all of a sudden passion suddenly

[Maria2394]

Bushman

he dont like no tshirts talkin
dont matter what they say
he dont like no t-shirts talkin,
Take that bitch
take that bitch away

he wont listen to reason
let the soldiers stay
he dont like no talking shirts
spirt that bitch away,
spirit that bitch away

taker to abu ghraib, taker to abu graib

he dont like no t-shirts talkin
take that bicth away
whatever happened to freedom of speech?
take that bitch away
take that bitch away, away

 

[champagne1982]

I wish they weren't so scared
the bullets fly too easy
when terror waits behind
the steering wheel.

Thankfully no one
was hurt, just doin'
his duty, man.

Don't criticize gut reaction.
It's no small thing to face
death's possibility every
day after day in day out.

I wish it didn't make me
want to cry for the loss
of faith, trust, innocence
in a generation of a once
youthfully fearless nation.

 

[Maria2394]

dances with bears in the sand

I saw the news in December, packages
send to the troops, and there ws this kid,
yes, he was a kid, walked three times
around a box of teddy bears,
he chose one, toffee brown and turned
to the camera and smiled
he missed the one he had at home.

I miss the boys I knew at Ft Jackson,
their smiles, the strength, the going
travel was an attraction, but
they cant pack teddy bears
in duffel bags, can they?

 

[Maria2394]

I cant make it

I cant make the war about me,
but I feel guilty, I too, was certain Saddam
had chemicals in bunkers, bombs in place
ready to erase the human race, at least
from the northern Hemisphere.

It was fear, the weak little man
ran his country with tyranny, and some people
from this one are doing the same, the lying
deception, they have no decency
and they are the ones who accept no blame

I fear the world doesnt trust America
much anymore, I fear that I trust
this president even less
than I ever did before

 

[Maria2394]

soldier boy, can I be

your mama, I would hold your hand
as you lay dying in foreign sand,
be it a bullet, an IED, a roadside bomb
that is taking your life away

soldeir boy, can I wipe
the tears from your eyes, as you lay dying
I will be your mother, your wife your sister
surrogate, me, let me feel your pain
thank you for dying for me, soldier boy
can i be the last face you see?

I thank you for dying for principle,
but i wish
it didnt have to be for me

 

[goldustwoman]

He's my electric blanket

turned on high temp
layed flat, warm
fuzzy and waiting
to wrap me
the same

 

[Maria2394]

Thor as tormentor

he comes to me in the voices of crows
caw he sees me naked caw he sees me cry,
caw he wakes me in the morning
icaw is hello and caw is always goodbye

come to me with yourhammer, Thor
pound some sense into me
senseless, i am when it comes to you
caw, come to me, come, then go go go

I wish he had an eye that he could loan me
i want to see what it is he sees
in me that makes him never really go,
caw come back, Thor, come back,

then go go go

 

[flyguy69]

There is a crow
I nicknamed Stupid
because it used to fall off
the eavestrough.

But now I think it might be a female
so I'm looking
for a new nickname.

Many's the bird
laid low by love.

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

Metamorphosis

tendon flexed fingers
over a sanded plateau of taunt skin
indentation of insistence
enhanced by an arched back
let loose the moment
and live forever here with me
each part of body becomes a new world
exploration of electric seconds
charged air crisp and turbulent
here, the current runs stronger
down the mountain of you
into my valley where every muscle
becomes strong banks to hold
the rush of you
further stronger
pulse of rapids over every rock and boulder
filling flooding through each crevasse
we meld
and become the sea together
tossing waves of lust
against unexplored shores
evaporate to the rain
seperating only to join again in violent storms
where we wash the canyons deeper still

 

[Sara Crewe]

Grammy yelled at the crows
every day when they woke
her. She blamed them
for the morning, the heat
and sometimes the rain.

She was sure they killed
old Tom down the road
but when I asked her
how, she shushed me
up with a biscuit stuffed
into my mouth and waddled
off, mumbling about kids
and crows and how they
were a lot alike.

 

[Tzara]

And Dies the Maiden

Of what did Priam's daughter, Polyxena, think on
as she stood before the pyre of Achilles—that pyre
on which she was to die, appeasing ashes of Achilles,
slayer of her brothers, by her lucky brother slain?

Did she think of the White Isles, and of paradise
immortal? Or rather of her country, parents, brothers?
Or of her sisters, captives of those foreign soldiers
no longer royal, coupled to the city's captors,

destined to estrangement and death in other lands?
What did the sorrowed lady ponder?
Seneca thus offers, in his play Troades this
defiance of the lady, at the point of death:

Nec tamen moriens adhuc
deponit animos; cecidit, ut Achilli gravem
factura terram, prona et irato impetu.​

Stand and crush that body, crush those ashes,
crush the spirit of Achilles, though he be dead,
and bury Grecian spirit that so triumphed overcoming
the magnificence of Troy. And so she perished.

Non stetit fusus cruor
humove summa fluxit; obduxit statim
saevusque totum sanguinem tumulus bibit.​

Her virgin blood though being shed did not stand
nor did it flow upon the surface of the earth. Instead,
was opened up the pagan ground to drink and swallow
all her blood. And even then, the pyre's fire flared.

 

[Man Ray]

I think...
when one is in love
one should be given a dove
this dove can then fly to one's love
love is special when carried by a dove
a special dove infused with beautiful love
waiting on your bird table, my love as a dove!

​

 

[Stella_Omega]

When the theater is filled with eyes
gleaming and
we are watching one man
play another in the flickering shadows;
I wonder, does he see us too?
When we walk out of the hanger
onto our milennial avenue
Does it call down the ages in some sort of sympathy
Are there ghosts in the seventeenth century
can he feel the tug of his doppelganger
who crafts him whole,
and then gives him to the crowd
can he know that we've made love to
his recreated soul?

 

[Decayed Angel]

in twisted twine impressions
turned over the firm tips
nipples stippled in an afterburn
hemp rough red in multilayer
an array displayed on curve
breath a motion, a rhythm
chaffed down and through
the most delicate warmth
and yet pressed to arms, thighs
now freed, but marked
of restraint, remembering
the final throes, strokes
as muscle and skin burned
reaching, searching, aching
for almost, almost, nearly
something so very close
so painfully far

 

[champagne1982]

Iron Pyrites

Crystalline jewels in shallow
walled valleys shimmering
as the quake warns of coming
upheaval. Intrepid prospector
wind through this vale, find
the treasure; mineral salts
coalesced into gems that lure
you into dangerous instability.

Terraine shook by passing
passion in your quest for rich
lodes. Trembling fingers
caress each bauble then brought
to those lips to taste and sample
the good of it. Mine this illusion
and sink your shaft into the rich
vein beneath the deception
and return to the world
a wealthy man.

 

[vampiredust]

My Grandparents House In Italy

Every time I pass white wooden shutters
I am taken back there. My grandparents
house had those old fashioned shutters
which looked like the old washboards
you used to get. Their house was a
relic with its old, dusty furniture and old
dusty ways. Even the lizards that hung about
on the balcony were aged. I guess that place

suited my grandparents. Grandpa
(or Nono as we affectionately called him)
was an honest man who sailed his cargo ship
throughout the oceans, I wasn't there when
he took his final journey. Mama was and even now,
I can still remember the look on her face when she was
told he was dead. Nona was a passionate woman born
with fire in her veins, but she, unlike Nono,
didn't understand the world.

To her, it was a crystal globe
that was never to be cracked, never to be broken into.
Just like the soul of their house.

 

[vampiredust]

Watching The Crows On Hampstead Heath

We sit under the watercolor sky
watching two crows wrestle
over a polystyrene cup.

The choreographer sits
in the background, moving
every wing, every movement.

Darwin watches from afar and smiles.

 

[Guest]

Stuffy, stuffy in an elevator
stank air, cacophony of colognes
nut to butt
noisy, fidgeting

Oh hell! No room to turn
don't panic

Do you really expect me to drop
my panties just like that?

Everyone stops

Cellphone eavesdrop
eyes drop lower
Hipster jeans, a peek of pink g-string
stuck in a hint of a perfect ass

Yes, yes please do
thank you for asking
it's a enough to keep me smiling to my floor

 

[vampiredust]

The Hook

I found a fishing hook
caught in my shoulder today,
its body dragged into my
flesh like a harpoon.
I could see a feint rim
of blood around the spear,
running like a river
down the valleys of my arm
and into the empty desert
of my hand.

I applied cream to the wound
but that didn't work. It sat
on the surface, waiting
to be absorbed by the light.
I tried using antiseptic
but that stung and didn't seep
into the cause of my pain.

I sat and wept as the hook lay there
I sat and wept
I sat and wept but nobody listened

 

[annaswirls]

I do not want to speak to you
in another chorus of first person pronouns
trying no keep my lips still
as I invent your answers.

I have pasted his face onto my memories of you
I cannot bear to have you looking at what I have become.
Yes, this is a letter that contradicts its own premise
by its very existence that clicks the scale
an ounce or two to the positive side of the numberline
measuring my own

but a passing wind
would do the same
we all feel the same on your face

I do not want to speak to you,
to invite you through my eyes
as I see them parade through
the endless stream of women
you would have swallowed whole
after I had been fully digested
coughed up in a pellet of fur and bones
but you
you left me wounded and alive
the last in a line of interchangable parts
pass the salt
look baby she is still pink inside

 

[annaswirls]

over the ravine right off our beltway exit
they found them in varing states of decay
cat skeletons
twenty two
I drive past there every day down Cromwell Bridge
down past the high school
makes me wonder if the biology teacher
feeds the rats to the cats and gets
the cat skins for free
and I wonder when you skin a cat
do the claws stay with the bone or skin
skin of course skin
I have seen the little claws on the feet
wrapped around the liver spot lady neck
fox be gone
skinny side up
I wonder if the cats still had their fur


*you feed the rats to the cats then feed the cats to the rats and get the cat skins for free from Husker Du something or another

 

[wildsweetone]

Wait

Wait. He says to wait.

Doesn’t he know she’ll wait forever
that she’ll wait until the earth no longer turns
and his eye-whites yellow
while the chills of cancer
curl through his body
cracking and snapping
his sap like toffee that shrouds the apple?

Doesn’t he realise that she’ll wait
beyond the burning of the golden cords
that bind them with earth and with each
other?

Does he not understand
that when she said she’d wait, she meant it
with every throbbing vein
in her body, every cell in a mind
that craves his touch, every hair
and every pore that crane
to know him?

All he needs to do is take the one step.

And she’ll wait until he does.

 

[4degrees]

a sharp stinging
mid-cerebral, no more
conjures shut out '...one times'...

its all coming back,
a fast flood of ignorance
and trust
lost
but always returning,
sooner or later

all it takes now
is a hint of chanel
or some soft floral smell
those internal gears
grinding me up like
hamburger
those long nails
leaving day-long scars
across my back

its not pain that
brings me to my knees
completely crystal clear to me
but too late

if i keep insisting that
i am gay,
maybe it will go away
and i'll not forget that
stinging whip too soon...again.

 

[4degrees]

in the process
setting myself up
asking for another
lovely head fuck
femme sheel-shock
after twenty plus years
i still don't get the rules
fooled and fearful
words spoken
in what language?
i'm thrown by that
venus accent
it all sounds like
'i love you'
to me

fuck i need a translator.
ha!

 

[Guest]

Cut the onions and every now and then
the tears fall along with the blade
across the wrist
the wrong way (thank god)

You put it all in the sauce
but not grief or regret

It was there behind the wine
and baby, I loved your marinara
especially the tip of your tongue touching
the corners of my kiss

Mostly pesco-vegetarian now
but bolognese is good
with its secret ingredient
mushrooms too
It fills me up and if it doesn't
I don't have to ask for seconds

Still, sometimes dessert is nice
even though I've had too much

I can't help but be a pig
I can't stop thinking about it
that something sweet to lick
always, creme brulee comes to mind