all of a sudden passion suddenly

[annaswirls]

for some reason I came upon page six
or seven

accidentally
I thought it was TODAY

it all made sense everything familiar
tess had a cool AV
someone was writing to Angeline about Jazz
Eve had one I loved I was looking for the end, to put in my little spoutings

until came the name
the post

03sp
Guest

Registered: Not Yet
Location:
Posts: N/A
pop toys
pop quiz
in the afternoons
of March long
not melting fast enough

no end in sight so
go around back
so mention green things

eat soup
drink ice



okay what the fuck

Not planned just happened like passion

I thought who's idea of a sick joke is this
then I realized the date
I am still not sure why I got to that day, it makes no sense I always get to the last page

if I hit enough
returns
does this cound
as
a
poem?

jonh hacob jungle heimer schmidt




that's all

see ya in a week

 

[Syndra Lynn]

Sibling Spirits

Friend to friend
You opened your heart
took my hand,
brought me into your dark.

A slice of your soul
peeled away with steel blade
You played me your songs
though your senses careened

You can’t see the light
though it shines from your eyes
kinship established
because death stalks our dreams

 

[annaswirls]

damn Tess I swear I saw the fingers in your av move ever so slowly, I cannot cannot
get my eye off the egg

story of the eye

off the picture of the egg
in a nest of furrrrr

 

[annaswirls]

there is something about a woman who
likes camping


out in the bug eat buig wilderness of mud clumps
falling in the shape of waffled ridges

shoulders strong from carrying
heavy things, legs muscular from
steep incline
rock not metal

a woman who has looked vertical pupil eyed beasts
without a shriek or a flinch as it moves
sideways across the trail
never losing eye contact


a single layer between body and earth
single layer between skin and wind
nothing between eyes and sky until lids close
then
one

bathing in cold water
body hair grows long enough to catch and capture and hold in the scent of moisture from between places
breathed in deep straight to hindbrain instinct
pupils dialate lips swell chest and cheek flush

a sniff
a growl
flat down face up eyes lowered
submission to be dragged by hair
into the cave not before
a playful mock protest shriek
and claw

neck bite
show her who is on top and
inside provider
a woman who does not fear
rock or mud or branch on palm
elbow knee

she knows how to build a fire
reading aloud by it's light
until sleep comes

 

[eagleyez]

seemingly grown into a
basketcollector,
hesitant to leave any of it on the floor-

musty cob webs on wishing welled rusty tossers
wallet photographs,
poker chips and
prayer cards, toothpics and rubberbands.

so in they all go
in wicker, wire, and wooden, endless stacks of dried out pens
golf tees and folded paper, a lawyers card with the herb mans # on it. King Tut phonebook tucked safely between the old specs and the scarf she left me...


no son, im not throwing them out
not on this move anyway.
chances are I''ll be hanging on to the baskets forever.

 

[No Bagles]

Teaching My Teachers

Mr A
my esteemed instructor
of numbers and absolute truth said
    write
    what you know
    and only
    what you know

and i did

Ms B
my guide in an ocean
of sematics and abstracts said
    write
    what you think
    and feel,
    nothing more

and i did

Dear Mr A and Ms B
heeding your advise,
here is mine to you:

I know you have it wrong
and I think you should
go screw yourselves.

Or rather
I feel
you should go screw
each other,
like I, and everyone
but you
seems to know,
you are both dying
to do.

and they did

 

[No Bagles]

if
i just
start this
and slam keys
like they fall
a word after another
and another
collecting it all
in one thought
or the other
like this
just click
and a digital whirr
when my circuits purr
with this info
poitless indeed
but in panicked need
to squeeze out the ass
on a network cable
stacked for the journey
already unable
to cancel departure
deployed i shout
my unplanned
all sudden
unload of lines
all of a passion
over and out
hit Submit Reply
no regret
no doubt

 

[Tathagata]

these dreams come as milk and honey
trigger rhapsodies in REM
all interconnect and fade out
leaving the taste of 10th grade kisses
in our mouths

these dreams stumble tumble whirl-a-gig romance
always with someone new
who is someone old
who is some one else

passports for time travel
in a sargeant pepper world
seeping like brain overflow
back into the pillow

when morning wipes the chalk board
and turns the colors off

 

[Tathagata]

I take my coffee
with a sparrow cry
under the awning
and no sugar

a little skim milk
and the hiss whisper of rain
water wet marimba
shaken leaf applause

fresh ground
soaked earth musky worm scent
heavy humid air
breathing under the surface

I take my coffee
stirred with my morning sleep eyes
open window froth
the perfect house blend

 

[Tathagata]

terrarium living
with neighborhood children
and squirrel chatter
like rock click echoes
underwater
in this tropic moist air

sundays always
still as death at first
and then boiled meat or potatoes
condensed kitchen window sweat
like seeing through tears

cats sleep, newspapers crisp clean shuffle
slurping sips and a low radio
is that Muddy in my living room?
Nod ,nod, nod
The sox can wait a minute

I miss Calvin on sundays
for a moment..
all is held in crystal
and then the vacuum starts
I sigh

impermanence

 

[Maria2394]

I am soft
that makes men want to fuck me
and now I do not smile
at strangers for fear
of giving the wrong impression

I do not want to be soft
I want to be hardened and cynical
with prickly skin and bad attitude

I want to be strong
enough to tell them all,
Keep your hands off me, I belong
to someone who knows
that my softness is just for him

I am soft, inside
and tears of others
bring tears of my own

I am soft. soft
not weak nor ignorant
soft. smooth. clean
loving. mother. slut
wife. woman

soft enough to make love
hard enough to give birth
balanced enough to live,
to tell

 

[echoes_s]

Hurricane bound

humidity drifts, seen
to open eyes
seeking,

laughter clatters loudly
a block away,
silence so clear

the sky a sickly yellow,
waned warning glow
chilled cold

clouds curl churlish
storms prowl trailed
with dark reticence

 

[Angeline]

oh jazz and the august moon
good times strayed but now
they'll stay and none too soon
night drips in icy clinks Bill Evans
noodles plinks laugh oops the dj
changed his mind but everything
is fine as flowers drink warm chords
dance and sway all the ugly went
away kiss me silly man in a baseball
cap I've had enough of that hard
time jive oh here we are alive
and words are blooming all the gloom
went south all I want is what I see
my poems your mouth let it be

 

[Maria2394]

remember those nights, lunar bound
feet first, swing set shaking, tipping
just a bit too far to keep Mama happy

I remember thinking that my feet
would touch the moon first, before
those guys that went there, and
I still have the picture that Mama took
of the men on the moon ( on the TV)

it's blurry black and white, sort of
like the memories I have of most of my childhood
when water tasted clean and strangers
weren't so mean, that kids couldn't go
for a walk alone

My middle sister told me that she had
a black mama, lived in the woods
waaay past Cousin Bobby's house,
said she cooked ham real good
and made a skirt out of old flour sacks
that she had for years and years
and thirty years later, she refuses to recant

and my brother crashed into the preacher's
new car, all three of us were guilty that day
a wagon, rusty and red, and a purple bike
with not a lick of breaks, and a good steep hill
what more can I say,
that belt whuppin was worth it

and then we moved to "town" yeah, it was a town
maybe a thousand strong, back then, and we lived
near the railroad tracks, and the grade up Saluda mountain
was steep as the grade on Howard Gap,
only we didnt run into the preacher there,
a nice engineer let us ride the caboose
about half way up and then we'd run back down

I rememebr meeting a hobo once,
half-starved, we took him food but
he had gone, we chased him down and fed him
and a poem was born that day,
I wrote about him 25 years later and
everything seems like yesterday, sometimes
and then some days feel like never

today was a never day, couldnt sleep
thinking of people who have gone on before
and trying to remember good times
I always find my way,
back to that swingset and I am only seven,
my brother six and sarah was only three

It was late, after dinner, and Mama let us stay up
as long as we could be quite, and as long
as we were on that swingset.

Oh how we held our breath and kicked skyward!
to the starship enterprise we were headed
and I truly believed that Captain Kirk could see me
( even in the bathroom)
I wish, how I wish, I could be seven
for about an hour more, invisible walls
and all

 

[shyly curious]

And no hangover!. That's what separates the women from the girls.

what separates a woman
from the young girl,
hard won wisdom
revealed in her touch.

sage guidance given
even to men,
knowing they struggle
to accept her gift

her knowing looks
cause a girl's blush,
yet men surely tremble
imagining her touch.

 

[Angeline]

It's a ghost of a church,
the city buzzes
a street away--
all-night bagel and gyro joints,
coffee shops with neon names
and dirty plate windows,
but the church has retained
it's holy remove.

When poets speak,
the hush is full of spirit,
Ginsberg pats his Bhudda belly,
ringing, fighting to the death
as Popeye and William Blake
with Kenneth Koch.

Patti Smith paces aisles,
extemporizing, improvising
like an angel lunatic Ariel.
Burroughs mouth barely moves,
but his gravelspeak pierces,
his eyes pin the audience
fallen sway to his cool
reptilian muse.

Helen Adam steals the night
and my breath
with her warbly old singsong
Cheerless Junkie Song.

Their voices whirl words
around me. My aura glows
like a constellation. I know
these thoughts, this life.
I know. This is who I am.

 

[Guest]

Waiting for the next show

Peripheral vision narrows
like always—
into a dark tunnel

The bathroom mirror
bows and flexes
with hazy pictures

What I see
isn't possible

Burning pieces of jet fuselage
scattered over a hillside

Broken dolls with arms
legs and torsos of mannequins
smeared in blood

The scene warps into a twisting
black funnel cloud

Twisting, twisting
transforming into a freaky
version of me

I see my face in the mirror
the right side looks
distorted, unreal

My skin moves in tiny ripples
explodes with a thousand
wriggling maggots

I gag, get sick
brush my teeth, walk away
try to forget

But I'm always
waiting for the next show

 

[MercyMia]

dylan they called her
even though her hair was long
and her lashes dark

dylan they said
and he touched her
in the deep night

she rolled over
still sleeping dreaming
of a wide slow river

dylan they whispered
and she waved her arms
through the sludgy water

 

[WickedEve]

snubbed

she was vivid through aisles
pinking past spring waters
ignoring browns and drabs

occasional glances that would crush butterflies

perhaps I was too earth toned for recognition
my girls lacklustered against necessity
boxed in tissued textures

but barb barb
fuchsia and forlorn
you're unflattering hues
of faux woebegone

 

[WickedEve]

After The Doves

Clara's boy brought turtle or roe,
simply to please her,
to be her boy.

night-eyed creatures
with delectable features
sacked and toted
fur and quiet-throated

He recalls those soft ones
most of all--
not turtle or roe.

I kiss him goodbye,
a red stone whisper
on his lips.

 

[*Catbabe*]

Mischief-maker

little hands,
around largest rock
aimed over steel bridge rail
that burns his belly
sends gravity a gift
spraying shore
giggling over
soaked sister shrieks.



I managed to avoid taboo words, but not narrative so I posted over here instead of on Eve's taboo thread.

 

[*Catbabe*]

Mischief-maker fifteen years later...

large hands
surround smaller rock
knees lean against steel bridge rail,
still warm in dimming dusk
he watches,
skin, licked by river ripples
fingers close tight,
he steps out of sight.

 

[Syndra Lynn]

ideas

snakes and lightbulbs
slithering shining
ideas fester
slowly
sidewinding my mind graval
slowly growing
from the odd seed ingested
or spring full grown
from sudden insights
unseen until
the moment of striking

 

[JUDO]

Rhythm

A thrust,
A grunt,
A deepfelt sigh.

A quiver,
A quake,
A raised, wet thigh.

Of two,
Or three,
Count noses, not eyes.

To see
And feel
A girth or size.

A watch
that ticks,
Not with the time.

A veil
Of glass
Just for a dime.

'Til tight
The Ball
Of flesh and lust

Will gasp
Its peak
As all things must.

We watch
Behind
Mirrors, one way

Rubbing,
Stroking,
No one to lay.

Glass fogs,
Coins glint,
Towels wipe away

Madness -
The edge
Of this girl's stay.

 

[eagleyez]

i dont care about poetry
or art
or music,
hell
i need 3 tires
and an oil change
tossing
books in
the
fruitfly dumpster
stairs down and
then steep stairs
back up again

no i dont care about
all the loss and gain
the meta world
the shoulders of your memory
i need to rent a uhaul
and beat the heat
drive north 3 miles.

here i sit.