writing live

[Neonurotic]

Shibari Glow

“No strings attached,” she whispered,
and was quite literal at that.
She’d rather tedious silk garrotes,
the more corporate the better.

Although she was bound, she had me tied
and mesmerized in a four post bed,
three by three encased in feminine velvet.

Her spell, a ylang ylang veil,
wrapping, no, warping all good sense
in ivory limbs. The taste of
Yamazaki lips, a smooth poison
went down an easy down to a
lovelier, sweeter flavored noose.

But the cinch and killer was
the black bra without panties,
that little black tuft, my happy death.

[HarryHill]

Did you wander
far from accustomed haunts
lost sight of friends
family
even strangers
casual aquitances
few will miss you
fewer still the words you scatter
like wind blown leaves
crunching dead and dry
under feet

[HarryHill]

Held in hands
Gentle strength
Cares fade

[Henchman999]

May I undo your bra?

No?

Alright. I won't insist.

H

[HarryHill]

A long dry spell,
How cliched is that?
Pour again,
Drink,
from a tall glass.
Celebrate:
Birthdays. Funerals, Friends
I musy have dtrunk too much
Punctuation and thought stray
as does my hand
Back to the glass
Drink
Remember the times.
as the burn descends,
when you loved
the melody of the bottle,
that gurgle
that knows no rhyme
to excess
Sweet music then,
only musing now
on yesterday

[periastron23]

wind makes leaves sparkle
spring dappled sunshine

spot lights on an empty soundstage
in this cathedral of forest

old souls creak their moans
of thick limbs and chatter
their baby top twigs

all winter long they stand
gaurd
dreaming

smoking
misty mornings
singing
their blessed songs

[periastron23]

Hey ghost!

I deserve to be treated better
I knew yyou when
you cast shadows
illusions too
thrown down by
my heart

And in the place that is still
as my writing desk
at two three am
when all the drunks have gone home
that place that has
a rhythm almost unnoticed now

You care to show yourself
pleasantly
enchantingly
trying to engage what you left
of me behind

I bid you well
and well
and well

If you were a bird
you'd be a crow
picking at road kill

I laugh at that
and you
are
gone

[HarryHill]

The pages are too blank for the night
Maybe days are also given over
To sterile illuminated white

Study, oh study on to the dawn
It's magic to see how the words fall
But meter seems an ungainly sprawl

Run away down the paper you cursed
Little parts of my soul leave me now
In soft peace and the loss of my sight

[Tzara]

Your Flag Pin Shall Be Worn

just below the lapel,
right under that notch in your suit
but parallel to it.

It should always be
on the right lapel
because, well, right is right

and those dumb bastards
on the other side
might pin their flags left lapel.

They won't, of course
because they are always surfing
on our beliefs

as if they could catch some wave
that would glide them
to the right side of the beach.

[Angeline]

Poems are such odd little jiggers*
how they chatter and beg to be heard,
capering Rabelaisian figgers
or thread thin dead unbestirred.

When the sky scatters stars to the night
how they chatter and beg to be heard
from beyond scudding fog from the sleight:
the Moon's hand as she tiredly turns.

When the sky scatters stars to the night
and they echo within me and burn,
then falter toward words to express
the Moon's hand as she tiredly turns,

do I cast, a Cassandra, confess
some truth to be cursed unbelieved,
then falter toward words to express
inner visions that must be retrieved?

Poems are such odd little jiggers
some truth to be cursed, unbelieved
capering Rabelaisian figgers,
inner visions that must be retrieved.

*Line taken from Musica Reservata, John Ashbery

[HarryHill]

Two more hours then
the word rolls on
in seemingly perpetual motion,
going nowhere fast
at 0.0006944444444 RPM;
it's hard to keep up.

[HarryHill]

Glad ur here for me
Smithpeter
U R easy to talk to
and I assume U listen
Wherever U are
U could make a good
bartender
Why am I here?
Oh, okay
It's just that I got
a rather embarrassing
review
And I'm not sure what
to say or do
I'm sure I don't deserve it
I just got lucky with the write
It's just a bit of doggerel
that should have never seen
the light of day
nor the dark of night

[HarryHill]

A long day, hot, dry, dirty
full of tractors and hoes,
drills and seed, racing
to keep a head.

Thunderheads voice calls
here I come, ready or not
So be it.

[RhymeFairy]

He tastes of peach. Freshly
plucked. Pouty lips
Listening to every
word, whispered. While I dally
dance to his tune
of moonlight hours
whispers, of
maybe, could be.

While I lay in bed, bemoaning a bedding
a tease of blue eyes smiling
Tantalizing my taste
for more. More
Peach.
More blue eyes
Snuggling close, more
Of his, flighty fingers
whispering along my face
My skin
Down they go, those
thinking digits
diagnosising a fever.
A felon has plucked at
My desire
My dreams. Playing me
Plowing my dreams up

Flickering tongues
tantalizing thoughts play
Pluck
My dreams. Demanding
a demonstration of feverish
Flicks. Nipples harden as I Daly with memories,
making it hard to sleep. He knows my thoughts
Senses my sentiment of liquid
lava
erupting, taking us beyond
this night, beyond now.

He senses my desire
detects my demons of a green girl, haunted by a past of ... then. Leading
this fairy down the road to
A promise of snuggles, kisses, peach
Kisses
Catalogued into
A desire, for

more ....

[Neonurotic]

Stone Cold April Snow


This morning it's whiter than light
and before rolling out of bed,
twitching back the drape, I know
there is snow. And sure enough,
there are heavy drifts covering cars,
sidewalks and slushy streets.

It's the middle of April, freak kinda
fluff, hard to lift over my shoulder
and sticks to the shovel. It's stuck to
lines and knocking out the power.

That espresso machine needs the juice
as I need the juice so I'm hot from work,
souring like milk in the refrigerator.

The longer I'm out there, the more
annoyed I get. Well, that is until
the redhead next door flips the switch
and a grin; not from electricity.

It's her pale naked ass in a short kimono
reaching for the paper that has me plowing
her drive and her by noon in time for coffee.

[HarryHill]

Crap Smithpeter, Boston beans,
so much here behind the scenes
Did you read Neo's poem?
April's been a funny month
even now, I'm worried
about my own beans.
yep,
Angeline don't like Boston
but that's another pot o' beans
The past can be a cruel mother
We can all agree on that scene
yet,
night falls on Boston
that eternal syncopation
between light and dark
Sigh,
The forces of light are out in force
and I've written all I can write,
Beans

[Angeline]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

Crap Smithpeter, Boston beans,
so much here behind the scenes
Did you read Neo's poem?
April's been a funny month
even now, I'm worried
about my own beans.
yep,
Angeline don't like Boston
but that's another pot o' beans
The past can be a cruel mother
We can all agree on that scene
yet,
night falls on Boston
that eternal syncopation
between light and dark
Sigh,
The forces of light are out in force
and I've written all I can write,
Beans

I love Boston. I used to live near there and have some goods friends there that I've been scared for all week. Maybe you've misread me?

Smithpeter was a friend and mentor to me (and a lot of others here). He died suddenly in 2004. It's not a secret: it's just the past.

It's true there are some here who've known each other for years and it shows. But the forum is a big tent and everyone (at least in my book) is welcome. I hope you feel the same.

[HarryHill]

Originally Posted by Angeline

I love Boston. I used to live near there and have some goods friends there that I've been scared for all week. Maybe you've misread me?

I was infering that the events there were causing you stress on several levels, not that you disliked the city ...pretext

Smithpeter was a friend and mentor to me (and a lot of others here). He died suddenly in 2004. It's not a secret: it's just the past.

He seems the same to me; is that strange? What's not a secret?

It's true there are some here who've known each other for years and it shows. But the forum is a big tent and everyone (at least in my book) is welcome. I hope you feel the same.

I feel very comfortable and accepted in spite of all I splatter over the threads. If I've said anything to offend, effusive apologies are tendered.

[Angeline]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

I feel very comfortable and accepted in spite of all I splatter over the threads. If I've said anything to offend, effusive apologies are tendered.

I'm afraid I don't understand your explanation about pretext. I don't get that or that you're communicating something about my stress level from:

Angeline don't like Boston
but that's another pot o' beans

Maybe you can explain if you like. Or not is fine, too. Apology accepted but unnecessary. I'm not easily offended. Everything else I said was simply an explanation that perhaps you found unnecessary. I'm pretty straightforward and try to be open. I'm not into subtexts except in my poems. Perhaps that, too, is tmi but I felt like sharing.

[HarryHill]

Originally Posted by Angeline

I'm afraid I don't understand your explanation about pretext. I don't get that or that you're communicating something about my stress level from:

Angeline don't like (is upset by the events in)Boston
but that's another pot o' beans (but I'm not going to explain why)

PRETEXT: a purpose or motive alleged or an appearance assumed in order to cloak the real intention or state of affairs .

using you and Neo in the poem was an artifice. Oblique references to what I was composing live

pretext (adj: pretextual) is an excuse to do something or say something that is not accurate. Pretexts may be based on a half-truth or ...

Perhaps I am skewing the definition

Maybe you can explain if you like. Or not is fine, too. Apology accepted but unnecessary. I'm not easily offended. Everything else I said was simply an explanation that perhaps you found unnecessary. I'm pretty straightforward and try to be open. I'm not into subtexts except in my poems. Perhaps that, too, is tmi but I felt like sharing.

..
TMI? Thank you for sharing/your time/comments

[Angeline]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

..
TMI? Thank you for sharing/your time/comments

TMI=too much information.

I understand what a pretext is (and also have access to dictionaries), but I still don't see the sense in your explanation. "Don't like" and "is upset by" do not mean the same thing to me (they mean quite different things, in fact). Maybe a word more associated with "upset" would have made it clearer, but that's just my opinion. To each his own. Have a good night, Harry.

[HarryHill]

Call me muffin top
Baked goods have become my curse
rising from the pan of waisted bands
are grown my own sweet rolls

[butters]

two
curved cushions
and a rippling sac

tongue-tip chases lips for salty ghost

[darkmaas]

Funny how death confers
a sanctity upon the ephemeral

Even virtual space
becomes sacred

We might have talked of dentistry
or moon washed gardens
but who would know
or even mind the passing ghosts

::

[darkerdreamer]

Finding poems on the petals of flowers
desire more inhale the pollen for hours,
he pretends to speak for all of you
really trying to get high off the residue.

Catch a bee and put a track on repeat
"Candy man, candy man spit me a dream".

He poured out some drivel on toast
control C, X and V'd
until you thought it was boast.
Twelve independent thoughts shoehorned together
with Elmer's glue and angry old memories of father
that one day shook this house to its roots,
don't know how it stands, hoping you do.

Bumblebee won't know my flower is diseased
until the queen is sick and spitting up royal jelly,
drowning the birthing chamber with illegitimate rhymes
still sick mycological, probably patriarchal.

"Candy man, candy man spit me a dream"
Put some nectar in there see how he drinks?
He'll buzz and clink around prisons decidedly Mason,
looking out at the voyeurs who just want to hate him.