Old 02-18-2006, 01:59 PM   #126
4degrees
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1-9

ninth go round
symbol of completion
a peaceful cipher
one third of the whole
and its all
my hazy mind can
summons up
this gray saturday
just stay
in bed
until 9 and then
go around again...
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Old 02-18-2006, 02:47 PM   #127
Sabina_Tolchovsky
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1.5

Inheritance


polished wax oak
fingernail aged lines
rough brown horse
leather seat stretched
and torn in two places

a needed replacement
the disruption of our history
one tack at a time
to the core of stained cotton filling

a hundred years
back and forth
hold me in these arms
wondering how many tears you have seen

to rock with creaking springs
that have sung their song
over hardwood floors
for every babe that came before me
 

Old 02-18-2006, 03:45 PM   #128
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2-1 Free time

I fell asleep with my half-bearded
face in a poetry anthology
that calls itself a bible.

fancy that I like d.a. levy's poems.

poems about concrete and
post-script angels in my head
I slept between words dedicated
to fucking or something edgy
like that.

I was drunk and snored into the
page, i drooled in my book
it felt like highschool study hall
all over again and I woke up
wondering why sleeping on
such soft ideas
gave me a stiff neck.

~R
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No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied ó it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.-Ansel Adams
 

Old 02-18-2006, 03:58 PM   #129
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1-9 Breathe Easy

Pink flowers on the Japanese Elm
made a mistake of early show
it snowed the very next day

Ice glazed the branches
crystal sculptures outside my window
a pretty winter picture

They froze their little
buds off. I can't help but grin

This spring, no hay fever
I will breathe while they remain
unadorned, dead, dead, dead!
 

Old 02-18-2006, 05:08 PM   #130
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1-9

shibboleth

i never hear you speak
of how it all went downhill
after the wall
anymore,
how everything made sense
when enemies were enemies,
and you knew the hand
stabbing you in the back


as if there was an age
of chivalry, just a duck hunt
season ago, as if a hat and coat,
or cloak and dagger, was the
mark of Abel, and anything else
the stigma of Cain

i never hear you speak
like that, but sink your broken
flesh into the swallowing mud
of your too comfortable chair,
and snarls have been translated
into sighs

for better or for worse
is all just semantics, rocks
or hard places, hell or hades,
but the fact remains

i never hear you speak
anymore
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Old 02-18-2006, 05:20 PM   #131
annaswirls
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1-9 only the best of everything

Spenser digs to the bottom of the box
in search of colorful animals and stars
hidden among plain beads.

He unfastens necklaces to salvage
the most beautiful flowers for my wrist.
With a twist of the pipe cleaner
he presents his gift.

It is not much,
only the best of everything
he could find.

This is to say I will not scratch
through your stones
pecking gravel for something
tossed aside.

I already have the best
of everything,
then again, so do you.
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Last edited by annaswirls : 02-23-2006 at 10:00 PM.
 

Old 02-19-2006, 01:12 AM   #132
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1:9

Red Gutters (-hipshoot)

They walk in the gutters
mud to ankles, heads
under great coats of blue
and grey. Days of rain
where pain is hunger
and black orbs watch
holes appear in the back
of bodies bent at odd angles
in the middle of the road.
They run - too young,
too old, just right
but wrong anyway. Run
and then no more,
for brick walls bar
their flight and sense
is lost when direction
denies the useful, challenges
the sickly and beats
fighters to a pulp
that runs red
in gutters.
 

Old 02-19-2006, 02:04 AM   #133
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1 - 9

if only I could write down some words
but all I can think about are birds

but if I write a random list of birds
isn't that writing down some words

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Old 02-19-2006, 09:03 AM   #134
champagne1982
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1-10

Birdsong

Down at the lookout
a new world opens
its draperies upon
a different Shangri-La.
This paradise of birch
seducing redwinged
song from throats
so delicate, yet
practiced, at making
beautiful noises.
Perch upon the reed
and with the wind,
find a melody
in nature my voice
can sing along to.
This light, blue
brilliance, shines
on the stage to coax
a finer performance.
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Old 02-19-2006, 10:24 AM   #135
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Wobbly Boxes 1-10

in the late eighties.
or was it early nineties
time as important as the job

I sold wobbly boxes,
nearly a year of....
hitting a 2x4 stud
'she's a good one'

my first was on a Sunday
simply because we were open,
sometimes a man has to
take something home

my last a double wide
Sheetrock interior, cedar
lined closets dishwasher ready,
fireplace and memories
on the corner wall

in between those two occasions
the time wasn't that important.
.....................important at all
 

Old 02-19-2006, 10:59 AM   #136
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1:10 Death Rolls

In the jaws
of a crocodile,
doing death rolls,

everything knotted low
in my belly,
like whorling snakes.

There are razor blades
just to feel something,
the image of a car
sailing off a bridge,
a cliff,
into an embankment wall
on the expressway.

I want to die.
Strip me bare.
Hang me from a hook.
Let this body rot
and fall away.

I am becoming.
Dying into something.

I donít need
your hands on me.
I donít want
your righteous sword.

You donít need
to save me
from myself.

Just sit here.
Breathe with me
in the darkness
and wail
at the wall.
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Old 02-19-2006, 11:57 AM   #137
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1-10 Non-Stick

Power, telephone
college tuition
carnotesandcreditcards
bills
bills, bills


Her peppered bacon pops in the pan
hook the tines, spear the pig
How can she can eat it?

Vegetarian and carnivore
I tell myself, the fat seasons
the cast iron for cornbread

"Is it done yet?"
arms around my waist
open lip, wet kiss
nip between shoulder blades

she sighs

I shiver
"It won't be if you keep that up."

Down the front
Shea butter soft hands

she sighs again

Breakfast can wait
A little of her makes my world
less sticky

Last edited by neonurotic : 02-19-2006 at 12:01 PM. Reason: cuz i can
 

Old 02-19-2006, 01:54 PM   #138
Angeline
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Down for The Count 1-10

On the precipice
of flu, I'm heavy
with the verge
of nausea there is
a warning click down
at the base of my esophagus
bad things can happen
anytime now and I feel
sleep calling

not cuddly, hug-a-pillow
blissdrift, but caught
in the teeth of the undertoad,
buh-bye consciousness now
just hissing just a little
because it can before

it
drags
me
down
to

that foggy swamp of goosebump,
nightmare sweats,waves slamming
my temple, my eyes are closing
I'm almost out

would you please hold this
green balloon that
used to be
my head,
Timmy? I have to
take a little nap

now.
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Old 02-19-2006, 05:30 PM   #139
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1-10 Method To The Madness

She paints
blue ballpoint tattoos
across my arm, feigns grafitti
monograms in honor of
hours that die every day,
but that gets no parade.

What is it now, the year of the monkey,
or the platypus, perhaps?
she sings.

Yes, sings, every syllable a note,
it's just the way the sounds roll. Fearless,
deliquent in their own right, consicous of
purpose, the only way she knows speech.

She paints blue
ballerina notions
across my mind's scenery,
silly little swirls I will never forget,
projectile seeds in the wind, always with
such an alien purpose, the only way
she knows reason.

There's a method to the madness,
a certain melody in a lost super harmony
that I'll probably scout and sharpen my years
for years to come to identify,
but until then,

she paints
blue ballbount pen tattoos,
and plant white lilies in my window
although she knows they won't last
a winter. There's a method
to that madness too, but I'll leave that
for another day.

One enigma at the time.
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Old 02-19-2006, 05:38 PM   #140
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Fly 1:8

He may have sold art, but not
enough. Too eager steps echoing.
As she collected her canvasses he said
Itís all Iíve ever done.
Later she saw him in Duluth, Rockiní
the Oldies on Kool One Oh One Seven. His new skin
bagged at the corners. He was not surprised
at who fucked who and who
got a show in Door County, but cried
over texture and tension and tricking
the mindís eye
. The galleryís
a cell phone store now, she said.
He only wanted to know
what they had on the walls.
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Old 02-19-2006, 07:07 PM   #141
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2-2 Behind Door Number f, with Chris, Cris and Keylana

Keylana is shaking
the door is
shaking her arms
is shaking

"I got the cancer and
the manic bipolar,
I got cancer
let me go
out let me out"

They pulled two rigs
from her
bra she
shakes
the door her teeth
methamphetamines old friends

I can't stop laughing
screw's looking at
me funny thru the window

Keylana has cancer has
the manic bipolar won't shake
the door off
its hinges

trying not
to forget
any detail

they took away my pen
my watch my earring
my wallet my checkbook
my pen, they took away
my pen
i can't remember enough
without it.

Glasses
makeshift mirror lookin
out slot in door
see if dinner gonna come
down the hall

won't wanna eat it
anyway I bet sandwiches
fishsticks oj
brownies

"Door, fuck's the number
on the door? Time is it,
time is it wanna know what
time is it, don't want no
dinner want door number
on the door get outta here
cancer, got cancer got the
cancer in me,
got the
took my
rigs got cancer,

can I have a bible?"

Cris sez
"Ol' Keylana she get
religious
on a comedown"

Chris sez
"no goddam sprinkles
on the brownies
sprinkles is cheap
tv dinner cheap
no-sprinkle brownies"

Keylana shakes
the door all
goddam night for two hours
two hours is all
goddam night
when no one sez shit
shut up
she's something to watch
the manic bipolar cancer
floor show
not a brick wall not a cold
door not a huge lock
not a brownie with no sprinkles
when you got cancer
and the manic bi
polar and no more rigs
metal doorslams iron
door cold doorstones
shakes I think
I am getting the shakes
the cancer
and the manic
bi
polar
too.

three of us
chris cris and me
stomach to floor
up on elbows
heads together
girls at slumber party
singing Journey songs
out the slot
into the hallway
until Keylana sez
we're makin her fuckin
head split cancer
and i tell her
"you're as cold as ice"
but she don't get it

somone makes my
bail
but they'll
be there til tuesday
fuckin dead presidents
makin em stay til
tuesday makin em
wait

on my way out the door
I see it's not a number
but
the letter
f.
"It's f,
Key. Key? f. Door f."

"Fuckin' f door, door
fuckin' f, 'kay Ross
'kay, tell 'em to let me out
ross, door f, don't forget
door f."

i forgot to ask
the time.

~R
Yay, first time in a jail cell. 2/18/06
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No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied ó it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.-Ansel Adams

Last edited by DeepAsleep : 02-19-2006 at 07:09 PM. Reason: forgot to add a line. fuck off, I'm distracted.
 

Old 02-19-2006, 07:12 PM   #142
4degrees
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1-10

catching up with life
on the up and up
with my half full cup
a fluid feeling
smooth and consuming
settles in like a spectre
of obvious magnitude
despite its transparency
saying to me
that he is alone
as i drift closer to my
polar opposite

but in truth
i'll never leave him
even when
he thinks i have.
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Old 02-19-2006, 09:56 PM   #143
annaswirls
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1-10 Meeting Beth Kingsley edit 3

Today we lit silent candles
and she told me Jennifer, everyone
loves a rainbow but we, we live on one.


I imagine her dressing this morning.
Maybe she searched for the memory
of color on lips and crown as she twisted
grey hair up into loose curls,
maybe she didn't.
I search for pins or clips
but nothing seems to hold the pieces up.

I know how you pull the colors apart.
Really, do we have a choice?
Her fingers twist
the fringes of an imaginary rope, frayed.

I feel her hesitate on the crooked stairs
to the beach. The angle is steep,
the distance between
steps is unpredictable.

They are late for the perfect lighting
but she stops at the bottom
and captures pink angels in sunset reflections.

We understand the mathematics
of how colors hide in the white, and yet still
believe the magic, don't you?

She echoes the last hymn,
"Why oh why can't I?"
and since no one can think
of a reason, she flies on,
grabs the crest like the handle of a purse
and pulls the rainbow up, up from
the restrictions of the land
until it becomes the circular halo
it was always meant to be.
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Last edited by annaswirls : 02-20-2006 at 12:24 PM.
 

Old 02-19-2006, 10:23 PM   #144
wildsweetone
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1:10

.
.
.
.

water falls


water falls -
in the sky
painted rain
.
.
.
.
 

Old 02-20-2006, 12:28 AM   #145
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1 - 10

its all because I was watching this Catholic nun
she was doing her `help the homeless` charity bit
I was curious to find out if she had a holy sexy bum

plus the fact was dear readers, I so needed to cum
on her face and wimple my sperm I wanted to spit
its all because I was watching this Catholic nun

standing erect before her she was struck dumb
I asked her some questions while gazing at her tit
I was curious to find out if she had a holy sexy bum

her replies she made from the barrel of a huge gun
she asked, "Why are you such a perverted twit?"
its all because I was watching this Catholic nun

yes, that was my reply, "I liked Catholic nuns!"
so this nun cocked her gun and aimed at my bits!
I was curious to find out if she had a holy sexy bum

alas there was to be no religious anal fun
I was so freaked I turned and ran lickety split
its all because I was watching this Catholic nun
I was curious to find out if she had a holy sexy bum
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Last edited by Man Ray : 02-20-2006 at 12:45 AM. Reason: damn this form poetry!
 

Old 02-20-2006, 08:47 AM   #146
DeepAsleep
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2-3 Sunday don't mean a thing moonlady

Sunday doesn't mean as much
as it used to
ain't the day it used
to be not sacred anymore
not the thrill of knowing you are
mine
day long mine after
saturday night
love making
(didn't we make love?)
slow and fast and young
(we did, didn't we?)
Sunday morning is not you
beside me, just pillows i
throw my arm over
no smell of you
the sometimes stink
early waking breath
not me writing poems
for your morning mouth
little conic comic
mis matched breasts
horse hips
rolling free on
mattress prairies
over hills of rumpled
sheets shaking with stretching
bundled up slide onto your side
put that big ass on me
clutch my hand to your chest
press my hand into the wide
flat place between your
too-small tits
no Sunday morning ignoring
flaws
self invented stupid
flaws i never cared
about not the snoring or the
wagon train of regrets you use
to measure every moment
not your mess
(i love your mess
it kills me, i love
you)
not the fat you hate
with breathing
you're built like statues of
moongoddesses
and just as crazy as the moon
i'll be your poet
the moon's poet
alone Sunday morning
worshipping new moon skies
moon set early
no more rolled eyes
at getting called Ishtar
by my foolish mouth
stupid mouth stupid
poems
about you that
early morning moon goddess
with all night coffee
breath i can't lie on
an elbow see anything
but the wall
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No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied ó it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.-Ansel Adams

Last edited by DeepAsleep : 02-20-2006 at 10:39 AM. Reason: some typo shits.
 

Old 02-20-2006, 10:04 AM   #147
Selena_Kitt
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1:11 Underneath

Pissed off.
ďFuck you!
And the horse you rode in on!Ē

but underneath tható
something dropping into my belly,
like my heart
when someone walks away.
Feeling like it goes with them,
pulled in pieces like
stretchy taffy,
snapped back,
beating a funny rhythm in my chest,
too fast and a little afraid.
I always feel like I did something wrong.
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Old 02-20-2006, 10:30 AM   #148
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lack of sophistication 1-11

We bought quarts with fake IDs.
Rode out the night searching for
bad girls on country lanes. Colt 45
my beverage of choice. Still tasting
that last inch, thigh warm and as
flat as Kansas.

I usually finished the dregs finding
it more satisfying than the down
stroke on a wilted rose. An act
more like exercise than rite of passage.

My redneck upbringing thus explains
my dislike to scotch and opera.
A youth which never included......
.... indoor activities.
 

Old 02-20-2006, 11:08 AM   #149
Sabina_Tolchovsky
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2.1

I will now join the ranks of the poorly disciplined. Here is my poem I penned yesterday and fell asleep with, only to wake up at one minute to midnight where I opted to stay in my warm bed...




levain de raisin

rise up
punch down
scrape
fold layer on layer
building each strand

four dawns feeding
of natural flavor
vine'd wild yeast
& moisture displayed texture

cut to eight
roll-thumb-palm
ring-middle-index
and back again
genetic memory
& damp wood

stretch the surface
of each face
mind your thoughts
roll-thumb-palm
mind your thoughts
ring-middle-index
mind your thoughts
and back
rest
& rise up again
 

Old 02-20-2006, 03:47 PM   #150
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2 minus 1 = one

40th hour, no sleep
Busbench
Advertisement for
Influenza or
Rice-a-roni
Memorized
Minsetrone
Bocci Park
But no-

Its Bjorn Borg
"Are You Kidding Me?"
Johhny Mac.

City Lights
Carol Doda
Kurt Gowdy
Was 86'd
The sweet splinter's
Salmon Wader

One Day...
Pitchers and Catchers
Going on 41 hours right? (now)
 
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