all of a sudden passion suddenly

[sellthecookie]

casualties


nights when
people stand too long
on one spot, taking
roots, making eye
contact with other people
standing big too,
whistling dynamites, waving signal
flags, making small
talk, as talk go in places
where soundwaves don't travel
that fast, instead
hesitates, pruned echoes,
lost in the vaulted ceiling
of a church
where other people
like to stand still too, giving
off ceramic winks
and hasty smiles, wide
aware of beds
to stain later, while i grow
jealous,
uprooted
before my time

 

[Tathagata]

your words will be around.

true enough
: )
Thank you

 

[Under_Sun]

Wonderful wonderful wonderful!!!

I murdered my Amish friendship bread.

Yes, this is a confession, though the crime
has not weighed upon my soul.
Nr applied itself boldy to my hips
my back or thighs. What kind of friend,
I ask you, would bestow upon another friend
an entity that consists of something alive
in a stone crock, pulsing and breathing

It lives on a ten day cycle, you become hostage
to this melange of sugar, milk and yeast,
this beast requires stirring, and stirring
and stirring, attention on a daily basis
to alleviate extra bubbles and release
a scent reminiscent of a battalion of feet

Youmust preserve it's percolating stasis

which, after ten days, is the basis,
the starter of something evil
It is insipid, this amish friendship bread
best known for keeping neighbors
and friends at bay.

 

[sellthecookie]

voter # 100 melodramatically reads the names of election winners
while sitting at the toilet


The indelible ink
still on his nail. Random
sunspots, never fading.
Despite daily baths
and laundry, and
washing the dishes
of instant foods that don't quite
reach the stomach,
not even the nostrils.
Promises at bay.

Inside the train, he holds
the straps tight, displays
his finger. thinking
of the next stop, and the next,
when it'll be time to fall
in line again.

 

[RhymeFairy]

Fathers Day

my real dad
was never there, except :


to wrapped up and drunk from booze, he never
understood, what he would loose.
my mother paid his child support, from another child
born, before their union. then along came two, who
he also, refused to care about.


then, a new dad :


he was there, when another
refused
to be.

stepping in to buy shoes
for two lil urchins
who refused, to give him
a chance.

hard life knocks, opened the door
to a new family, a new
man. to be husband, father
closest confidant
to a tabby hair pixie, who
never saw beyond her real fathers
shadow.

but he did it. one moment, one day
at a time. when soft smiles
and easy laughs
led to a life time of memories
to share and hold dear.






just thinking out loud

 

[vampiredust]

Numbness

The junk on my floor -
picket-white envelopes,
CD's, unwanted poems,
library books, leaves
of old papers, term
papers - will never reach
the canopy of my room
I know. Stooping
I will pick it all up
and feel it become alive
like it was before,
before

 

[normal jean]

Wonderful wonderful wonderful!!!

thank you U_S

Im working on it in the Bug Day afternoon thread if you want to add or subtract anything from that gooey mixture...

thanks for the encouragement



NJ

 

[darkerdreamer]

If revenge is a cold dish
then hate is a warm fist
laid loving across a jaw,
those four certain sounds
of knuckle rapping bone.

A percussion symphony,
"Fuck You in C Minor".

 

[sellthecookie]

freeway


11 in the evening i ride
the derailed roller coaster
which takes me to heights
hitherto undiscovered.
i see zebras, phonebooths,
lamposts, totem poles running along
in pairs, while Im steered
to somewhere else.
i get off, at 1,
having paid dearly
for this spectacle
everyday.

 

[annaswirls]

strikes the snare
"brown I tell you, it is not like brown it IS brown"
tries to find the color on his bass
tey take turns searching for the substitute
the compliment
while Fredriech taps out scents on his organ
lavendar, cut hay, citron chords

they say we all have the wires
and the hand of simplicity snips them down
into distinction

but you stitch my connections of infancy together
your teeth bring heat lightning your lips an indigo wave
the hum of your throat puts me under Mozarts piano pinned to the floor by the gravity of it all
your arms take me back to purple clover dreaming
weaving my senses into own

 

[normal jean]

just fucked up

he thinks he pulls passion from poppies
but he barely breathes,
i see the smoke of hell in his eyes
and he pumps in and out, harder
harder, like a wild-man

i think i should spit him out, the bitter
root of all evil is leaking
from his cut and bloody pores.
take me, i am a doll, ragged amd bound
discarded, yet he makes me feel retrieved.

 

[Tathagata]

the misplaced muses
who manage
musical magic
rest contentedly
on the head of a pin
rather than a needle
where insipid inspiration
hunches
waiting for a camel
to pass through the eye

 

[RhymeFairy]

Mucked Muse

stuck in the mud muse
when will thou appear? come,
head above water, doggie paddling
to find my way, to you.

your hocus pocus-y ways,
have left the theater.
with nothing to showcase,
my wares but dried, caked, mud.


...

 

[Vampiric_Mirage]

Breaking beds
as beads of sweat trickle
unnoticed

Bodies pound
time stops
yet continues on

Throat dry
sore muscles
euphoria pales in comparison to this

I am complete
I am yours
finally I can say
I am where I want to be
forever in your arms




PS Hi People!

 

[sellthecookie]

weather forecast


the perfect rain wouldn't come
in Quiapo, where the streets need
a good wash. Instead the sky drips
shy, while clouds are unseen
like food, and people break
their necks looking
down for stray coins.

 

[Tathagata]

the sound of pebbles
being hit by
crystals of June rain
in new england
is only available
when you are lying
face down on the ground

every bottom has its riches

 

[Tathagata]

that fuckin mamaluc
next door is running
his anal obsessive leaf blower
again
after a rain storm

nothing moves
when it's wet
you silly fuckin spaghetti bender

this need to tidy up
constantly
reflects on your private life
your girlfriends last
3 or 4 months
then
a new one

are they dirty?
do they say
dirty things
that make your piseddu
shrink up
like a salsiccia
on the grill?

get a girl
get laid
your mama
will be happy
and so will
I

 

[skittles_lm]

they call her names that would
make their mothers blush
as they walk into the
girls room to primp and preen
and catch the attention
of the boys who only look
at the one they hate.

 

[darkerdreamer]

Where are you?
Between these valleys of divide
I find my self on the inside
of the core of my despair.
Sometimes drowning
seems like a simple option,
quit thrashing about and let it all sink in,
and sink inside of it,
and forget the tired stories
become something boring
and disappear in the monotony.

Who am I?
What the hell have I become
when the sum of all I've done
isn't half as bad as what I'll do today,
and the things I'll do tomorrow,
and the things I've done to you.
In a mid-June fantasy,
or in a decade of deceit,
or in a slow march of retreat
my white flag gently waves
a quiet surrender.

 

[Liar]

the last
of a dying breed of idiots
homo equlibris bangs the drum
for the old time songs
of blood, wheat and war

for striking the meek
across the temples
with a mace shaped crucifix
and dragging rusty hooks
to etch ribs, to pierce lungs

for the faint hope
of a purged identity
at the gates of hell

 

[RhymeFairy]

heat ...

he stood, trying to withstand
the heat gathering, as moisture grew
inside gray green eyes. I felt him sliding
away, glancing off into a distant, direct
future, on the horizon his orbs vastly planted
as not t-- let go the emotion that flourished.
we both knew, felt it, deep. this was
our goodbye. not spoken, but known
just known.

 

[Many Feathers]

Truer words...

he stood, trying to withstand
the heat gathering, as moisture grew
inside gray green eyes. I felt him sliding
away, glancing off into a distant, direct
future, on the horizon his orbs vastly planted
as not t-- let go the emotion that flourished.
we both knew, felt it, deep. this was
our goodbye. not spoken, but known
just known.

Though I wish it were that easy...

 

[wildsweetone]

Backlash

There's a kind of sadness,
a loss of that free-flying feeling
where I once posted a poem
totally on the wing
without thought or qualm.

Now I am bogged down
under the editing process.

I fear a silent [or not so] backlash
for an ill-gotten error,
an unkempt line.

Mostly,
the backlash is mine.

 

[Liar]

Come on
down
eleventeen blocks
or three stops
on a subway sand worm
shitting no spice,

where the Faust hided
synth blow sluts pick pennies
out of each others' eyes
and life on a thread
out of their patrons' pockets,

down at the only
real cajun ditch
north of the delta,
but half a continent
from the flys and black withes
of the real deal,

down at the table
where Drage and Del
had a last brotherly together
before battling it out with usual elegance
of grey and red matter splattered
over landing strip asphalt,
under roar of domestic arrivals,

down to my fourth cold and my fifth
painfully scorching
on a streak meant to last a lifetime,

I'll be waiting.

Come on down,
let it sink in for a second
for a day,

then scratch your own signature
into the grease brown wood.

 

[sellthecookie]

spending sunday

the world is at peace
inside motels, where
miniature soap lay
still on the sink,
and faucets turn easy,
and high walls bear
shudders, and names
carve themselves well
on behaved headboards
that know no enemy fire.