all of a sudden passion suddenly

[Tzara]

flowers

cut
tulips

in
vase

days
pass

stems
grow

long odd
reaching

towards
sun surge

swerving curved
and so extensive
where does such growth

so wild so very lengthening so finally desperate come from?

 

[Maria2394]

bumble bee erotica ( in progress)

Bumble to pink azalea

I want me some of that, pink baby
love the way you lay it out,
oh display, all on display! open your
pink blanket to the skies

I want me some of that, umm umm,
Gonna get me somma that, umm umm



Bumble to wisteria-

So many of you! Like lavendar
sisters, clustered and cloistered
hanging from leafless oaks
you tease me, knowing
I can only do so much,
and only one at the time
you are a harlot, sister wisteria
and tomorrow
I rustle my prickly bumble legs
between the velvet folds of your mother!

 

[Tathagata]

There are no doors here.
What is inside, remains inside,
no wafting tendrils of haloed smoke rings
wagging fingers under jambs.

This April, next April,
every April. It’s no spring,
it’s consistent, it’s contained,
it’s to the exclusion of all others.
There are no crocuses blighting their unsightly heads
in this room. Every seal secured.

So, if you, Rapunzel, climb out the window
to pick tulips and splash in puddles
leave your hair behind. There are no doors
here
and I need something pretty to pet.

Doors lead to more doors
or empty rooms
you wander in a-maze-ment
over the same ground thinking
" the next room will be furnished just the way I like it"
sitting on pins and needles awaiting your
revelation

but windows allow us
unseen to see the depths
of your fear and anger
when alone in your tower
you cut off your hair
denying access
and escape

i wait beneath
a weeping willow
for your jericho

" and the walls came down"

 

[annaswirls]

we circled Dallas/ Fort Worth for thirty minutes
the captain mutters alive, alive into crosswind current
and we run our fingers over the rivets
they are smooth, smooth and still this friction.

I promise I will not mix my piss
with that of the upper class
if for nothing other than our own safety
remain in your own cabin
desire only that which you are accustomed
no lap napkin snap
no twist top family wine

our wing tips tilt
we fall like a feather in an updraft
rebound like ballet
I breathe deep the air jet
while unsettled overhead compartments
are emptied of heavy baggage
everyone knows
we wait our turn for the midnight kisses
from the cockpit
alive alive

 

[Last_Kiss]

Six years old, he did what he was taught;
to press 911 on the telephone
to reach the police if
feeling scared, touched
in the wrong place, a family member
lying on the floor
appearing abnormal; eyes
closed, body moving
uncontrollably or their chest
not moving up and down from
not breathing.

His mother collapsed to the floor,
the operator was called and she
said to stop playing with the phone,
he calls again and gets
the same reaction.

Mommy dies.

 

[vampiredust]

O Rocketman

We watched him sleep,
curled up in his artificial
womb that hung without
cords in the blackened
sea. His only companions
were the occassional
chirrups and bleeps of
command trying to find
his wandering star. Static
filled the emptiness of life,
slowly replacing the depleting
oxygen as his source of irony.
We watched him slowly bleed
as he fell to earth.It was the
only time that I had
seen fire turn into a man.

 

[Last_Kiss]

I smell peaches and smoke
mixed together and I run through
the house frantically, heart
beating rapidly with two
smoke detectors going off,
having to close the windows
and beat them off the walls
with a long broom so
neighbors wont hear on this
beautiful warm Spring day, finding
my child in the bathroom, sitting
on the corner of the bathtub who
lit toilet paper on fire after
lighting the peach candle on the
windowsill and she didn't even have
the excuse of using the toilet.

 

[RhymeFairy]

duct tape
rope
a lil crazy string
these are the things
my LilOne lives for.
wrapped around, tilted
just right
spraying his webs
flying through
air-born.
webbed wings
spider fingers, stick
like glue on white walls
round
round
dreaming his awe
inspiring dream
to be
... spiderman ~

 

[annaswirls]

it was not relief exactly
that I felt
from this split between us
by a third hand holdoing the mallett

sledge hammer
chisel
what is the tool used to split cement
something swift, heavy


but when it came down
a single blow the ring of metal on stone
deafened me I saw you ffall from the cliff face
shatter to the ground
disappear into powder
I confess
I breathed a little easier for a moment
before the grief set in

you would never write
"shatter to the ground"
you would never write
"breathe a little easier"
or
"set in"

buut I do
bacause the hand that holds the hammer
is wrapped around my neck
only small words squeek out

 

[annaswirls]

it was just a small bite onm her hand
as she shook the shirt from the dryer
quick flip of the tail sting
just a flood of liquid fire under skin
she said

you are not going to die or anything
dont worry
unless you are one of those people
who is sensitive to the scorpion
they are just a bit of a pain

no reason to stay North, that is for sure

we are at the nicest french restaurant in the city.
the waiter says
Bon appetite y'all.

and I can already feel the first sting
that time I forget to shake out my shoes
the cat brings us dead tarantulas
she is so proud

 

[annaswirls]

I steal these words
these moments
they do not belong to me
I scan he walls for hidden Nanny cams,
wishing away the desires that are unspeakable
wishing I had nothing to hide
wishing my life was one projected onto a screen
pg 13 all viewers allowed
no animals have been harmed
during the making of this film

I steal these moments that I write to you
they do not belong to me
they will not go further

give me a new name
make me invisible
take me "as is"
no one promised a return

oh to be able to write
fuck you fuck you fuck you fucker
without the record of keystrokes

I lied
just now
you are not invited into my everything

 

[flyguy69]

::

She chooses words like a hunter
hefting steel, one eye spiraled
down the barrel. The ballistic decision
that can’t be schooled: how many grains
to get his attention, how many to kill him
with heartache. When her casual finger swings
from target to target the winced breath
of men curls the corners of her mouth,
and she picks the next antlered head.
She taps her keys and I stumble, my eyes wide
with the bliss of this small death.

::

 

[Last_Kiss]

He darts out of his room
slobbering, in tears, barely
able to speak but got out
the word "cats"
pointing his finger down the hall
to his bedroom as I sat calmly
watching the evening news.

We don't own cats.

I gently grabbed his hand,
wanted to walk but he grabbed
my blouse, accidently popped
a button, pulled me down the hall
so fast, I tripped over my feet,
nose hitting the floor.

I rose, knew blood was dripping
down my face from the wetness
and he points to the drop ceiling,
starts screaming without notice
of my pained face I held in my hands.

My ears began ringing. This
is one torturous journey.

I looked up and saw three
kittens who escaped from
the apartment upstairs,
peeking their furry heads
threw the holes in the ceiling.

I call the landlord, son.
There are plenty more repairs
to be done.

 

[4degrees]

passion
dark purple and velvet
the inside of my heart
the heat of headstrong
determination
detonation of the now

thoughts run through my mind
like long fingers over my smile
fourth of july baby,
was never like this
and may fifth-
no effective measure
of the sheer width
the depth of space
and the solid connection of
gravity in the atmosphere
always, its been right here

i continue to breathe you,
day in and out, you are the o in
my blood, the heavy red ink
my singular componant
and reason to survive this life
so fucking far away.

 

[annaswirls]

"lover" is a word I thought I would miss
in my vocabulary
but no no it no longer exists on my lips

do I dare praise the good lord from tearing the page?

tomorrow I paint over the permanent markers
on the trim of our walls
black sole scuff
door knob dent

radio high wolf hopwl and wicker chairs
anything to exercize the lips
the ships that carry raw sugar into our port
I saw the rusted claw rain down the crystals

I too try to fall burrow under
below the radar of your voice
calling me
lover, lover?
lover

your makrs are faded painted over baby
you come out
in the wash

 

[annaswirls]

again I pretend
that I can do this alone

nothing rubs clean

 

[vampiredust]

The Prometheus Man

I watched him burn again
yesterday, his body turning
into a blackened moth wing
before reassembling itself
under the silver birch tree
in the garden. I never asked

him (or god or nature) why
this infected him the way it
did, I just stood there and
waited for it to come into
my own particular river and
catch everything we owned
in its acrid net. But one day

The fires started to make
him seize. I saw him writhing
as a bird of flames caught him
by his spine; twisting every bone,
every tissue, every cell in its
rust colored beak. I saw him climb
to the roof and fall; turning
into fire as he fell.

 

[annaswirls]

it starts with the second time
just like always
they whisper parts of speech
I suck my words back in
before they pollute the atmosphere

global warming indeed
shush it jenny

 

[4degrees]

the warmest rays
spread out like
massive gilded wings
saturation, heavy with
this phenomenom
expanding in my head
distance stops existing
every day; more i feel
concrete fusion with
the man i love.

 

[Tzara]

Grand Canal

We crossed the Rialto Bridge.
All was shops.

On the other side, a church
out of plumb.

You licked a gelato cone
as we walked.

"I love Venice so," you sighed.
No hands touched.

 

[Sara Crewe]

We sat and watched the river
get swallowed by the shadows
of the bridge. You would tell
me fish stories and I would call them
fibs. I could tell you were lying
by your smile. I didn't mind.
It did things to me that made me want
to kiss you but I just smiled back.
I was nine and you were ten.
There were no roses or diamonds,
just your arm around my shoulder.
I didn’t know there was more
and I hadn’t yet learned
how much less there could be too.
I often go back to the river
but you are never there.

 

[annaswirls]

it took some time before we noticed
there were no street signs
and looked down
for the number
of the narrow walkway
marked in tile mosaic

our packs were heavy

later lost again piazza piazelle
campo we found a mattress down a staircase
on the square
someone was sleeping there

we put away the map
Salvadore Dali opened my torso
like a four drawer dresser

we lean over ropes
to see inside

Grand Canal

We crossed the Rialto Bridge.
All was shops.

On the other side, a church
out of plumb.

You licked a gelato cone
as we walked.

"I love Venice so," you sighed.
No hands touched.

 

[flyguy69]

::

I wear you like a mask,
your flesh pulled
tight to mine, your musk seized in fistfuls,
slapped to my chest and smeared
down
down
over ridges and hard-
edged hips. I wear you
like skin stretched
over thrashing joints rug-burned
and raw. You’re in my nose
and mouth and your deafening
blood is a drum
to which I dance.

::

 

[Tzara]

it took some time before we noticed
there were no street signs
and looked down
for the number
of the narrow walkway
marked in tile mosaic

our packs were heavy

later lost again piazza piazelle
campo we found a mattress down a staircase
on the square
someone was sleeping there

we put away the map
Salvadore Dali opened my torso
like a four drawer dresser

we lean over ropes
to see inside

The Persistence of Gluttony

In his old age, the mustache wax
was all that held him up. His body
was like waxwork—the cliché pose
straight from Madame Tussaud. Like
Andy, later, caught in his own pomp

and image. And, like Andy, industry.
Signing numbered Arches paper so
some knockoff kid could lay a print
just odd enough yet tamed to fit
suburban living rooms. "I own

a Dali," Babbitt says and is content,
knowing that the neighbors think
him arty, intellectual. The aged
artist's rep left melting like his clocks.

 

[annaswirls]

we say it again
spoon
spoon
spoon
until it bends under the weight of the sound of its own name
spoon

uber reality

we drip like glycerine
into a pool of familiarity

she said darling
your lifestyle does not match
my sofa
take it down, take it down

The Persistence of Gluttony

In his old age, the mustache wax
was all that held him up. His body
was like waxwork—the cliché pose
straight from Madame Tussaud. Like
Andy, later, caught in his own pomp

and image. And, like Andy, industry.
Signing numbered Arches paper so
some knockoff kid could lay a print
just odd enough yet tamed to fit
suburban living rooms. "I own

a Dali," Babbitt says and is content,
knowing that the neighbors think
him arty, intellectual. The aged
artist's rep left melting like his clocks.