all of a sudden passion suddenly

[vampiredust]

You

You are the Moon
anchored above

cows and fields,
cars, trees, homes

and everything
that wanders in

between places
we cannot see.

 

[loveumore]

If mom was right when she said,
the only way to make a baby
was to fall in love,
I would've had fifty babies
before turning seventeen.

 

[loveumore]

"Sticks and stones will break my bones,
but names will never hurt me."

The saying, the lie that's being said
in schools, at home, in every day life
probably before I was even born.

Who the hell wrote it or thought it,
I haven't a care.

Maybe some.

"Sticks and stones can break my bones,
and names
can forever haunt me"

unless you're a serial killer
or one without a conscience,
only the first applies.

 

[vampiredust]

She

She is my Moon,
permanently caught

between setting
and shape-shifting.

 

[vampiredust]

Fox Skull

You found it last Sunday
on of your walks, its shovel
snout sticking like a half buried
fuselage in the sod.

Eyes hidden under grass
and trees watched you
uncover it, dusting off dirt
to see the moon coloured bone

underneath. That was your
mistake, but no-one told you
as they came for you. And all
they found were your eyes,

permanently set between pause
and play.

 

[wildsweetone]

Staff or Self Appraisal

I don't understand the need
each six months
to be told how good I am
at my job, to be asked
what I find challenging.
Why don't they just tell me

where they think my weakness
lies? Instead, they twist
the deal, turn it until I volunteer
information, until I admit
out loud those points I hate
(they are not bad, but each
lifts a shovel of dirt
piles it ready
for my next step forward);

my private supporter
pushes it down my throat,
cuts my core
until I no longer dream
of tomorrow, until I am left
with the numbness
that is today,
and until I curl on the bed
and cry that there really is
no tomorrow.

 

[Tzara]

Eliza; or, The Turing Test Poem

I type my heart for you, computer,
for all the world to see.

I hope that you are not a parrot
reflecting language back at me.

 

[echoes_s]

How good to see you! Welcome back. I hope it's for a stay and not just a visit.

Hi! Missed you all and glad to see many still here

I am working on making it a stay hon, slowly setting things up...but the darn white glare is harsh as words fail me. It is tough trying to get back to writing again but I do feel it inside.

I think reading is in order to prompt this more

may I use my new bat?

 

[OhMissScarlett]

Don't worry, it's cheaper than therapy

sick of all octobers

dream of falling axes

sore throats and spilled tea

on a mattress

over before it started

friendships forever ruined

shoes dyed to match

cold starts and bounced checks

brilliant sorry motherfuckers

take it to the grave

 

[vampiredust]

The city and the rain

The city always seems to shrink
everytime it rains. Its furniture,
watercolour wet, becomes part
of a dolls house and everyone

inside it becomes nothing more
than walking, talking dolls.
We are all constricted in this
moment, limited to where we can

go and what we can see,
until the rain goes and light dusts
off the last of the drops.
Then everything starts inflating,
apart from us, who are still small.

 

[vampiredust]

Watching Herons on the Thames

Near Brentford
(we watched
a group of boys,
no, youths -
they were too
old and spotty)
leaping into
the Thames
(skin dripping
watercolour wet
as they bobbed
up from the recoil)
ignoring a group of
Herons feeding
on the other side,
(there is a meaning
here but I can't
skewer it and shove
it inside your mouth)

 

[vampiredust]

Watching trees near Putney Bridge

I am not sure
what these trees are,
trapped in their own
graves, lemon coloured
leaves floating in air
before

being scooped up
by a street cleaner
re-shaping the earth
with his machine's
hoover-tongue

genesis recorded this
but i have seen it

 

[Guest]

He lifts his hind parts, sending
a golden stream of burning urea
on whoever's toes
he damn well pleases.

We have to excuse his facetious
yet condescending sarcasm.
He is set in his ways.

Sometimes we have to let him leak
on our legs. He can't hold
his water like he use to,
but really, he never cared to try.

That's OK; shut the privy door.
Let him be eyeball high in surly swill
and hope that he knows how to swim
because none of us ever bothered
to major Lifeguard 101, Piss-Off, minor .

We're not interested in his water sports.

 

[Guest]

Thumbs up, buttercup,
she twists it behind my back, bites
between the shoulder blades,
forcing out a growl from the loins.

She is a feline carnivore,
craving more than brownies a la mode,
Beef Wellington and pickles.

Aggressive Top, she fucks like a man,
cannibalizes, and I've acquired
a taste for feather pillows.

 

[vampiredust]

Meteorite Storm

Walking through the fields
after last night's meteorite
storm, we find the remains
of stars' stomachs.

Craters, pitcher-black,
litter fallow fields. Some are
bluebottle rimmed in the
morning light and shimmer

in Father's camera. Pictures
are taken, maps made of
the alien remains. Life slowly
becomes forgotten.

 

[vampiredust]

Paradox

Trees silent as scarecrows
watch men walk past
carrying orange skinned
tongues in their briefcases.

World War One happened
in a small corner of the TV
last night, they watched
it unfold on trenches made

in China. A worker exclaimed
something, a proverb perhaps,
as a footprint of a soldier
was found. Time travel is here.

 

[vampiredust]

I am not sure how to write
anymore. It is as if the earth

has stopped flowing from under
fingertips and all that's left

is an empty cave, where poems
dance like Plato's shadows

on the walls.
Everything has become illusions.

 

[vampiredust]

Waterdoll

Somebody found you floating
in the River Thames, wrapped
in a gauze of driftwood and a
half chewed shopping basket.

That was your sailboat, taking
you to shore. But there were
no maps and wind just scooped
you up and hurled you in what

ever direction he fancied.
So you ended up eastwards,
tangled in a Dutch barges prop.
Skin greener than lime,

 

[Tzara]

I am not sure how to write
anymore. It is as if the earth

has stopped flowing from under
fingertips and all that's left

is an empty cave, where poems
dance like Plato's shadows

on the walls.
Everything has become illusions.

Progeny

There are no perfect poems. I always grasp
toward divinity in word and line
but never birth legitimate experience.

Euterpe is a slut
and I sire only bastards.

 

[tungtied2u]

planned obsolescence
is no way to run a city
such short sightedness is a sin
upon hardworking citizens
whose only dream was a roof
a family beneath and a way to feed them

but the appetite of big business
consumed that illusion
white shirts who skirted the issue
of planning for the future
too busy lining their pockets
with sweat stained dollar bills

lack of compassion and vision
has driven their industry into a ditch
from which extrication is hopeless
while the passengers sit
in critical condition, hemoraging
hope, fading fast, forgotten

 

[Guest]

Peace or Torture?

It's been almost one year since I walked away,
is one of the most painful expierences to this day.

As sorry as I am, and will always be,
there is nothing I can do, not even sorry.

I think of him all the time,
remember the first night,
God, the lights!

I smile so much to those memories,
I want so much for him to talk to me.

I know in my heart, things are right,
though it hurts EVERY DAY.
As much as I love him (always will),
I had to walk away.

"Smile and Remember" he once told me,
smile and remember, I do daily.

 

[vampiredust]

Blackbirds

*

During World War Two,
widows of fallen soldiers
would light candles to attract
blackbirds, believing they carried
the last words of their husbands

*

Some were found in the bellies
of U-boats crossing the Atlantic,
attempting to sabotage fuel
lines. None were ever caught.

*

Those that made it plucked
fire from bushes. Condemned
to have been untrustworthy
by the Secretary of State,
they were burnt.

*

But some were kept safe
by the women, hidden in jumpers
and woolen nests.

No one could hear their chirping,
not even now.

*
Silence belongs to the blackbirds

 

[vampiredust]

Antimatter

*

When antimatter comes into contact
with positive matter the result is a
near 100% release of energy Old
Brompton Road London a group
of homeless men huddle round each
other for warmth Blackbirds dressed
in scuffed tangerine peel trainers
and Oxfam cast offs

*

Antimatter is not fashionable anymore
Dark Matter is the plat-du-jours but
it cannot People are rioting everywhere
over Iraq and Afghanistan Release
the same amount of energy as antimatter

*

Antimatter pray for our souls

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Oh my god, I can not breathe
as you sit and toy with me
My heart is locked within my chest
my fingers numb, my mind can’t rest
I stare in wonder and wait for time
to heal my wounds and stop this crime
This time was mine and yours to play
Then someone came and pulled you away
I can not see through the tears I shed
as I see another with you is led
down the path of sweet release
the one I thought was mine to feast



*********************************


I am such a joke
others point and laugh as the
words I pen are nothing but
a quick way to get another off
meaning nothing to some
everything to me
a little to another
in the end though they
are nothing
just flat, black words
on a screen that makes
my head hurt.

My heart is finished.
I’m no longer here.
I’m just going to write and say hello
lean on a shoulder or two
but I’m done loving
I’m done caring
I’m simply done.

How hollow that feeling is
the one where you just look back and see forever
staring you in the face and mocking you
Foolish girl. Idiot.
Heart on your sleeve wearing you out.

A backbone made of jell-o
Too nice to open your mouth and proclaim
how stung you are, but willing
to sit back and let it happen over
and over and over again
Boy, you’re a piece of work
Idiot, empty, hollow, foolish girl.

 

[Guest]

He writes obviously and wonderful.
Sarcastic he is, letting me slide
a thumb across his words for ink.