Pick A List

From list #10

~Lost

Call me on anyday
just to remember
fed up faded youth
and the old path in the woods
where you pulled your first tooth
something from a movie
the fresh smell of wood
we'd walk alone just because we could.

Now suburbia its not for me
for all the acts and subtle feats
just remember dead beat streets
and pills of sorrow
beg to differ until tomorrow
when the siren comes
with last of the tea
the 40 thieves
and fall like leaves
make it almost surreal

Till your begging for more
on a cold idle floor
and a pair of binoculars
just for a small view
of the towns that once knew you
before lavish whores
and 24 carat floors
and now your on the wagon
heading to lost road
the one you left behind
nothing left to find
just lost in your mind
to the empty moments of time...

List #1
Horse
Railroad tracks
Ice
Coffin
Lace


Galloping darbrown horse,manes moving
like fallen leafs over the railroad tracks
Ice that blossoms on his cofin of lace
When the nigt train came, to take his life
Away

Great entries, everyone!

List #8

Cell Block 10

There’s a Thanksgiving turkey
I could use as a parachute…
if it could still fly

This time is all regimented schedules
and the glare of free blue skies
beckoning me out the window
while I listen to Johnny Cash on the radio
singing about the story of my life
staring at the prison walls
of Cell Block 10

‘Cause crime didn’t pay the way  
and if I’d known the cost
perhaps I would have skipped the game
for only madmen forsake
free blue skies for endless prison walls

List #1

My Jeep


I bought the old Jeep from a horse farm
they'd been using it to transport hay
the thing was filthy and had some rust
on the undercarriage
but I took a test drive anyway

took it slow pulling out of the drive
geese running wild and pot holes everywhere
kept it easy over the railroad tracks and
past the one stoplight in town

turned onto old highway one
and those eight cylinders opened up
the engine roared as I shifted into fifth
picturing myself in four wheel drive
with snow tires and ice chains
up in the Appalachians
I fell in love

no lace or other frills
but the radio worked
and the speakers were decent
there was a place for my guns, dogs
and fishing gear
I could leave the tent
and sleep in the back camping

I went back to the barn and paid cash
said I'd never felt an engine like that
the power and force of more horses than
any cowboy could handle
and I left with the title

drove that thing til the axis snapped
nearly rode it to my coffin a few times
and when it finally died I laughed
because I sold it for exactly what I'd paid
to a guy who needed parts

List #4
Sand
Finland
Pencils
Camera
Backpack

Jaws 5

Finland is a small island
Of the Japanese coast
It’s the shark equivalent
Of the elephants graveyard
Where de-finned sharks
Go to die after their
Appointment with the fishermen
I took photographs
With my special camera
It captured the screaming
The pain, the blood, the waste
As they writhed around
On white sand beaches
Wondering why
My pencil records their suffering
My notebook almost full
I put all this in my backpack
And head back to the mainland
To report my findings
My findings are ignored
I am ignored, the slaughter is ignored
All in the name of a soup
Shark fin soup

List #1
Horse
Railroad tracks
Ice
Coffin
Lace

I WISH I WAS

I wish I was the Trojan horse
when Troy was set aflame,
hoping that Greeks could still do worse
and put to Zeus the blame.

I wish I was a railroad truck
set to derail a train,
and let it there forever stuck,
cursing my evil brain.

I wish I was your ice cream,
so you could bend and leak me,
enjoying your pretended  scream
which always failed to trick me.

I wish I was the day that dies,
the night that cries without you,
to make your coffin out of lies,
and then forget about you.

I wish I was of fabric rare
that nobody could trace,
for silk or gold I could not spare
to brim your hood with lace.

trickle-down

(list#10)

zig-zagged paths
of the east-west ghat
merger forests
not much surprised
with sudden thrown
blockades-
animate inanimate
and more unclassifieds
that shook self
unto the torn rooftops
of my
worn n stammering
wagonR
stuck hard
in no better escapades
with this nomadic
let-loosened voyager

a distant green haven
lured
the sapped out eyes
through soullessly precise
mapping binoculars

a miraculous path in the woods
that which
instantaneously mind-sirened
in no horrific alarms
rather
a pleasurable crisis surged
in the soothing shades
of deep-etched solitude
amidst warmth lullaby-laps
of the background lichenous artistry
over sagacious standstill
canvases
of rosewoods and sandalwoods

steaming kettle
in an effervescent music
brewed essence
of the Darjeeling strains
helical pleated tea-threads
in sparkling amber-honey
flowed
like liquified cutglass

trickled down

non-settling
the choas
the me
kindled
as I hot-kissed the first sip
your face gleamed
amongst rippling solitude

Great entries!

List # 3

Gonna need a trick or two or three
to pay  for the cab ride from Newark
airport to the fast beating heart
of New York City where I got a lead
on a hotel for a week and Belinda Lee
told me that on craigslist you ask
for roses to make situations seem more
convent than bordello and if you’re lucky
maybe the first john springs for a cup
of Starbucks coffee or two or three
to keep me up till I find a speed
connection local, trusting and cheap.

And the bed bugs will guard my money
under the mattress till I get enough
to get my teeth fixed and bigger boobs
and  hair cutting school and then bank
some more coin to invest in a trailer
somewhere in Catskills country
where the air and water are pristine
with a yard big enough to keep
a pony and I’ll fly Scotty Jay
in from Iowa and he can work
on his muscle cars and race them
on dirt tracks all over New York.

And we’ll come home every night
to a case of Budweiser, barbeque
chicken and burgers and a fire pit
with flames stretching from earth
to moon and come winter we’ll drive
to Miami and lay low in South Beach.
Scotty Jay, me and my pony who I’m
gonna name Princess and my man gonna
fuck me for thirteen babies who’ll
ride Princess’ babies till we die happy
as shit and rich enough to make them corn
husk green with envy back home for ever.

the Topslip agents

[list#2- subway, watertower, cowboy boots, bricks, gum]


a bored nature
turned dark-themed
for an intense once,
played relentless
red havoc
in millon multiplied
realistic crawl-malwares

submerged awkward hillocks  
with littlest-exposed rocks
dissented
in desperate murmers
of their
dirty mossy makeovers


beauteous hilltop
mutated

a marshy trap


and,
those ugly cowboy boots-
from peeling corners
of the ironic honeymoon cottage
delicately romantic as it posed ever,
-haven't you put them on
for treading past
swampy quicksands
burst-bloomed on loosened sands
from broken dam's watertowers
that stood as time(less) walls?
didn't you,
you pretty blinded brainless
got decked up
for magnified trivialities
amidst
the looming microdoom?

let her frozen velvetty body
be left in some peace
atleast as it (de)composed
devoid of drunkard creatures
that had left her
rotten
from sprung bruises

and
you the useless coward,
left alone to be hunted
by spineless times' agents,
ran across
stunk slippery slopes
only to be end-dumped
a brick-poster cadaver
insensitized
by them-
-the same gummy residents
that bled out your (her) spirits

you glimpsed them
as you too blacked out
on the jammed subway  
piled with
sucked out flesh banks

rich grapereddish
live-chunks
gotten even more  
fattening filthy rich

hardstuck
kill-cushions

clinical leeches

http://favim.com/orig/201107/14/black-black-and-white-dress-fashion-girl-nature-Favim.com-105677.jpg

(List #1)

Imogen

I'm the sad girl in white Mary Janes.
Who ties herself to the railroad tracks.
Mama won’t let me pick the black carousel
horse, that filthy thing. Oh her velvet
ribbons, vanilla throat. She says  
I’m a fury of satin. Paints Daddy
a pretty picture, sipping Constant Comment,
fevered by romance novels and grandfather
clocks. The sad arc of my arms making
the darkest hole, the darkest hearse.
The man outside my window breathes smoke
and ice onto the panes. His brackish
outline. Here all the dolls have watery
eyes. The terrible shadows their lashes
make. How it begins as a taste. A gnawing.
The white, delicate breath while darkness
aches in my teeth. I dream of a funeral
fit for a queen. The coffin filled
with the loveliest pink fish. Always
the tree branches scuffing my shoes.
I'll perch there all day, watch the house
from afar. My sister's face pushed tight
against the door frame. The lace of
my dress falling towards death.

http://media.tumblr.com/1ed95c62a08ff33dafc3196cc31814e0/tumblr_inline_n4hpl9Rwi91r4fcwe.png

(List #3)

Random Memory of You 1,246

I sit alone in the house
this convent of my own making

and remember
those New York City winters

when you’d meet me at the airport
with a dozen pink roses

we’d sit at the terminal cafe
sipping coffee

both knowing all along
I left my panties in the carry-on

http://img03.imagenavi.jp/database/images-film/58/22/46/58224658_T3.jpg

(List #7)

Soup and Siberia

Dear God, I am reaching out to you.
I know this is something I rarely do.

I just don’t understand anymore.

I sit at the kitchen table,
trying to write in my diary.
I can’t, haven’t been able to do so
in days. Even though it’s hot outside
I sip boiling cream of chicken soup.
I remember that guy who wanted me
in handcuffs in bed. How frightening
it seemed, that loss of control,
the issue of trust. Yet its vision
plagued me for weeks
with some unfathomable sweetness.
Something to do with guidance,
giving something away.
The pleasure of puppetry.

But the thing I have feared most
all my life is seeming to happen.
I don’t know why, I guess it’s because
of too many disappointments,
too many lost dreams. But God,
I don’t believe in anything anymore.
Not truth, not love. Not even you,
even though I can’t help but speak
to you now. There is nothing sacred.

Wherever I walk I search people’s faces
for any sign of kindness, tenderness.
I cannot find any.

And maybe it’s also happened
because the losses have been so close
together lately. The way Mom and I
fight, clawing each other with words.
How my child’s turned sixteen
and she wears too much foundation
and hates me. You know how I usually
feel so disconnected from people?
There was that guy I met a few months
ago. How we seemed to speak the same
language. All those emails.
Then he just vanished.  

I really hate the weather here.
I could travel to Siberia
where it’s cold all the time.
They used to send their criminals
there, you know. Couldn't survive
such conditions. I think that’s where
the “perpetual night” happens. Sounds
kind of nice, doesn’t it?
No more sun, no more light.
A breath away from dying, always.

rage, rage against the dying of the light

But now when I cry even the dog
leaves. It’s a little too loud.
A little too deep.
____________________________________________

(Line taken from Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night")

This will be difficult to choose a winner and runner ups for this one--all really outstanding entries!  If anyone wants to help judge/share your opinion, PM me with your thoughts and choices!  :)