all of a sudden passion suddenly

[vampiredust]

The Sky Must Die

I watched you mumble
at the sky, hoping for
some retribution for all
the bodies buried deep
in your mind. You had
stood knee-deep in mud
and bones, watching clouds
collapse over your comrades.
There was nothing it hadn't
been the cause of, you argued
in the websites; poverty, injustice,
the failings of humanity...

As you stood there ranting,
you never noticed lightning
striking you at the back of
the head; an efficient sniper
that never misses, never regrets.

 

[Guest]

I am the colour of ash
soft and grey easily smeared
to a smudged memory
of fire and warmth.

No grit remains burnt
to finest dusting
smoothest charcoal
molded by my thumb
to a resemblence
of my former self.

You may burn me again
to finer ash or stretch me
to spread over the years
we share. Whatever
you choose I must comply
because I am the colour
of concremation.

 

[eagleyez]

sky cracks open
silence knows
your with me now
will be again

trail spent with fear
not enough living on the outside
trying to make it far enough
to the next time zone

catchin an all night station
somewhere in Louisiana
switchin it over to am
searchin for a truer sound

over the falls in a barrell
that where the answers have gone
now or never
too close to the ladder

ride the blue wind tonight
high and free
it will lead you down
to misery

if i had a nickel
id find a game
if i won a dollar
Id make it rain
If I won an ocean
Id drink it dry
Lay me down dissatisfied

violins and six strings
the chord they bring
tell my friends
Ive gone down to the river

ride the blue wind
high and free
it will lead you down
to misery
it will leave you low
as low as low can be.

jf.

 

[champagne1982]

recovery takes less time
than the years spent
breaking my heart
make it better and hold
the pieces close
in your powerful hands
and will the ugly scar
to fade and give it power
to beat again without pain
and send love coursing
through my veins once
more to touch you
my godlike healer

 

[echoes_s]

Slowly eating, savoring fleshly morsel
Internal organs, tainting blood
With cast away leftovers
And scavenged waste

Over the years devouring more
A downwards spiral
Fever, pain, inner screaming
Tortured massacre

Yet healing the wrath
Left by your wake
Will it be fast enough
To live or will you turn about

Suddenly wreaking havoc upon
Weakened fissures, tendered
And juicy for your
Senseless feast

Damn you i fight
Each ragged breath
Every jolted pain with
All remedial creation available

And my mind already insane
Can never be yours
And that is your bias
Your hate and rage

Will it be your final attack?
A senseless maiming
Sudden death
Or resurrection...

Who is stronger?

 

[RhymeFairy]

it matters not of strength
and brawn. determination
shall eat me alive
while my heart still begs for
one more morsel, taste of
forbidden skin as the salty bite
of tears tarnish
tongue and teeth. a constricting
collapsing throat tingles
desiring a decomposed
decayed memory of the last
supp. a hunger that haunts
this human anatomy, turning
a fragile hope into corpse
cardboard cutouts. stagnant
strength has wasted away
while brute and brawn bury
this feign heart. fragmented pains
of a meal once consumed ...

...

 

[Angeline]

Midnight Gobbler

barbeque sauce blood
on the pack as if murder
happened here and dripped
along my coffee mug

I said wasn't that
a Dylan album, blood
on the pack?

dead turkey legs
tell no tales. the culprit

licked his lips, hid his midnight
crime behind a smile.

I washed the evidence
away, lightened
my cup.

 

[annaswirls]

sometimes it is okay to write like this
with no intention of ever


just stop in the middle of a thought
start the next one
hope the next one comes

"who knows if the moon's just a balloon"
and who wants to argue with genis
or raise their hand and say
I know, mister I know
what the moon is

we sit at the key we scratch in the sand bleed on papyrus spray
the cave walls over our hands we reinvent the moon and everything it shines down on
and you say
it doesnt really shine
but we are poets yes?

he calls me dream writer
snaps me into my day
again

 

[TheRainMan]

sometimes it is okay to write like this
with no intention of ever


just stop in the middle of a thought
start the next one
hope the next one comes...............

In the Garden of the Missing


It’s quiet under the lemon trees—
the residents have been bathed and clothed.

They rest and break their bread here,
and a cloud-gray silence forms
around them like skin. The little chores

are all they can have—supervised
as they cut vegetables in the kitchen,
tend to the garden with a hose
and dulled shears, paste plastic covers

onto upholstery. Some days a blue sky
can make them troublesome, warm
brain cells above a manageable number,

especially in spring—

one may recall being the woman
of many men’s dreams. And
she’ll shake her gray hair in the sun,
elegant again and proud. Another

might refuse to wallow in self-pity,
to mistake kindness for dignity,
and go digging wildly in the garden
to see the dirt mingle with the sweat
of his hands, to smile
when it occurs to him that the soil
might actually still love him.

 

[vampiredust]

Catatonic

I watched you being stuck
under the frozen pond, your
face devoid of expression
as your thoughts started to drift
like the packs of ice moving
with the currents. But you
stayed. You never woke
from this state of mind, just
maintained this pose, as if you
wanted us to notice you, not realising
that we never actually would.

 

[vampiredust]

Velvet Gasoline

Sunlight reclines over the bones
of a fallen vulture, flesh slowly
pecked at by time and the occassional
photo flash.

A lone car wanders along the highway
trying to reach somewhere; not sure
of its destination, not sure how it plans
to get there.

And you are there, a modern day Aphrodite
with your clamshell; posing for photo shoots
and cigarette smoke
hoping it'll stop and take you away
from this vision you see in the mirror.

But it never does

 

[flyguy69]

::

Roadtrip

The road is sand giving way
underfoot, her heels bicycling
as if she might not go there.
There is no backing up.

This steady downward drone
of highway wheels is just one more
day. There is no doubt
from morning to night.

Like blacktop fixed
at both ends: home, work; him,
me.

::

 

[vampiredust]

Heatwave

A stream of runny ink
falls down the newspapers
front page, obscuring the view
of the PM whose party has melted
like ice-cream in the local election
results. People wrapped in shrouds
of sweat, fan themselves with paper
and cigarette smoke; head towards
the park with its overcrowded lake
and stalls full of tourist trinkets.
And then, when night finally appears,
bodies roll on uncomfortable beds;
watched by a butterfly, twitching its
legs as stormclouds appear somewhere
in Washington and London.

 

[Willows_Tears]

tweezed

her eyes are focused
concentration and steady hands of a neurosurgeon
she holds the angled tweezers
and pulls the hair to the root

"getting the right shape makes me feel pretty
it just makes me happy"

now with a illuminated tip and magnifing lens
steady, steady
the perfect brow


me I lean in and work them over
crooked bushy I will find the perfect shape
minutes later,
pulling like an early morning by the piece paid factory worker
goat chewing grass on a motor I pluck pluck
all the while writing this poem
paying no attention to shape
good lord, I know I have a pencil in there somewhere
maybe I can color in the bald patches
but really why bother

 

[OhMissScarlett]

One Year By 4degrees

Ever changing consistancy
Persistance of a known
Pertinance, such intentions
I'll not forget to mention
to you my dear

One year
of us, and trips around
the sun, a bright red glow
like lasers tie us tightly
straight from one soul to the other

My words come in jerks
of a hand, a pen remembers
how to write again and
interrupts the well known flow
that comes when I think of you
but I'd not let this day
pass by uncelebrated
you liberated a man
victim of self bondage and
showed him the truest thing ever
and for this, he loves you
and for you, he loves you

 

[vampiredust]

Unfinished Thoughts

The wilting sky offers
my hitchhiking thoughts
a lift on the lonely road
on the blue bleached sky,
but I can't see they aren't
interested in following bird
or airplane trails. Although
I only released them yesterday,
watching their metaphors beat
furiously against the wind, I
could still hear them in my mind,
all their feeling still beating against
my heart.

 

[vampiredust]

You should've seen themshe tells me

He had popeye muscles,
she had dyed candy floss hair

You should've seen them
posing like mannequins,
their skin melting under
the afternoon sun and all
the photographers trying
to catch them. She thought
they were icons that should've
been destroyed.

Everybody gets their fifteen minutes
of fame, they're time was up decades
ago.

But nobody had noticed

 

[vampiredust]

Brownout Society

Paper cup trends govern
the way our society works
somebody told me once, I'm
not sure who it was; I think
their life was washed away
in a flood of cappucino cups.
She understood the way life
was run, made decisions
not on economics but on trends.
Forecasting was her gift, but she
was never able to forecast
her death.

 

[Syndra Lynn]

Suggest a title?

I am ancient. I have lived! This life and many more.

The ravages of time may show, but “time-worn” is the essence of my beauty.

For a hundred years, I have built character watching fools and sages grow and die.

Yet I remain.

No storm has sent me over the edge. No winter wind has done me in.
No sweltering summer heat beaten me down.

The winds of change have twisted my frame.

Yet I remain

Nothing lasts forever and the day will surely come when I am done.
When I have danced my last. When I reach for the stars and lose my footing.
I will slowly tumble down.

But it is not this day. It is not this wind.
It is not this storm that does me in.

I will feel the sun upon my limbs another day
Because I bend, because I adapt

I remain.

 

[sugarmountain]

After midnight, while you sleep
I creep, to your door
insert the key you gave me
twist and turn, tiptoe
quick but quiet
to your bedside

to where you lay
folded in dreams
hold the sheets up
slip softly in and cup
yor warm breast in my hand,

in dreamland, you see
the sappling grow
know not of the wood
waiting to crowd your bush

as I push between your thighs
eyes open, sighs escape
as I penetrate deep into
your secret garden

you welcome your Mountain man
with soft hands
and softer insides
in nature's rhythm

until his timber splits
spills his sap from every seam
deep within you
or is this too a dream

 

[vampiredust]

Geometry

You drew lines in the wet
sand, trying to teach me
the geometry for places
that I never wanted to go.
As the waves washed your
mathematics away, I slowly
started to see your equation
everywhere. The world became
an experiment that I couldn't
hypothese or dictate.

 

[vampiredust]

I ripped my tongue out
so you would never hear
the words I wanted to say,
but the wind heard and I could
hear it whispering them to you,
even though you never could
understand what they meant.

 

[vampiredust]

Why Do Pretty Girls Always Pass Me By?

He had realised how lonely
he was, until today. Walking
along the road from the cinema,
he could see streetlights hanging
their heads low as he passed them
by. The moon was high in the sky
and he could hear it mocking him
as he waited. A bus came but he
didn't want to take it. He never did.

 

[wildsweetone]

He had realised how lonely
he was, until today. Walking
along the road from the cinema,
he could see streetlights hanging
their heads low as he passed them
by. The moon was high in the sky
and he could hear it mocking him
as he waited. A bus came but he
didn't want to take it. He never did.

he leaves a shadow
in his wake. built
from street lamps, the bent
black body belies the strength
he carries in his soul
and lays secrets
behind eyes that lift
only once
under the orange glow.
he shuffles unaware
that in his indecisive
act, the shadow
has no doubts.

 

[RhymeFairy]

He had realised how lonely
he was, until today. Walking
along the road from the cinema,
he could see streetlights hanging
their heads low as he passed them
by. The moon was high in the sky
and he could hear it mocking him
as he waited. A bus came but he
didn't want to take it. He never did.

is pretty outside always pretty
inside? show me a woman
who cherishes
a smile, small things done
in generosity, appreciated
for a lifetime.
does he know
she watches him,
from afar. she awaits
that stupid slow bus,
everyday
to catch just a glimpse
a gesture he makes.
she can pick
out in a crowded room.
that laugh
could only be his
for she knows every note
every line
upon his sad
lonely face ...