I didn't think
about my own head
or any surfaces
that can't reveal
their own depths.

I watched the back of his head instead,
pretending not to see how light shone
on thick curls, how if I turned my face
enough to peek past my own black veil

his fingertips brushed guitar strings
that resonated in me without a sound.

 

[Tzara]

Lizards above free-falling off books,
and back into two dimensions. Waterfalls
flow uphill, ascending staircases,
always ascending.

Escher thought about UP
and how to get off the page
up in your face, into the next spacial
permutation, UP. It's only ink,

but how is it that up is where lizards are,
up this water, up my stomach
into my throat when I see
your name?

(be glad I didn't say up with my lunch)

Ekphrastic Poem

M. C. Escher: Reptiles (1943)
Lithograph


Look here, look there, or else
elsewhere. In close visual field
the cues are true. Consistent
view of space, perspective.

The larger picture is askew.
But in a way the mind can't
track, focused as it is on little
things, intellectual bric-a-brac

of lizards crawling out of tiles,
over book in detailed style, back
to that same notebook, the old pond.
Plop! And there perception's bound.

 

[Tzara]

his fingertips brushed guitar strings
that resonated in me without a sound.

Sympathetic Vibration

It's a kind of hum, acoustics,
sine waves over sine and cosine,
building. It is how you walk
and I walk with you—my longer legs
linger with yours as we speed
the same. How odd and wonderful
that syncopated strum, held one
by hands entwined. There's no
conductor timing it, just physics,
dear. That holds the world in line.

 

[flyguy69]

Duck Off

When ducks shit
all over my poetry I knew it was time
to move indoors, away from hard nosed
critics slinging greenish
commentary. What the hell
do they know of the feathery edge, the shell-
thin line between cloying
sentimentality and stark ascetism? They’ll turn one eye
away from cracked metaphors, but enjamb
on prepositions and they’ll raise a flap
like a twelve-second delay at a green light in Manhattan.
Crap! Crap! Crap! they squawk as they deliberate
each step, shifting their weight back
then forth on the uneasy
terrain of the bank. They flock at the feet
where crumbs are dropped
and preen the curly feathers
on their butts.

 

[champagne1982]

The thing about men
is that they're clever
and highstrung
and you know when you watch
them they've just begun
to tease and torment
and battle and bait
until it's too late
to say sorry

Apologies seem to die
on their lips if allowed
to wait too long
but if you coax them out
in the notes of a song
it's sweet and sincere
and precious and pure
as he dangles the lure
off the hook

I do love men
don't get me wrong
but I don't think I should
let them string me
along

 

[flyguy69]

The thing about men is that
we let it all hang, like bait
in deep water. We scratch
our heads. What happens
in the unfathomable fathoms
of a woman? Yank! Something's got
my string! Loose the anchor
and toss the cargo, I'll follow
this nibble anywhere! Don't get me
wrong, I love women, I just wish
they were careful with their teeth.

The thing about men
is that they're clever
and highstrung
and you know when you watch
them they've just begun
to tease and torment
and battle and bait
until it's too late
to say sorry

Apologies seem to die
on their lips if allowed
to wait too long
but if you coax them out
in the notes of a song
it's sweet and sincere
and precious and pure
as he dangles the lure
off the hook

I do love men
don't get me wrong
but I don't think I should
let them string me
along