Dirty 30 in 30

[sweepthefloor]

25

Can I take your picture?
So I can sleep with your face tonight?

It is a good pick up line.

You are a shiny object
A lovely piece of artwork

That works well also.

You fucking bitch!
You just slipped your finger in my ass!

Oooops.

Tripping over my dress
Out the door quickly.

Sorry.

 

[sweepthefloor]

26

I am your nurse. A clean filthy mouth licks cuts. A sterile hand wraps wounds. Gauze goes over, under and over again. This makes the cycle, pretty. Pretty, like the ribbons in my ponytails, they have your name on them. I am yours.

 

[sweepthefloor]

27

Wet morning mountains
Pulls on damp tight jeans

The label stitched a name
On my tightly gripped ass

The brand deep desire not
Found in any store

Custom made denim
The pattern of your emotion

It is a good fit.

 

[champagne1982]

woot sweep! You're going great guns and by golly! I think you're gonna make it. ... Not to jinx you or anything, of course.

 

[sweepthefloor]

woot sweep! You're going great guns and by golly! I think you're gonna make it. ... Not to jinx you or anything, of course.

<bling> Thank you!

 

[sweepthefloor]

28

I am hot pink like zinc,
It’s a pill placed in your mouth.

Flush, blush, boosts
Your immune system

Rosy satin cheeks
I am your longevity

This is formulary.

 

[sweepthefloor]

29

Hang clothes on the line between the trees.
Pretty apron filled with wooden pins.
Sway black wet seal bottom heavy
Over a pink luster glow, go
Down the rocks
In flip flops
Twitch up the hill top-heavy, chest first
He rides the backhoe fiercely
Start my Grand-Daddy’s tractor for me
Sweep the deck with a rough bristle brush
Stop for porch shots on ice.

Does he always smile this much?

 

[sweepthefloor]

30

This necklace says NURSIE
On round beads with black letters.
Mind more thinking of you

It is a choker.

Surrounded by crystals and glass
Mindless slipping wire through holes
With my aseptic hands fondling

Seed beads.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Hang clothes on the line between the trees.
Pretty apron filled with wooden pins.
Sway black wet seal bottom heavy
Over a pink luster glow, go
Down the rocks
In flip flops
Twitch up the hill top-heavy, chest first
He rides the backhoe fiercely
Start my Grand-Daddy’s tractor for me
Sweep the deck with a rough bristle brush
Stop for porch shots on ice.

Does he always smile this much?

Really evocative, STF.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Really evocative, STF.

Thank you so much for your kindness! I did it! *cheers* I have more!

 

[Tzara]

1

Fool

And I'll go to bed at noon.
—King Lear, III, vi

All laugh at me
in my caper and stance
though this is just good

foolishness,
as I simply serve as mirror,
though a warped one

found in an abandoned funhouse.
See, here is your sex life,
dreary as cardboard,

blank as the tax form
you’re too fretful to file. Here
is your nest egg,

dusty and slim and a thing
that almost evaporates
if poked with an unsharpened pencil.

I, at least, have a job,
though it be only
to be your fool. I won't say it is

a good job, but it is steady work,
and something I am proud
I can live on,

and it is at least as honest
as your job
or, perhaps, a bit more so.

.

 

[Lyricalli]

1/30

Well-versed in one-sided conversation
the words all here with nowhere to go
attempting to fill empty spaces
you've left behind

everything I wish I said
the everyday I still wish I could

Your whispers come in the quiet
sighs that almost tickle my ears
imagine that you can hear me too
childish wishes on unfallen stars
lost in the sunrise

 

[Tzara]

2

.....

 

[Lyricalli]

2/30

Joy Ride

No map, no destination
engine humming
rattle of the road
to nowhere
and everywhere
you drove

toward a future
never more than a mile
or a few ahead
we took in the scenery
made color commentary
no need for the radio
except when we wanted to sing

We found stillness
in motion
and I left that peace
of me in your passenger seat

 

[Tzara]

3

Acrophobia

The queasy feeling
in my stomach, the tingle
in the back of my thighs
reminds me how nervous
I get on even the second
rung of a stepladder.
It's more than fear—
the certainty of falling
overwhelms me, even
as I cling to the sill,
the cliff, the railing,
the thin and fraying
rope, whatever last grasp
I have of personal safety.
But it's hopeless. When
you glance back over
your shoulder, hip
cocked, hair loose
down your back, I am
suddenly so high
there is no more atmosphere
and I drop like a stone
through the beautiful
empty expanse of open sky.

.

 

[Lyricalli]

3/30

The history of us is housed in me
a ragged collection of artifacts
cave paintings from the beginning
simplicity now fading
tattered scraps of memories
various stages of decay
records of a dying language
no one else can speak
unfinished artwork etched within my bones
tools abandoned in the dust

beauty rolled of our tongues
came to life at our fingertips
lays in ruins at our feet
and I am the archive of our failure



The line "I am the archive of our failure" from Sarah McLachlan's Black and White got stuck in my head, so I wanted to play with it a bit. I won't claim happiness with it, but it's what I've got for now. There's more in that line, I think, and perhaps I'll find it later.

 

[Tzara]

4

On Writing a Poem Each Day
for National Poetry Month

A poem a day, each plainly written.
It seems a simple thing to ask,
to make some fluffy piece—a kitten
formed out of language. Yet the task
is tortuous as Torquemada's
Grand Inquisitional Armada;
one's brain is stretched upon the rack
to spew out mental bric-à-brac
and forge a new Poetic Wonder
that sounds as sweet as aspartame
and leads to uniform acclaim
(or leastways no aesthetic blunder).
Today it's this poor Pushkin sonnet
that I've produced. Paint "4" upon it.

This is a non-conforming Pushkin sonnet (better known as Onegin Stanza) as the terminal couplet is feminine rhyme. Happy Tuesday.

 

[Lyricalli]

4/30

After all the subterfuge
dirty little secrets
guarded half-truths
ruminations in hindsight
clarity of silence
those things left unsaid
I realized
you still need to hide
I am not the lie

 

[Tzara]

5

Black

First, it's not a color
but rather lack
of one, as if it wanted

to keep all light closed up
inside, the way someone
shy folds in

upon themselves.
Though worn in grief
it does not itself grieve,

but merely sets off
the face, the hands, the posture
of the mourner,

which is where
all attention should be focused,
surely.

Some call it slimming,
but again, it only
directs one's gaze, distracts

the eye. Disguise
is not its skill;
that would be instead display.

.

 

[Lyricalli]

5/30

The maple has no leaves
there are no growing buds
strips of bark have peeled away
to expose its naked trunk
all around are greening trees
basking in the lengthening sun
but for one, there is no spring

 

[Tzara]

6

Haibun

While it certainly is true that Perseus was among the greatest of heroes, he was also often absent-minded. Not infrequently he would mislay the severed head of Medusa—under the buffet table at a cocktail party, stuffed in a random gym locker at LA Fitness, in the basket of an abandoned shopping cart in the Whole Foods parking lot (P was one of those inconsiderate types who would load their groceries from the cart into his chariot and then leave the cart in the adjacent parking space to vex other customers). Only occasionally did this cause serious problems as he kept the head secured in a triple-layer Hefty garbage bag for safety reasons, figuring that petty thieves would not be tempted to walk off with a sack full of old takeout pizza boxes and moldy bread.

The one significant exception occurred when Perseus was serving as honorary umpire for a softball game being played at an exclusive academy for young women in Caserta, near Naples. While chasing a pop-up in foul territory, one of the players tripped over Medusa's garbage sack, which P should have secured in the dugout rather than dumping it rather casually along the third base line. The poor girl's cleats tore open the bag and, as one might expect, tragedy ensued.

..........gorgon's severed head
...................stops the game cold, sure looks like
...............permanent delay

After the inevitable lawsuits were settled, the deceased were repositioned to compose a classical sculpture depicting Diana bathing, elsewhere on the castle grounds where they can still be seen today.

.

 

[Lyricalli]

6/30

There's a ghost with a hand
at my throat
who taunts me with breath
in small sips
and knocked-back shots
toying with my addiction
to oxygen

An ephemeral finger
traces my lips
tempts them to part in a plea
that may go unanswered
and I've nearly forgotten
the feeling of full lungs

but I long for it

like chilling whispers
reminding me of the time
I knew how to breathe
on my own

 

[Tzara]

7

Coastline

Hail spreads
across the beach,
fresh popcorn,

styrofoam pellets,
grapeshot. My neck
stings as if eaten

by a swarm
of biting flies.
Offshore,

the old lighthouse,
spotlit
by the hidden sun.

.

 

[Tzara]

8

Le cheval sans tête

broute dans un champ d'asphalte
entre deux lignes
blanches, tranquillement

.

 

[Tzara]

9

Beach Morning

The seafoam moves
in the wind
like an animal,

slow then fast,
back and forth,
shivering

in the cold.
It's too warm
in our room,

though the heat
is off. Even
the pilot light

roasts us
like those headless
chickens

upscale groceries
label as "herbed
French."