|some collaborations with one of my favorite visual artists.|
Tree BornTree Born by `YouInventedMe
send me your seeds
in the same tube
wave and recede
'til they breathe
I'd like to touch
laying my roots
are not born
I can't defend
a sky lit
of other worlds
change my skin
|some collaborations with one of my favorite visual artists.|
people magazines have issuessome folks are just birthed cursedpeople magazines have issues by `YouInventedMe
brains born busy
the circumference of
eat up their
the other two-thirds'
dreams can work
mean to hurt
seem to get
we get lost
and the dirt
at the church
a large part
of the first
rest areamy america's arest area by `YouInventedMe
in b(urned bridge) flat
to color brush
to frame the big empty
it gets me
pain is just
we live with
it ceases only
at the end
of the life
and I spend
(in altered states
|always an honor to get one.|
a noiseand they're clamoring for contenta noise by `YouInventedMe
but the concepts aren't
the kind (that kind)
meanwhile, statesideheat in the darknessmeanwhile, stateside by `YouInventedMe
your pulse in your fingertips
thoughts of distant skin
cannibal snowflakeswatching madmen (and)cannibal snowflakes by `YouInventedMe
eating fresh kills
in the dark
picking the carcass apart
halves of a euphemism
the raw start of symbolism
all insometimes you fill my headall in by `YouInventedMe
so (full) I can
feel you there
the progress of a constant
a dream made tangible
Birthday Contest Winners!It was surprisingly difficult to choose just three winners, even with only seventeen entries to the contest in total. You guys really pulled out all of the stops for this, and I'm grateful! Now, without further ado:Birthday Contest Winners! by `LiliWrites
"Floored Petals" by *GuinevereToGwen
"Toy Soldiers" by =doughboycafe
"Golden" by ~saartha
"Calhoun County Mississippi 1932" by ~Braxton-T-Rutledge
"At World's End" by ~jswebb
Prizes will be distributed tomorrow! Thanks again to everyone who entered. I hope you all join me again for next year's contest.
InterstellarFeet left the groundInterstellar by *neonxaos
like lovers in parabolas
to peak and descend
but a chaotic mind
starring outer rim eyes
was never designed
for the landfall.
limit-breakerre-find the limitlimit-breaker by *Wisecrack-Idiots
(redefine what’s in it)
i’ll make the stars bow
when they hear my name,
reset the game
’til the cards are in my hand
and the tarot reader can’t choose for me
i’m forging time
with Thor’s hammer
and the shackles i wore
when i let you set the bar for me
but the metal’s melted down
to armor of words and ink-gilt swords.
no bars to mark the invisible line
where i waited to drown myself in wine
on phoenix ash and bitter fears
scars the price i had to pay
(for your permission)
it only took all these years
to pave the way
to seize the day
i don’t give a damn
damn near took everything i had
when there’s nothing left
what you need
what you lost
and these souls
i will bet
have never seen
what i mean
when i stand
and i say
that there’s nothing that can
ever stand in our way
’cause you already took
Poetry Basics: BrevityBrevity: n. the quality of expressing much in few words.Poetry Basics: Brevity by `LiliWrites
When I was in tenth grade, I took my first literature course. It was a six week exploration of poetry. The first poem my teacher showed us was Ezra Pound's In a Station of the Metro:
The apparition of faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
I, in all of my 16-year-old knowledge of the intricacies of what poetry is, informed my teacher that those two lines were not a poem.
"You don't think so?"
"No. They don't rhyme, they are just one metaphor, and did I mention they're only two lines?"
She sure showed me.
Importance in Poetry
Pound's poem is considered such a great work because he inserts several layers into a single image. Using only 13 words he evokes an entire painting within the reader's mind. You can hear the sounds of the trains, see the fatigue of a mother wrestling with her cranky toddler,
Floored PetalsHe drowned the cheap motel room
in smoke, back in ‘53,
when I was just a bud of seventeen
who had watched herself bloom
in the mirror in her mother’s closet.
I had seen the bloom and the bud
and had wished to be deflowered.
So I had leashed myself
onto the back of a bus
and roared into New York City
like the little dragonfly I am,
falling into deep dreams
on the laps of strange men.
A pale girl with a patched-up suitcase
off on an adventure in the city
with nothing but a few dollars
and a fear of the dark.
The hotels were musty
and the dollars digested,
but the lights lowered
as the jazz flew upward
into a shower of sparks,
and I, a flower shaking off her petals
as she swung into his arms
and into his life.
A life of roads and roaring,
and sitting half-still in the smoke
as he mused long into the night
and down the drain, saying,
“Poetry is daydreaming on paper,”
wiping his grey lips on discarded poems, and
crashing between the waves of sheets.
A life of racing
Toy Soldiers When Chester was a boy, he and Will O’Leary next door used to play with toy soldiers. Some were standing with bayonets poised, others lying down, others throwing something that the boys had, at one point or another, accidentally broken off and lost. They were little and lead, and Chester loved to paint them far more than he liked to play with them. But he did, with William O’Leary, because that is what little boys do.
They came in wooden boxes, though Chester’s came in a paper bag when we rescued them from the charity faire on his sixth Christmas. I remember that there were only soldiers, not a complete set; no machines, no cook’s cart, nor medical tents. I suppose he didn’t think of those things as part of the army, or didn’t know what an army really was, because it didn’t bother him to only have soldiers. He painted them in rebel gray and dress blues, and made sure every stripe and symbol was the correct color. It
Golden“No nudes,” the tech said as he sidled up next to me.
“Word from the top. No tits for aliens.”
“You've got to be kidding me.”
“Sagan's throwing a fit in his office.”
“I might throw one myself. Might as well shove an Amish guy into space and call it good. What about birth? Basic anatomy?”
“Well, I guess the aliens didn't need to see the Statue of David. Not like it's a big deal.”
He laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all day, or like it was either laugh or he'd never stop crying.
Someone picked up on the tell-tale hint of a strange signature. Just enough to stir interest. Suddenly every free telescope on the planet was pointed in one direction, searching out the source.
Pinning it down took some time. Getting a clear picture took longer. By the time some brain in the north figured it out, the object was already winging past the planet, deeper into the s
Calhoun County Mississippi 1932Out back behind me n bills barn
we got ourselves a damn sight of
share croppers stayin,
they got them some
boys march up to the schoolhouse
We hear em
chantin out they answers
like we do.
In the summer time when eEerett and his wife
needin hands he pay a full penny more a bag
for his cotton get picked.
Men Bill, we worked down there two summers. This
third one we seen a sharecroppin boy who got himself a talent
at pickin, so me n Bill, we wait on the road
between the field and the barn,
hide in a fig tree and toss rocks at his head
as he pass shoutin bout a hangin,
take his cotton up to Everett.
We made near a dollar that day.
That ole pickininny found
us out and next week told us he wanted to fight for
what we made. He n his two brothers blocked the road
in bare feet, pants legs rolled up.
I nod n as I hand my shirt off to bill
I tell him real quiet "get Harold quick like."
I tell that sharecroppin boy empty out his pockets and
the winner get what the loser put on