007 Challenge

[AmericanTrash]

Be still my fucking heart

You'd be cute in them, I bet.

 

[JCSTREET]

You'd be cute in them, I bet.

at times

I just got your May 18th - check your pm

xo

 

[AmericanTrash]

Check

Edge of the paddle presses pastel
silk panties against the crevice,
forward and back
had no effect on the robot.

Robots only fuck mathematically
(consider xyz location
rotation, axis). Ages pass before
they find buttons and ways to
touch the buttons and not
quite touch the buttons and
tease buttons. Before then they do not
recognize the existence of buttons.

My hand is fragile and skinned.
I held a paddle and hold it still.
The robot moans before I ever
raise my arm to blow.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Memories of Empire

Remember when you just knew
who was human and who wasn't?

When it was called discipline or
order, the natural
order ordained by the stars?
ordained by the weather?

Read in tea leaves: cut this one
to bone. Give that one a cake.

Not even Broadway gets telegraphs
anymore.

 

[Piscator]

Edge of the paddle presses pastel
silk panties against the crevice,
forward and back
had no effect on the robot.

Robots only fuck mathematically
(consider xyz location
rotation, axis). Ages pass before
they find buttons and ways to
touch the buttons and not
quite touch the buttons and
tease buttons. Before then they do not
recognize the existence of buttons.

My hand is fragile and skinned.
I held a paddle and hold it still.
The robot moans before I ever
raise my arm to blow.

must be my canoe fixation but in the first line I was looking for a different kind of paddle, although I guess it could be used for the same purpose, especially with Canada Day coming.

once over my initial disappointment, I liked this

 

[JCSTREET]

Edge of the paddle presses pastel
silk panties against the crevice,
forward and back
had no effect on the robot.

Robots only fuck mathematically
(consider xyz location
rotation, axis). Ages pass before
they find buttons and ways to
touch the buttons and not
quite touch the buttons and
tease buttons. Before then they do not
recognize the existence of buttons.

My hand is fragile and skinned.
I held a paddle and hold it still.
The robot moans before I ever
raise my arm to blow.

you're back . . . ever beautiful . . . ever putting the pop back in . . . uh . . . yeah

 

[JCSTREET]

Remember when you just knew
who was human and who wasn't?

When it was called discipline or
order, the natural
order ordained by the stars?
ordained by the weather?

Read in tea leaves: cut this one
to bone. Give that one a cake.

Not even Broadway gets telegraphs
anymore.

that sign off -30-
ENDIT, that say
73s for best regards
88s for love and kisses but have
no word for my tongue
hovering
just one molecular distance
from her essence
loving
by capacitive transfer

(I had this slightly better but it blew away before I could transfer it)

 

[YCLEPT]

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.

Samson - in case you wanna publish it elsewhere

you are SO fun

 

[AmericanTrash]

Thank you so much Yclept!

 

[AmericanTrash]

Dear Amazon

Click click I had to click on pillows
you said Pillows You Will Love!

But they were not pillows I would love.
They were fabricish stripey upholstery
pills of pillows that contained none of MY
desired pillow ingredients.

For your information,
Amazon, the pillows I would love
sink me deep into angel wings,
yield like grandmother's
meringue. They smell of nothing--
whisper memories of kind sleep.

Clearly your engines,
Amazon,
need better food. Perhaps
consider moving in to my bed
for a week and watch the exact
press of my cheek so that you can
better find for Me

Pillows I Would Love.

 

[Tzara]

Click click I had to click on pillows
you said Pillows You Will Love!

But they were not pillows I would love.
They were fabricish stripey upholstery
pills of pillows that contained none of MY
desired pillow ingredients.

For your information,
Amazon, the pillows I would love
sink me deep into angel wings,
yield like grandmother's
meringue. They smell of nothing--
whisper memories of kind sleep.

Clearly your engines,
Amazon,
need better food. Perhaps
consider moving in to my bed
for a week and watch the exact
press of my cheek so that you can
better find for Me

Pillows I Would Love.

You should try to publish this one, AT. Excellent poem (the "meringue" image is lovely) and the whole concept of data gathering/targeting/marketing is perfectly apt.

Really, really good poem.

 

[JCSTREET]

Click click I had to click on pillows
you said Pillows You Will Love!

But they were not pillows I would love.
They were fabricish stripey upholstery
pills of pillows that contained none of MY
desired pillow ingredients.

For your information,
Amazon, the pillows I would love
sink me deep into angel wings,
yield like grandmother's
meringue. They smell of nothing--
whisper memories of kind sleep.

Clearly your engines,
Amazon,
need better food. Perhaps
consider moving in to my bed
for a week and watch the exact
press of my cheek so that you can
better find for Me

Pillows I Would Love.

You remind me of the saying I picked up in German class from my Frau Doktor Professor

Ein gutes Gewissen ist ein sanftes Ruhekissen.

I hope your situation is unfolding as best it can

Love x

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Massaging the Data

Thrust without holding your breath
Like this is what we do
Regular
Ly gloveless and unafraid of ice

Hell boy that's a bath where I
Grew up go on
Son reach in all the way to the gut

You ever barbecue? Same stuff
Raw and squishy

Now with the other hand crack
Shell and spill the gold

Stir in the incantation
Everything you ever wanted
Everything you ever wanted

 

[AmericanTrash]

Westward

Somewhere between Saroyan and Bottle Shock
California shimmered on a closed-eye horizon
lined with love like cacti

succulent and stabby. That's how I always
remember her. Sometimes I forget
the stabby.

 

[AmericanTrash]

moonstone

night salved city
breathes us in and holds us
deep in the full swell
quiet of hushed cries
sirens stilled
pain and panic
balmed and lifted
up on tall branches
offering up all
toil all accounts
tallying bets and costs
suffered all
doomed ventures all
banked injury to dissolve
their salts and evaporate
laments to compassionate
moon which cools and turns
anguish into glowing
clouds of stone
worn as membrances
forgiving the days ahead

 

[AmericanTrash]

Doctor's Satchel

Soft black with age and thick
zippered Doctor's satchel
hides beneath the nightstand
buzzing devices, clamps and cool
heavy metal plugs, a rubber
cat, spare batteries and one
purple glass
penetrator, various cuffs and coils
made clinical by their container.

Fill out the disclaimer, the requisite
questionnaire. Replace all you
wore before with paper then climb
up on the table. Doctor will be
with you shortly.

 

[AmericanTrash]

You remind me of the saying I picked up in German class from my Frau Doktor Professor

Ein gutes Gewissen ist ein sanftes Ruhekissen.

I hope your situation is unfolding as best it can

Love x

I suppose it is. Summer nears its end and I begin to attend to more serious concerns after playing in the sea. Love and x back.

 

[AmericanTrash]

mushroom suit

The plan is a mushroom suit but this is all rough, not
notary ready. It's in the cart under
saved. Every minute before that order sends

sounds gentle reminders: sounds of tree
nestings and beetle dungings, each
singing now! Now! Now! Open
arms to hug it out. Punch through

stagecrafted doors, foam bricks, trick
mirrors. Kick them all down because beyond
right here on the treasure map that came

hidden in swaddling, here it says infinite
capacity. So come on in. Have tea. Trade
stress for peace. Let's be compassless
and free agents of the same gravity.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Transgression

As echoed Adrienne Rich
"there is a price
there is a price"--

a price and an oven. Dare
climb up to see or scream
fire into the mill or write
madly everything that comes

across the tongue won't be
forgotten when the revolution
is subpoenaed.

Juries sit awash in pain and glory
transcribe foreworded quotes,
and storyboard the seeds of fury

into living quilts of legacy. I read
aloud one leaf of your ivy which
climbed for decades on

what walls remain from back
then. Your name alone broke
air. Love bared its scars, then

fled because your name when uttered
flooded the whole room knee deep
red with pain and empathy for those

derided for revealing who they are
out loud. For stripping off the lie
expected to define them birth to death.

Women aren't defined by orifice, nor by
high heels nor makeup nor I.D.
Women are defined by how they live.

So I can't read your poems anymore
even though I love them. My trans
sisters need my solidarity. So

I stand, regretting that you died before
we could swim in neutral ocean
where women don't require charter
and none/all of us are other.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Wheels of Fortune

Ambition left to run can squeeze the heart,
attack the vital organs, starving all
of oxygen. Eyes stare alone, apart,
defiant, fixed on nothing but the wall.

Ambition's lack will shred the brightest sail,
infest with worms a heritage of maps
and whisper all the ways that one might fail.
Ignore them both except where overlap

ambition's thrust and lack to gel a lens
as worthy of the sunset as the dawn
for Fate's a liar. Future most depends
upon reserves bequeathed and then withdrawn

to fund what self or selfless lives we may
each step by heavy step, each valiant day.

 

[JCSTREET]

I would have to

Ambition left to run can squeeze the heart,
attack the vital organs, starving all
of oxygen. Eyes stare alone, apart,
defiant, fixed on nothing but the wall.

Ambition's lack will shred the brightest sail,
infest with worms a heritage of maps
and whisper all the ways that one might fail.
Ignore them both except where overlap

ambition's thrust and lack to gel a lens
as worthy of the sunset as the dawn
for Fate's a liar. Future most depends
upon reserves bequeathed and then withdrawn

to fund what self or selfless lives we may
each step by heavy step, each valiant day.

give up all my day jobs and
my night jobs too would
have to go would
just get in the way of
sinking
into the hot tub of her words, the
tumult of her tale, murmuring
her metaphors in sleep, her
memes in the mad cries of release, her
yes her
yes

 

[Angeline]

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?

This is excellent erotic poetry, really, really good! I love how it goes from a rumination to that incredibly compelling image at the end.

I'd lose that question mark at the end (you probably did already as I know this is first draft stuff in the thread). But man you got this one just right!

 

[JCSTREET]

This is excellent erotic poetry, really, really good! I love how it goes from a rumination to that incredibly compelling image at the end.

I'd lose that question mark at the end (you probably did already as I know this is first draft stuff in the thread). But man you got this one just right!

no kidding (phew!!!)

Nice to see you, Angeline))))))))))

 

[Angeline]

no kidding (phew!!!)

Nice to see you, Angeline))))))))))

Thanks JC. It's good to see you, too. You and AT have been keeping this thread alive for a while now (with occasional contributions from other poets, true), but mainly you two. And the thread has been rollicking along as a result.

And yeah the poem is muy caliente. /flame

 

[AmericanTrash]

Love you both.