writing live

[butters]

what's in a name?

he'd had a name
oncetime
before the dust and the moonless nights
swallowed it
him

for too long
he walked
the run-off and the cold and the heat
all one
a dream without meaning

he came across a still pool
stopped and looked down
saw only emptiness reflecting
his craving for her touch
the word upon her lips to make him real





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a phrase 'and the world had lost its memory of him' sparked this, where a man (as easily a woman, so a person) can feel invisible, un-real, if no-one remembers their name, if no-one ever speaks it or touches them.... like the naming of names makes us solid again. dunno, that's what was goiing on in my thoughts.

 

[todski28]

Mercurial twist of words
heard on the wind of distant whispers
in the one time of long ago
when he was bedrock solid limestone
weathered through sun's blaze
or the gaze of misted breath in the hollow pale of
winters veiled moon

dust settled in swirls of dreamless slumber
swallowed all feeling
mingled meaning into
nothing but scuffed boots
and the weary droop of a search
the seems relentless

age lines etched deep
as defeat hangs millstone heavy
reflection ripples and the whispers
grow to a shout
hand outstretched to pull away the sway of
tired steps

dream a dream of
cool waters caress
to wash off the layers of grime
to rest and be held
and let the streak of tears fall in happy slumber
on her breast
as her heart whispers
a mercurial beat
that one time long ago he heard on the wind

 

[champagne1982]

My heartfelt desire pullls weaker than night's
mistress draws, waxing full in autumn chill
she rises up and drinks her hateful fill
and brightens, glutted in vampish delight.
Her sideways smile falls, replete in my sight.
She casts her spells to twist you to her will,
her power comes from your heart's lifeblood spill
and with coming cold, death grows hard to fight.
Battle you must and with true regret's might
bring this show of good faith down to the mill
to be ground to dust then accept this pill
so that with daylight, justice makes it right.
Still the gibbous moon will glow, her dark light
limning a scene that I hate in the night.

 

[The Mutt]

Insomnia can lead a man to drink
and gives him time to think and think
of thoughts that only are so deep
as just the one
why can't I sleep?

 

[HarryHill]

1:00 a.m., p-nut butter n chocolate milk, crunching...
and now that I've left my bed,
walked through the dark to the kitchen shelves,
performed braille culinary depravations,
best not seen in the light of day,
I think it's time once more to hit the hay.

 

[butters]

1:00 a.m., p-nut butter n chocolate milk, crunching...
and now that I've left my bed,
walked through the dark to the kitchen shelves,
performed braille culinary depravations,
best not seen in the light of day,
I think it's time once more to hit the hay.

*chuckles @braille culinary depravations*

 

[HarryHill]

*chuckles @braille culinary depravations*

I was tickled with: left my bed/kitchen shelves
two lines ending in two trochee's? and a near rhyme
all this in an orgy of protein consumption and chocolate guzzling.

Get busy boy
the doors open, heat's escaping
toss that wood faster
time's a wasting

 

[butters]

in a narrow channel
choked by rampant reed
banks rank on rank of weed
a quiet water slips by
reflects glimpses of sky
refracts shards of light
examines, intimately, a gravel bed

but when the river runs
full spate
the muddy banks give willingly
their silt to the waters
as river and banks forget themselves
their boundaries

erosion's a strange term
for a process that broadens a river's run
a channel made wider
deeper
more accepting

 

[Tzara]

Closure

I am in love
with how your legs join
on that folded pivot

that makes you woman.
That I want to explore
you with every

probe I can command—
that's simply sex. But why
we are species,

mixing genes like cocktails,
however hard they're shaken,
that is just why

I murmur in your ear
that I love you
after we've had sex,
whether it was good or bad.

 

[HarryHill]

...He had a good life,
never missed a meal,
plowed a good garden,
and I think that all of Gautier will miss him...
now that he's gone down to the holy land
to turn his masters fields
far across the singing river
where hurricanes never wheel
'bove the black Mississippi dirt
and I imagine I can hear
the slap of trace on rump
and a beloved voice calling.
'git up, Tony.

 

[butters]

perhaps

we sleep on corpses every night
unknown to us
the secrets of others
buried well
disturbed earth spread and trampled
so no sign remains

we bury our own
so they'll not walk in the night
disturb the sleep of others
whilst they tread darkly through our dreams

 

[butters]

from the frozen well
a blessing
if you dare reach down into the dark
to break the ice

 

[todski28]

fear grips the crack of ice
the roll of dice gambles a man
his soul on the table as he plays
for the secret beneath
and he's all in
because fuck it
you don't get out of life
alive

 

[butters]

age

my cunt is not the prize
nor heavy breasts grown soft
nor sagging belly where there once
was skin
taut
all peach and cream
navel a sweet dimple for a tongue

thighs a force of nature
now are laced with silver'd
ripples from that tide of flesh
grown more transluscent by the year
revealing clumps of purple, blue
a study of some burrowed creature's plan
to excavate, explore before consent,
this dermal woman

hands, through years of holding on
look thirstier than they should
nails traced with ridges and
half-moons too long eclipsed
feet - well, yes, there're two
beset by workhorse wear n tear
'nothin' new

and yet, inside, i dance and glow with joy
my eyes expose this pretty pulse of life
for having found the one for whom
all said before's of little consequence
i've found it is my heart that is his prize

 

[HarryHill]

Where are those stones, those pavers that lead away....
..Oh spare me your metaphorical diatribe, I've heard it all before,
It's just the season turning, brother; your words will come once more
hot like the sun in June on some imagined shore.

You broke my concentration with simile and rhyme
now I'm lost, no, not lost, adrift without a denouement
you've angered me, but I'll let it go this time
if you'll just get me out of this
let me go back to my maundering,
there's a girl that craves my stones
if I was standing naked beside a desk
with a fresh penned paper on it
what odds would you give on she
reaching for flesh or sonnet?

 

[periastron23]

How many times have we fallen for ghosts?
Substantial as moth wings,
easier to get to than the base of a cloud.

She sounds real.
Probably a Pall Mall smoking
Octogenarian
His fingers stained
Living in Altoona.

But I breathe again
dreaming
just needing to lift my head
to fly.

 

[twelveoone]

my cunt is not the prize
nor heavy breasts grown soft
nor sagging belly where there once
was skin
taut
all peach and cream
navel a sweet dimple for a tongue

thighs a force of nature
now are laced with silver'd
ripples from that tide of flesh
grown more transluscent by the year
revealing clumps of purple, blue
a study of some burrowed creature's plan
to excavate, explore before consent,
this dermal woman

hands, through years of holding on
look thirstier than they should
nails traced with ridges and
half-moons too long eclipsed
feet - well, yes, there're two
beset by workhorse wear n tear
'nothin' new

and yet, inside, i dance and glow with joy
my eyes expose this pretty pulse of life
for having found the one for whom
all said before's of little consequence
i've found it is my heart that is his prize

why so negatory
in this age'd purgatory
cheers mum
John Lydon
still lives

Lya Lys
is however
dead


I know, I know,
a horrible waste of time

 

[butters]

why so negatory
in this age'd purgatory
cheers mum
John Lydon
still lives

Lya Lys
is however
dead


I know, I know,
a horrible waste of time

my l'age d'or of the flesh
flew the coop, fled the mesh
long time passin'
but but but
this ain't negatory
but a celebration of a victory
love over gold
(copper, even? tone-all)
mind over matter
an' that ain't rotten

 

[HarryHill]

And now the Bradford's turned to grey,
leaves gone at the end of day,
dressed in sunlight and shadows,
russet earrings stripped by dancing birds,
one young squirrel plays, skin a cat and
watching eyes would return the favor
if only
mister grey would miss his step
night falls

 

[butters]

gorgeous tones, vivid imagery

 

[Tathagata]

Have i shuffled the coil?
Pushed up a daisy?
Am I fodder for worms
or just fuckin' lazy?

 

[HarryHill]

I opened your card, just a moment ago,
after holding to nose, lips just above the x's and o's
kissed the paper, slit the envelope,
pulled out the glitter'd missive
Oh, my heart, where did you find it?
Never let it go.

 

[butters]

I opened your card, just a moment ago,
after holding to nose, lips just above the x's and o's
kissed the paper, slit the envelope,
pulled out the glitter'd missive
Oh, my heart, where did you find it?
Never let it go.

*melted*

 

[HarryHill]

*melted*

We've written a book together
red leather volume,
gilt edged
filled with love from cover to cover
gone on, to scribe new chapters
and only a thin strip of crimson
to hold my place when the tears
hide the page

 

[butters]

We've written a book together
red leather volume,
gilt edged
filled with love from cover to cover
gone on, to scribe new chapters
and only a thin strip of crimson
to hold my place when the tears
hide the page

i can go to sleep happy this christmas morning, knowing you liked your gifts and i'm over the moon with the hand-carved barettes you made just for me.

goodnight, harry