all of a sudden passion suddenly

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I don't put your pillowcase
in the wash after you leave. I keep it
and slip it over mine.
The essence of you is in the 300-count,
wrapped around every thread.
I sleep, faster-harder-deeper
then I ever have before, but you fade.

You are my aromatherapy baby,
essential, I need you in a bottle.
 

Submission urges


It's time to bite the bullet
to listen to the raves
and rev the engine
until it runs at peak pitch.

Time to sort out the haves
from the have nots

to send out the written word
and share it with the world.

I figure,
even if nothing more gets published
at least an editor or two
will have read my thoughts.

That's got to be a good thing.
Right?
 
RIGHT!

Go for it!

wildsweetone said:

Submission urges


It's time to bite the bullet
to listen to the raves
and rev the engine
until it runs at peak pitch.

Time to sort out the haves
from the have nots

to send out the written word
and share it with the world.

I figure,
even if nothing more gets published
at least an editor or two
will have read my thoughts.

That's got to be a good thing.
Right?
 
There is this space
this moment
when the expression on her face,
once thinner than mine,
shifts, indecisive. Trying to calculate
in the dark, wondering
if she'll say too much
over our non-lunch.

She always invites me to lunch
but that's wistful thinking.

She pushes me to order something
so I order diet coke some days
just to fuck with her.

She orders salad.
Always some kind of tossed salad
and moves it around
pretending to eat.
 
Asphyx

I have fasted for you, my love,
felt lungs desire air as skin
turned blue out of service.

Crush my head first, let me
turn and spin with every restricted
breath. I am your swallow.

But never feed me. Simply watch
me as I honour my vows and flop,
waiting to be thrown back into the sea.

Breathe
 
please dont waste your time reading this, scroll down surely vd has something there

walk through my day doing one of two things:

dropping things where they do not belong and
looking for them

sometime both at once
as usually in the hunting process, I empty my hands
of cell phone
then keys
then soda can
so I have something to do once I find
that goddamn credit card and drivers license

he convinced me once
to carry a small backpack
camera, notebook but itis toolate
my eyes only scan horizontally and I wound updumping the bag on the floor
to find anything buried in the depths.
 
I'm not in the mood for flirting

Eyes say no
as we pass a sign

saying
Danger Deep Excavation

Savvy?
 
Reading the subtext

Bicycles are stacked
on the harpoon spine followed
by children and the obligatory
family dog.

A yoyo sun bounces up and down
in front of weary eyes as the car
enters an alpine mouth,

tuning into a subtext caught
on the radio. Machines dismount,
scrambling pepper tracks and trading
of kisses, cellphones, lycra.

Eyes blink divorce, divorce
but all he sees is a smile dissapearing
slowly into the curvature of the earth.
 
Kissing your girlfriend

At least it wasn't premeditated.
And it wasn't like I bought the wine
or made it taste so good. You know
it matched my dress anyway.

Yes. I know you thought
the dress was for her.
It wasn't.
It was just the kind of night
and the kind of restaurant
for side slits.

So please don't think
I planned it.
The only thing I planned
was dinner
and that kiss?
Just a taste test.
 
Bent

I was willing to match him
one for one
but somehow he stepped on
the train
and left me watching
a silver shadow
slide down the tracks
and out
of my life. I waited
and slept
only to find I'd been found
by another
who whistled, and wiggled
his little finger.
 
Watching antiquities being moved

A deep sea diver's ghostlung
is loaded on first, followed

by a pair of 1920's bicycles,
their brakeless mouths vying

for attention with a chest
of shrunken pygmie heads

screaming at sunflower
paintings, edges frayed

like their lips. Draw straws
to see who lives. Teacups

won't save your soul here.
 
Pilgrimage to the bottom of the world

They had come to Mexico as pilgrims,
him playing the role of Jesus, her playing
Mary Magdalene. Driving past tequila
coloured sunsets and cactus hung

like crosses on the landscape,
they wandered. Not for forty days or forty
nights but for forty hours. She kept
on seeing visions of the Messiah

in her sunglasses, smelling of gasoline
and burning ash. But he never believed her
thoughts of salvation and burned back
into the soil. There are no gods here

she had failed to realise, staring at the locket
of the Virgin Mary around her neck.
The only salvation that comes here is lottery
tickets, hollow donkeys and men wanting nothing

but a sip of words squeezed from the body
of a black god hanging from a cross
put up in the town square.

This is their homeland, that is their way.

Amen
Amen
Amen
 
he offered me his last wing
from the bottom of the bucket
and try as I may to make this a comical piece
my cynicism springs reflex trigger
of course it makes me feel special
I have gorilla glue and a bag of feathers
will return the bones
 
Beachcombing

Whilst looking for pine cones,
shells and starfish
I came across an ancient mariner's
lung stuck in the sand

there was no air inside
just a pile of seaweed and a few
purple stones stuck like motifs
on its walls

I wanted to blow it, hearing
its beat stuck inside my head
but threw it back

there was no treasure inside
 
Bang

Kissing boys:
in theory, nasty
the way tequila is nasty
but feels good later, sometimes
until it's much later.

Then comes the wash
that no salt rubs dry

and maybe that's why he asked
if I was crying
when I wasn't.

I was just sad that the cannon fired
but I didn't see the fireworks.
 
Spinning​

When I was young
they liked to spin the world
around my head

I always used to see the sky
that was a perk
of this one particular job

I never could resign
I never could stand up

My shovel-skull was broken,
fixed up only with tape and glue.
Motors moved me

Words did the rest
 
Spam

Enlarge your penis the e-mail tells me,
I look down at my dog headed stick
curled up in his kennel. Perhaps I'll
buy him some viagra or cialis

(what exactly does that do?)
or get some cosmetic surgery to puff
up my lips. Trim, tuck. Maybe he'll wake
up with some attention: girls, girls, girls

could do the trick. I've won the lottery
already, I could buy a new penis instead.
A metallic one like Robocop's. Rustproof.
With a lifelong guarantee. As if.
 
This poem

is just delicious...the visuals have me rollin...can I send a copy to my friends.. ;)

vampiredust said:
Spam

Enlarge your penis the e-mail tells me,
I look down at my dog headed stick
curled up in his kennel. Perhaps I'll
buy him some viagra or cialis

(what exactly does that do?)
or get some cosmetic surgery to puff
up my lips. Trim, tuck. Maybe he'll wake
up with some attention: girls, girls, girls

could do the trick. I've won the lottery
already, I could buy a new penis instead.
A metallic one like Robocop's. Rustproof.
With a lifelong guarantee. As if.
 
Abolishing limbo won't help you now

Oil soaked anemone flowers are lit,
colouring air lagoon-blue. Thoughts
slowly start to leave the runways

of my eyelids as mundane prayers
are uttered. I have trodden miles
to get here but there is no salvation

or warmth in these rain soaked walls
just servants of the fickle. More soup?
one asks. I have tasted enough

and my body cannot digest any more.
 
Night Clouds

We enter night mole-hooded,
our feet tasting rain as one
eyed cyclops men blink to let

us pass. This is our quest now
and no one can give us words
or encouragement to take us

there. End does not exist here
nor beginning. Life is a reflection
of a bottomless pit, every moment

passing waiting to come up and
breathe.
 
Cough

It waits for you in the bowels
of your body. Crow-eyed,
you plunge forward and sing.

That splutter is a staccato
for the sick. Record it, read
between the lines -

there could be messages
or perhaps it could just be a cough.
 
Cold, cold world...

Some people think
we're already in Hell
while I think
we're living in a large freezer
under water

I'm awakened.

It's not we are.
It's me.

What will happen first,
suffocation
or will someone find me
after going ice fishing?

And what then?

Will I be eaten, spit out or
will I be introduced
to sunshine under a blanket.

A fish will die either way.
 
Remember Annie?

She used to belong to that
track and tunnel crowd, back
in the days of 40 ounce haze
and smoking blunts.

Punk band chills and safety pin
drilling protrusions of flesh never
did enough to redress her valiant
coal shovel of a home life.

She disappeared it seems into
some corporate cult in 1993, or
a zoo keeper married her,
or something.
 
thoughts twist
wrap into rationalizations
words arranged in such a way
as to make
life make sense

such a propensity man has
to cushion the inpact of oblivion
to sift chaos into order
filtering the wheat from the chaff
but which is left
 
Letting go...

Mai da’bai baidu naa gathaiwate’ Tawodi

Mai dateeqi ne dei qu

Panii koihkwa noosai mazapaagi

Subai’ e mukua deinde’ yahnai

Da’bai na ne baidu yeese gaihaiwate

Suba’ mia u bo’ai qupa mukua

Ne suaN qupa mazapaagi dabai’yi gaihaiwate

AdeN en gia na- neaN gwee’

NeheN pihinapo kai nasurruse nahma

Mai da’bai babu tsa’ en koihkwa

BeaiN suuntsaa nehwe nahii’wi kai nasukkuse

Kai sunnishe na saka baidu nahna

Yeezi eqi Tawodi deaseN nemiH

DeaseN newwe gia’ kitsaan daiqwa

Na dei hinqa-dabain ne e dee-daga’

-Na dei –qu ne e Neo' Many Feathers
 
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