all of a sudden passion suddenly

[flyguy69]

Surface Tension

::

The body is a cup, to be filled
with lust and hunger, to be
held warm to the lips, to nestle
one atop the other. We say:
fill me to the brim, let
your dark intoxicants spill until
you and I are shaped
the same, until we nestle
in the hot night air. But the air
is not the body: the air fills
the body but is not the body.
The air is the space not filled
by our desire, growing
as our desire diminishes. Nature
abhors a vacuum. Nature will not allow
a thing to be consumed
and not replaced. We decide
whether to let the night air in.
To let the cup cool.

::

 

[RhymeFairy]

I felt his gaze, like a heat seeking missile
zeroed in on spaghetti straps,
my sneaky smile, and twittering twin lips
that wished to express then press
till the explosion ended and all that remained
were charred bones slinking down
into campfire compost.

 

[vampiredust]

Border Crossing

Cows come first,
their shadows creating long
fingers across the road

cars follow, hooting
rattling bells and a couple
of shepherds

who give us a look
as guards raise eyebrows
at the jumbled letters

etched like cold metal
on our documents,
we are strangers here

in that place where stars
end and the long road
to purgatory begins

 

[cherries_on_snow]

I really like this, VD.

Gorgeous!

Border Crossing

Cows come first,
their shadows creating long
fingers across the road

cars follow, hooting
rattling bells and a couple
of shepherds

who give us a look
as guards raise eyebrows
at the jumbled letters

etched like cold metal
on our documents,
we are strangers here

in that place where stars
end and the long road
to purgatory begins

 

[Daisy May]

Sorry...

 

[vampiredust]

Madame Periscope

The girl in front of me
is panning for images
in her sunglasses,

carefully watching
the Spanish couple
with her unfolded

periscope, in case
they drop their secrets
and she'll pick them

up for a fee.
Life is never like films,
I want to tell her

but she wouldn't listen
I imagine.

 

[clutching_calliope]

Sweetness of Clouds

.....

 

[clutching_calliope]

This is the air I breathe.

.....

 

[vampiredust]

Journeys are made of this

Whilst travelling
from Acquiterme to Ovada
our train encountered

wasps on the line.
I watched them crouched
behind sleepers

waiting to crackle
and strike rolling hooves
before puncturing

the trains accordion
hinges. But then a red sun
appeared and started

to melt our bandits.
All I could see were plastic
shells lying by railway lines

as we left

 

[vampiredust]

Maiolica

The journey to find you was lifeless
as the sun casting its shadow
over empty apartment blocks,

drooping sunflowers and money plants
broker than the landscape our train
was ploughing. Neither of us understood

words being sowed across pavements
as we asked for directions to your father,
following them as they were scattered

in the wind. It was luck, not God,
that brought us to you.
And then, when wrapped up in tissue paper

the world heard you mourn,
every sunflower etched on your ceramic face
drooping, slowly falling.

 

[vampiredust]

Crab Orchard

Rusted apples fall
from their branches

collapsing into clouds
of lobster coloured smoke

before being snorted
by men with extendable

snouts. There is a poem
here but I can't find it.

 

[vampiredust]

Jacket

I'm not sure what I prefer:
my waspskin jacket

or the one with crickets
stitched together,

I'm certain I will fly off
if I put it on. Perhaps

I should tame them first
or write them a poem,

but they wouldn't know
what irony meant.

 

[vampiredust]

So little depends on

After William Carlos Williams

the spoon fed lawnmower
sitting next to a pair

of rain glazed chickens
smoking dope

and reading a burning
Republican manifesto

This is not of vast import
to the nation

 

[vampiredust]

Junkyard

There is something appealing
about shifting through this
wasteland, breaking apart

forgotten carcasses and rusted
body parts. People dream
of doing this in order to escape,

taking out their anger on an old
Cortina, smiling as its wasp-yellow
frame is remade into a flattened

box. Screws fall, creating clouds
of martian dust. It is finally dead.
Most ignore the smell as they leave,

that stench of vinegar and oil
always staying with you
even when everything is clean.

 

[vampiredust]

Poem found in invasive species blog

The Scotsman is reporting
that an invasive seaweed has been discovered in Loch Fyne,
where it threatens to damage oyster and mussel fisheries.
Known as Japanese wireweed (Sargassum muticum),

this species is native to Japan,
thought to have spread naturally from France to Scotland
several years ago after it was accidentally introduced
to France from Japan or British Columbia.

Since its introduction, Japanese wireweed
has gone on to impact Scotland's Firth of Clyde
in several ways, including hull fouling,

clogging of pipes, reduction of native seaweed diversity,
and damaging equipment used to harvest shellfish.
No effective long-term management techniques
are yet available
to control
it.

 

[vampiredust]

Dead poems

I see them
marked like cairns
on cyberspace's invisible

maps, piles of syllables
crowded in between
unwanted 1's and 0's

a tree made out of steel
and straw lies crumpled
between the code

perhaps it will be recycled
and turned into a factory
or just a pebble,

ready to be thrown back
into someone's sea.

 

[duckiesmut]

You’re too well-
dressed. Lose the shirt.
You know bare shoulders
make me dizzy and that all
you have to do is breathe
in my direction, one hot
exhalation and I’m numb-
holding my chest to keep
from drowning without water,
fingers finding and losing
their slick grip on buttons,
too slippery for sweat-soaked skin,
anxious to break free from
cotton and lace- black
for you, soft for me-

and then the baby cries.
Again.

Round three, later tonight.

 

[humbert50s]

words are hidden
beneath rocks, behind doors
sunning themselves in St. Tropez

I have neither
a spade, a key
nor near enough money

to pry them
from their current resting place
coerce them to come face to face

speak to me
of beauty faded, morals traded
moments wasted treading water

in a pool of self pity
where tears accumulate
exponentially outnumbering reasons

then swirl into eddies
pulling me into their vortex
one last gasp, and I'm gone

 

[cherries_on_snow]

words are hidden
beneath rocks, behind doors
sunning themselves in St. Tropez

I have neither
a spade, a key
nor near enough money

to pry them
from their current resting place
coerce them to come face to face

speak to me
of beauty faded, morals traded
moments wasted treading water

in a pool of self pity
where tears accumulate
exponentially outnumbering reasons

then swirl into eddies
pulling me into their vortex
one last gasp, and I'm gone

Wow! This is beautiful. I especially like the first four strophes.

 

[clutching_calliope]

apple season is red, white and blue

.....

 

[Tzara]

You’re too well-
dressed. Lose the shirt. . .

Very nice, Ms. Smut. Funny and sexy.

 

[vampiredust]

Sometimes the Moon never spins

Mother was seventeen
when she saw the man
on the Moon smiling

at her, her heart slowly
tightening under a Campbell
tin dress. She would meet

my father nearly a decade
later and watch the moon
stop spinning for a second

as her ignition spluttered,
freezing in that moment
between love and ignorance.

 

[vampiredust]

Myth

Thor fell backwards
and created the North Sea.

Or so my Nana thought,
lifting her glasses to read

the weather report in the sky,
tracing outlines of cloud

and tomorrows rain with her
thumb and forefinger.

She could still hear him
at the bottom of the sea,

she said, his every word
slowly beating against her breast.

 

[vampiredust]

Broken Mythology

On 9/11 the gods unclenched
their fists and released lightning

from the Tigris to the Sea of Galilee,
cracking mythology that held both

sides of the world together.
Even now, its pieces are stamped on.

Nobody has any glue to fix it,
this I know.

 

[Daisy May]

His hair was unwashed, stuck up
like Albert Einstein and I'm used to
seeing it slicked back; the Italian
look. His face grew a beard
I've never seen. It appeared
he had fallen in the snow. He's old
and he did fall, just harder than ever imagined.

A black garbage bag laid on the floor
by the bedside where he emptied out
his stomach from ass and mouth, unable
to get to the bathroom. No toilet paper
was seen. The room smelled like death,
and you'd have to lift your shirt over
your nose if you wanted to stay.

Help me. Please help me. I know
you still care. Please don't let me die here
or at least not alone.

Tears and sleep bugs escaped from his eyes
as he laid on the bed with tremors. A crooked
smile with black, half broken teeth chattered,
begged for my help, gasping for air.

I left and returned, handed him twelve,
five-year-old Percocets and six, one year old
Tylentol three's brought from home, having no
use to me, and he crushed each one with his
teeth and swallowed without water.

I grabbed my throat, became more nauseated,
and walked out the door. Never again, never
again. I silently said, stood outside the door, my
body against the wall, then collapsed to the floor,
and held my head between my legs, rocked.

Liar.