007 Challenge

[HELLRiDER_88]

Fuckin Great Man

Are you afraid of a blade
made of a razor with AIDS
Blood drippin from it,
rippin your stomach like a
paper mache
You talk a lotta shit, but
you was never ill though
I'm sick enough to beat
you to death with a
feather pillow
Tipped over some cows,
just for a joke and a laugh
(MOOOOO!)
Jumped up, choked a
giraffe, snapped his neck
and broke it in half

"Yeah I don't think this
guy is well.." I'm high as
hell
I'll beat you with a live cat
when I'm swinging him by
his tail​

 

[Micahb2]

The Morning Paper

Is the wet slash of a snare drum
the white paper of a high-hat

Show me the worth of the world
Show me the worth of the world
Show me the worth of the world.

The Sun broke this morning over
the labyrinths of infidelities, missed connections,
routine traffic violations, the long throw.
The Sun broke this morning with itś head in his hands.

Coming up on this, I begin to weave
The story of the young girl dancing in the kitchen
to ¨Brilliant Corners¨. Followed by mentioning
being told by my half-sister in Montana
¨We Cree are known for being good kissers.¨

So, I plant one. Here and here and here.

 

[Micahb2]

Passage

I grab a number and sit by the open window.
The television is on in the corner, opposite me.

¨I want to talk about Forgiveness today.¨

Being somewhat (sly) cynical, I spit arrows.
Waiting, I use up the dust on the windowsill
drawing stick figures in a comic strip

Based on my father. He never leaves the kitchen table.
Cigarette smoke kneading tiny dancers into existence.
Voices speak to him off-panel. He never answers.
Really. That´s the punchline.

Finally, I hear my number called. The TV watches me cross the room.

 

[hmmnmm]

------------

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Gorgeous, diveworthy, evocative writing. I will be back tomorrow with my late 007.

 

[hmmnmm]

-------

 

[PandoraGlitters]

007 (late)

Spring wet street beat
of boot heels below
the focal point of my hand in the crook
of your elbow

I am held there like a robin's egg
preciously.......................warmly
step over the small curb and its robe
of puddle at once together

 

[hmmnmm]

--------

 

[hmmnmm]

------

 

[PandoraGlitters]

001

Behind Door Number One

Cash prizes or maybe just a car
(inflated even the passenger's side
has zeros stapled on to the bucket seats).
To pull this curtain you only need
4,000 friends or 400 friends
with friends willing to spend
an afternoon voting up all your shittiest
poems as if they were gold fucking nuggets.
We're all casual here. It's ok to split infinitives.
This is America.

Behind Door Number Two

You could get a gold letter! (Staples for your chest
are not included. Tatoo ink is not included. Judge's
name and home address are
not included.) For this curtain you need only
suck the right cock/clit at the right time
and insult the right cock/clit at the right time
and produce something that is arguably better
than a minced toad.

Behind Door Number Three

The answer is always pussy.

 

[hmmnmm]

-----

 

[PandoraGlitters]

002

no force is greater
than need

except maybe attraction
as in planets and rotation
magnets and the like

in some instances possibly
repulsion but otherwise
no force is greater
than need

well and maybe a semi tractor
trailer smashing into a pastel
Cape Cod that had the misfortune
of being built in a straight
line from the exit ramp

because that force jumps medians

perhaps if need and attraction
combined and balanced (N x A)
they would be strong enough to counteract
occurance of repulsion that is always
a consideration when figuring with need
(N x A) -R = Z

so that zed could be possible

I dream of zed

 

[RedButterflySlut]

001 The Haunt and The Hunter

He is the solid force
That shapes my transient mind
I am a ghost
That dances to a phantom drum
Feet that leave no prints,
And a voice that makes no sound
I am limitless and confined,
Lost in the melancholy and ecstasy
Only existentialism can find.
He calls me from across the divide,
And I materialize-
Drawn by the force of his demand
I feel the warmth of his body,
I feel his molten core-
A volcano so hot it threatens to blister
My heart is a frozen bird, ethereal and imaginary
And his is a Venus Fly Trap, destroyer of the things he captures,
He consumes, aches- he is defined by his desires,
Wanting more, always more.
If I where a wise ghost,
I would listen to the burnt moths of his past
But
The closer I get to his hungry heart,
I feel my fleeting, ether touch
Become solid

 

[PandoraGlitters]

003

trees in the morning Park open clouds
above us taking the lid off
the sky

some people have portable skies
they are opening up into
jellyfish canopies

the first drop hits the curl
at my forehead like a bullet
but I've been

very very good now better still
as I unzip out of my heather
out of denim

step out of leather sandals as
water stings my skin pink
again I am water

colored walking upstream between
jellyfish and cod past
stables where mares stir

until they also hear the Sky calm
Sun with low chants
sleep a little

raindrops soften smaller sweeter
vapor slicking thighs that slip past
and past

ten toes balance nine stones striding
naked off asphalt into taller
taller grass

 

[PandoraGlitters]

004

Come on up, Banjo
up to the house we used
to say Virginia days ago.

All our cherries swam in
vodka tubs (more loved
than pie, then). Bring

drums, ganja, pressure
cooker, pennies, poker
smokes (if you got 'em)

and your old-time-religion
if you can't leave it
home with the sitter. We'll

set out on the porch all
evening as the branches
sweep sun from the sky

then keep pennies swept
from socks to pockets,
feel vodka and smell pie.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

005

WHY CBS MORNING RADIO NEWS IS POISON

steel ball rolls
right here to center
target stuck

in magnetic molasses
where the 'myth' is discarded
that positive or negative
makes a difference
to metal

only angels
care beyond the
tugged plug

 

[ninianne]

1: for my nephew, who died

I wish
while I remember you
your body so still
your breath mechanically induced
that there had been signs of hope

we needed hope in those long days

but when I put my finger in your tiny hand
you had no impulse to latch on tight
and when they glued the wires to your tiny head
you were already gone

and I am left with memories
tainted by antiseptic smells
and bitter salt

you should have been perfect
your body was whole—it was just ill luck
and senseless fate that your brain was gone

no one did anything wrong
how much easier it would be if we could pick a moment
pick out an action
a point to blame

or maybe that would be harder

all I know
is I wish we could have had you longer
your absence is a hole
that I never knew needed filling before you came and left again
in the longest five days I have ever known
that passed so quickly

and now all I can do is remember
and wish

 

[ninianne]

2: dancing with death

you call the time
but all I can hear is the music of the wind
and the crunch of pine beneath my dancing feet
I wait for the moon to mark her
compass rose
over the waiting sea

it is only when I see that silver path
beneath star glitter
that I am ready

and I dance
across the tide sprayed rocks
and to the edge where you wait for me
ready for me
welcoming me
past the jagged edges and I wish
I had the cowardice to fall
into your arms

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Welcome, Ninianne and RBS where did you go? Come back!

 

[PandoraGlitters]

005

Best Packer

knuckles under diamonds tell
more than he'd like
move everything
again
and again
when you have to go
in hospital or to the RCMP because
otherwise you might
die

city manager shock
no one believed he could
beat you

but me because I saw
those bones I saw
that shut eye and all the calls
leashing you to him every 15
minutes of the day
better believe he'd know
he'd see
he'd hear where that
minivan was parked

control the only control
was food so you starved
perversely giving him
your weakness and screaming
I am not your woman
through frail bones
and skin that hung
silent accusation

 

[PandoraGlitters]

006

clock to wind

was the tip only of a large
horn buried in Rumi's field

where conversations about form
and free sang between grasses

love rooted argument though
not as some thought

romance but love of words
poems songs love

of new york new jersey new
americans not

each other
respect

there was respect as well
as frustration because yes

I do keep time and promises
and a few extra pencils

but I am from the prairie

I harmonized with wind
half my life

 

[ninianne]

3: colors

when you touch me
my thoughts dissolve into
a million butterflies
dancing over my skin
on iridescent wings

I try to draw them in again
to capture their colors
within the prism of my mind
shaping them into ordered light

but you kiss me
and I am nothing but chaos—
shining bubbles
directed by your wizard’s hands
to seek unknown air

trusting that you’ll gather
me safely together again

 

[PandoraGlitters]

007

Crisp folded wings slice
stale from the air.

Is it wasteful to throw
lined paper up this way
above the heads

nodding over their tests
or resting on desks, above
the quietly helpless teacher

who briefly gives in to mirth
quirking smile then quacking
Who. Threw? She stares

at a small boy imagining
the depth of his desperate
boredom and the whorl

of his fingerprints.

 

[ninianne]

4: sugar

they call me
sweet
as sugar tearing through my veins
carelessly shredding every throbbing neuron
until I am past
feeling

every finger
every toe
every involuntary muscle contraction
has turned to sugar
and melted away
leaving only the dead

for once my eyes were clear
but time and blood
have turned them into
rock sugar candy
and I lost

too much of what I taste
is sweet

sweet as the blood
that wells
unheeded
from my finger tips
to smear against the page

 

[ninianne]

5: paper

this morning
the world changed to paper

when I peered through my tissue paper curtains
out my oil paper window
overhead
crisp paper clouds
hung from the blue paper sky
lit by a glowing paper sun

the grass was green and yellow
with pink paper flowers
rising from brown paper gardens
perfuming the air
with the smell of old paper

and all the walls were shiny white paper
just begging for words
but in all my paper house
there was no pen

and when I pricked my fingers to find ink
my paper hands were hollow
empty
powerless