Ridiculously Talented - Hello Poetry

Oct 2016

Akira Chinen

She wore a short black dress and had an arrow through her chest
She preferred to carry a hand gun over a hand bag
And the barrel was usually hot and leaking smoke
She carved coins out of the back of deaths skull to wear over her eyes
She wasn't blind
She just didn't need to see and moved better in the dark
Rumor has it shes the only person Cupids poison couldn't control
And she had feud with the little feathered fellow
She had broken more than her fair share of hearts
And she knew he was to blame
She traveled the world to hunt him down
She eventually found him in a bar north of a dream
And downwind of a Singapore sling
She slammed down three shots of whiskey
And ate the worm at the bottom of a broken bottle of tequlia
She paid her tab with a gold piece she had taken off the body of a dead god
Then Cupid and her stepped outside
A few moments later the thunder of a single gunshot rang out
And then a cold silence and a chill wind swept over the town
No one saw what happened that night
But the horizon tells a story of a women in a short black dress
Riding a horse slowly towards the sinking sun
With an arrow in her chest and a smoking gun at her side

Oct 2016

phil roberts

MAN WITH A PLAN

He bursts in through the door
Most would have opened it first
But they're all the same
These radical fundamentalists
Standing alone and angry
Like blistered thumbs

Each sulphurous quotation
Boomed with idiotic solemnity
And such slobbering enthusiasm
Such glassy eyed acceptance
For every steaming edict

He insistently invades you
Because he needs to persuade you
And he longs so much to save you
Poking prodding and nagging
Pulpit punching and finger wagging
'Till your will to live is sagging

"I know and you don't !
I'm right and you're wrong !
You have to listen to me !
I am the man with a plan !
When others can't, I can ! "

So, I ponder this man with interest
His certainty speaks loud and clear
It speaks of making dreams reality
And delusional hopes that really can be
But most of all it speaks to me
Of an utter pile of ****

By Phil Roberts

Ring any bells?

Oct 2016

Nicole Hammond

a prayer

dear god of needle ***** and poisoned well
i pray you find my mother
cold and dry and unfeeling
something you can draw no moisture out of
a different god struck a rock with a staff
a long long time ago
and water came to cool his throat
but there are no miracles here
so you can please stop beating her now

dear god of gluttonous apothecary
my mother's body is a mathematical
uncertainty
it is a function with limits
her veins are rolling with their bellies full
of chemicals that burn
her hair runs from the scalp the way
two legs would
from a house going up in flames
my mother's body
is a house going up in flames
i am a child that is terrified of a monster
under the bed
i am helpless to a thing i can feel but
cannot see

dear god of gasoline remedy
your counterintuitive science
your black dream
takes her body like a new land
teaches her it's wretched language
it rapes and pillages
it steals the recognition
that sparks her eyes when she looks in mine

dear god of intravenous dark rider
let her live to see a day
she can wake and not be bound
to her biology

dear god of pink ribbon tourniquet
let her breathe and take it for granted again

dear god of careful rampage
finish what you have started
and lock the door behind you

#life #death #mom #chemo #chemotherapy

Oct 2016

Stephan

“Neither have I”

.

We lay in the soft grass

picking out shapes in the white fluffy clouds
as they wander across

a brilliant blue sky

You gaze above and whisper
“I have never seen anything more beautiful”

I stare at their reflection in your eyes and say,

“Neither have I”

Compact Poem Series