all of a sudden passion suddenly

[vampiredust]

My ocean

my ocean is melting
I heard you say
that's impossible
said another
eyes opening like oyster
shells
is it a metaphor
he asked
digging his fingers deep
into the cigarette ash
unaware
that that it was burning
leaving little volcanoes
on his finger tips
I had no water to put it out
I guess he didn't either

 

[vampiredust]

-okay

-this is how it goes

- a man, let's call him a tramp
rather than vagrant/vagabond/homeless jerk

- what's he doing?

- he's rummaging through a dustbin

- looking for what?

- pantyhose

- what for?

- he's the lead for the Rocky Horror Show

- but I thought you said

- he's really Richard O'Brian in disguise

- then what

- a cult comes passing by, Hare Krishna or something, and they're offering him music and books and flowers. A whole landscape full of crap he doesn't want right now. So he refuses and refuses and refuses. But these guys aren't flapping their wings or anything, they keep on offering him until

- until?

- until he swears and says I-don't-want-your-fucking-buddha/jesus/mohammed crap

- then what?

- they start to melt and turn into sunflowers

- what-t-t-t?

- yeah and they start doing the hula

the scene starts to change but the characters remain the same. It always does.

 

[373Kelvin]

A taste for saké

She tells me it may be cultivated
the taste for hot rice wine
(malt beverage, but we won't
split hairs tonight). I nod,
breathe deep as if taking
vodka, endurable only by exhaling
the fumes.

I lift the shallow cup and the pale
gold slides over my tongue like syrup
on a hot cake, subtle but strong.
Immediately I take
to the stuff, pouring another wee cup.
She smiles, patiently, sipping hers
like the queen sips tea.
Every letter of her is elegance.
Every seraph arched.

Some loves are instant, innate:
not grown, only discovered.

 

[Tzara]

Mr. Kelvin and Mr. Dust

Dudes. You're both playing smoking licks here, guys. I feel ashamed to plug in my cheap imitation Strat and munge my three chords for the night.

Ah, but

How witless seem we, by ego made,
when pseudonym keeps said ego caged.

Mrmph.

William Fuld

then a tall thin man, set
his talking board set
on the lawn. We sat
cross-legged, arms loose, fingers set,
lightly touching the sleek planchette.

"NO" said the board,
then "GOOD BYE"​

 

[annaswirls]

Reason: One should not misquote Sidney Middleton

Since August two thousand and five, we sat
cross-legged, arms loose
lightly touching the planchette.

Interpretation is revenge.
I plug in my imitation Strat
munge three chords.

Tzara is offline, William Fuld
(pseudonym keeps ego caged)
then a tall thin man, set
his talking board
on the lawn.

How witless seems the intellectual upon art!
Edited at twelve fifty-eight this morning,
I still feel ashamed.

"NO" said the board,
then "GOOD BYE"



Quotes by Susan Sontag and Sidney Middleton
Comments/poem by "Tzara"
board messages,
cut, rearranged, intermingled, etc

 

[vampiredust]

Collecting Meteorites At Midnight

The sky is starved of stars
tonight. Walking through
the fields, we find leftover
pieces of last night's sky
buried in puddles, their

orange halos crackling
as we approach with our
torches and plastic carrier
bags. Some resist, spitting
out flames as they are picked up;

others purr like gaseous cats,
rubbing their cracked backs
against our hands, not knowing
they will be split; their atoms
recorded and dissected.

We can only smile and say nothing.

 

[373Kelvin]

Story Time

My small heart leaps, talking back
to the teacher, singing a wild song
of running things, things free.

At fifteen till three, it's story time,
our bodies plotted like coordinates
neatly arranged on carpet maps,

square knees out, legs crossed or,
if one of the smaller ones, in front,
stretched out straight, faces waiting

waiting for teacher to begin the story.
Always waiting until the words swing
full in their rhythm from her wide lips

and then my treasure nears, precious
girl with such soft hair, my finger curling
in it a spiral of wonderment, bliss.

It seemed enough to impose my fingers
in her hair, impossible to ask. Story time
could shield this sweet brief theft.

 

[vampiredust]

Waiting for rain

It will rain soon, Mother
tells me; she can feel
butterflies fluttering their
wings on a distant branch
somewhere. I know

this because she twitches
her nose like a fly scratching
its leg. But no rain comes.
The elderly melt and are scooped
up by street cleaners, their bones

and zimmerframes mixed in with
today's copy of the Sun, old cigarette
stubs and empty Evian bottles.
People pray to the rain god in the streets,
looking at the collage of white and grey

clouds in the sky, expecting rain to fall.
But none does.

 

[Many Feathers]

Tic Toc

I watch the hands on my clock
it doesn't work moving them back

running out of time
too many things to do yet

so much left undone, unsaid
decisions to be made

even changing the calendar
has no magical properties in turning back time

only in my dreams can I do that
relive the past what was

even then I fast forward
moving the hands of memories ahead

will I dream where I'm headed
will time stop and remember for me

Tic Toc
Tic Toc

 

[vampiredust]

Freefalling

I had no oxygen the first
time I went diving. Feeling

the ocean wrap its hands
around my neck, I spun,

watching the universe tumble
in my goggles. I saw its birth

and death in that single second
before I was pulled out with forceps

from the confines of my mothers
womb. Still screaming, I wanted

to go back in, to hold onto life
as it slipped back into the places

I never knew it could exist.

 

[tungtied2u]

Roadtrip

the roundtrip to self realization
sometimes takes longer than expected
closed roads, unanswered doors, lowered blinds
stand out like road signs
giving clues to the obvious

I should have paid more attention
to the danger signs posted
when I first began this journey
I would have saved time, gas and money

but the scenery was fresh and green
the wind rushed through my hair
my skin tingled to the touch of an unknown
adventure I wouldn't have wanted to miss

 

[clutching_calliope]

Hips

.....

 

[373Kelvin]

I toss soft and she spikes
go to the car and she drives,
kiss her soft and she cries.
She's all that.

I open doors, she does back
she never ask if she's fat,
when she come sit in my lap
she's all that.

I see them shaking their heads,
think I'm done for again.
But I can't help it when
she's all that.

 

[vampiredust]

Watching the weeds near South Kensington station

Nests of weeds slowly
start to colonise pavement
cracks, feeding on cigarette
ash and sandwich crumbs;
ignoring the rain that zig zags
across the slabs, jaws open
as if expecting an immediate
surrender. Grabbing one
of the young, it dissapears
down a drain. Nobody can hear
it screaming, as it is replaced
with another. The cycle continues
until all that is left is plastic grains
and footprints of forgotten rain.

 

[vampiredust]

Watching the firemen outside South Kensington station

Looking through the lampshade
ribs dangling from the ceiling,
you see them leaving their
Tonka trucks; gathering their
axes as if ready to chop down
an underground tree. Tourists

stop and take pictures, expecting
them to leave the station as heroes,
complete with the cliched cat
in the arms. Fire engines start
to leave, leaving only their sirens
as a postcard to the invisible crowd.

 

[Sealace]

"bet you think this song is about you"

you and I never spoke of olives or
Rubies hidden among orchids

such clever clues
hidden for particular lovers among verse
ambiguous for anyone to claim ownership
with splash of yellow
lowered onto our tongues
like a communion wafer
we kneel
and accept that each one
was made for us

 

[Sealace]

come come!
her fingers slid through snipped gloves
your hands your hands they must tell a story!

you must let it go

your childhood is gone
offered at fair markey value
never up for bid
hold low your paddle
buy someone elses for one money

 

[Sealace]

at the poetry reading

someone stopped in the middle of
his dead brother's poem and said
no, semen is nothing like peaches

I struggled for a comparison
but he is right,
semen is nothing like peaches

 

[Sealace]

I found your numbers
squeezed between verses of a poem
in my notebook

calling card
1800 487 7646
access code
5423 2083 3255
your home number
xxx xxx xxxx
and today
I type them in
my fingers still know exactly where to go

I remember the first time I called you
I had to dial three times
as my fingers tripped over the buttons
what was I afraid of?
I mean, what was the worst thing that could happen?

if anyone wants to try those numbers, feel free, they are real, there are I think 500 minutes left, I will never dial them again, that is for dern sure. If you use them call your lover and be extra special sweet talk to them as if they would be dead in the morning laptop on the floor

 

[Guest]

Cry right here, I say
this shoulder is already yours
the proof is the stains

You remind me it has been awhile

I know, but these faded spots
keep you in long term,
can name each one, the whys

Your tears soaked my shirt, more
through the skin, bone
into my marrow

The T-cells with you written in the code
I remember
I remember you
Do you?

You are safe with me, you can cry

 

[annaswirls]

I do remember
you were there there there with shoulders to cry
and my hands balled into fists pounded onto your chest with my selfish cries of
not fair not fair not fair!
you never budged or wilted or called in sick
held my hands until my muscles stopped fighting
rock me to sleep baby dont cry

I dont think I ever grew up enough to give you a proper kiss

 

[vampiredust]

Desperation in a vodka climate

The nameless model
stands next to a deserted
piece of scaffolding as the
photographer rummages
through his bag, looking

for a martian coloured lens
to make her look good. He
didn't pay much for her
and she was all they had.
The woman at the counter

said she reminded her of a
dog she had once; small, bony
and darker than the night.
Running a finger down her ribs,
he felt her skin slowly freeze;

turning into a ocean of snow. Her
eyes had no heat The sun
had never lit her, he could tell;
she was still clinging onto the
fading darkness, waiting for winter
to continue.

 

[clutching_calliope]

Ten Minute Sonnet

.....

 

[clutching_calliope]

Coaster

.....

 

[4degrees]

motioning this tide
drown me with passion
replace my breath with you
and remind me how
to swim