all of a sudden passion suddenly

[4degrees]

i can
and i do
a bit more
each day
becoming shallow
letting the un
eat at my core
trading truth
for magic beans
come visit me
in my shelldome.

fulfilled by empty actions.

 

[4degrees]

get up
get up
look at me while
i'm fucking you
open
your eyes
so you can see
how perfect my pain is
it remains
it stays
a perminant part
a useful tool
for transposing
the hollow pit
of snakes in my gut
to you
they writhe
and remind me
so much of you.

 

[Guest]

Don't ever let it be an after thought
something mindless,
a 'Hi, how are you?'
'Do you want fries with that?'

Say, I love you
and mean it
or don't say it at all

because it's easier to reply
to an automatic,
'Have a great day!'
with a canned, "You too!"

 

[annaswirls]

assignmennt: poem about an object. I think in my room.

well goddamn all I see reminds me of fucking
and I do not know these people well enough to write of

the mirror on a stannd suitable for tipping down
I see my hair touch the groud there,
between your legs as you come into me

or tilted to catch the open thigh poses I pressed
losing photoshop virginity
soften soften soften blurred and muted modesty
wires and dials suckers and heels

~

objects
two heart shaped rocks
already wrote one about that
can I cheat and change the date?


~

oragami cricket
does not make me want to write anything

except
I am sorry dear husband for not appreciating you
more

you folded paper for me
while I hid upstairs
turning his every word into a prayer
every sketch into a masterpiece

these wings delicately pressed into place
you brought them with opened hand
as I smiled and thanked you
all I could think was
damn, he could have be doing takex instead of making this stupid cricket


knowing the moment he is gone
the cricket will be a shrine
of you
my reality
my touch
my truth

~

object: the chair
which spins
away from the monitor when you come to tell me how our son
laughed at the skateboarders at the library every time they fell on their asses
which was apparently often

and you wonder if I want to watch a movie

I tell you to rent Blue Velvet
the hottest scene where Isabella slides down
Kyles body and his face, his face cringed as she takes him without
warning

my fingers unlatch leather
loosen metal teeth
softness firms under lips

lowered to knees
this time remembering to worship what is mine
this communion
pressed to my breast
held to tightly
tearsroll between your chest and my cheek

I know I do not deserve you

~

two heart shaped rocks.

it is okay that you did not love them, my darling
when I am gone
of them you will build a shrine and wonder why
they did not matter today

 

[Remec]

quiet night
empty yard
security has fallen off
but the only thing on
my mind
is
spillled bowls
lingering paw prints
reminding me of
golden locks gone
matted
muddy
and slow, labored breaths
that still tried to
power
challenges and hellos
that turned out to be
goodbyes
making my eyes water
and my chest ache
at the unexpected discovery
that he was my dog too.

 

[Guest]

Oh! You undo me, see right through me, ,
tear the veneer of my "proper-ness." and
turn me tigress to your night.
furry purrs and clawing nails make
jungle lovers of us both.
no spoken words but growling oaths
and uttered gutturals in heat.
you grasp my hair for purchase
pull me back to arch, all
I can do is flail the air and
moan your name.
the sullen night is filled with
sounds of turbulence and thunder
it drives us on to wildness.

 

[Alt]

Yearning so pure
glistening amid darkness
shadows stalked
A chance glimpse
permeates through excitement
desires flirted
reappear teasingly
smoldering alongside fuel
awaiting our flame

 

[echoes_s]

bleah

I read blue velvet
thought red scarlet
colors whirred
then clicked

of whores dancing can-can
tricks between bobbing
breaths, skimming
wobbled breasts

slathering skin with sheen
background music
foreplay slapping
hands and heels

leather peeled
rutted squeels
of rubber, not from vehicle
but friction skin to skin

nipple burns on carpet
free-flow pondering
pencil tearing paper
concentration wandering

fingers curling, poem curled feast
for hand before tossed
to grab your hair
and demanding kiss


I think I can, I think I can

at least trying

 

[Angeline]

I'm singing, singing even
as the night is forcing darkness
down my throat, choking me
with stars to burn forgetting
deep enough to silence words,
to drop them gutteral to pleas,
but I'm still singing, struggling
over the clenched mountains
of my teeth, pushing past the curtains
of my lips and standing on a rise
of air, this stage of truth projects
beyond a rage of lies, injects
itself past any sniggered whisper
of a subterfuge implies,
still here and stronger
than some fragile thread
of fantasy, still singing louder
than the hollow threat of fear,
and even broken and unclear
on what tomorrow brings
I'm singing in my own imperfect pitch,
less like a bell but more a shell
of clattered pots and pans,
yet here, still singing, my song rings,
I stand.

 

[Liar]

waking up to a stir
a microcosmos commotion
an elbow flexed, an exhale
tickling the neck
and foreign hair
giving in to gravity
sliding my skin

waking up to a sound
distant traffic
the next door shower
and hollering so subtle
a million other signals
right beside

waking up to tastes
smells that dares to linger
testimony of a story to remember

waking up to words

Good morning, rise and shine!

Oh, shut up.

That bad?

Worse.

waking up to patience
a day without a deadline
to wake up
wait it out
instead of being woken

 

[Maria2394]

Bandora's pox, her affliction

She rumbled with mysterious, her outcome was always
wet-cat furious,
acute fits of joy affecting her countenance,
wrestling her smile into a cortortionist,
trapped on display, vigouriuosly accosting her face.
Summoned as if she were man's best friend,
she was top-cat heavy with her own self esteem,
and all the other bitch-cats despised her.

Figment, I liked to call her,
when she would listen, and I admired
her ability to concentrate, and aske dher advice
on attracting a most proper mate.
Be sexy, just be sexy, flaunt your pussy and purrr-
her shallow reply and she turned tail
and removed herself
from my prescence of mindd

 

[Angeline]

passion not in a smooth flow
but bumped along the uneven road
of threads woven to slight our goals

here are our words, our poetry
spilled in language from the heartland
of poetry the state of loving words


bump

 

[sandj]

petty people, petty minds
petty pursuits petty lines

feeling sick feeling tired
feeling just about anything
power of suggestion
conjestion, frustration, confession,
Father, forgive me
for these sins we are about to receive
may we be truly thankful

melodrama makes me miss
my more meaningful moments
maybe mommy masks mild misery

melodrama mixes small emotions
madding motion, mocking manners, moderation
melodramamine, mellow man

mellow sounds of James Brown
a melody that leaves me mourning
the loss of soul, praying for a miracle

or at least some peace and quiet.
Silence, please.
Quiet.
I can't hear myself miss you.

 

[Guest]

Slightly out of sight, or focus
passionately desired but so
elusive, eel-like it
slips from mind, hides in
distractions and day dreams.
my pen is dry, dusty it lies.
No truths, in truth, can justify my
procrastination. Heels so cool
they're frosted. Fingers drumming
frustrated tattoos in rythmns
requiring staccato to quiet them.
Out damn muse
and make this poem mine.

 

[echoes_s]

He hurt me

Can’t cry,
can’t write
muted feelings in back dropped echo
somewhere between overwhelmed crumbled,
ramrod strength, gasped, grasping,
then depleted.

Breath weaned
before teardrop loses reflection,
delete and disappear
with no comfort of a mother.
He hurt me.

He turned eyes of belief,
russet deep,
to burnt black
before crumbs gust away,
timbre empty,
slow starvation.

 

[annaswirls]

over what kindgom do you preside
the smaces between or the spaces wthin

its true its true its true baby did you ever believe it?
for a second did you find yourself there
inside the smapeces occupied by
nothing
besides the thought of you?

is it this love that holds particles from collapsing
from their own spin
the illusion of solidity and collision?


held into being like the bucket I swing
from the end of my arm
water filled and pressed
centripetal centrifugal no matter
something holds it all in
something protects the nothingness so you can slide in
exist

but baby my arm is getting tired
i want to sleep
full buckets by my side
left open to the collide and collapse
unprotected
hold my hand

hold my hand as mptiness collapses in condenses
like the sponge I squeese over my head
hard dried and waiting
cool wind whistlex through the wholes where the salt water once past
keeping us soft
flexible
alive

baby do you live in teh spaces between
occupied by colision or
the spaces inside
propped by own own existence

 

[annaswirls]

the ache has migrated from behind right eye to the left
unclench
unknot
frace the tributaries back to the source
I hear your paddles slide through my pain

you drop petals to leave a trail
for me to follow as I search
explore floating in the mucj if it


baby this flower cannot be reconstructed
put the paddles down
there, by the old Tanenbury bridge

come find me beneath the willow that weps without shame
trace my pain to its source
we can spread it onto this bread
it soaks in

tastes a little bitter
but we keep coming back
silver knives in hand
silver brushespaint the ma
of the petal torn flower
meet me dusted in thie pollen born of humanity
you belong there still
you preside there
still
pushing from the center
you keep your shape
baby I tried to let you rest tyet still you press
holding back the colapse

its okay baby it is okay
to
let
go

flooat among my veins
you slide right through

 

[Angeline]

Open the window,
unlock the door. The morning
is chilly, but sun lights
my view of the deck.

Last week a little boy
turned his eyes
which are your eyes
to me and said

Look the buds are on the trees,

and I just smiled which means
I'm learning not to let kindness
make me cry anymore.

Tom Waits is singing.
he's in love with a Jersey Girl.
I'm just in love with Saturday
morning and that honey sun
and car wheels ready to roll.

 

[SeattleRain]

blinders straight I focus on
you
blind
down
the
path

but baby the worth of your kisses
is divided by the number of others
you give them to so readily

as are mine

sweet man
spread your kindness
t
h
i
n

so I can see straight through
keep doin it that way baby---
love thin blinder thick
damn it why
do I always have to look

pinch me to see if this is real...
go ahead pinch me...
I am waiting

proof is in the painless pinch

let us laugh about it all
there is no other reason
and none of this is true
right?

right

 

[Angeline]

yes in your eyes,
in cloudless sky or rain, yes
to every petal, every weed, yes
not just in words but more important
yes in deeds, in choices, in the smallest
whispered yes your voice can breathe,
the strongest clasp your hand can hold
a legacy of yes shouted so boldly
that your world revolves renewed,
denies denial, never leaves.

 

[Guest]

Counting +

It's instinct for a small hand
to grasp a finger
and it's ours to count.

Precious ten, each one perfect
kiss them all.

Both fit in a palm, tiny, but powerful
kiss them too.

Here is a better man
than he'd thought he'd ever be
watching new life

catching breath when she holds
hers. Will this be last?
Or will the next?

The counting begins, fingers
hands, feet, and toes.
All natural numbers of ten or two.

Tonight it will be breaths and heart rate,
forty and one hundred forty.
Normal enough for both of us to sleep.

 

[flyguy69]

The appearance of fingers, gray,
curled into existence to touch
new light, new air. The start of life-
long practice: in, then out. In,
then out. A tortuous journey begun
with a contracted call parts the sea
of dark saline and spills her love
into fingers, frightened,
that curl to greet her.

In opaque eyes there is vision;
I know you, and nothing else
matters.

 

[annaswirls]

I turn the pages back
back through the year
read words it was yesterday
iut must have been
yesterday

Read the story of the day
you lay dying
while music played
poems danced
over pages,
lovers were lovers and
time stopped for a moment
everything stopped but you--
the lack of you--

turn the pages forward,
so quickly we tried to heal
trying to be upbeat to pull each other up
and to continue writing our lives
you are written between each line



~~~

ahh memories make me so sentimental and sappy

 

[Luv2PleasureF]

My Beloved

The list of firsts gives way
To a remembrance of lasts,
From smiles, to tears,
From rejoicing, to rejection.

If only you knew,
If only I did,
But all that is left
Is regrets of "if only"

A bird sings
Songs of yesterday,
Recalling tunes of sorrow,
"Call me not your Beloved"

I hoped, I dreamed
That we would be different,
Together against the world,
Instead of each against the other.

Two balloons,
A flight of fancy,
Borne of passion,
Shot down.

There was no belief,
Only mistrust,
Your only thought
There was nothing but lust.

My Beloved,
Lust does not lie all night
On a cold, hard hospital floor,
It does not cry itself to sleep,
Or weep of futures lost.

You've told me I'm a poet,
Though I do not have your gift,
I want to be Your Everything
And seal this nightmarish rift.

But instead I have these words
And memories not soon to fail,
A love once thought immortal
Fades, slowly, wishing to die.

My face wet,
With eyes red,
Arms open wide,
Begging for My Beloved.

But there is no one to hear...

 

[annaswirls]

medicine dropper
dragonfly
plastic coin gives no jim,gle down pocket
give it give it give it give it up
donnt pretend i will save you
another fly swat zebra tail winding down the alphabet

unedited personality flaws
listed
vertically
all add up to equal
strength

like the space between front teeth
and the jammed bend of knuckle
we measure by the milliliter

chocka hocka choka full of members
dismembered dont your
remember what you are?

wolf in sheepy footed jammies
swearing you will not break skin

itrs elemental fundamental
mentally fucked up

pushing through the rubber band
until it snaps
why not just walk away
whay not just walk away?