Dirty 30 in 30

[unpredictablebijou]

# 34

Banishing Spell


Now I exhale you like smoke.
The breeze takes you. The knights
surround you. Now I let you run
through my fingers. Now you escape,
you blow away in a gust of wind
and I give up chasing you. You lift away
like a balloon, and you disappear,
smaller, upward, out of my grasp.

I spend you, trade you like money,
I exchange you for a desire
I brush you away, offer you
as a gift. I drive you out with a broom.
I excommunicate you. I burn
and bury you, a candle stub
at the root of a tree. I drop you
in live running water
and you are carried off in the current.

I chop you down, dig you up
by the roots, I leave you
to be eaten, I donate you
to a cause. I set you out at the road
I drop you off on the road
I abstain from you, I blow you out,
I open my hand and let go,
I bury you deep. I forget. I just
forget.



.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

# 35

A spell for irony

Something harsh
must happen to your skin. Sandpaper, perhaps, one
square inch for each thing you can name
that needles you. One for each curse. Wake up
your skin, your palms, your thighs with the scratch;
shift your blood to the surface. Do not sit
immobile, but move, rage, dance,
until you meet yourself and can explain.

You will need a very long red ribbon
nine yards at least, and a cutter. Take it up and threaten it
scream curses, wrench it open, tangled, improper.
Wind it round yourself, angrily. Bind your legs together
knot it round your eyes, bind your own arm to your side, and then
fight against it, hard. Harder. Then take the blade
and kiss it like a last lover
smoke it with your breath and beg it
as if you are crying and tied to a rack
to set you free.
Then cut.
Then cut.



.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

# 36

A dakini song


you will come upon a wicked turn in the path
and around that twisted corner
you will find a man
whose body is half-buried in the earth,
whose legs are like roots, growing down.
His face terrifies you
but it is grinning. It is not wrong.

There seem to be horns curled back
and teeth, and gleeful dark skin, rude somehow,
his naked chest and hairy arms confront you.
His gaze is amused, and frightens you
too bright, too wise, uncivilized. You are sure
that he already knows
who you are
and what you've done. That's
the terror.

A wave, a snake uncoiling
a burning, your hips clench and heat.
He sends you on, and you hear him
chuckle, and begin his dance
behind you. You'll be back
when you're ready.

When you return, if you do, be brave enough
to say yes. Yes: that is what I've done, who I am.
I offer no judgment, no defense. Make of it
what you will. If you do this, he will grin
and stretch, and become
something entirely new.



.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

and to end it, a 'blurt', for those round here who do that sort of thing...


to M. the F.

Of course you arrive
without warning when I haven't had
a shower for two days, when my hair
is ragged and my wildest scent is on me.

What must you think
of me?




.


It's been a slice. I'm excited to see how everyone else's run turns out.

bj

 

[UnderYourSpell]

19

Quisling hidden
in raiments ordinary
you come to steal
our secrets,for sale
to the highest bidder.
Twisting each tale
running it through
muddy waters,
till clothed
in a different hue,
spread them
to barter
in the market
of dead souls.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

dirty three

Anyone is key. The Maestro waited for all speakers and the quiet
Understood first by their eyes. He spoke, careful to recognize the low smokey
Genius in each capture. The villagers took photos. Augusto spoke about each as
Universal truth, bathed the developing shadows of their oppressions and joys.
Spanish was carried over in a cradle. In the jungle it won't supplant old vines.
Truth persists in the tongue of the old mothers, the bends of their backs.
Old memories now, the photos they took in Peru.


(acrostic)

 

[UnderYourSpell]

20

The men in my life

Dirty boots across the floor,
filthy whispers in my ear
freezing hand cupping breast,
straight from the garden
attempts arousal by the kitchen sink.

Tuxedo clad he gives his arm
an entrance to the ball,
smiles at the ladies
who love him, he holds chairs
fetches wraps and drinks.

 

[wespeak]

2

Originally Posted by unpredictablebijou: Wespeak, welcome. That's a stellar beginning. Really evocative.
bj

Thank you.


No Goose Island Blondes; we are lowly
malts and hops. Dry
until the downpour that Gray
Goose night. I am cranberry
and shots and he is ice

cold in orange. In those mixed nights,
straight darkness,
I become metal, funk,
blues — but flight is fleeting.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

What's a goose island blonde?

 

[wespeak]

What's a goose island blonde?

Let me google it for you: http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=goose+island+blonde&aq=f&oq=

 

[wespeak]

3

I doubt I will be online Saturday. If not, here is my #3


She pens me in the eves,
ink-wet and half written
on a crush of paper leaves.

If I were not this smitten,
I would go by fading out,
ink wet and half written.

Though a poem is prone to pout,
weep into a mess of smears,
then go by fading out.

I cringe and have my fears
she will edit me to death,
erase me until I am smears.

She dries me with anxious breath.
Let her finish me but gently
and spare me an edit's death.

Poet sweet, she lets me be
to pen me in some other eves.
She will finish me but gently
on her crush of paper leaves.

 

[champagne1982]

Dirty One

Childhood

I grieve right now.
You are going past me
in the wrong direction.
Stay with me on my path;
it will be lonely
without you.

I remember those smiles
you showed me on faces
I love and who love
me in return and now,
you drag them away,
shadowed, somewhat forgotten.

Sadness wells up from below
like the cold of permafrost
permeates the soles
of feet, even though a memory
lingers of those funny
slippers, knitted in an afternoon
to keep us warm.

I want to hold your hand
and walk the future
as your companion.
I know you cannot stay
since the hands on the clock
sweep you behind,
into dust.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Champ you are phenomenal ! diving straight back into another 30!

 

[champagne1982]

Champ you are phenomenal ! diving straight back into another 30!

This is an easier thread to post to for this time over the holidays. I don't know if I'll get to 30 by January 4th, but I'll try. That's all I've ever asked of my writing: if you're there, words, come out and be a poem. Thanks Annie.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

21

You think I offer myself
to appease your anger
you never realise
red hot words
bring reactions
physical,
crisis adrenaline rushes
stimulates

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Dirty Four

Next time I want you on the bare mattress,
the sheets torn off and wound
'round your shoulders like garlands.

Next time your blood will carry
pheromone corsages--cockscomb
and night blooming jasmine so that
my mattress will remember your scent.

Next time I will take you inside
after you have closed the door
behind you. Next time I will be brave
and lick the sweat from your neck after.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

22

Do you hear me when the wind
calls through the treetops,
or by fire glow on a stormy winters eve?
Maybe in a sea of summer flowers
you may catch a glimpse of what I used to be.
Remember me with music, voices singing
in the distance just beyond some far off hill,
not lying deep within the cold earth.
Listen, I am there and with your still.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

23

Lay there and feel
shut your eyes
let me excite you
touch and caress
soft tingles
surround you.
Lips brushing breathing
against your breasts
feel the wetness
of my tongue
across each nipple.
Enter your tightness
to whimpers and moans
a harder faster need
skin to skin
stroking inside you.
Explode for me
and I for you

 

[champagne1982]

Dirty Too

You Make Me Silly

Get high with me and let it drip
down from lofty rafters there above
the hurly-burly mass of human roil
that toil industrious grindstone noise
and make a shiny glowy shower
glitter over top the smudgy grey

Illuminate the cloudy day with sunray
sabres slicing through the foggy smear
confusion slathered thick against the ether
of the air to tether flight tight upon the floor
instead of rising to the rafters and blowy-
flowy free in skies brightened with your smile.

 

[wespeak]

4

The Run rushes far,
beyond Goff cemeteries, through winter
gnats, all hurried in flurries.
Fox on the run

and into a midnight gully
of maniacs,
woman beholds man,

camouflaged in hooves
and blood outside her God windows —
all-seeing in haste
and on the run.

 

[champagne1982]

Dirty Thrice

February Ego Snow

I rushed through gifts of freedom
exhilarated by the soft display
of contrails spun from wings
edged with gleaming knives of steel.

Cutting through gravity in defiance
of the heavy weights pressed down
in late November. Slicing across paths
of those caught rudderless, yawing
and unable to avoid the crash to earth.

My flight in clouds, coldly slapped
with the stuff of angels torn away
unfettered in this fantasy
of fresh powder and blue sky.

 

[loststar]

dirty one

cautious curiosity

i wonder at you
just a word on this screen
an arrangement of lines that lends itself to a name
no details
no ideas laid from your heart
no flavor of who you are
yet
curiosity still sticks
like smooth honey
before it is plied apart
what keeps you back
are you scared
cautious
or just not have anything to say
can you not divulge
is it a secret
or
nonexistent
i entice you to intrigue me further

 

[UnderYourSpell]

24

If the whole world stopped turning
and we ceased to be,
cast out to the heavens
for all eternity,
I would fly beside you
through celestial fire.
for a taste of your sweet lips
your hand in mine.
Take my heart for this journey
and all I can give,
if you go I will follow
I promise you this
the heavens are ours in darkness
or light, our stars shine forever
together always.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-22LPgdXhw&feature=related

 

[UnderYourSpell]

25

Lips honeyed by the mead
her juices run pure nectar
dripping down my chin,
as I drink and sip again
from the liquids spread before me,
tongue plunging to this orchid
headiness consuming passion.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

dirty five

LaVena Johnson, LaVena Johnson,
we will know the name of the beast
and his conspirators. I will whisper
your name
LaVena Johnson, LaVena Johnson.

Dr. John Johnson, in a contractor's tent
your beautiful daughter was raped, burned
killed. Violated by a man, a contractor
who was succored by Bush government.
These are the boys with the sacks,
with their teeth in the veins of Iraq.

How many martinis does it take to wash out
LaVena Johnson, LaVena Johnson,
the blood of that name?

The monster won't need them. He thrills
at his cruelty. But the hands with the stamps,
LaVena Johnson will letter the insides of their eyelids.
They'll never get rest of it. LaVena Johnson will live
in our throats, in our persistent
demands for answer. We will know who killed
this mother's daughter, this young defender
of America.

They glued your gloves
on your hands to cover burns
inflicted while you held
your burning vagina.

Lavena Johnson, Lavena Johnson, your name
will be the cautionary tale of oilmen and governments
that eat their young, that give you up to sup the devil.
Your poor body tortured, you
did it, they said! Broke your own body, raped yourself,
lit yourself on fire and put
a bullet through your head. Lavena Johnson
your country owes you
owes all of us
an answer.