007 Challenge

[AmericanTrash]

Makers of Worlds

Makers? This world wasn't made
like playdough extruder equipped
horizons with trees and deserts. No.
Mostly it was curtain number three
after the two others opened on nomoney
luxuries taxing you just for looking.

This world is on standby alarm phone pockets
buzzing more than the rcmp barber
shears dropping curls of Sampson to the floor.

Delilah pens the barber
on the bathroom stall, as if anybody had ever
trusted her with scissors.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Bundy's Reincarnation as a Crow.

She got what she deserved. And she did and her
the other girl. Not my fault how many schmucks
look for the puppy or believe in the crutch

until I toss them in the van.

Parents were too soft on them. Not enough
rape in the diet. Too few videos of sharks
at bedtime.

Empathy is my wing man. Give me any
exposed skin and I'll give you
supper for crows.

What did she ever do to me?
She breathed too happy.

 

[todski28]

Made my skin crawl with that one americantrash

That guy and those like him make me want to take to them with a nail gun

I still wonder at times how we made it to where we are. You’re a welcome kick in the genitals

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1 - 3

Lather your leafy stalk with salted butter,
to drip your juice into my fertile field,
you eagerly yield a bountiful pre-harvest,
your syrup sticky on my fingers
I lick them clean, one by one gazing
into your eyes, a slave craving.

Constellations in my eyes shine
in the velvet of midnight.
Relishing in your essence that is broth
to my pallet, stimulating a primal urge
trembling beneath the erotic caress.
Begging, please my Master, please.
Feed me.
Penetrate me.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1- 4

I let you into my world
with the trust born of love
when I'd never really trusted before,
I've always travelled alone,
but when you walk by my side.
I am your valuable, and
I soar like a Phoenix,
so that together we fly.​

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1 - 5

Combine butter and garlic, spread legs and roll,
in bed covers until oil heats in a 2 quart saucepan.
Mix creole seasoning and flour.
Dredge shrimp in flour then egg; roll in panko.
Fry shrimp in batches until golden brown.
Spread remoulade sauce on tits.
Top with shrimp, followed by shredded lettuce.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Made my skin crawl with that one americantrash

That guy and those like him make me want to take to them with a nail gun

I still wonder at times how we made it to where we are. You’re a welcome kick in the genitals

That is the best compliment I have gotten in ages.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Here the moon runs long
bleeding through windows.
Unaccountable to day, the dead
demand their song
played over and over
until we run out of notes. We always
owe them notes.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1 - 6

I wonder where the wind that sways
in my old tree has been before.
Was it once majestic enough
to flatten sails of yachts upon the ocean,
bring fear to sailors clinging to life
and praying for lifeboats?
Did it's ferocity crash through buildings,
flatten corn, ruining the farmer's crop?
Where did it lose it's strength
and weaken, until now all that is left
is a murmur of leaves?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

1 - 7

To the world I'm pretty ordinary,
maybe amusing here and there,
but let's just be honest here
I'm maybe past my best!
But then he says you're beautiful
and I know he really means it,
then who cares what else the world
thinks of me, it only matters
what my love can see.

 

[JCSTREET]

Here the moon runs long
bleeding through windows.
Unaccountable to day, the dead
demand their song
played over and over
until we run out of notes. We always
owe them notes.

Your poetry is too vast to be encompassed in any comment or review (at least tby me). However, from time to time as I walk the 'boreens' at night, a wee sliver of light limns small works floating in air - words such as "We always owe them notes."

so . . . unavoidably . . . true, Milady!

 

[JCSTREET]

same here

Sorry about that last one. I have 4 am birds right by my bedroom window. Probably they are lovely but they are very noisy!

1. title refers.

 

[JCSTREET]

Warm to feel your compliment, cherries

Excellent to read your wonderful poems, JC.

coming from a mistress of the art

 

[AmericanTrash]

Artifice

Women are beautiful
begins early. This is
the beautiful sit. This
the beautiful walk. This
the way of tea. This
the way of shadow and highlight.

This is the beautiful acceptance
of veil embellished scenery. The gentle
exit from discussion. The fainting
distraction.

Seven islands at Macy's sell miracle
anti-aging creams and buff machines
whirring sand puffery because

beauty is the quiet
war economy.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Your poetry is too vast to be encompassed in any comment or review (at least tby me). However, from time to time as I walk the 'boreens' at night, a wee sliver of light limns small works floating in air - words such as "We always owe them notes."

so . . . unavoidably . . . true, Milady!

Much much much much love to you, dear sir.

 

[AmericanTrash]

I wonder where the wind that sways
in my old tree has been before.

Interesting question. Perhaps many little winds fall into mob mentality, flattening cities sometimes until they crash apart, become gentler and just enjoy dancing with leaves.

 

[AmericanTrash]

park camping

early with cat in crate
cat tent over shoulder
thermos in the bag

grass is wet with early
licking sandal toes

sun island settled
tent blooms
for cat and me

wet hipped
full thermosed

even the birds are quiet.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Sahara

last night all the sands I knew
shifted and snaked into a new
language a new

walkable language so familiar
even as late as it was
the ripples surfed me home

 

[AmericanTrash]

Crows

try to remember
when you see the nestling
pecked dead on the path

or when you taste
fear in the breathed curl
pronouncing murder

that crows are also songbirds
also smart and caring creatures

remember crows are also subject
to predation and prejudice

crow nests only nests
crow eggs only eggs
after all

sometimes though a crow expands
and emerges from its own shadow a raven
whose large wings unfold

generations of stories told before
raven got around to
inventing ink

 

[AmericanTrash]

Weavers

Weavers and looms at first
have little conversation.
Awkwardly the weaver mimics
the shapes of language.
I talked funny too

but you were a patient loom,
encouraging my early webs
in blood stained silk.

Because you are a patient loom
I bend long hours over you
spring and winter, years and years.

One day the patterns will be subtle
and fluid as night wind sand
or light falling in the forest.

One day I will make you a carpet.

 

[AmericanTrash]

When to say panties

Undergarments are barely
recognizable to the tongue
categorizing the language
of panties. These occupy
different drawers. Under
garments chaperone
sex and sheath scented
longing safe from reach.

Panties stain the tongue
with lust on each syllable

pant
tease

which is why you wear
my last-night panties the next
day. You love when I ask
you if you feel
sexy wearing my dirty
silky panties?

 

[AmericanTrash]

cowgirl

I follow tall and lonesome to the patio
hypnotically attracted to her rodeo.

Beneath the night's emerging archipelago
tree breezes softly caution us "adagio."

A moonbeam paints us both in palamino
collaborative with tree leaf manifesto.

We both confess to having no tobacco.
Neither one succumbs to vape placebo.

Shot as sure as legend's very arrow
Soon I'll land in Boulder Colorado.

 

[JCSTREET]

early with cat in crate
cat tent over shoulder
thermos in the bag

grass is wet with early
licking sandal toes

sun island settled
tent blooms
for cat and me

wet hipped
full thermosed

even the birds are quiet.

I wrote a poem about your Thermos and cat tent in the park last summer

IN THE PARK 180321

By JCStreet (c) 2019

You're going to make it into the Atlantic Monthly yet

I look for Park pink
under trees
under trees where her Thermos
may have rested, she leaves
raspberry kisses and strawberry
delights
where she's nested, but
it is the cherries, the
cherries which engage me anew, their
spoor
pinkish in the snow

(oh well - I just made it up on the spur . . . (edit. last year that is)
__________________
STORIES AND POEMS

seen here in happier times

 

[JCSTREET]

Undergarments are barely
recognizable to the tongue
categorizing the language
of panties. These occupy
different drawers. Under
garments chaperone
sex and sheath scented
longing safe from reach.

Panties stain the tongue
with lust on each syllable

pant
tease

which is why you wear
my last-night panties the next
day. You love when I ask
you if you feel
sexy wearing my dirty
silky panties?

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

 

[JCSTREET]

Undergarments are barely
recognizable to the tongue
categorizing the language
of panties. These occupy
different drawers. Under
garments chaperone
sex and sheath scented
longing safe from reach.

Panties stain the tongue
with lust on each syllable

pant
tease

which is why you wear
my last-night panties the next
day. You love when I ask
you if you feel
sexy wearing my dirty
silky panties?

Be still my fucking heart