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O
orgami Jul 21, 2007

cistern

frozen in their clot

corroded

layered and holding fast

my cistern pennies

 

hard luck comes fast

burns cold like a winter sun

 

the phone was full of grass winds

when you said your moving phrases

slow and mournful came the knowledge

that you would be going on

 

walked long those hours under lamps

and hours out of town

stars stretched everywhere

like a drums skin

my beat

my agony

 

took my shoes off and walked

Q
Quillsvein1 Jul 21, 2007

you called

you called when it was raining
lazy drops spilled a quiet limbo
in perfect alignment with your
ringtone. silent, numb and deadly
just like you.

who knows what we talked about
maybe the leftover psychotropics you
made earrings out of. or the jacket
you sewed together, making a pocket
every few inches
for Valium.

your voice marched on like
a bored band rehearsing for
the 15th time, cymbals grinding
out cold steam. your throat a
coffee filter with too much water.

Profile picture for Rottiestyl
Rottiestyl Jul 21, 2007

none

C
Conect11 Jul 21, 2007

By My Son Joshua Wilson - Joshua's Poem to Someone Else

my six year old son asked me to post this, his first poem:

Chicken nugget

minet nugget

I have a dillo pillo

ther is a leaf

on the reaf.

And its right by an island.

And its a very very delicate leaf.

And it will not stop floating away

until it hits an island.

And when it does it

it will stop floating

and someone

will pick it up.

Just like me.

C
Conect11 Jul 21, 2007

Memphis - posted for Jess

We got there just in time,
didn’t we sweet baby?
Talladega Nights
and an old 50’s snack shop.
The radio’s tuned to FM
in this run down field.
We are the last to leave
and the first to go home,
spinning this way and that.
50’s snack shop,
and new - century prices,
and tomorrow
American Greetings takes over this place.

C
Conect11 Jul 21, 2007

Words I Hate

  I hate the word profundity it is so damn… profound.   I hate intelligencia and their interest in my town. I can’t stand the word obscure, because I have to search for its true meaning.   Not really a fan of the word feeling, either. Because out of context it doesn’t mean much, as such, it bothers me to no end.   And then I say again to all my close friends:   Really I could do without   excersize, and deitise, jazzercise, and gold.   Sparkling, I’m not fond of.   Love I never saw, but it should definately have  a warning label attached to it, sh
B
barbsdad2003 Jul 21, 2007

More Fun with John Milton

More Fun with John Milton

(his words in italics)

 

In the blind mazes of

this tangled wood

 

Can come not a lick

of common good.

 

If we go e’er through

to who knows where out,

 

Even then we’ll not know

better what we’re all about.

 

And we will not have learned

our lesson well,

 

And we’ll fight more wars

to make our bloody hell.

 

B
barbsdad2003 Jul 21, 2007

My Weeping Willow

The very thought forms a grin
directly above my bearded chin,

and it’s probably a sin
to boot
at root:

I know I’m meanly sadistic
and slightly voyeuristic—
and not in the least sunny

or funny

or humoristic—
when I escort my weeping willow,
who’s much prone to tears ashedding,

to a loved one’s funeral
after an intimate wedding.

 

B
barbsdad2003 Jul 21, 2007

Savagely Concord

Ancient Romans engaged
dark-blue grapes

in a ghastly fight,

its violence rightly
to be deplored.

Although in hindsight

it does appear
the grapes defended

themselves
with all their might

in valiant ways
over many, many days,

in the end they were,
by those Romans,

savagely Concord.

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Rottiestyl Jul 21, 2007

none