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Sofia Narvaiza May 2018
filaments burst into
eveningsong

deepthroated embers
the spreadsheets are tender
gestured compliance

(redwhite&blue glare; 10 storeys below ; and we are not safe)

          'just get done with it'
insincerity is requisite -
forced insouciance

          'we need to go, we are not safe'
rottten dignity can only be stomached for too long
but his sister is only twelve.

deceit, dulcet, you have gone wild
better you, just not the child -
'babe, wait, I’m coming'

tears tickle the back of the tongue
mellifluous moan regurgitated in turn.

filaments burst into
eveningsong -
- the police is coming, the police is coming.
a poem about how a satyromaniac ******* shattered the life of his lover, and his sister.
mari Feb 2018
i do not care;
my mouth
is made of moths.

they have no mouths,
no tongues, no
teeth.

i could not cocoon
my lips
if i tried.

i do not care!

why do they
will me
to speak.

my moth mouth,

moth *****
empty closets
fur coats.

i don’t care.
they cannot eat.

i cannot eat
any more
poetry.

i flutter
around the light, but
i am never
warm.

moth mouth
girl, what
are you doing?

you care. you care.

my mouth,
cocoons.
(trying a different style.)
Tommy Randell Feb 2018
Nobiddy travelling on the Poetry Road
Is listening tonight
Nobiddy is using the Past as a goad
To set the future alight

Just keep trekking there's a gig tomorrow
Now there's a line just begging to be borrowed

Nobiddy's rapping to a drum 'n bass riff
setting the mood
Nobiddy but Dylan ever practised the gift
like it was a truth

Come on up here into my killer word brain
Everybody knows their mother got laid

Nobiddy has qualities of lascivious decorum
waiting to be solved
Nobiddy living in a scrabble state of pandorum
knows what's involved

I know a poem that will get on your nerves, get on your nerves
Watch out for the rhymes and those dangerous curves

Nobiddy is an organism in the lovely blush of colour
redolent with juice
Nobiddy is in fact only a clockwork rapper
offering to be abused

Who's ready for the fun-stop ring the bell
Silent but deadly let drop that bombshell

Nobiddy dreams for kind words from the critics
sleeping at a rest stop
Nobiddy who screams out a nightmare of lyrics
reaches for their laptop

What goes on the tour bus stays on the tour bus
What we do on the tour bus may just be the best of us

They Do Ron Ron Ron, They Do Ron Ron ...
Amen!
Nobiddy is a fictional name for the Band. The tour really happened. Drugs were involved. It was a long time ago. Amen.
Sun Drop Dec 2017
Let's not make any bones about it,
For I have no bones to pick.
Ah, and I've got you there,
for I am a sack of meat.

O, to live amongst the squids!
and be so jubilant and jiggly,
why, no pleasure's ever met my eye,
as that leathery wriggling beak.

Am I to blame for my misfortune?
Surely so, but of you I must ask,
what misfortune? Am I to assume
that because I have agency, I must fail?

Nonsense! And how fitting.
American manifest. Living
in a land, for himself, most befitting.
Laugh with me, for we live in Clown World.

This is the power of
the untamed duffle bag.
Vicious! O how vicious, his maw,
his all consuming zipper unzipped.

But my zipper, too, is unzipped.
Such a faux pas passes not
in our society, unforgiving,
unforgivable.
Original sin.
Youdont Needthis Jan 2017
Chariots spinning on snake wrapped wheels fly forth through his fiery shins
The horses have sitar faces
Ancestor voices vocalize with ethereal hymns
The imperial rims shall want but have no get
Flung forth into hypnotic dishes of nets
Gasping for water in heightened air

Trickle with spirit and deadly measures
With morality a broken metronome
A boulder smeared with clumps of pulp of mango
Flamingo bends in the fiery knees
Seven arms
Nine heads

Existed from oceans beatings
Lightning of wrathful suns
Tears shed skinned and dappled face of brimming whim

Orangutan spiked fur
Perfumed of jungles’ musk and fleas
Pinkish hand with crevice knuckles
To no king he bends the patella gates

He leads the ravaging conquests
Endless horse and bird
A Danube of feathers
Sterling melting herd
To no king he hands the scepter

He is pouting child
Devil wig and fist
Sprinting in red abyss amidst the hands of slaves
To no king shall he relinquish the ribcage trophy
Once upon a whispering moon, I rode a star unto Africa.

The land was hot & covered in ice.
My eyes were glass,
Ready to shatter at the notion of **** beauty.
A duality that would cause the sun to tear itself in twain from fear of metaphorical & metaphysical asphyxiation.

Atlas of the world turned grey as dreams turn dust to shards of crystal liquid light.

Grinning inanely & insanely for the serpent spectre sceptre is in the house of sonic devotional Kirtan emotional Islamic Jewish conditional faith & faith no where but here.
No fear.

The sky explodes
When crying gods do read their own
Stories in nothingness & apple seeds.
Cyanide & Suicide.

Doves, black,  rain, ride.
Release. Release. Release.
Winter wizards dancing around my forthcoming saliva dripping tongue,
Desire for the frozen, dead landscape.
Like dreams that end and never start and like skies that are nothing and all at once...it dances around me forever and ever and the night is forever.
Yet, it ends when I look back upon it.
Yet, it ends when I look forward to it again.

The snow of melody falls and crashes.

The snow of love it burns and ashes.

The snow of life it lies and snatches.

The snow of faith it tries and thrashes.


Behold, the gate, in the northern light.

Behold, the wall, made of floating ice.

Behold, the shoes, covered in ice.

Behold, the pipe, wet with Christ.

Within I welcome crazy light,
Without I welcome sensible night.

Dancing and dancing, donning the cap of trees without leaves and horns from the graves before the seas.

Spinning the sun into suicide for a season.
Spinning the night into seeming forever season.

Spinning the story for the tale-born season.
Spinning the ice for this dead-earth season.

Ritual reborn, I call, into the night. (With thoughts, alone. No sprites of calling with my voice!)

Avast, and awaken in this frozen hill.

I await the spring, and until then....all is well in the endless white.

The endless white.

The endless white.
Rose L Mar 2015
One morning, I met and ate with Sappho, and
as we watched the baited ducklets come and go
described to her a calming Violet i had found
within where seeded crops of crocuses grow
who strapped the sunlight as its belle bijou
and subtle symmetry that provided words
to break the heart and warm the blush skin of you
I told her of broken morning birds
simple songs robbed by her brushed deviled tips
I cried of endless pages cast in ink
to describe her perfect purple lips
of desperate letters to help me understand how her love thinks
All other stem of Violetta fail to me
to remind of the shadow cast over flowers then
or to undermine those bright pink cheeks i could see
in its petal hues - usual rhythm couldn't convey to pen
this wild moss of a creature that heavn's sink....
a smile, and she replied
"a picked and pressed flower
for a Violet of my own", said the Girl.
Alternative title: "When I Met and Ate with Sappho in the Night"
Marieta Maglas Nov 2014
A red bird has flown soaring in the great height of the
purple sky. The thrilling scream was as a shrill cry on
the soundtrack. The bird has disappeared into the sky,

and all it could be heard was the sound. That cold sound
became fluid in the ears. A forked green lightning following
a zigzagging pattern appeared from an antimatter space.

The eyes fixed wide-open up, and the mouths kept silent.
A ship has left the dock to disappear in the mobile horizon.
It seemingly disappeared and reappeared based on where

the eyes were looking; the eyes were not able to leave the dock.
When the ship could not be seen, a prolonged blast could be
heard. Finally, the ship disappeared in an antimatter space,

where cold could illuminate and beat the heat to burn everything
as we beat the heat with icy cold neck wraps. The eyes fixed
wide-open toward, and red screams grew from open mouths.

The sun lost its strength to become redder than it was before.
In the twilight, its disk disappeared below the mobile horizon.
Its power was in the spirit and the matter of the freezing cold.

The eyes were unable to see where the sun was going. In the
soft and purple mist, they looked like little amethyst stones.
The violet light slowed down in the water much more than the

red light refracted. The waves of alternating strength in electric and
magnetic fields moved around the Earth in the tick of a clock.
The mouths murmured, but the anti-sound made them all be quiet.

From an airplane in the sky, the eyes could see two rainbows with
colors in opposite order forming a complete circle. The eyes could
move up and down to see the red light that refracted out of

the droplets at steeper angles than the blue light. The mind could
imagine another rainbow made of complementary light wavelengths
such as green, blue, violet, red, orange, yellow-orange and yellow.
Andrew Wenson Nov 2014
Mud, mud, mud
Can't cha get enuff?
Nup, tuft.
Alleviate normative
Chairtime penalties
Helper Scalper!
Oh, I drew the crucifix!
I must cruise for a fix
and machinate my auto-licks.
Guitars all bent from rotten trips
into acid bath houses of Babylon!
no editing of course.
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