all of a sudden passion suddenly

[flyguy69]

::

And so he passes, as easily
as night slips
from the window. Light pushes
into every corner, sweeping out
the beeping fight, the hushed
hurry, the clawing hope. Let me sit
awhile, she says, this is how
I know him, as she strokes
his resting cheek.

::

 

[normal jean]

::

And so he passes, as easily
as night slips
from the window. Light pushes
into every corner, sweeping out
the beeping fight, the hushed
hurry, the clawing hope. Let me sit
awhile, she says, this is how
I know him, as she strokes
his resting cheek.

::

 

[vampiredust]

Terrestrial


We stepped out of the car to look
at the bones of old houses. Dad
thought it would be a good idea
to reminisce about these ghosts
still trapped on earth. I wanted

to free their souls from the earth,
so I could watch them accomplish
something I never would. Looking
into one of the window arches,
a broken jaw filled with sculpted

teeth, I saw the earth slowly take
back the remains of one the dead.
This is how we all eventually fall,
dragged down into places seen
between yesterday and tomorrow.

 

[vampiredust]

The holder of the Guiness Book of Records for most number of pegs on face writes a love poem

I wear a wooden sunflower for you,
my love. When I am gone, unpeg me,
one by one.

 

[Angeline]

I will show you the old house,
we'll turn right from D'Arcy Avenue
and 528 will be smaller than I remember.
Those bricks belong to strangers now,
the dogwood will be bare and brittle.
All secrets have seeped into the concrete:
my foundation and 528's blended where gray
meets soil. If you dig deep you might
find a penny I buried once upon a shiny day.
Now change is damp, greened with age.
I imagine my initials have faded in the cracks
on the patio but somewhere in the winter
wind we might hear the clatter of roller skates,
the flap of sheets, the careless singsong
of girls disappearing through a screen door.

 

[normal jean]

placid till

eleven crows awakened me
on that birthday morning
eleven crows beckoned from
across the pleated dawning

night gave in and grew to day
I slept until eleven: ten
counted crows cursed and cawed
and all my sheep fell, bawling

 

[Liar]

Plato said that
Socrates said to
Faidros about
the Lysias hidden
within the youngster's robes,
that all text stand alone.

And yet, mine
is crowded
by greeks.

 

[vampiredust]

Accent

The wind captures dialects
hidden in the folds of the land,
moving them to places
we only see when we are gone,

sowing them in soil untouched,
unconsecrated by neither man,
plough or beast. My lips are its
altar, let me receive and speak.

 

[vampiredust]

Dream

A fish lies caught in a frozen
lake, its icy rim a makeshift
guillotine. Cut clean from the
neck downwards, it is separate
from the point between life
and everything else. This is not
philosophy, nor theology
for that matter. Just a simple
point, I think. I think.

 

[vampiredust]

Shall I compare my lover to a popcorn maker?

Her mouth is overcrowded
with hot air, popping kernels
until they are inflated
and coated with grease

Yum

 

[tungtied2u]

she keeps me on a short lead
supplies my needs
feeds my mind. soul and body

she knows she has me collared
that I will follow
whenever she yanks my chain

and if I'm naughty
she doesn't complain
just has me kneel
picks up the cane

she knows how to get my attention
did I mention
I adore her every facet

she makes me long to lick her
jump for her pleasure
as she walks through the door

I'm a lucky dog
she one fine bitch
if I keep her happy
she scratches my itch

 

[Liar]

Right when it melted
in a rush on your teeth,
clung to the roof of your mouth,
seeped around your tongue's edge
and left you with coated lips
and a golden, sticky grin,
I wanted to write a poem

about fudge.

But then you asked for another one,
and I lost my words at the bottom
of a candy bowl, diving
for your favorite flavor.




Oh, and

The holder of the Guiness Book of Records for most number of pegs on face writes a love poem

might be the title of the year.

 

[vampiredust]

---------

 

[vampiredust]

To A Forgotten Muse

My pen is empty today,
I have not filled it with
your words, nor dipped
it in your pond of stories.

I will throw it away soon,
take a walk, go far from
here, think think think
about those things I have

heard whispering in the
landscape you drew for me:
cities built like wasps nests,
dead trees, invisible people.

Perhaps if I wander amongst
these things I will recapture
that which has been lost.

 

[vampiredust]

The Optimist Has A Baby

The walls are swarming with wasps
building their nests, every movement
predetermined by a recording lodged
in their skulls, carefully plotted against
the paths of stars and the universe.

The belly sleeping in the room below
mimics them, every turn and kick
of its passenger following the course
of its pilot as it charts a predetermined
path through the zodiac.

It will not be born a cynic, as some
might be inclined to think, but with arms
spread out like a sycamore seed,
drifting to wherever the wind thinks
is the best soil.

 

[vampiredust]

Finding The Messiah On A Tenby Beach

We spotted the messiah amongst the grammar
of the local beach. Lugworms had twisted
themselves into ampersands as we dug through
the wet sand to find a starfish pointing out
its location next to a pile of seaweed carefully
arranged like well used commas on a page.

Its translucent belly had been split open,
leaking its language onto the beach. Gulls
had made off with some of the words, leaving
remnants of its scriptures for us to rearrange.
No one was sure what we had built when we
had finished, or if people would understand

the message scrawled out of its remaining
tentacles and skin. And then when the reading
was over, we watched the sea wash it away,
taking it back to that place where it would be
reborn, its words colouring the sea a shade of red
as it was slowly absorbed.

 

[4degrees]

four score, nearly
four short seasons
with unreasoned scenes of
inner schemes
addressing mangled innards,
bits of a man sticking
out like shiney shrapnel,
get your scalpel, doctor,
i think we need to operate.

Amputated fate
bleeds over into
a warm glistening pool of
segregated love,
separated segments of some
strung out on sober
sappy old fuck.

 

[vampiredust]

Sun

Yellow film hangs above
the lonely farmhouse

Moon dips in lake, wolves
gather to see their true
reflections

 

[vampiredust]

Cow Mutilation

Cow bones wear a bluebottle
shroud, wind utters a eulogy.
Mountains are silent tonight.

 

[vampiredust]

Tourist

I can't remember the last time
I stepped into a postcard. I don't
think I could try it now, they
are all mouldy and the images
have melted away.

 

[tungtied2u]

Knowing and doing
don't always tread the same path
The footsteps of thought
often follow well worn imprints
revisiting famaliar feelings
their predictability comforting
even when harmful to one's health

How does one do different
forge ahead instead
of travelling in circles, stymied
by fear of the unknown,
threats of loneliness
nightmares of no food,
no shelter, no love
outweigh concern for well being

sitting on a fence requires balance
no matter how skilled and determined,
the wind eventually shifts,
a foot falls, tilting scales,
and in the ensuing tumble
new ground is broken
but if lucky, not any bones.

 

[RhymeFairy]

they say ... time heals all wounds.

let this be a bandage to heal, conceal
all those nightmares that rise up
into the darkness and drink the spirit
from within.

Let friendship guide your way.
A path often taken, yet forsaken
for moments, hours, weeks
of pleasures
return to haunt
taunt the heart with a rattling off
of I told you so's.

This time, choose a new path.
The unknown knowledge, of kinship
holds out open arms. Run my friend
be wrapped in this tender mercy
of everlasting love, shared by bloodlines
that know past footsteps and still yet
shares in the future of happily ever after.

..

 

[Maria2394]

there's still cotton fields
in the low country and when
we take the back way
to the shore we see them
stooped and sweating
memories that haunt those who remember
and push at new ones like waves
eager to reach a newer shore

my mama told me about them
picking till their fingers bled
and we pass what seems to be
clouds pulled from sky and sewn
onto prickly brown stems, stern
and solemn, graceful in despair

the farmers are harvesting
soybeans; cotton clouds wait
remembering

 

[Maria2394]

burden of a long memory

the closer you get to Georgetown
the blacker the soil becomes
in more ways than one

there was rice there once
and grand ships docked
near Market Street

the paper mill has a scrubber
sauerkraut smell finally gone
and they moved the auction block

one stain hidden, never gone

 

[vampiredust]

The Watchtower

We spotted the crumbling Martello
halfway across the field, its slits
watching us as we cut through
ankle length grass to reach it.

Its walls were covered in ancient
graffiti, journal entries from illiterate
soldiers and disused battle plans.
You could smell the gunpowder

in the air as we looked through
the holes, pretending to light cannons
aimed at hordes of Napoleonic
soldiers. We would have fought

for king and country back then,
carving our stories on the walls
with our blood and breath. History
would have saluted us, even if no one
else did.