Dirty 30 in 30

[4degrees]

1-7

love that razor tzara.

in my mailbox today
came the next instruments
that shall declare my love
and cut my devotion
in red layers near
the bone
not too high, for it bleeds
more than you can take
not too low, i can't
yet be so exposed
the collarbone is the happy
point of resolution where
marks stay for a week's time
the red X on your chest
says that you are mine.

 

[darkerdreamer]

9- undeserving of a title#2

the world explodes in a hi-def
rain as times square goes ballistic.
everyone laughs and cheers when
the ball doesn't just drop,
it lights the whole town on fire.

everyone is jovial and drunk
as they forget 9/11 and forget
losing the olympics to fucking canada
and forget the latest
missing white child
and latest beat poet
who has nothing to say except
tired poems about 9/11
and missing white girls.
he hates himself for it
but writing something
rather than nothing
makes the day go down smoother.

 

[4degrees]

1-8

Writing something,
even the sweet and
dirty nothings
remind me and you, too
of what my very essence
consists of
sinisterly pained and
seeking more of a shock
more feeling, of some sort
i give it to myself
just like sex
and it still works
making the next bad poem
making the next dirty kiss
something to behold
for the deaf and the blind
and the just plain dead.

 

[butters]

Orpheus Remix

Today, my razor slipped and cut your vein.
No—artery. You bled too full, too fast,
The pool too bright a red for you to last.
So, artery. You're dead. All's one in same.

But I don't know from whence this razor came;
I've never owned a cutthroat in the past,
Nor knew I owned this one, until your last
(And mine, as well. I've used it once again).

My twinned, cold hands enfold your stony cheeks.
I did not know I loved you until now,
When losing you reminds me of your speech,

Your walk, your laugh, the books you liked to read.
Though I am dying, and you're dead, please know
That I've so loved you. Late, I will concede.


.

the quality of the writing appearing here in this thread is perfectly daunting.

this poem, for example - just .... i don't even have the words right now. it makes me feel cloddish, or like my hands have turned to wooden blocks. it


resounds ...


no


reverberates beyond the page

 

[PandoraGlitters]

napo 5

. . . . .

 

[PandoraGlitters]

the quality of the writing appearing here in this thread is perfectly daunting.

Think of that as the water feature but there's plenty of pool. Jump in; the water's fine.

 

[butters]

no.1


sometimes i drift away from myself
become
way too remote
when really
i want to reach inside
clutch a handful of creativity and
f l i n g it at the stars
w
a
t
c
h it arc
and fall
as huge and heavenly bowers
green green green
a cathedral of trees filled with exotic choiring birds
unseen except for brilliant flashes of plumage
their voices soaring
filling the vaulted spaces
filling the empty places inside
me

on thoughts like these i shine

 

[butters]

Think of that as the water feature but there's plenty of pool. Jump in; the water's fine.

ok, i jumped in. it is what it is
swimming underwater can be fun...



are we meant to theme these, or can they be whatever happens?

 

[PandoraGlitters]

ok, i jumped in. it is what it is
swimming underwater can be fun...



are we meant to theme these, or can they be whatever happens?

Yay! *gentle splash of warm water*

Well I have rarely seen people doing NaPoWriMo use a theme but I think the intent of this thread is well summed in "whatever happens." Great start, Chips.

 

[Tzara]

this poem, for example - just .... i don't even have the words right now. it makes me feel cloddish

It makes me feel cloddish, too.




But thanks for your kind comment (you too, 4°).

 

[Tzara]

27

Philosophy on Rooftop, with Kools

I smoked another cigarette
while waiting for my life to change—
watched window blinds, her silhouette,
smoked yet another cigarette,
and leaned upon the parapet.
Considered jumping. Thought it strange,
so smoked another cigarette
while waiting for my mind to change.


.

 

[butters]

Yay! *gentle splash of warm water*

Well I have rarely seen people doing NaPoWriMo use a theme but I think the intent of this thread is well summed in "whatever happens." Great start, Chips.

would someone please translate?

and ta

 

[PandoraGlitters]

would someone please translate?

and ta

National Poetry Writing Month = NaPoWriMo

 

[butters]

National Poetry Writing Month = NaPoWriMo

ooooohhhhhhhhhhh. i see. *feels dumb*

 

[4degrees]

1-9

Today the blood thirst
Becomes less obvious
As every bit is subdued
By those three words
Soothed, my heart is
Cradled in long fingers
Kissed by full soft lips
The metal rubs affectionately
Against a palpitating aorta
That beats only for you.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

ooooohhhhhhhhhhh. i see. *feels dumb*

Don't feel dumb, silly. It isn't even your nation! I'm the dumb one for not writing it out to begin with.

 

[Tzara]

28: Appropriated from another, etc. etc.

Spielwerk

Two sigils that will ward off hex—
Her scapula, the way they flex
When under load (I'm engineer),
Her wild hair, so thick to pull,
Gawrsh, makes me feel so animal
I'd ruin, like, my whole career
For one quick read of Teufelsbrief
If she would grant me (God!) relief.


Oh, look! It rhymes. How cute. Fer b., of course.

 

[4degrees]

1-10

this dirty is renewed
revived like voodoo on
the dead
demonic dementia curdles
cold blood into a hot soup
drinking poison with every breath
insatiable hunger that brings
about death
open your arms wide
let the darkness love you
evil inches taking hold
they brand from the inside
and i can smell you burn
it is the flavor of our love.

 

[butters]

no.2


poem
po-em
poe-im

like larval caddis
turns stonesmith
each case a nuanced place of
graft and grit
treasures troved
a po-im builds upon itself
and, when well-crafted,
hoardes a wealth
of facets to reflect
to turn the eye, the mind, the
very breath direct-
-ly in its lungs while
hid way inside its smooth interior
are spaces shaded
far less showy
though know they're not one whit inferior

 

[butters]

this dirty is renewed
revived like voodoo on
the dead
demonic dementia curdles
cold blood into a hot soup
drinking poison with every breath
insatiable hunger that brings
about death
open your arms wide
let the darkness love you
evil inches taking hold
they brand from the inside
and i can smell you burn
it is the flavor of our love.

i could eat those lines and feel replete, dabbing my lips with a white linen napkin afterwards.

yum!

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Your poems beg to be read aloud, Chipbutty. I'm enjoying your ear.

 

[Tzara]

29

Burial

No pattern other than persistence
or stupidity, that failing to pick up on cues
meant to say more gently You should now go.

I stumbled on like a dog—loyal, puzzled,
wanting to show how I could still catch squirrels
in that park we never went to anymore.
Eventually, even my doggy brain
deduced some new affection, affectation,

attachment gathered your attention.
But canine claws just dig, not scratch,
and I'm a man, not dog nor cat. Sometime,
though, when I'm much less tired, I'll dig a hole.


.

 

[butters]

Your poems beg to be read aloud, Chipbutty. I'm enjoying your ear.

my ear thanks you

Burial

No pattern other than persistence
or stupidity, that failing to pick up on cues
meant to say more gently You should now go.

I stumbled on like a dog—loyal, puzzled,
wanting to show how I could still catch squirrels
in that park we never went to anymore.
Eventually, even my doggy brain
deduced some new affection, affectation,

attachment gathered your attention.
But canine claws just dig, not scratch,
and I'm a man, not dog nor cat. Sometime,
though, when I'm much less tired, I'll dig a hole.


.

so heavy, that ending. so dreadfully sad

 

[butters]

no.3


if i were Alice
i would suck
puhleeze ... *rolleyes*
get your minds up out that muck
what i mean to say is this:
when it comes to mirrors
seems i'm missing something vital!
spatial awareness is entitled
surely to more than just a nod to concept
yet
when looking through that looking glass
i'm barely telling face from arse

not that my face is really bum-like
or my arse resembles face
it's the mixing up of angles
front and back and back to front
the left to rights and right to lefts i lack

and then when i turn sideways on?
that's when things get really fun

 

[4degrees]

i could eat those lines and feel replete, dabbing my lips with a white linen napkin afterwards.

yum!

that's so nice. thanks