30 Poems in 30 Days

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17 : empty vessel - a fibonacci poem


and
now
cruel one
you are a
prophecy fulfilled, are a lone
white dove, floating face down in a lake
of black. all that you've done is done tenfold; you're a broken soul.


dove-fail-peace-day-kabul-afganistan-.jpg


.
 
1. Before the Fall

Where does pride go, exactly,
when the high wire walker
feels prehensile toes slip
beyond the grip around wires
stretched taut across the void
prayer drags you into ranks
of wretched hopeless down
into the abyss, you fall
exactly where pride went...
 
4

The mirage is on fire, again
Combustible ideas as well as breath
Roll around on the rug
If you even realize
The flames licking your skin
Because no one is going
To put it out for you
 
18 : Pretty Liar

A smooth black lake lies
peaceful, though the sun glares
with its thousand diamonds
fracturing glass until she is blind
or so that's the reason she gives
for the stream of tears.

I know that it's regret.

.
 
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5

sunny day amidst
concrete and steel,
the third wheel
not minding that single status
eye candy every which way
no guilt or shame
for lookin', it's good and
my mouth doesn't write checks,
anymore
the two to my left, well
one i sorta wished
to have on my arm
it's just too personal
too complicated today,
i tell myself and look
into the clouds
and then to my right
with my sleeves rolled up
i see you and wink
knowing that i'm never alone
you comfort in ways you never know.
 
19 : Fress

Of the seventy-two named angels
she is not among them.
She is not my guardian,
though, I remember her telling me
that she'd never be, it wasn't her belief.

After death there was something better
than human, better than angels
but I can't help wondering, so exalted,
does she see, does she remember me?

After death there is something better,
there's no guilt or grief,
all that remains is to me and still I don't
know what to do with either, so I eat them.

.
 
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6

black and white photo
a minimalist's attempt to
hide your eyes behind
curling smoke
the color may be absent but
the blue is there to me
haunting me like a story
grandma told
a breeze comes yet
the smoke never goes
holding what remains
between a finger and thumb
imagining how it would
be carried off in
this wind, maybe landing on
your door step.
 
7

She asked me just tonight
Why
Are you not famous like
Manson
My answers stayed silent
We both knew them though
But all in all, just
The notion that I
should be, in the eyes
Of my little girl
Leaves me feeling as if I am.
 
20 : Scene At A Bar On Monday Night

Thirty-four and too
old to be their cougar bait.
What now, eh? Grandmas?

.
 
21 : A Scene From Her Rear-view Mirror

Why bother with it?
I eat lipstick faster than
you can put it on.

.
 
8

I am fluid fitting
into the crevices of
life spreading to every
corner filling every void
in me you see reflections
unforgettable maybe
unforgivable maybe
but certainly undeniable
as i fill your lungs slowly
and prevent you from breathing
on your own anymore
 
21 : A Scene From Her Rear-view Mirror

Why bother with it?
I eat lipstick faster than
you can put it on.

.

Why I Bother

My lips seal tightly around the end
cheeks fall in concave dimples
as tongue teases the siphon
into the vacuum of my throat.

Lipstick cherry stains where my mouth
rests at the end of my palate.
Suck it! Your whispers prove the value
of that pretty ring drawn around
the circumference of your cock...

Eat me. :p
 
20 : Scene At A Bar On Monday Night

Thirty-four and too
old to be their cougar bait.
What now, eh? Grandmas?

.

LMFAO, I just spit cereal.......................................ode to the gilfs is not breakfast poetry.
 
9

mutter dirty numbers
riddling love letters
systematic secrecy secretes
sexstuff to be savored,
enshrined, until
something like forever
some see it isn't better
then sickened so do sever
the only other lover
this member will remember
pretentious past pretender
pats the back as a reminder
that never is a very real thing
 
22 : Scene in a Shower

Oh, there? No, pluck thy
offender! Any more, it's a
dye job downunder.

.
 
23 : A Scene At Walmart

Poppin' fresh over/
under short shorts. What's sweeter,
muffins or biscuits?

.
 
subway girl

the walk that burns
stinging scorpion tears
like a flashback
and the backlash
oh, cruel past!
you're like a lover to me,
punishing master of the
sick one, dredging up
days when passion reigned

long gone

today as the polar blast
smacked me in the face
your voice smacked me too
but in the heart
oh, dismal future!
how i wish it could restart
all those crazy teenage feelings
that we shared.
 
24 : As If


The last time I tried that she envied him
and from there she blamed me for our fail,
though she forgets or she regrets or both,
she should know for sure, it was all her.
I remember it clearly, "You can have him
but you have to have me as well."
all said as if I would ever say no. As if

.
 
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11

august heat hangs on
the brown leaves of
future weeks never looked
so good, in my mind
reversed seasonal seems
to have ahold of me
in every way, bring me
cooler times please
so i can feel like
the me that left in june.
 
25 : Soap

Oil and water do mix with the help
of lye. It's a chemical reaction of heat,
stirring, stirring to a trailing tail.

Now add the complexity
that could result a mess, a separation.
Although, through patience
and understanding the reaction
comes something lovely to hold.

Chromium green, vetiver with sage,
is a favorite, blending well
with another's lavender spike.
Together melding an earthy essential,
a lively green and purple swirl,
unique, but memorable.

This renders a caustic in water
and oil into a sweeter emulsion
that remains on the skin,
a scenting imprint, ever lasting.

-
 
12

Freak accident makes
Them turn and watch
As we bleed glitter and pray
Out loud to Gaga
Begging for the safe return
Of Kurt Cobain.
 
26 : Regrettably, Unrecoverable

Nothing is ever really lost if it's been saved
in memory, bytes, dreams and it has.
Search, you will not find a ghost writer.
Find these words that say I still breathe
and still have poems in my heart.

But there too, you will find I am not
the same person I was before.
Age is not just a number, it comes with
maturity through time, joy and pain
writes and defines a new man.

Am I faster, better and happier
with this new version? I'd like to say yes
but it's a yes and no as there is misery
yet there is still passion, between
is love, regrettably, unrecoverable.
.
 
23 : A Scene At Walmart

Poppin' fresh over/
under short shorts. What's sweeter,
muffins or biscuits?

.

omg! i realize this may or may not have been intended as humor, but i think i just offended the diet dr pepper gods when i snorted my soda!
 
omg! i realize this may or may not have been intended as humor, but i think i just offended the diet dr pepper gods when i snorted my soda!

Haha, ya, supposed to be a bit funny. All the my 'Scene' poems here in this thread are an attempt at senryu and I read they had to be about human nature and have little bite to them. From your reaction, I think I accomplished that poetry form.
 
13

living the years
fear so many times
presents itself like a
black haunted mass
and each time i squeeze shut
my eyes, barrel through it
and then
breathe again as i
find myself on the other side
i know the man i am
is better than before

and of regret there
truly is none, each instances
seems to hold such value
as a maker of growth,
in my times
the poet i once
thought myself to be
is just a man with thoughts
that sometimes come out
in writing-nothing more

my life is a poem of
ever changing beats and
breaks
if i choose the words wisely
someone may like
reading that poem, one day
my passion is somewhere
muffled with school and
dinner and bathtimes
at night when everyone sleeps
i remember you the best
and cling to that gift
as i kiss you on my shoulder.
 
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