writing live

[emma_tate]

uh, this needs work, but...



Bird Dog

Free fall,
a cloud-bursting wing,
freedom is a needful thing. Masters lock it
in cages, and Misters hide flight

on top shelves. She is small
dog, with climb-lacking legs, buried
canines that cut her gums. Some Monday,

after brunch,
before rain and letters,
she will snap,
pass beneath the net,
lead them in high seach.

BUT it's so damned good already!! I have always just adored your work. Damn, I have missed you! Today has been a good day to surf.

 

[butters]

on receiving news from the CSA

can't help but allow
a little smug ...
warm
as the mug
full of
coffee in my hand
and
the aromatic breath of steam
basting this cupped smile

at least
just for this
just for this
a simple, little while

 

[lorencino]

of all the possibilities
this page affords

i still don't know if i can bring
my schtick to sing
of such deep broads and rising tides
that swell to rush and suck back down
a whirpool of i
deas

when really all's set off by you
your underwater gruff and bloom
that shudders, shivers, shatters high glass rooms
until, exposed, my core shines silver
wet but pulsing yet with scarlet
flame that's free to ..

free to ...

testing testing this be-coming word
free

free
dom's still too new for me
to know quite what to do or be

so back to possibilities
i cannot voice
i cannot vice
i cannot thrice and twice and throw the dice
and roll a pair of deuces like a
maestro
no

that's music not
a metaphor to sloppy-drop
to gamble with a score or move like props upon the dim-lit stage
thank god this bastard thing can be
erased

quick
cover me
snuff me
dry me
stop me

re
think
the brink

and stumble back from
sounding like a freak peer
ing through the muddy chink and looking for the light to ride
away

so gonna regret this

Her words dance delighting
prance powerfully in youthlike agility
bending at the waist
as traipsing toes mark time momentarily
to smell the flavour of each blossom
that springs in unpredicted stream
from her knowing mind.

 

[butters]

to dance
cheek to cheek
at arm's length
within reach
word-contact
cha-sssaaaaaayyyyyyy

dip
pose
then spin me away on words po-
-etic
more than prose a rose in your teeth well
maybe not the rose but flick, kick,
point and
gliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiddde

i'm more than pink content to ride
the night away as lorencino leads
paso paso
doblé me
stamp and clap and tango me
lorencino
but last
and last
and last of all
i wanna be waltzed





*john, i'm only dancin' but it turns me on - only dancin' ...*

 

[AoNoDoY]

gay bi straight
gay bi straight
gay bi straight
gay straight bi
gay straight bi
gay straight bi
straight gay bi
straight gay bi
straight gay bi
bi gay straight
bi gay straight
bi gay straight
straight bi gay
straight bi gay
straight bi gay
​

 

[lorencino]

*john, i'm only dancin' but it turns me on - only dancin' ...*

Your words,
when first presented to my ken
swirled pleasingly
through my eager mind
and thus enthused
I've spent the weeks since
waltzing with your words admired
wondering all the while
would you pause
to dance a while with me.

 

[butters]

Your words,
when first presented to my ken
swirled pleasingly
through my eager mind
and thus enthused
I've spent the weeks since
waltzing with your words admired
wondering all the while
would you pause
to dance a while with me.

i practise
by looking in the mirror
performing the steps
but my spatial awareness is fooled
by reversals of fortune
made mockery of
by reflections in cold panes

my hands and feet stumble
on awkwardness and misdirection
and i have to take stock
close my eyes
feeeel the beat

when i can't see myself
that's when i dance best
body knows
becomes rhythm
melody
counterpoint

open my eyes and see another
meld the moment, movement, magic
harmonising's fun

 

[AoNoDoY]

what i was trying to do before

_________________________
______gay bi straight_________​

_________gay bi straight______​

____________gay bi straight___​

_________gay straight bi______​

______gay straight bi_________​

___gay straight bi____________
______straight gay bi_________​

_________straight gay bi______​

____________straight gay bi___
_________bi gay straight______​

______bi gay straight_________​

___bi gay straight____________
______straight bi gay_________​

_________straight bi gay______​

____________straight bi gay___​

_________________________​

 

[butters]

water's soft
till you hit it at speed
kinda like love

then

when you're too tired
to hold your head above the surface
you drown

 

[some_poet]

there is never satisfaction here
he tells me
write a fucked up poem about fucking
truth is turned into lists of Mike and
Michaels one propping pillows one keeping
socks on save a step back to convention
there is no writing only accounting Dr. K's
resistance to lotion and Richard esquire's
silence. Yes perhaps I can approach the bar
bend him backwards full finger cavity search come here
come her motion you have the right
to remain yes. Four. It feels like i miss one here, must have been
Dr. K;s insistance of staying on my mind, his spring water
persistance of good lord I just wanted him to lose his way
just once. Under done next.

Five bought lunch. Of course his wife
had medical issues. All of their wives
have medical issues. I feign sympathy
swallow the evidence send him back to the
used car lot. Slime. Six turned out to live next
door, burnt orange wall backdrop for cock shot images
then
I
sleep

 

[some_poet]

omnisexual being stop classifing
just feel fuck touch love whatever
lies
next
to
you
now

take whatever works
try not to Lineus it
into Latin good lord wear
latex wear
sateen wear it out between
his mouth takes in your toes
pressing back, pressing open your heel
down headboard
while that other
that other
takes and takes
and takes

her
softness
is surprising

take
this
too

_________________________
______gay bi straight_________​

_________gay bi straight______​

_________________________​

 

[some_poet]

god I love you girl

leaf bound
you always rise

i know the bones
of you, and come one sultry night,
we will arch the sky's
back, rake it
all silver slits. and come one sultry night,

you must let me
be dirt, a mote
of lichen, bead of sweat. allow me
to be a blade crawler, crushed

underneath your heel. rain
on me; leave me golden
and low. i will be your bit of porcelain.
please tell me,
will i then be less than the worm?

come one sultry night, i will be blissful
beneath your bones and muddy
shameful before creeping gods.

 

[some_poet]

Seven called me from the future. Neck tie restraint and latex I collected the sample
offered penance and left. Later 8 found his address
on a federal list: child molesters.

Eight tried to heal mefucked me into tears
psychoanalysis
couch fingers found deep soft places
perhaps I should have believed him

Nine and ten left me a hundred
on the table each time I pushed
knots from muscle pulled tension
from inside. Nine pulled t-posts, 10 pushed vanity.

Eleven and twelve came as a couple
cigarette rough voice she showed him
best angles smacked my ass and sucked my tits until
god love you your little boy smile of mischief
we fucked solo sent our partners to the couch with
our own intensity. All four in a circle
to end the night

thirteen

 

[butters]

some poet
is something of
apoet
apoetical some
thing
a textual enigma

 

[emma_tate]

dreams are not immortal (like disappointments)

Some men want us,
women to believe
that it is our mothers' fault
that we are the sum of all
the parts he sees. Does he
remember his father? Drunken
and beating the woman
he professed, promised to love
and cherish? It's alright, go ahead
blame her, after all, she bore
the son who knows no, shows no
respect, but do children not learn
by example?

I remember the lessons I heard
as I lay motionless in bed, next to
my youngest sister. Mama always
left the window opened just a crack
in case we had to leave in a hurry
to go for help. I would help Sarah
down her tiny gown stained
with the red clay soil that defined
us and the region we were from.

Little Indians, Papa called us, but
truth be told, we were only a quarter
Cherokee and I considered myself
an in between and never really belonged
anywhere or to anyone.

I was pilfering through an old box
of photos, you see, I am keeper of
visions and the teller of stories
in my family. When my uncle passes on,
I will be the eldest and I feel I am
ill-equipped to handle the fact
that I may be the next to die
and have yet to accomplish anything
with my insecure, pathetic life.

I want to go back, to be the little girl
who rode with her Papa on patrol
when he was "High Sheriff" of Polk County.
I want that innocence back, that time
before I knew that things were not
perfect, that men were not princes who
rescued you astride white steeds
and placed you on a pedestal,
loved you, and meant it.

 

[AoNoDoY]

Press your heel against my back
Take this take this take that
Push my nose between your toes
Pinch and curl the hair on my sack

Touch his soft
Take this take that
Feel his hair
Finger his loft

Stop feel touch love
Lie fuck
tongue toe
smooth back
hand chest rack

 

[WickedEve]

BUT it's so damned good already!! I have always just adored your work. Damn, I have missed you! Today has been a good day to surf.

Golly, I forgot about that poem and had to read it twice to make sure it was mine. lol Oh, my "seach" should be search.



Trees outside their window fade
from her eyes as she turns her head to watch
him shave. He strokes his stubble.
She bristles, then softens,
because she hates the man she loves.

Love is lime -- sour, desired in sips
with sweetness. If the razor slips,
how will she feel?

"Today let's hang birdhouses in the lindens."

His smooth neck is tart on her lips
beneath all the heart-shaped leaves.

 

[WickedEve]

Birds watch me catch snow
in the coffeepot
before they fly.

"Carry me with you, away
from window breakers and firefly
sweet teas. Away."

Warm cup of winter
and vast windows of white,
I could sit here til evening, away

from that hooded night
and brutal slumber.

 

[sir_goodhead]

Upon reviewing poetry-

One must be very careful
when using the word "sterile"
as the mere mention may cause
a release of flying monkeys
and wannabe Dorothy tossing stones
across her moat of wishes.

Look at me, look at me! Can't you see?
I'm the Queen of Poetry!

 

[butters]

Golly, I forgot about that poem and had to read it twice to make sure it was mine. lol Oh, my "seach" should be search.



Love is lime -- sour, desired in sips
with sweetness. If the razor slips,
how will she feel?

"Today let's hang birdhouses in the lindens."

His smooth neck is tart on her lips
beneath all the heart-shaped leaves.

sighs

Birds watch me catch snow
in the coffeepot
before they fly.

"Carry me with you"
...

... hooded night
and brutal slumber.

damn, girl.
gorgeous

 

[Epmd607]

Upon reviewing poetry-

One must be very careful
when using the word "sterile"
as the mere mention may cause
a release of flying monkeys
and wannabe Dorothy tossing stones
across her moat of wishes.

Look at me, look at me! Can't you see?
I'm the Queen of Poetry!

There are alt- alt- alternative ways to go
when you're depressed, a little lonely,
you can go and find somebody,
or just keep on stroking your own monkey

 

[butters]

when it's really very frosty
and the birds are stiff with cold
a mug of soup works wonders
as do woollies, i am told
but here within the warmth and cheer
of writers often fogged with beer
a nipple is less shy, i've found
however frosty lies the ground

 

[bflagsst]

There are alt- alt- alternative ways to go
when you're depressed, a little lonely,
you can go and find somebody,
or just keep on stroking your own monkey

(Sir HoodHead likes to Write Poems)

You might hide behind a name
lob some frilly flames,
but you know me,
and I know you,
(even if only for a little bit)
as I'm the guy who reads poems,
and I can't help stepping in your shit.

 

[butters]

(Sir HoodHead likes to Write Poems)

You might hide behind a name
lob some frilly flames,
but you know me,
and I know you,
(even if only for a little bit)
as I'm the guy who reads poems,
and I can't help stepping in your shit.

lol, i so want to pooh-pooh this poem

lovin the frilly flames, dude

 

[sir_goodhead]

(Sir HoodHead likes to Write Poems)

You might hide behind a name
lob some frilly flames,
but you know me,
and I know you,
(even if only for a little bit)
as I'm the guy who reads poems,
and I can't help stepping in your shit.

May I ask what I did to inflame you and your alt-buddy? MY silly attempt at a pseudo-poem was directed at no one here.

I read a comment someone left and the word "sterile" was used and it reminded me of another person who reviewed a "poets" work honestly, used the term "sterile" and then a massive undertaking ensued to run her off the board simply because she was honest and refused to "stroke" anyone's monkey.

I'm not hiding, never was. Just funny how big a pile of Janus-types are still lumped together like the very "shit" you refer to. I hope I can get it off my nice shoes.

Nice way to welcome a newbie to the forum. Thanks.

P.S. there are good clinics and other places to get help for impotence and low self-esteem, and illogical PARANOIA that you obviously suffer from,or so I have heard. Can you Google?


Any further attempt to disrupt the good nature of this forum, as it has been lately, my be directed to my PM, my email, or in any manner you decide is better than stinking up the place as you are so apt to do on occasion.

regards-

Roger