writing live

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[Angeline]

the days that come in black and white
my life a kinescope
with too much contrast
and no vertical hold
on reality

innumerable tints
of two colors
produce only so many emotions
prison gray
tombstone white
the blackness of
being buried alive
by trivialities

i hear the door open
she wobbles in
a red and green
watermelon hat
a toothless smile
squealing her greeting
in her own tongue

I'm not in Kansas anymore
I kiss the wizard

Here the summer is vivid
viridian, even the rain
is shining, brightening
the bronze plaques in the ground.
I show you names and bricks,
a weathering gray house, paint
peeling and a smaller box of brick.
The dogwood tree is gone
from the postage stamp yard.
A half-barrel with splindly weeds
sits over the grass where the tree
stood. Everything seems smaller,
reduced to the size of the weeds,
even the traffic and the voices
are less but still more
than the otherness of me,
a visitor who might as well be
from another planet, passing through
like a ghost. I don't know
what home is anymore, not this,
maybe just you.

 

[beautyandwine]

Call me Arithmophobic, but...

It's the snap decisions,
your binary code,
internalized, like
the cosine compression of the morning commute,
and your intricate matrices.

Unwashed dishes and
laundered clothes, divided,
sorted, and neatly folded
as we comtemplate particles
and existentialism.

I lie at the axis,
languid-lazy-turning,
completely irrational
as I solve for
rhythmic patterns
and gilded ratios,
an exhausted set.

Damn your infinite
list of must-dos and
has beens,
assigned orders
and misplaced values;
I've lost count.

 

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[sophieloves]

it is a freefall
this life
with god stuffed in our backpack
as if
we can be rescued from ourselves

love is a leap of faith
on all levels
the problem is
we always expect to make it
to safety

sometimes
we are suppose to fall
god waits between the mountains
not on top
in dry river beds , and scrub brush
god waits in rooms
that are too quiet and empty
god waits in places we are afraid to go
but we always end up

we arrive at the door to heaven
cursing the parachute
that didn't open
looking for a way
out of the valley

gasp! that is BEAUTIFUL!

 

[Tathagata]

gasp! that is BEAUTIFUL!

I'm glad you like it

thank you

 

[beautyandwine]

I fear the day your baby voice floats away.
I'll be left to reminisce
toddler conversations,
"owies" and "armies",
the running hugs and heartfelt kisses,
with abundant time to miss the years.

:/

 

[sophieloves]

in this lush creative field
i'm a faun
leaping to catch glimpses of brilliance
over the top of tall grasses
landing back
in a sea of green

smelling my way

 

[beautyandwine]

No one knows
(for certain), but
above the clouds
celestial deities catapult,
untethered,
in beguiling games
of truth-or-dare.


Spin

and

swoop,

free

fall;

ecstatic

ocean

of

blue

nothing.

*sigh* I had this spaced in a nice swooping manner to add to the imagery, and yet I don't know the code to get it to work in these forums.

 

[beautyandwine]

I remember the smell of
cedar and sunshine
on yellow rose sheets,
connubial veils
hung gently across
the tarnished gramophone,
and fluff,
fifty years in the making.

 

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[Angeline]

He nosed his biscuits
into a geometric pattern. I don't know
what's intentional, but I looked
at him, his round doggie eyes
and his tail thumping the carpet.
He'd say I can make a triangle,
mom, if he could, and maybe
he did in some language I don't
understand. Woofs and loyalty,
his big furry presence, his head
on my knee whenever I'm sad.
I'd tell him you have eyebrows,
dogbrows! Seventy dog-years
of unstinting love that I maybe
didn't deserve for all the nights
I was too tired to walk him. I miss
his nails clicking on the linoleum,
his joyous bark in snow, his whole body
vibrating with cold and pleasure.
The way he cocked his head as if
to say "Rowwf? What the hell
are you on about now?" Keep it
simple mommy. Don't question it all.

 

[sophieloves]

got a long, cold beer
but would sooner have a joint to smoke
watch blue-grey curls of smoke
elope
on thoughts of russian winters
parisian springs
niagra falls venting thundrous weepings
that smash down onto strong stone backs
eroding
always eroding
hollowing out some reason
but where oh where did i place my rhyme?

 

[Tzara]

Unconditional

Well God is
love
so love me

I am not God.
I am not love.
I just am morphine.

Partake me of.

 

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[sophieloves]

to be love
is to be god, he said
and i stared into my glass
believing him
at this moment
in time
god-head
seemingly within reach

 

[sophieloves]

love, lust, hate
the colours of passion
i'm a tricoloured torch
shining in the dark
but i'm not the one
pressing the buttons
and all my light inside is
white

 

[sophieloves]

just read a poem
like a japanese fan
made my hands
my thoughts
rough blocks of wood

 

[goliathtamer]

Unedited LOL...here goes

Closed lids I lay alone,
In my mind your here.

Bedroom thoughts inside my head,
Amazingly its clear.

You whisper things that are not nice,
I replace them with my sighs.

The words you breath into my heart,
Burn fear between my thighs.

I try to do this without sound.
Pretending your here with me.

Yet every twist between my legs,
I cant do this quietly.

I forget myself and start to yell,
Screaming out your name.

Unfortunately your car was gone,
And the neighbor's knew my game.

:O Hey that was fun

 

[sophieloves]

writing live
tease
and squeeze
strokes in
and out
hammering home
his point after point after point...

gasp

night's become day
and my fingers are sore
reminders
of the night's proclivities

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Singles have needs
to hell with it
and the neighbours
oh what a buzz.

 

[Tathagata]

.....

 

[sophieloves]

and i sent him a kiss
small and moist

"which lips, which lips?"
he murmured

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Ohhhhhh !

 

[sophieloves]

some guys can be so poetic, can't they?