all of a sudden passion suddenly

[vampiredust]

Paper Salmon

I watched it crumble away
as I held in my hands,
each crumb of paper coal
reconstructing its memories.

It lived in the river once,
blending in with rock grey skies
and cardboard waterwheels.
A tiger trapped in salmon form.

But it was caught, hunted
by men afraid to show their faces.
Stripped of bone, smoke ghosts
carbonised flesh. Stuffed in plastic,

an exhibit for consumer pollution
to enjoy and throw up.

 

[vampiredust]

Death Poems

People are writing death poems
tonight. I can feel their gloom
through the tip-tappity-tap
of fingers leafing through pages

of filed away photos, stored
in imaginary filing cabinets buried
deep in skulls. I don't know who
they are mourning, or even why

they have decided to choose
this particular time, this particular
day to think about their particular
person. That is not for me to think

about. Whether these words will live
longer than they is unquestionable,
unaccounted witnesses scraping off
what was left of somebody's life.

 

[wildsweetone]

off the cuff and rough

It's just around the corner, love

It's hard to write of death.
To write of the withering of leaves
the decay of brittle bones. I'd break
tradition and write instead of death
as a start, a spring
board into a new life
where daffodils and daisies,
acorns and bright-striped bees
churn sunrays until even I
carry fluid in my eyes
for death itself might be loss
but surely, most surely
it is a beautiful beginning.

 

[wildsweetone]

Someone's memory

There's a lullaby of lillies
resonating through the room
where a wooden box
cradles her body.

I know I won't forget the lillies
and I know that in time
I will forget
the features of her face,
the rounded cheeks
and eyelashes that swore
allegiance to all.

She wrapped me
around her little finger,
bought my soul
and traded it for lollipops
and lazy days
of making daisy chains.

 

[vampiredust]

Madness

The bicycle chain resets
and metallic teeth start
spinning, dragging weight
from somewhere in my head

Baskets filled with tricks -
russian dolls, magnetic cards,
levitating snakes - emerge
from my notebook,

ready to be slammed shut
but kept open for a minute,
Probability smiling as odds
start juggling.

It will be a good day

 

[wildsweetone]

A conch

I held it to my ear
waited for wind secrets
to unfurl as the cold
smooth shell
kissed my skin. It
murmured to my mind
of neon cities,
mermen and white dust
that rained subtle mirrors
at my feet. I waited
and was rewarded
when high tide
obliterated sins
left on the beach
and the sand squeezed
between toes firmly planted
on the ground.

 

[wildsweetone]

September Moon

On a good day
the half moon
hangs around
as if watching the world
pass under its gaze.
I often wonder
how it dangles
up there without falling,
hurtling through space
like a one-eyed meteor
determined to leave
its mark where mankind
lives. They tell me
it's gravity, but I know
no matter how grave
things become, the moon
will still hang-dangle
and I will still wonder.

 

[vampiredust]

Watching the storm yesterday

The gods unclenched their fists
and released lightning first. Mother
thought fireworks were going on
as flashes brighter than bulbs

splashed paving slabs with pale
white light. Rain followed, interrupted
by bouts of rain - spectators
to the show. Will we be flooded?

she asked [we're on the second floor]
as drains slowly started to sink.
We have our ark here, I replied,
holding her as water started creeping
out of my mouth.

 

[wildsweetone]

The sea holds my soul

There are cracks
in the footpath
that fill when it rains,
float history caught
in their cavernous
depths and wash it away
down storm water drains.
I wonder if the sea is filled
with memories, with history
that wore from the rubber
on our soles.

 

[Tzara]

.....

 

[Syndra Lynn]

driving
away from my heart
again

back to my husband's home
where I live
for now

the ache is inhuman
yet
uniquely human

to love so deeply
that separation
even short of duration
causes such loss
such longing

desire ebbs
not at all
as distance flows
between us

through tear-streaked
windshield I see
only his face
hazel eyes
devouring me

I still feel his touch
like a fire
on the headlight stained highway

our asphalt umbilical
that brings us as quickly together
as it throws us apart

until time
and the gods
allow more

 

[Guest]

No Sushi, Like Poems

I have no poems. No fresh catch
from the sea of me to lay over sweet and tangy,
zinging taste buds, no drool for more.

No short words long on passion
wrapped with care; sliced for sudden impact.
The eyes slide by as the mind glosses
over my lack of imagination.

I'm not so adventurous lately.
I have only California Roll dreams,
boring images, but try the wasabi.

Split me in half, spread-eagle;
slide down your palate and use the chopsticks.
Ideas will come. If not, I will.

Have you had your rice today?

 

[flyguy69]

I have no poems. No fresh catch
from the sea of me to lay over sweet and tangy,
zinging taste buds, no drool for more.

No short words long on passion
wrapped with care; sliced for sudden impact.
The eyes slide by as the mind glosses
over my lack of imagination.

I'm not so adventurous lately.
I have only California Roll dreams,
boring images, but try the wasabi.

Split me in half, spread-eagle;
slide down your palate and use the chopsticks.
Ideas will come. If not, I will.

Have you had your rice today?

Lol! I fEEL for you, Neo. ForTUNAtely writer's blocK 'ELPs us appreciate the productive times we SO Yearn for.

 

[flyguy69]

Playwrite

::::::

 

[vampiredust]

Haringey

This place is full of faces
that will dissapear faster

than the honey coloured
clouds dipping behind

the station: Chris Pantelli,
tailor. A solicitors without

the O's in their sign. King
Kebabs. Andreas Fish Bar.

Homebase. The Carphone
Warehouse. Bags are put

down, seats covered in
invisible outlines of ghosts.

Only the wind knows who
they are, whispering their

names under its breath.
Oo. Oo. Oo. Oo.

 

[annaswirls]

after four maybe five or six times
through the most the best the only one
who can save me and maybe it is you who will fill
the sponge and wipe the mirrors clear no
maybe it is seven time of being sure
yes it is this one
and there is nothing in the mailbox that holds a cure
not that you need a cure but everything in this life is so soft
I just want sleep we have no time
we have too much time

and when he died she said
"did you feel like you were soul mates" and I laughed
and said, I am not so much a fool
to think there is only one
my soul is a whore isn't it

save yourself
save yourself for the right one
they protect our bodies from being used up glow tarnished
but the heart's virginity is more impossible to restore

and after seven maybe eight times hearing
I never told anyone this before you are the only
one who understands and only starts to empty
into every and I think I should look for God
because He never pretends He has not heard it all before
my child you are all the same
and god the blessed freedom in that revelation!

stripped from the need to be the only the one the most something the only ever forever phone rings
and I deny you your name again
do not tell me about the pool where your daughters were baptized
I know the waters are cool and slow
we already know these universal doubts gone over it a hundred times and
fears desires literary references for every moment we share
dont tell me how she does not fulfill you
no one ever does
he speak to me in french, in russian, he speaks to me in
a soft nervous breath
calls to me
we are already naked

but damn it
of course of course of course
you are the only
and you are the only and the most of something today or seven years ago or wherever we happened to be
there is always another virgin
you find the layers painted the color of my flesh
laquered by cynicism
we are not interchangable
we arent we arent we arent
are we?

 

[vampiredust]

Corset

Don't try it on,
let it watch you, imagining
its whale rib slowly squeezing
every square inch of ocean

until blackness has covered
your skin and all you can feel
is nothingness. Scrape off
stars from your arms and exhale

before burning it, scattering
ashes in the sea. And as you go,
listen carefully to clicks and whistles -
creating a map of your forgotten things.

 

[vampiredust]

found poem on MySpace

The Draft
Punk / Indie / Post Hardcore
Gainseville, FL

Featuring three members
of legendary post-hardcore
(what's hardcore? let alone post hardcore)
outfit Hot Water Music, The Draft
have tapped into a new level of originality
and inspiration with their powerful
new twelve-track offering,
In A Million Pieces!

Check them
out
now.

 

[vampiredust]

Embankment Tube Station

This place is a junction. There is nothing
here that says stop, look around. People
come here to go to other places:

Charing Cross Station, District and Circle
lines. The Northern Line. Its chequerboard
floors watch daily migrations of feet,

shuffling quicker than moves in a game
of chess. Loudspeakers announce before
dissapearing to gather tea and biscuits.

Gates open and close. ATM's blow kisses.
Tourists browse through the two exits,
joining a journey. Nobody ever stops here.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Wow, AS, this blew me away. Gorgeous.

after four maybe five or six times
through the most the best the only one
who can save me and maybe it is you who will fill
the sponge and wipe the mirrors clear no
maybe it is seven time of being sure
yes it is this one
and there is nothing in the mailbox that holds a cure
not that you need a cure but everything in this life is so soft
I just want sleep we have no time
we have too much time

and when he died she said
"did you feel like you were soul mates" and I laughed
and said, I am not so much a fool
to think there is only one
my soul is a whore isn't it

save yourself
save yourself for the right one
they protect our bodies from being used up glow tarnished
but the heart's virginity is more impossible to restore

and after seven maybe eight times hearing
I never told anyone this before you are the only
one who understands and only starts to empty
into every and I think I should look for God
because He never pretends He has not heard it all before
my child you are all the same
and god the blessed freedom in that revelation!

stripped from the need to be the only the one the most something the only ever forever phone rings
and I deny you your name again
do not tell me about the pool where your daughters were baptized
I know the waters are cool and slow
we already know these universal doubts gone over it a hundred times and
fears desires literary references for every moment we share
dont tell me how she does not fulfill you
no one ever does
he speak to me in french, in russian, he speaks to me in
a soft nervous breath
calls to me
we are already naked

but damn it
of course of course of course
you are the only
and you are the only and the most of something today or seven years ago or wherever we happened to be
there is always another virgin
you find the layers painted the color of my flesh
laquered by cynicism
we are not interchangable
we arent we arent we arent
are we?

 

[annaswirls]

Wow, AS, this blew me away. Gorgeous.

thank you Cherry, you are too kind

 

[Tzara]

Embankment Tube Station

This place is a junction. There is nothing
here that says stop, look around. People
come here to go to other places:

Charing Cross Station, District and Circle
lines. The Northern Line. Its chequerboard
floors watch daily migrations of feet,

shuffling quicker than moves in a game
of chess. Loudspeakers announce before
dissapearing to gather tea and biscuits.

Gates open and close. ATM's blow kisses.
Tourists browse through the two exits,
joining a journey. Nobody ever stops here.

I love this because, though I would not use quite the same terms (I am American, not British) it captures that station. I've been there and see it in your words.

American tourists get off here, though. (You say this here: "Tourists browse through the two exits" I think?)

But we don't know what we're doing. (Yes, and we seem somehow to be happy about that.)

I love London.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

I will not shed a tear for you or offer a tissue
to a dying breed of weak women like me
women who bare their souls
only to find them trampled by emotions
that shouldn’t exist in a world where
pain is the King and the minions are the
people who lie under the Master’s feet.

I’ll not say a word as the power of persuasion
makes my head spin and my heart shudder
like waves on an ocean beating on the sides of a ship
tearing and biting, clawing and cascading over the sides
until its beaten down and drowning in a river
of tears, heartache and pain that I’ll not shed for you.

 

[RhymeFairy]

I agree ... beautiful ~


Sometimes I just cannot express the words
to describe the beauty I see.
Sometimes, the beauty captures me and breaths
a whole new life, inside.
Sometimes,
beauty is not skin deep, it grows with each new word
each new vision I see painted
before my eyes ...

after four maybe five or six times
through the most the best the only one
who can save me and maybe it is you who will fill
the sponge and wipe the mirrors clear no
maybe it is seven time of being sure
yes it is this one
and there is nothing in the mailbox that holds a cure
not that you need a cure but everything in this life is so soft
I just want sleep we have no time
we have too much time

and when he died she said
"did you feel like you were soul mates" and I laughed
and said, I am not so much a fool
to think there is only one
my soul is a whore isn't it

save yourself
save yourself for the right one
they protect our bodies from being used up glow tarnished
but the heart's virginity is more impossible to restore

and after seven maybe eight times hearing
I never told anyone this before you are the only
one who understands and only starts to empty
into every and I think I should look for God
because He never pretends He has not heard it all before
my child you are all the same
and god the blessed freedom in that revelation!

stripped from the need to be the only the one the most something the only ever forever phone rings
and I deny you your name again
do not tell me about the pool where your daughters were baptized
I know the waters are cool and slow
we already know these universal doubts gone over it a hundred times and
fears desires literary references for every moment we share
dont tell me how she does not fulfill you
no one ever does
he speak to me in french, in russian, he speaks to me in
a soft nervous breath
calls to me
we are already naked

but damn it
of course of course of course
you are the only
and you are the only and the most of something today or seven years ago or wherever we happened to be
there is always another virgin
you find the layers painted the color of my flesh
laquered by cynicism
we are not interchangable
we arent we arent we arent
are we?

 

[vampiredust]

Peyote Dreams

I've been having visions lately.
I saw Mata Hari in the bottom
of a tea cup, Nostradamus
curled up in my latte.

People have been stopping me,
asking not only for the time
but directions to places
I've never seen or heard of.

Perhaps they have seen my aura
or read about me in their horoscope:
you will meet stranger X at point Y,
leaves will fall faster than stars.

Yes, that's it. I am a vision.
Something seen on the back
of a biscuit tin or spread across
molasses. Perhaps they will set up

shrines to me or dedicate prayers
in my name. Either that or Fate
has been playing practical jokes,
twisting events to suit my ego.