all of a sudden passion suddenly

[Liar]

tungsten brilliance reflected
on chalk dulled masterpieces
grinning godlike in domes
of suspended disbelief

this is a stage
this is collosseum, every night,
gladiators grovelling for approval
or demigods challenging fear and death
depends on the keeper of records
and reviews...

and while hearts beat stacatto
anxious to ache full throttle
in full display
out there without sanctuary
or safety nets

others ache in darkness
savoring the moment
soaking up perspective

a love less arbituary
a life less obtained
but gained in battle
for holy grails
less ordinary

this is a stage
a porthole through the looking glass
a page turned
a different way

 

[green lights]

it is the desperate sadness
fear of going alone that lights the match burning between
why me
and
why couldn't it have been me
instead

hood pulled string pulled
everything focuses from the eyes

you recognize my name
my face
what you have done

did he erase those images
past darkness as promised

pop culture is my mythology
it is that desperate sadness

adolescent angst learning
none of it was true
and no one knows what is

life is a single lane bridge baby
stay in line
don't look down

 

[Trent_Dutch]

Reaction to Slavonic Dance music...

Dvorak scared me today,
As he thundered around me.
Bows drawn like archers,
Aiming at my heart.
I think I’m nervous and stoned.
And paranoia is like rain,
Trickling across the desert of my mind.
Tiny tendrils on the sand.
Thin fingered and cold,
Like the cruel Doctors hand.

 

[tungtied2u]

Monet cookie tin half full
of dead cigarette butts
as we sit, shiver, and smoke
watching the traffic strobe
through the trees below

two people
on two chairs
with big hopes
but reality gone bad
art to ashes

time to trash this canvas
set up the easel elsewhere
pray for inspiration
and just a little more luck

 

[annaswirls]

Some mornings I awake
with my hair on fire
and the words
rising
caught in my chest
like an objection at a wedding
and I
like a mad hatter
try and find the time
to get them
all
down
or at least
some feeble representation of them
skeletal
and once it's down I feel better and can go on
doing meaningless things for
meaningless money
or attention
or love

other days I get up
and feel nothing at all

and I haven't decided which is worse

but have you decided which is better?

comments on passion,
surely not called for but to say
objectionat a wedding
hair on fire
and madd hatter how
can one remain silent below this iamge
that wont let go

POET

every day you stretch your skin
filling the identity from the inside
out

 

[annaswirls]

pan right
second floor rowhouses

midnight windows clear
head in hands
fingers clench hair
fear loss
fear alone
scan through windows

just a wall away

complaints of parking spot
trashcan lids
alleyway gutterdrains

pouring it all into
nothing
rats chew wire

 

[Eleanora Day]

Para mi amor

Upstairs by the curve of lamp, Amante
by the bed, by the two satin pillows
and the pale golden head of moon, don't say
mi triste, no lo siento, these woes
that blued the sky past twilight reap the dawn.
Querido we go on, a miracle
caught in your hands, and I am never gone.
Nunca! For I have fallen to your will
and mouth, wingspread and worn upon your skin,
dark beating on your tongue where I am whole.
I know your muted whispers from within
night sung al cielo. Here is my soul
lain on your life, caught in the teeth of sighs.
Muted. Our breath. Silence and star-crossed cries.

 

[Disposa Girl]

Walking back amid the chance of bones
and phones, the memory of dances
here, the words and all the unclear
invitations smudged with what we thought
might be and was or wasn't said
in metaphors that could have smiled
or whispered lies instead, but always
hope floated like bubbles blown
for kisses, prayer.

Today a season ends, another starts again
with me still here and you no longer there.
I kept you warm, a promise made September
lean against the sky, Indian summer gone,
and by and by the snow hushed
what we might have wanted. Ashes,
now a spring again, a syncopated rain
in drips and drops of time till only poems
remain.

 

[Maria2394]

spring came up on as sleep
held close to bosom
as crows descended
on grass blackened by fire
and muddied
by rain

exposing seeds
left unaware by absence
of winter dress and
left hungrier even
by fall's rapid retreat
into colorless shame

seasons need
no one, no reason
and reason
needs no sun
no season

 

[Guest]

Sunday sees me stealing back,
unravelling these threads and
reclaiming what was mine.
Mining my memories,
reliving a lifetime,
it makes me wonder
where you are now.
I am here still,
trying to build a case
for creation.

 

[champagne1982]

Once, I sat on the bluff above the flow
of a diminished wash
just listening to the silence
of the breeze ruffled leaves
roaring amidst the noise
of the current that eddies
behind the rock.

Once, I sat nude and worshipful
in the centre of the river
up on that boulder
like a nyad having an adventure
in the air

Once, I climbed that shallow bluff
and stood on the very edge
of the undercut bank
thrilling to the vibrations
of the water as it eroded
the earth from under
my feet

Once, I had lain in the sun
upon the turf and vaguely
fretted that nature's profusion
would have me competing
with the bears for a metre
of heaven

Once, I will go back
to that wilderness cathedral
and celebrate with you
your kisses
my eucharist
your favour
my benediction
your love
my communion

 

[flyguy69]

Snoop

Pressed rainbows, nylon assertions
of chastity. Elastic borders
on a land of honey
and milk. Flimsy promises
of delight alongside natural
modesty, scented scandals slipped
beneath.

Cupped splendor, twin
peeks at creamy pillow
comfort. Clasped in wonder,
pushed and padded in pine
and folded
one in another.

Spun slinky and nude,
rolled long along
a stitched seam, coiled
and crackling static;
graciously offer slipped
space for guests.

The bottom drawer
is empty.

 

[annaswirls]

He exaggerates
overreacts

the door repoened after have been closed
five minutes

double stepping the stairs

damn it!

newborn finally fell asleep
on my breast
brother still asleep in crib

i
just
want
to
sleep

damn it!

what does he want?

Jenny.....

What?


switches on channel six
it is a movie

turns out most people would say this

it was like a movie

Mars Attacks or
Independence day maybe
the destruction of Manhattan is alawys a catch


mother:called:worried:son outside pittsburg

California was just waking.
next target

brother:called:breakfast:turn on the tv

Jenny....

in my bed: everyone
newborn: suckling
toddler: jumping
husband: pacing
brother: waiting

until the first tower
fell


and he had to leave:explain to his 2 year old
yes baby, there are people in there

he does not say
I have friends who work in there
how could a thing be spoken


I did not lose a sister or friend
or father but understand

I am not ready
for your predictions
however well intended

not wanting your position of leverage
balanced on my insecurity

not interested in your
artistic representations

I am still there on my bed
not enough room for those
with whom I want to share my death



not ready to accept
we cannot plan these things

 

[SeattleRain]

of course you know who this is
my eyes
have seen the glory
of this story, Invented

me in some image seen on screen
and cerebral spaces
long jumps for static to make
without finding a higher ground

will you meet me
in the arms of hypocracy
interpretations falling like the rain
that wets the loophole rope

how you would love
to slip my neck right in

yes
yes
it is true

but if I could lie with you
down new thaw ground
before dawn
it would be laugh and roll
wonedinring what

wondering what
all the way down

 

[SeattleRain]

soon as the ground thawed
they started to dig down
planting rocks at the head

your cough rattles me awake
wide open menthol and camphor haze

it is false humidity that hums
and runs


and someone said

tell us of sex

and shoulders
slump

 

[champagne1982]

Why Not ...

Where is my tantric sexuality?
Has my energy slipped through
Your fingers, just as you thought you had a grip?

Now, I wait to see if you'll be all
Over me as I whisper
Take me, I wanna fuck you.

Feel my fingers pull you towards my
Undulating hips as they eagerly raise up.
Chase my impatience away and give me what I want
Knowing all the while that you want it too.

 

[Angeline]

We won't be doing that reading together.
I could still take your photo, prop it up
on a stool and read your poems, but now
I can't call you and say to the audience,
assuming there is one, this is my goofy friend
who lives in a fog in Wisconsin. He's a poet,
too (in case you never knew because doubting
Thomas was your middle name).

They would have laughed, I know they would.
I'd have been very charming about it all, said
say hello to him and everyone would shout
Hello Douglas, and I would imagine you
at the end of the line with a bag of microwave
popcorn you dug up or a pizza, sitting with the phone
curled to your shoulder and laughing like the loon
you were. I can imagine that.

And Andre curled too on the rug, relaxed
but balefully aware of the night and noise
and the pizza. I can imagine that because
I have to or you don't even exist and no one
who continues to whisper at me and makes me
giggle and makes me write the way you insist
I do could be nonexistant.

Have you met the other ghosts?
They're a friendly lot. They'll listen
to your poems anytime because they
know I loved you, so they do too.
They're very cooperative that way,
and sometimes they play jazz.

 

[Maria2394]

exhumation of the self pity song

love can no longer embrace me-
his right arm severed, misplaced
and death bleats ravenous, curious-
finders, keepers, finders creepers

having three limbs now
makes his job much easier-
to hold you now, and love
is evil, backwards, misspelled,
an angel minus a wing,
a chicken off balance
minus his skimpy, flying thing,
the one he did not need

and if death could chuckle,
his laughter might be
Frankenstein whispers,
out the left side of his mouth
while he sharpens his scythe in the middle,
even and clean, and once love
carried hope, whole
in a tan wicker basket,
woven with strands of a baby’s hair

fine strands, blonde and red
and death with his three arms
and pickled-egg eyes bored holes
in the basket where hope was held

and there was a heart, lying in sand
with a hole and a cane and a bucket of why’s

I woudl choose to never feel again, but
that choice is no longer mine
if I could check out, before my time
and remove the lens from a dead man’s eye
maybe I could understand why
you still refuse to love me

 

[Liar]

we do this at night
spread our wings in sleep drunk flight

and drink our kettles dry
to fight
the next obnoxious attack
of lead lined lids

that lure hours to die
take and don't give back

we dig our nails in
shake the addiction
of oblivion away
second by second
to keep the dreaded sleep at bay

when quantity is all that's left
of dreams and dismay

and finally
a weary bloodshot eye
soak up the light
of another day

as if saved
as if right

as if biting harder would
dissolve the haze
and give us life

 

[annaswirls]

scrabble night

clack of tiles
in suiede skin bag
the pulling out of letters
arranged in possibility

I do the same
shake the bag
loose words rattle
see what falls out




wanted to say more
maybe if I played
I would have something to say beyond

counted letters
added points
invented words checked by special books

I see a man who could be you
he is signing checks
confused by a speck of something on his jacket
come on man
give me something to wrap my legs around
I have nothing here


he tries to slide envelopes into hidden pocket inside wool


they dio not fit

that is when he sees

a check unsigned.

rigns
readjusts
carried in hand



a poet did you see that
silver barette clip lost of decoration

she doesnt care
auburn natural hand slid between crossed legs

her hand is held in position
between her crossed legs
at the knee
pinched


she is a poet
no doubt
with whitman
coffee and a book of quantum mechanics
unopened on the bottom of the pile


moves her hand across belly
holds opposite elbow
hand and elbow hold each other in place


what wold her hand do there were no other body part to hold it down

conduct a symphony
pull the handle on steamed milk
lift her finger slowly and motion to me
come, come

poets alone monday night


I do not want to notice things and paint
a picture with words
I wand to write poetry
free of adjectives

I give you this


a poet at a table
with a pen
alone
not even a drink


as it must be
in the middle of conversation

and as always
the least expernsive item is free


he count their squares with fingers twisted around themselves
hidden behind his back

if I payed played his eyes would be in mine

mine
instead I dye hair
plan for a Real kneeling kitchen blow job




but these twists and crosses
hold body pieces together with more body pieces
extensione contained

eye creases deep
veins close to surface and above

I long but never act
uncross the legs, the ankles

hand clenching elbow and untwist him
left to hang loose
unrestrianed

he slides his long fingers into
back levis piocet

I want fingers free
pulled
straight

counting pieces
untangled
unheld

 

[flyguy69]

Reruns

The space between thoughts
Between words in a single thought
Basis for comedy

 

[Luv2PleasureF]

Rod Stewart is singing
the song
that played on the radio
the first night we kissed,
and while you're at work,
I listen,
want to dance,
but I write,
thinking
only of you.

I wish you knew
How my thoughts dwell on you,
Dreams of a life together,
Of happiness and passion
No strife,
No pain,
No stress...
But most of all,
I wish you knew,
I didn't think it was Billy Joel.

And sweetie, we really gotta get back to that Spanish restaurant for more of those yummy ribs and rice & beans!! Lunch one day next week maybe?

 

[BooMerengue]

Rod Stewart is singing
the song
that played on the radio
the first night we kissed,
and while you're at work,
I listen,
want to dance,
but I write,
thinking
only of you.

suddenly from the radio
comes the sound of magic
transporting me
to a secluded riverbank

Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow
Who else is gonna bring you a bottle of rain
There he goes moving across the water
There he goes turning my whole world around

we were so young
sure and unsure together
but driven by something
stronger than us

Do you feel what I feel
Can we make it so that's part of the deal
I gotta hold you in these arms of steel
Lay your heart on the line this time

with trembling hands we
undress each other
young bodies
hard and hot and hungry

I wanna breathe when you breathe
When you whisper like that hot summer breeze
Count the beads of sweat that cover me
Didn't you show me a sign this time

and as if hands were pushing us
and our breath is halted
and the waves lapping give us cadence
finally we become one

Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow
Who else is gonna bring you a bottle of rain
There he goes moving across the water
There he goes turning my whole world around, around

my world is turned around
and its the first time ever
two souls become one
in such an explosion
of glory

Do you feel what I feel
Do you feel what I feel
Ah can you see what I see
Can you cut behind the mystery
I will meet you by the witness tree
Leave the whole world behind

and as the sunrises
over the gun metal water
the birds awaken
and sing

I want to come when you call
I'll get to you if I have to crawl
They can't hold me with these iron walls
We got mountains to climb, to climb

passion unending
kissing awake the new found love
there will never
be another you

Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow
Who else is gonna bring you a bottle of rain
There he goes moving across the water
There he goes turning my whole world around

and then the summer ended
and the boat came
we waited at the dock
not seeing the families
crying and tripping over luggage
and we knew without words
we'd never see each other again.

turning my whole world around
turning my whole world around
turning my whole world around

Thank you, Rod.

(completely unedited)

 

[Luv2PleasureF]

Like Cinderella
losing her shoe;
thinking
my heart
was broke in two,
you taught me love
I never knew.

Hehe...I was at the Spanish Restaurant twice with the kids since then. You were at work. Muahaha!

And yes, you thought it was Billy Joel. You had that serious look on your face. Fess up, LOL!

And like that tale of long ago,
As lovers dancing toe to toe,
We both are students, we both teach,
There is nothing beyond our reach.


About the restaurant...

If you go without me again,
Your ear, you know, I'll surely bend,
At least next time please bring me some
You know it makes me go, "Yum Yum!"

I'm considering starting a thread to ask the good people here at Lit whether or not they think it's even remotely possible that Rod Stewart could be confused with Billy Joel... I swear my love, sometimes you know me so well, and sometimes you're amazingly clueless in the most magnificent of Blonde Traditions! There's just no way I thought it was Billy Joel, I WAS JOKING!! LOL

 

[Angeline]

The evening hasn't even touched
its ankles, but the doors are open
to fresh air, and the music popping
somewhere between jazz and LA.

The snow is backing away, the ground
is yawning awake again, cracking up
the teeth of roads. Heaving up
toward mud season, muddy, dusty
rutted sludge season, which is my

second mud season or the twelfth
moon of my exile. Moses didn't part
the sea, you did, and I ebbed away,
muddy toes and tears, walking
to you. The north train whistle
sings like a siren, wrings miles
of irrisistible blues into uncertainty.

Today you said remember this
and played let us be lovers,
we'll marry our fortunes together.

Every look is meaningful,
we have learned to speak in
smiles and eyes, whole stories
without a word. Emmy Lou sings
and two coasts fill up our space.