Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

[Tathagata]

3rd

.....

 

[BlueskyBeauty]

rough draft

 

[BlueskyBeauty]

1st edit

 

[Syndra Lynn]

my day

So many days end
in death
not mine today
not yours
but soon

footsteps behind us
stalking our dreams
don’t meet his eyes
don’t count the screams

old cast away
no one wants anymore
sit silently
while they tie off the vein
simple injection
do you feel fear or pain?

falling before me
I try to hold on
feeling the pulse
pulse
pulse
disappear

in the dark
so alone
alone with my fears

birdseed spills dry
from limp neck of a dove
symbol of peace
still warm in my hand
gunshot to the throat

So many days end in death
not mine
not yours
but soon

 

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[Syndra Lynn]

I opened the wall,
where the cask of amontillado was sealed,
with you,
and the memories of you.

Sour grapes?
Yes indeed.
Aged to vinegar in barrels
of selfish desire.

Bitter wine of knowledge,
all encompassing blessings.
I wanted to find a skeleton

But there you were,
with fruit stained lips,
looking ripe and lush,
the same.
How can that be??

I bricked you in with anger,
doubt and hurt,
mortared with shame ,
and embarrassment.
Suffocating all tendrils
of " used to be" compassion,
stifled seeds of spring growth.

dying on the vine my friend,
dying on the vine


And yet...
undead you are,
youthful, brash, succulent flesh
the same,
Oh the same,
as the last day I saw you,
heard you,
loved you.


You opened the cask
and let loose the words and letters,
gilded gifts of gleeful gratitude,
promises made in wet nights,
(cum blood tear soaked)
stars spread like a scattered laugh,
and we watched it skip like a pond stone
across heaven.

Now
hollow echoes...
But still shadows dance,
cavernous cacophony clockwork,
winds down ,
but so real.


I stroll down
autumn paths,
the crunching of my heart,
like brittle leaves,
underfoot.

Can I take back what was
a fleeting ,
unscripted brush,
with karma?

Storm ridden out,
anchor of porcelain,
which preserved you none the less
in amber.


These mercury memories merge again
in our words,
remembrances,
and I feel you there,
inside me,
behind the wall
with the amontillado.

Fucking awesome, Bro!

and

Love the new AV!

Write on...

 

[shyly curious]

my first post in this forum, not sure if this belongs here, I'm sure someone will guide me accordingly.


my parents age
days wisping past
time but a zypher
pale fog barely seen

one day they won't
share time here anymore
friends and family
shall miss their company

how to capture their honor
steadfast loyalty
given to everyone near
and in farflung locales

time now to revel
and share thoughts with them
so at least they know
the depth of their impact

as friends they are
really quite wonderful
as parents they've been
teachers guides simply superb

 

[Tathagata]

.,,,,

 

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[tungtied2u]

tath -that moved me to tears and this

If I'd known you
in strawberry dotted dresses ,
puddle warped maryjanes , tree climb elbows
teddy bears and tea parties,
I'd have taken you on my knee,
and given you magic gifts,
that you could have opened now.

I'd whisper in your ear
pppshhhh sbesh pssssh pssh pescha pessh
while your giggle bubbled up
spring water pure, bouyant
"Those are secret words,
it will make your dreams come true
someday..there is always someday"

A kiss on your cheek,
apple blossom white,
will take you off crosses
that you find yourself on,
and heal you,
with unconditional love.
It is always with you

And this hug will hold all the good things in
and keep all the bad things out.

When the jackstraw jumble shadows in your room,
come alive at night,
and tell you you're alone...
cross you fingers like this
and close you eye
and all the bad things go away
and can;t hurt you


and when we walk
and i hold your tiny hand in mine
it is practice for
that handsome prince
who will find you
and love you
just the way you dreamed it would be

But you are grown now
and I've no magic to offer
no words to mend what life has done

but were it in my power
you'd be a little girl again
and I
would watch over you...

Overcast Sunday barbecue
Perched before hissing hibachi
on sturdy sawhorse
the ancient chef and his able assistant

her legs dangle
steadied in precarious balance
by the chef’s free hand
while the other attends the meal
with somewhat less affection

And the glow that warms then both
comes not from the grills red embers
but the bond
of sharing moments such as these
spent in silent celebration
learning life’s mysteries

 

[Tathagata]

Dreamlettes

.....

 

[*Catbabe*]

The Park in Stepford Surburbia

Bloody hell,
the looping lament
silently repeats in my head
when I spot the absurd herd.

Damn, I said that out loud.

“What did you call them, Mom?”
“Oh, … I just heard my third bird”
little cocked head,
says, that’s not what you said.

Clever child,
“Go play.”

Uh oh.

Lost my kid cover,
no more conversation camouflage
I’m spotted
pointedly pinned,
by sea green tinted contacts,
blinded by capped tooth smarmy smile

weekly manicured hands clap
with glee as she comes,
a beetle on speed
to my little park bench.

What the hell is glee, anyway?

Is it what fills her bounce-less boobs,
does it inflate this
bubble-headed, brainless,
Betty,
who pretends to be Crocker,
but is more like Ford.

Silly me, she’s not brainless,
she reads a paperback a week.

Indeed,

the whole weekly coupon book
from start to finish,
doing her dedicated duty,
cutting them out for kicks
to give to the nanny on grocery day,
right before the masseuse comes.

Tuesdays are such a rush.

I stand,
mentally measuring
how far to the car,
I can outrun her Jimmy Choos
easily, in my running shoes,

too late

brace for air kisses and the influx
of an overly perfumed cloying cloud,
pursing perfectly pink lined lips,
eyes examining my last years jeans.

“How are you, darling?
And what are you reading now,
you little book worm, you?”

Her neck is so thin since lipo
tempting to my flexing fingers,
put your hands down,
murder is bad,
I think.


“Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies,” I say,
wondering,
can she hear my teeth grinding,
no worries,
she’s busy staring
at the smudge on my cheek.

“Oh, is she good?”

Sorry Evelyn.

“You know, I have that video
…Nubile Bodies, you said?
My abs are rock hard on that program”

She checks mine out,

“I guess you’re still reading, huh?”

Bitch.

One

little

slap

might be alright,
justifiable assault.
on a plastic person.

Too slow,

she scampers back
to her flock of fakes.

One last look at the
gucci diaper bag queens
playing real life,
makes me wonder
who the nannies are for.

Too, too sick making.

“What was that, Mom?”
parental pause,
“I thought I heard a stick breaking.”

 

[Tathagata]

3rd try

.....

 

[Guest]

ive never posted here but im hoping to learn by just jumping in.
have only recently thought about poetry and not sure i have what it takes.
heres my latest.. would love to hear what you think.. very short.. possibly riddled with cliche.. still wanna hear from you. Liar has tried to help me but for some reason, im not understanding his very patient and helpful assistance.

No title yet


Fluffy clouds
Obscure the sun
Billowing cottony
Sails
Behind which
Radiant heat prevails

Ocean crashing
Upon the shore
Primal energy
Infused
Igniting
Inflames

Salty winds
converging
consuming
titillating


And so it goes—
My love

The distance between us
like those clouds
a thin veil
through which
feelings traverse

 

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[Tathagata]

No title yet


Fluffy clouds
Obscure the sun
Billowing cottony
Sails
Behind which
Radiant heat prevails

Ocean crashing
Upon the shore
Primal energy
Infused
Igniting
Inflames

Salty winds
converging
consuming
titillating


And so it goes—
My love

The distance between us
like those clouds
a thin veil
through which
feelings traverse

The feeling and intent of this is a wonderful thought.
Love that transcends and finds it's way despite obstacles...
But it's not like every other love right?
So use words that make it unique to you and your love.

clouds are indeed fluffy...is that what you see??
in your last verse you say they are a veil
that's much better than fluffy

so perhaps in the first verse the clouds could be murky

murky clouds
like frost on a window
filters the sun
and hides the future


you don't need billowy cottony because that's the same as fluffy
so perhaps give them other characteristics

It's your world..
make them
angry
lost
compassionate
mindless

lost compassionate wanderers
parade endlessly
before universal warmth

You see??
these are awful examples
lol
but what I'm trying to say it...you can make them whatever you want
you can invent words
If, to you, the clouds look like they are the fuzz on a kittens ears
say that
kitten ear texture
or something

Don't rely on words other have always used
go out of your way to try and find New ways to describe your feelings.

make your words represent the magic that you see and feel.
think about it for a long time if you need to
there is never any rush to complete a poem
get you ideas down..
and then replace it
word by word
read it out loud
and see if it captures what you want it too


Please forgive me if I've offended you in any way
or stepped on your toes
It was not my intent at all
But I see you have talent and desire and I'd hate to see you give up on it

Good luck and I hope to see you posting here on a regular basis

 

[Guest]

The feeling and intent of this is a wonderful thought.
Love that transcends and finds it's way despite obstacles...
But it's not like every other love right?
So use words that make it unique to you and your love.

clouds are indeed fluffy...is that what you see??
in your last verse you say they are a veil
that's much better than fluffy

so perhaps in the first verse the clouds could be murky

murky clouds
like frost on a window
filters the sun
and hides the future


you don't need billowy cottony because that's the same as fluffy
so perhaps give them other characteristics

It's your world..
make them
angry
lost
compassionate
mindless

lost compassionate wanderers
parade endlessly
before universal warmth

You see??
these are awful examples
lol
but what I'm trying to say it...you can make them whatever you want
you can invent words
If, to you, the clouds look like they are the fuzz on a kittens ears
say that
kitten ear texture
or something

Don't rely on words other have always used
go out of your way to try and find New ways to describe your feelings.

make your words represent the magic that you see and feel.
think about it for a long time if you need to
there is never any rush to complete a poem
get you ideas down..
and then replace it
word by word
read it out loud
and see if it captures what you want it too


Please forgive me if I've offended you in any way
or stepped on your toes
It was not my intent at all
But I see you have talent and desire and I'd hate to see you give up on it

Good luck and I hope to see you posting here on a regular basis

thank you very much. youre right i did overstate with the use of billowy and cottony.. i will take a closer look
youve opened my eyes and i will work on it because it means something to me.
i appreciate your honesty. i think its important. no overstepping.. no offence.. and with what youve had to offer i will be able to take another stab
thank you.
v~

 

[Tathagata]

autumn poem

.....

 

[*Catbabe*]

Self-Illumination

Born breakable
housed in a glass
of transparent innocence,
viable vessels
of infinite possibility
self-illuminated,
already full of
I, you and she.

Fragile walls
guard talents and treasures,
too tempting to a world
that thinks it knows
best,
right,
the way.

Steadily,
time’s grimy fingers,
cloud clarity
complicate the clear,
taking more
than giving,
preaching more
than listening,
siphoning essence
depositing doubt.

Dimmed
in dark,
the dirt,
blocked
by opaque shields of smudges,
never looking out
nobody looking in
past it,
inside,
where the light
still
lives.

 

[Liar]

I could use a second opinion on this one... am I tip-toeing so much around the subject here that I lose sight of it? Need I be more concrete?


Three step rewind

Beda waltzes like she doesn't care
which she doesn't do

to a four by four
fashion flare backbeat break
that rings from the black cones
of the new millennia's shamans

pushing holler like heroin
mass hysteria high
strobing new truths
through writhing hoard's
exhausted eyeballs

but Beda's lids are closed
and the thawing April sun
shines from a sky bluer than truth
on her inner girl
with grass between her toes
and all the pretty boys
dreaming themselves
in behind

the red striped wrapping
with sheer straps
she once loved
to slip off her shoulders

before she slipped
and tripped
trapped in descent
between crushing boulders

now a pale pearl string of yesterdays
holds hands
through rigor mortis and sheer stupidity
when reason shrieks as only reason can
unnoticed, ignored
from the corner of her
maligned mind

pretty please oh please
for the love of god let go
of has been
and watch your step
right now

but her attenuated attention span
speaks more than words
of footholds lost and robbed

so right now
in the anesthesia of overloads
Beda waltzes back to before
where maybe
if she closes her eyes long enough
and dreams of April

then maybe it was all a movie
or a rumor of a girl
who stumbled in May
to drown in August



#L

 

[minsue]

I could use a second opinion on this one... am I tip-toeing so much around the subject here that I lose sight of it? Need I be more concrete?

My first instinct was, "No, you're not tip-toeing at all!"

Then I actually gave it some thought instead of simply going by gut instinct and the visceral feelings that I had in reading the poem and I realized that I don't actually have the faintest idea what it's really about. I just like it. (not an uncommon occurence with me, so I'd definitely suggest waiting for a 2nd opinion. )

 

[Tathagata]

Natural Selection

.....

 

[Tathagata]

Natural Selection 2

.....

 

[Tathagata]

Mad Poet: Lynn Mass..1980's

.....

 

[tungtied2u]

Re: Mad Poet: Lynn Mass..1980's

my doppelganger smokes chesterfields
crumpled packs, tossed away ideas,
like land mines, everywhere
step on one and the cellophane crinkle
brings cat claws

a 4 room apartment
( counting bath)
pull down window shades
art deco green and tobacco yellow
it always seems dark
the air is pregnant with smoke and beer and
bacon


the phone ringer is off and answering machine turned down
if someone dies
they'll still be dead when I check my messages

my desk is an escheresque mural
of drink rings
coffee cup orbits
and burnt oak

there is a woman in the bed
she watches me some mornings
when she's there

she goes out sometimes
for days
to prove i dont own her
she doesn't understand why I'm not upset
she doesn't understand why she does it
it's no fun

" this isn't a cage" I tell her
In her world it means I don't care
she can't get past her upbringing
i'm too far past it to go back


On good days we talk and drink
she wears silky chemises and no bra
and she's molten under there
I like the ways it moves
she knows that
and she takes lust as love
and everything is ok

she thinks her body is all she can offer
but when we talk and she drops her guard
she's smart
but she doesnt think anyone sees it
i tell her i do
that's the one thing that can still make her blush

on bad days we dance her desires around
like a mad waltz
over and over
" i don't need that shit" I tell her
" and neither do you"
she thinks women need stability, a promise
something to hold on to

it's like a betty crocker recipe for happiness
it was a success for her mother
and aunts and friends
and she doesn't dare vary the ingredients

and i'm some kind of blowfish gumbo


some nights we go up on the roof
with a cooler of beer
and watch the town shut down
and have the radio on low
we sit for a long time saying nothing

those are the best times
after a while she leans her head into me
i slip my arm around her
there
there is your handle

i write about it
i write about the dog across the street who watches me
everytime I look out the window
he's looking up at me
it unnerved me at first

i stuck my tongue out
flipped him the finger
made faces
wore masks
his expression never changed
now i bow to him
he is my patience buddha
sometimes our lessons are right there

i am neither happy nor sad in my other life
i just am
and i write about just being

I love this tath.