poetry thread

[Halfman]

pearls/swine I/O

[everyonelovesjaron]

What happened to me? I’ve been around, I just haven’t put anymore stuff up.

When the muse strikes, I’ll put something together.

[passion]

The meaning

Small clowns are lighting their faces with the sparkling tapers of their untimely Easter looking for resurrection into the eyes of the artist-God of the stage;and he answers;moves;threatens;informs;waits;doesnt wait;get paid;doesnt get sold;gets sold;recycles the paper pieces of his soul in front of the furious circus animals hoping -maybe waiting-for the torture to end

Coffee s nips;stamps on the white teath of indiffirence towards the others;the diffirent;the above
Faded colours in the advertisment of the best detergent the beats of their hearts;their closed palms;the sounds of their fake clapping

Agony;the big end is lurking Lights are turning on;lights are turning off;pages which are written;voices which are bearing and dying the day of the loosing feeling of something

A hug full of love,verses,smell of rolls;fresh,warm,wonderful,going straight to the affection of the healthy rhythmical breath of the last line
I follow you

To the night of the everlasting spring love!

[fata morgana]

Had a vision of a woman,
found her in the paper today.
Lying on her back, head down
with blood splayed–running
down the bedsheets,
someone trying to revive her.
Blood sounds
gurgling its way up into
her breathing apparatus.
I found this woman today in the paper.
A family watching her on television
perched over a clothed table
She is lying face down open centered
on the screen, looking,
with blood dripping
Explosive, demeaning,
Dead to the world.

[fata morgana]

Sitting here I can finally listen to my thoughts, not as they are rolling custom down a factory line–just listen to them fine and imagine that such pain is not cast upon those who don’t have ten flights of stairs to go up and down every morn and wonder why life isn’t made up for them, as they sit 2mm torn and broken and phobic, having to tell the man who owns their dwell that there’ll be hell to pay before they get it, as they tried to cling until the very last minute with no assurance or insurance, onto the staircase of doom–the railing being too slippery. Fucking stairs!!!

[fata morgana]

Glittering Things

I went straight
To the source
Of my affliction
My addiction
My demise
And I looked
Into your beautiful
eyes

Never came thru
My prediction spinning into
That space in between
Now and then
Consumed by pain
Pushing away the garbage
For the final show
Admiring
Glittering things
Falling from the sky

You and I
Brushing up against
The earth
Each other

[fata morgana]

My diary is thick with words now
Not stuck to the pages of this bought book
But more from a source
That carries a screen
The film overlooks the morse
Shall it run its course?
The pages displayed
Embossed or engraved
By a silence so grave
Swelling with nonsense
The thickness borrowed
Adds to the bulk of what is
A harrowing deal indeed

[fata morgana]

Gypsy Foot

Hung her on my door yesterday
Found her in a dollar store
This skeleton witch with a ghost baby
She was trying to tell me something, maybe
Before I slipped down the stairs

[fata morgana]

You must string the ladies along
–Like pearls–with your verses
But when the necklace breaks
Do you take them each, one by one,
Holding them up towards the sun
Yelling; curses!!!

[fata morgana]

Please do not let the poetry thread go, people!!! Please??? OK, well if I’m going to be the only whiner around, I may as well go down in style!!

[fata morgana]

Silicone Valley

Wind her up
Crude engine
To the top
Cradle the latch
Flip the lid
Stick it in
Around the greased tip
Cover her face
Her breast plates
Laid bare
Like a dashboard
On her chest
Twin gun engines
Purr’s like a smooth kitten

This war of image
Shoved upon women
Create few deserters
Who resist temptation
Fill the rafters
With poverty stricken
Soldiers

[fata morgana]

Pushing more garbage… "OUTTA THE WAY!!!"
I had all but forgotten about this incident, but then something punctuated my memory.

Here’s to the man
Who tried to assassinate me
Last February
While I was crossing the street
Full of groceries
It was nightime and rainy
The light was green
–Straight as an arrow—
That much I know
And here came HE
With his auto
Ready to blame
Whatever ill on me
What made him decide
To turn on me?
I don’t know…
Why did he stop, then?
In front of my face
When his chances were good
And I was ready to throw
Whatever I had
That was in my bag
On the hood of his car.
He thought he could
But maybe not
He had no time
To really fuck me up
The way he wanted to, really.
I just looked at him
Straight in the eye
To make him see
That the last person he’d spy
Would not be ME!!!

[Halfman]

O/I

[fata morgana]

I really liked your essay Half-Man. I hope that you post more like it. (I need to hone my essay writing skills, in case of further use) I also can’t wait about the poetry, but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do…

[Robert]

Your smile
makes my heart
feel the static.
Put my brain
on automatic.
Dream about.
Talk about.
Laugh about.
What will happen between us.

Come to me
’cause I’ve got nothing.
But your thoughts
are always soothing.
Warm me now.
Hold me down.
Calm me down.
What will happen between us.

So few things
leaves me satisfied.
Your feelings
make me petrified.
Under stress.
My loneliness.
An empty mess.
What will happen between us.

Your happiness
is my only protection.
Against the world of
broken pieces of rejection.
In your arms.
Fear no harm.
Perfect charm.
What will happen between us.

Your words
are a thousand mazes.
Your temper’s
got a thousand faces.
It’s a curse.
I rehearse.
Soul reverse.
What will happen between us.

You came to me.
Though I had nothing.
Calmed me down
and gave me the one thing.
So I wont.
Cry about.
Lie about.
What happened between us.

[Author]

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