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30 Poems in 30 Days

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2-5 where this comes from, i'll never know

you cant love me
undercover love don't
hide love's naked
naked as Venus
naked as cherubs
naked as naked
I love naked
right here
the heart that forces
your blood
I am the will
behind your broken blood
and you are behind
mine
fool to throw
away your heart
spasming waterless fish
flop on the ground
cant throw me back
just airless bloodless
on dirt ground concrete
the notpoemlady I cant
write for you
just about you
your goddam eyes
in pictures
in my head
everywhere big eyes are
marbles clogging my mouth
and are all I can talk about
mouthful of you
heartful of fuckups
dying fish gasping air
wanting water
youre wearing clothes
over love love
undercover
out of water

~R
....the fuck am I saying?
 
2.3

Off White


Below the paper
beyond the paint
fill the cracks
sand it smooth
seal imperfections
away from sight
telescoping poles
reach all the way up
loaded rollers
even and straight
brushes the finer points
no one layer
more important than the next
paint it new again
 
Poetry Shortcake 1-13

Let the poet call the kettle black
or white, call it rainbow, bullfrog.

Let the poet brew swamp tea
of rushes on broad avenues,
cook bonesoup rich with someone
else's metaphor, but stir it up
with her own spoon.

Keep it simple stupid,
steam edo poertry clear of excess
save one crisp image set like jade
on ice, serve the reader texture
and succulence. Too sweet is not nice.

Feed the creamy intertextual filling to the dogs.

Keep it light with white_________________ space
(just in case)
be trendy and obscure, slice
until its sharp edge bleeds,
but knead it, punch it down
to shapeless. Let it be
unrecognized, let them think
it was contrived without
aforethought.

If it were to win
a prize, make it known
it's nothing but your own
and don't forget
to fraternize.
 
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Fly 1:11

My beauty is brown
and strong. Like the Kwango River
that flows through my village.
In the mirror of my water jar
my face lacks the knife-edge
of the Portuguese; my nose
and smile are wide and song
trips over my teeth
Mbutu woman, Mbutu woman
You laugh like the rains
I won’t go until I see you
Tall Mbutu woman​
My beauty is in my walk, the jar of water
balanced on my head, up
the path past my small garden
of cassava and beans, to the porch of my home.
I never spill a drop, not even when I kick aside
a severed hand: all that remains
of the cowering Bakongo family
that lived here before me.
 
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2 t 1 = 3

Girrll
don you on iterrptim me
Not once Or I damnsure will throw the snakd
All upp uduu your rug tanight
hear me girrl?

Why you think dem mens,go on an denlook
wit watah watamelon hat
oil changin hat
noodlehaid haf

yo mam was gonna let you slide in he river
n I told her i'd a clea
n shot the lot of us,she did hea me dat tim i reckonit

Sep dat rockinhoass moccasin
cause he onliest one got da sencd
toa litem nd keep olesilas company
he is da strgast pulp woodin nigga,
but you promise this rank bitch
because i rightly kmowai kin smell you too
as if you warent nuttin but ragedy ole bait baucket all up inside there,
it wasthat sane pantlegs out where he sqeeze his owmurine

hell he had dat lil jug lnger dan a dese here higgas
tried to find dat smell
pupwoodnest , every day girl, da baer gwon just bout to
catch chalies or lil dud,

but silas set fly dat beaR Catcht nary a aould that horrible day

funnafuu nny thing he di is he tell da police its vinegar, good for ya yes sah

Cracku think hi get half silas Dick someday, Chokes dat piss casue its a goo idea

good day in choich dat day.
 
1:13 Black and Blue

I want to say the right thing.
I feel small and unsure and sorry,
like I know I'm doing something wrong.
I just don't know what that is.

I can feel it, like I've swallowed poison,
working its way through me,
soaking into my juices
and seeping out the cracks.

I want to call out for a remedy.

But even in this pain,
I just want to feel your heart,
lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub,
however black or blue our blood.
 
1-13

30 Days In 30 Poems

today a gum
dried to the floor
me on my knees
chipping sticky syllables off
with no apparent reward

tomorrow
might be sparkles
lightning strikes and
volanoes spewing magic
spice, serindipity, sex,
world peace and
the best weed
in history

thirteen and ticking
ticking
ticking
 
1-14 Juul's Amphibian

I ignore the motion lines
they have sketched around my stillness
blood spills down the stairway
the whir of the locust in the air
five, six hours coming

Please let me rest
skin soaks oxygen
gill slits hidden
I do not need your hands
in this pantomime
suckled from the center
I leave my shell for your pleasure
Mold me a smile
 
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1-13

Hockey Men

tangible disappointment
as bitter as the purse-lipped
mirror image;
hard to swallow
as the cold-hardened blades
they skate home on.
 
1 - 13 Still Sexy

what's up?

"I am" (on a double latte)

chomps gum, can i cum over?
pops bubbles in my ear

Half-grin, "No"

I'm too busy, too old
for your seventeen yearold seduction
but thank you

It's flattering to know my
three day scruff
stressed out crazy hair
new daughter
new wife "no sleep" eyes
baggy scrub wearing ass is still sexy
 
1:13

Canadian Geese

Canadian geese might well have flown
over the other day, over the roof
and under the orange
hot air balloon that bellowed
its way across the sky. And really
they looked so beautiful
and graceful up there,
a perfect v
knowing
their own direction,
their own fate. And all
the while far down below
the black and white days drag on
and on. A few white pills here, a white stick
between yellowed fingers there, a daze
of directionless days.
 
1-14 Tongue

(early poem this day)

In Rio I stripped
a wobbly excuse
of high school English
to verbs and gestures,
on Bali to nouns and laughs.

Because that's the way
they dance,
in motion and sign language
or in stances and winks.

Kyoto spoke in the spaces
between words, coy smiles
and not so coy glances,
while Venice was all punctuation
and kinetics, but what else
would you expect?

Lingua Franca is on TV,
a clumsy denominator
on the tip of every tonge
that wish to speak.

Good enough to steal a kiss
in every port, to say goodbye
and promise to never forget.
 
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1 - 13

come to me on wings so swift
your love and beauty the perfect gift

to others I will give short shrift
spurn their advances, cast them adrift

life continues like a graveyard shift
until we are one due to continental shift

:rose:​
 
The Only Time Winning Mattered 1-14

I wonder what happened to my bike?
That ice-blue Raleigh 10-speed
took me years of whining to get--

She has a 10 speed. She always
gets everything first,

and then I snuck down the stairs
my tenth Christmas, no tree, not that
because It's not a Chanukah bush,
no lights because We have to
announce how we give you their Jesus?

but for once I didn't care that we
were committed to fitting halfway
in all things, for once it didn't matter
that no one else goes to a movie
and eats Lo Mein to celebrate
the birthday of the man I killed.

It didn't matter that morning
because all she got was a gold-
and-white record player, while I
hit the jackpot on wheels, blue
with a racing stripe.

I lay down on the carpet at predawn,
smelled the tires, touched my cheek
to the cold silver kickstand and didn't
even worry the chocolate spilling
casually from my red stocking or pinch
one wrapped package To Shara
From Santa Claus because I won

the Christmas lottery in fifth grade,
and soon everyone would see me
wheel my baby down the stoop
and off on the first of thousands
of trips to Xanadu, El Dorado,
Venus, but really just around the block.
 
1:14 Sanguine

Redache,
a viscous ruddled fluid
pounding in my head—
pumping through
the narrow ways
of my heart.
I want to taste it—
coppery pennies
in my mouth.
Then I could believe.
 
2t2

60 pound packs

Your Old Man
Was an eigma
Diamond Shylock
To those townhouse niggas
They were on Panther lunch programs

You used to say,
Now you with skinny De Niro
Eyeball smile
Walk at 8000 feet
Kennedy Meadows
We made High Sierra deadly climb
Tree line long gone.

2 grand concave
echo chamber even higher
and you with
silver horn
find high rock
to stand upon,

Prodigy Son of
Jew shy, them nigs
light years back
as you begin
wada da wadw de dop dop
and the echo curved that
eyeball- de dat dat bada ba da bada zizu zim zat zat de dada da dat...

You call the Persean showers,
one end to the other, loping scale
falling sideways
meteors cross the sky
and who can sleep

Kennedy Creek empties into the meadow
5 miles planned for tomorrrow
And who can sleep?
When we wont see another human being
for 4 days
At the crest, 11,000 feet glacial water
So cold you sink your nuts down and they
Clean Dissapear
 
Fly 1:12

He is a blonde blur
of feet and flash, and I am rooted
in my stare. With time
against me the score changes
by one and he smirks back
to midfield with finger and thumb
extended.
.....Lose this?
My eyes are black
with hot blood. And now he dips
one shoulder and I’m supposed to buy it
like a wide-eyed kid, but time is on my side
and I see hips instead. I count
four seconds before I’m tangled
in hair, but the scoreboard changes
and I offer an empty pinch. Our eyes meet
in the middle and we smile at our reflections
across this gap.
 
1-15 Vasily's "The Scream"

Sweet condensation of exhale
fogs the surface of the plastic bag
until all air has passed through you.
Red blood waits to pick
up passengers from
the stunted sucks
but it all comes up blue.

"Skinny Puppy" tried this trick
at the 9:30 club
wrapped in clear plastic
after puking fast food burgers
into the crowds.
Wrapped and loosely contained
he pressed shit and blood on the cellophane
while World War II marched on the back screen
and the anger of youth shook our tendons
with rhythmic strings and bass blasts.

I am no artist.
Tell me what this means
this scream inside your self-contained ecosystem
biodome for one.
Urine puddles in convex pockets
around bare feet,
magnifies and distorts the vision
as waste and product become unified.
Marinaded flesh atrophy wrinkled,
sunken.

Why stop it there?
I want a National Geographic
stop action frame by frame play of this scene
of bacterial bloat and collapsed liquefaction.
If you are going to start this vision
then take it to the end goddamn it,
show us the sludge and stew of decomposition
Zip-lock or twist tie contained.
Did you think that far ahead?
 
Hit the Beach Before You Speak 1-14

serious bards inside doors
never get it right
pastels marbled edges harden
man made attempts
mocking nature

no six syllable adjectives
capture the brightness
of sun and sand, wave after wave
the constant motion laced with tanning lotion

before you speak hit the beach
bask in the total equation
the power and beauty and
relaxation that makes you end your poem with
.......................................aaaaah
 
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2.? does it matter...you got me writing ;-)

cough...sorrry

2.4

muscles twinge
between the blades
plasma below skin
not red but hot
like stars

burn it out
in the spearminted air
of a french press morning

and low land rain
take it twice as far as yesterday
 
1-14

a dripping trail of
words slide down
from tongue to toe
gravity of the impossible
forcing a flow
thick mind syrup tasting of
life and lies and homonyms
many a double meaning
can be seen swimming
in this growing puddle of
tears at my feet.
 
1-14

Traffic Report

We have reports of
a multiple ventricle
injury accident
at the intersection
of Love and Sex.

Emergency soothes
are on on their way
to the scene.

Alternate woos are advised.
 
1-14

Leave Them Messy

Keep trying to make this happen
it's gonna be good
for you in the end, the last
coming first and too soon.

Too soon to draw back
inwards onto my tongue
fucking words.

Them there's fucking words
and you'd better get
those pants off
baby,
don't leave them on
this could get messy.
 
1:14

Lap Quilts

With quilts on laps
they sit, knurled fingers

knotting thread to weave
a waltz to the rhythm

of songs that sing
in their minds

while croaky voices
defend the honour

of spouses long dead
and sons still young.
 
1 - 14

Oh shit
forgot to dump the cache
double-check
erase my history
Busted

Now straight-lace sister knows
I write for Literotica
its one less secret to hide
but at least neo is still safe
I think


okay this poem is sucky. I'm tired. night night
 
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