Official DUP NAPOWRIMO (National Poetry Writing Month) 2017
NaPoWriMo 25/30 for April 25th, 2017
Villanelle/Terzanelle/Verzanelle No: 25
MONKEY MIND
The fiction forming in my head
is just a story, there and then
and now continues once again
with this the way my mind is fed
a dance of concepts in the ken
is just a story, there and then
My feeling range from blue to red
is swamped by thoughts of mice and men
a dance of concepts in the ken
and writing words from ‘Aye” to ‘Zed’
I see how fickle is the pen
all swamped by thoughts of mice and men
What’s going on - or so I’ve read
is monkeys jumping in the den
who put a pickle in my pen
I lie exhausted on my bed
the aping cousins trash my zen
with monkeys jumping in the den
and now continues once again.
Villanelle/Terzanelle/Verzanelle No: 25
MONKEY MIND
The fiction forming in my head
is just a story, there and then
and now continues once again
with this the way my mind is fed
a dance of concepts in the ken
is just a story, there and then
My feeling range from blue to red
is swamped by thoughts of mice and men
a dance of concepts in the ken
and writing words from ‘Aye” to ‘Zed’
I see how fickle is the pen
all swamped by thoughts of mice and men
What’s going on - or so I’ve read
is monkeys jumping in the den
who put a pickle in my pen
I lie exhausted on my bed
the aping cousins trash my zen
with monkeys jumping in the den
and now continues once again.
Anonymous
werbepause vi
25.04.17. poem 25 of 30
i left motes of myself
for the rain,
particles full of
nothing i needed
to be washed away.
i didn't think i
would find myself here
{if i found myself at all
in the mire of lost things}
but i was there where
i had always been ~
... not as misplaced
as i'd thought when i
turned the page to find
the soaked continuation
was blank & waiting,
it's crooked spine
more inviting than i
gave it credit for ...
*
& so i bled black against
the alabaster patience
soaking in my horrors
& the macabre metaphors
i've used as a dust jacket
in which to hide the facts,
only letting little
ink splatters of the
bigger picture slip thru
the blank spaces between
my disjointed thoughts
25.04.17. poem 25 of 30
i left motes of myself
for the rain,
particles full of
nothing i needed
to be washed away.
i didn't think i
would find myself here
{if i found myself at all
in the mire of lost things}
but i was there where
i had always been ~
... not as misplaced
as i'd thought when i
turned the page to find
the soaked continuation
was blank & waiting,
it's crooked spine
more inviting than i
gave it credit for ...
*
& so i bled black against
the alabaster patience
soaking in my horrors
& the macabre metaphors
i've used as a dust jacket
in which to hide the facts,
only letting little
ink splatters of the
bigger picture slip thru
the blank spaces between
my disjointed thoughts
Anonymous
25/30
What An Asshole!
I'm sorry if this isn't poetic enough
but when did bleaching one's
anus become a thing?
What a heinous crime of fashion
to commit upon your poor
sensitive sphincter
Isn't it enough that it burns
for those of us who have to
NAIR away the hair?
And for what?
So some douche can comment
on how it blends in better with the
skin color of your rump?
If you are not a porn star
nor plan on modeling butt
plugs anytime in the future
don't bother with this trend
Sticking your head up your ass
and fussing over your butthole
is about as self absorbed
as self absorbed gets
What An Asshole!
I'm sorry if this isn't poetic enough
but when did bleaching one's
anus become a thing?
What a heinous crime of fashion
to commit upon your poor
sensitive sphincter
Isn't it enough that it burns
for those of us who have to
NAIR away the hair?
And for what?
So some douche can comment
on how it blends in better with the
skin color of your rump?
If you are not a porn star
nor plan on modeling butt
plugs anytime in the future
don't bother with this trend
Sticking your head up your ass
and fussing over your butthole
is about as self absorbed
as self absorbed gets
Origami Is Not An Art
fifty sheets of A4 paper
lay on the table
half green
half yellow
completely stared at
by seven adults
sworn into this meeting
as the materials
Silence
Then the big guy
took a single sheet
folded it in half
then half again
silencing the room
as the shape filled his eye
then his mind
then he hummed a tune
folded the quarters into
a triangle
folding the edges into them selves
he stopped
took two sides
and pulled
who needs an aeroplane
when you can paper fold
a boat
All seven around that table
started grabbing
at that paper
folding it into paper boats
Until
fifty sheets
were forty nine boats
Then we stared at the
boats and
imagined using
origami when we were nine
instead of sticks
in the river's
over flow pipe
[♡]
The 26th one is for you my love
because no one
makes better paper boats
than you
and 26 poems.
Pu Pu Platter Special #5
Let me ask you friend
has life ever served you
a shit sandwich
& if so
did you take it
or politely say to your waitress
this is not my life
I ordered the two fried eggs
like in the commercial
where at the end they ask
if you have any questions?
& I say
yes can I get bacon on the side
& friends
have you ever had one of those days
when life gets
under your skin
& you want to take
a nail & dig at it
until you hit bone
yeah me either
but today was close
so I say
if you see someone
having a shit day
buy them an ice cream
a nice slice of pepperoni pizza
or a double scotch
on the rocks
if they are of age
any little gesture will do
& maybe it will keep them
from trying
to dig holes
in themselves
or someone else
04252017
Let me ask you friend
has life ever served you
a shit sandwich
& if so
did you take it
or politely say to your waitress
this is not my life
I ordered the two fried eggs
like in the commercial
where at the end they ask
if you have any questions?
& I say
yes can I get bacon on the side
& friends
have you ever had one of those days
when life gets
under your skin
& you want to take
a nail & dig at it
until you hit bone
yeah me either
but today was close
so I say
if you see someone
having a shit day
buy them an ice cream
a nice slice of pepperoni pizza
or a double scotch
on the rocks
if they are of age
any little gesture will do
& maybe it will keep them
from trying
to dig holes
in themselves
or someone else
04252017
Anonymous
25/30
Klaatu Barada Strukto
The Automaton
crushed all those
it came upon
scrambling to flee
its destructive path
with a wrath equivalent
to the opposite of ambivalent
Did not hesitate to kill on
this day the Earth stood still
From the outer reaches of space
it was sent
by galactic overlords
not just one but hordes
to every major human city
in pre-emptive retaliation
for mankind's nuclear capability
weapons of which
we refused to dismantle
and disarm
Do no planetary harm
Klaatu Barada Strukto
The Automaton
crushed all those
it came upon
scrambling to flee
its destructive path
with a wrath equivalent
to the opposite of ambivalent
Did not hesitate to kill on
this day the Earth stood still
From the outer reaches of space
it was sent
by galactic overlords
not just one but hordes
to every major human city
in pre-emptive retaliation
for mankind's nuclear capability
weapons of which
we refused to dismantle
and disarm
Do no planetary harm
HOTEL
The hotel is full
There are no vacancies here
The breakfast is ten thirty
But you may leave your bag here
And the square is full of lights
But no life
And the bars are full of life
But no lives
Gone and left with no light on
Hold on and let's keep spinning
Without beer
Turning
So that we can start again
And the young man coughs on a balcony
Because it's cold inside
And lonely
And I'm watching the hopeful
And the homeless
And the starry eyed and the sleepy
And smiling because we're looking
Up at the same sky
Hold on keep spinning
The earth is turning
Whatever you feel inside
The hotel is full
There are no vacancies here
The breakfast is ten thirty
But you may leave your bag here
And the square is full of lights
But no life
And the bars are full of life
But no lives
Gone and left with no light on
Hold on and let's keep spinning
Without beer
Turning
So that we can start again
And the young man coughs on a balcony
Because it's cold inside
And lonely
And I'm watching the hopeful
And the homeless
And the starry eyed and the sleepy
And smiling because we're looking
Up at the same sky
Hold on keep spinning
The earth is turning
Whatever you feel inside
No Charity at Home
Across towns and cities
they squat
the length and breadth of the land.
The forgotten shades;
mere shadows of the human condition
and signs of how low
we all can fall
into despair and disrepair.
While other people
complain about the declining state of the country;
discussing politics and beer prices
in warmth others can only dream of
as they huddle beneath the wind and rain
living the unlife of beggars and the homeless.
And I walk on by
because I cannot help them
uselessly dreaming of a better time
when perhaps I am a famous writer
and can afford to be more charitable in my charity,
or perhaps for a better time and world
when someone greater than I can ever be
stops and asks the shades their story
and dignifies them with some humanity
not just acting deaf and dumb
as they plead for pennies worth.
(Day and Entry 25, GMT 23:31)
Across towns and cities
they squat
the length and breadth of the land.
The forgotten shades;
mere shadows of the human condition
and signs of how low
we all can fall
into despair and disrepair.
While other people
complain about the declining state of the country;
discussing politics and beer prices
in warmth others can only dream of
as they huddle beneath the wind and rain
living the unlife of beggars and the homeless.
And I walk on by
because I cannot help them
uselessly dreaming of a better time
when perhaps I am a famous writer
and can afford to be more charitable in my charity,
or perhaps for a better time and world
when someone greater than I can ever be
stops and asks the shades their story
and dignifies them with some humanity
not just acting deaf and dumb
as they plead for pennies worth.
(Day and Entry 25, GMT 23:31)
25 of 30
Visionaries
Those with artistic temperament
Are often seen as peculiar
But their spirits are touched by fire
They are our exceptionally curious
Sometimes characteristically unusual
But with a uniqueness to admire
These are our writers and our poets
Their expression through love of words
And invaluable to our existence
These are our painters and our sculptors
Effortlessly creating our visual arts
A culturally treasured sustenance
These are our philosophers and theorists
That exchange unprecedented ideas
And are essential to our mind
These are our inventors and explorers
The founders of the unknown
And fundamental to mankind
These are our composers and musicians
The great designers of sound
Vital to the process of acculturation
These are the visionaries of our time
They are the essence of our world
Certainly inspiring our actualisation
Visionaries
Those with artistic temperament
Are often seen as peculiar
But their spirits are touched by fire
They are our exceptionally curious
Sometimes characteristically unusual
But with a uniqueness to admire
These are our writers and our poets
Their expression through love of words
And invaluable to our existence
These are our painters and our sculptors
Effortlessly creating our visual arts
A culturally treasured sustenance
These are our philosophers and theorists
That exchange unprecedented ideas
And are essential to our mind
These are our inventors and explorers
The founders of the unknown
And fundamental to mankind
These are our composers and musicians
The great designers of sound
Vital to the process of acculturation
These are the visionaries of our time
They are the essence of our world
Certainly inspiring our actualisation
XXV. Experience: Integration Phase 5
High School
I.
Learning to fight is a moral battle
within in Warrior, who would prefer
solitary confnement with the Poem
dressed in a nice pattern of Words.
It's a process of scars and regret until
aiming a boomerang straight becomes
a necessity without possibility of return
to rub salt in the wounds of who threw it.
There's a fine line between Karma and self
defense for one's own survival. You bear
markings of combat one bruised rib, leg
and back ( always out of sight, initially ) at a time.
I recognized shame in the hallways, girls
who couldn't look you in the eyes,
boys branded gay and marked outcasts
by Sunday's best dressed hypocrits.
The only thing we all had in common was
that no one was who they really were,
because everyone was scared of not being
accepted if they weren't someone else.
That's high school for the most part,
a reality episode of the 'Walking Dead'
with very few exceptions being those who
knew exactly who they wanted to be.
What we were scared of varied depending
on environmental influences of individual
circumstance. Whether or not you'd been
bullied, beaten, molested, or betrayed.
Whether or not you perpetuated the cycle
rested in your own decision. But, sometimes
despite good parenting, bad apples fell
hard and rolled from perfectly healthy trees.
II.
A volcano can only contain pressure to
its own boiling point, and like words burst
from origin with such force, unawares of its
capability for cataclysmic destruction.
Life can be precarious for its inhabitants
and hunter can turn prey in an instant,
oblivious to the shadow circling its own
peripheral line of tunnel-visioned pursuit.
Everything and one has a breaking point
before they choose to Live or succumb
to Death. I don't know what loosened the
corsette of my costume after four years.
Maybe nothing did. Perhaps in one swoop
of growing pains I shed it like tree bark
in this juvenile forest. Something wanting
away from its forced dormancy with fear.
Maybe I'd discovered the Holy Grail of Love
its swallowed contents bursting the confines
of my throat, spewing blood and Truth
into the atmosphere of bewildered abuse.
Perhaps the scream was so curdling it
raised the hairs and fists from my beaten
face just long enough for my foot to find
his sweet spot, and kick it straight to hell.
And then maybe my own fists became
two fevered escapees from an insane
asylum pummeling a passing motorist,
and perhaps the spit from my swollen lip
Landed in his eye, causing him to wince.
But there comes a point when Something
inside you says "Enough." But you think,
"How? Five minutes for years of suffering?"
III.
Conviction is a powerful compass within
the Eternal Spirit. Its Voice can become
lost in the turmoil of Life's uncertainties,
wind tunnels through our fleshly Temple.
But when you hear it, Choice becomes
an Apparition of revenge or Forgiveness
demanding an immediate audience, no
Time for tea and crumpets in its court.
This is the moment in your Life you decide
you're either going to heed the Call, or forgo
the narrow, twisting road whose destination
is completely hidden from your blinded view.
Frost's 'Road Less Traveled' made perfect
sense. Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 too; despite
suffering, Love truly remains unaltered.
Poetry had been my language, my Holy Bible;
The Poem Salvation from hatred. Source
knew my Native tongue and thus called
it forth into Being. In that instant of pure
humbleness, I realized who I truly was.
IV.
As he lay on the ground writhing, sqeezing
his crotch, I felt compassion despite
my own two black eyes and busted lips.
With tears I asked for his forgiveness.
I don't know what that did to his heart,
but I swear I saw it crack behind his ribs.
And I swear his tears were the salt in his
wounds from his own boomerag returning.
I spoke to a few classmates over decades
who were always curious as to why we split
after all those years; we seemed so perfect.
"I guess it just wasn't meant to be..."
He dated a few women, some were old
acquaintances, finally got married. From
what I hear, is a gentle man, has never
lifted so much as a finger against anyone.
V.
Learning to fight is a moral battle for the
Warrior; it tests our true Spirit and resolve
by how we choose to administer our own
defense; I would like to think I chose Love.
But, more importantly, Hope I had given it,
thus witnessing evil shamed in utter defeat.
...
High School
I.
Learning to fight is a moral battle
within in Warrior, who would prefer
solitary confnement with the Poem
dressed in a nice pattern of Words.
It's a process of scars and regret until
aiming a boomerang straight becomes
a necessity without possibility of return
to rub salt in the wounds of who threw it.
There's a fine line between Karma and self
defense for one's own survival. You bear
markings of combat one bruised rib, leg
and back ( always out of sight, initially ) at a time.
I recognized shame in the hallways, girls
who couldn't look you in the eyes,
boys branded gay and marked outcasts
by Sunday's best dressed hypocrits.
The only thing we all had in common was
that no one was who they really were,
because everyone was scared of not being
accepted if they weren't someone else.
That's high school for the most part,
a reality episode of the 'Walking Dead'
with very few exceptions being those who
knew exactly who they wanted to be.
What we were scared of varied depending
on environmental influences of individual
circumstance. Whether or not you'd been
bullied, beaten, molested, or betrayed.
Whether or not you perpetuated the cycle
rested in your own decision. But, sometimes
despite good parenting, bad apples fell
hard and rolled from perfectly healthy trees.
II.
A volcano can only contain pressure to
its own boiling point, and like words burst
from origin with such force, unawares of its
capability for cataclysmic destruction.
Life can be precarious for its inhabitants
and hunter can turn prey in an instant,
oblivious to the shadow circling its own
peripheral line of tunnel-visioned pursuit.
Everything and one has a breaking point
before they choose to Live or succumb
to Death. I don't know what loosened the
corsette of my costume after four years.
Maybe nothing did. Perhaps in one swoop
of growing pains I shed it like tree bark
in this juvenile forest. Something wanting
away from its forced dormancy with fear.
Maybe I'd discovered the Holy Grail of Love
its swallowed contents bursting the confines
of my throat, spewing blood and Truth
into the atmosphere of bewildered abuse.
Perhaps the scream was so curdling it
raised the hairs and fists from my beaten
face just long enough for my foot to find
his sweet spot, and kick it straight to hell.
And then maybe my own fists became
two fevered escapees from an insane
asylum pummeling a passing motorist,
and perhaps the spit from my swollen lip
Landed in his eye, causing him to wince.
But there comes a point when Something
inside you says "Enough." But you think,
"How? Five minutes for years of suffering?"
III.
Conviction is a powerful compass within
the Eternal Spirit. Its Voice can become
lost in the turmoil of Life's uncertainties,
wind tunnels through our fleshly Temple.
But when you hear it, Choice becomes
an Apparition of revenge or Forgiveness
demanding an immediate audience, no
Time for tea and crumpets in its court.
This is the moment in your Life you decide
you're either going to heed the Call, or forgo
the narrow, twisting road whose destination
is completely hidden from your blinded view.
Frost's 'Road Less Traveled' made perfect
sense. Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 too; despite
suffering, Love truly remains unaltered.
Poetry had been my language, my Holy Bible;
The Poem Salvation from hatred. Source
knew my Native tongue and thus called
it forth into Being. In that instant of pure
humbleness, I realized who I truly was.
IV.
As he lay on the ground writhing, sqeezing
his crotch, I felt compassion despite
my own two black eyes and busted lips.
With tears I asked for his forgiveness.
I don't know what that did to his heart,
but I swear I saw it crack behind his ribs.
And I swear his tears were the salt in his
wounds from his own boomerag returning.
I spoke to a few classmates over decades
who were always curious as to why we split
after all those years; we seemed so perfect.
"I guess it just wasn't meant to be..."
He dated a few women, some were old
acquaintances, finally got married. From
what I hear, is a gentle man, has never
lifted so much as a finger against anyone.
V.
Learning to fight is a moral battle for the
Warrior; it tests our true Spirit and resolve
by how we choose to administer our own
defense; I would like to think I chose Love.
But, more importantly, Hope I had given it,
thus witnessing evil shamed in utter defeat.
...
hauntings at the island before I've had my coffee ☕️ and or taken my first shite of the day (26)
Is it me
Or is breakfast cereal basically crack
It's all loaded with sugar and God knows what other crap 💩
Corn Flakes is just Frosted Flakes without the tiger or the sugar that looks like caked on cum
Apple 🍎 Jacks it is then ...
arms
Not the smile nor eyes
Be ashamed
You said
You'll die as she did
scorning a son
And mocking a child who carries your blood
They'll know glories
you'll never see
as a false prophet
why are the wicked
so ignorant
it always starts with two sides
one dark
one white
separated by well defined borders
white side up
triangle fold
Is that what I'm doing today
The funeral went as predicted
We relied on her
Maybe just a little too much
She had seen so many of grow
And kept our children
And our dreams nestled in her boughs
Oh my God, this is
Shit!
Gotta start running late
Keys
Phone
Penis
Hi ho
Hi ho
It's off to work I go
Is it me
Or is breakfast cereal basically crack
It's all loaded with sugar and God knows what other crap 💩
Corn Flakes is just Frosted Flakes without the tiger or the sugar that looks like caked on cum
Apple 🍎 Jacks it is then ...
arms
Not the smile nor eyes
Be ashamed
You said
You'll die as she did
scorning a son
And mocking a child who carries your blood
They'll know glories
you'll never see
as a false prophet
why are the wicked
so ignorant
it always starts with two sides
one dark
one white
separated by well defined borders
white side up
triangle fold
Is that what I'm doing today
The funeral went as predicted
We relied on her
Maybe just a little too much
She had seen so many of grow
And kept our children
And our dreams nestled in her boughs
Oh my God, this is
Shit!
Gotta start running late
Keys
Phone
Penis
Hi ho
Hi ho
It's off to work I go
House That Jack Built
pubescent splendor
tight browny
blueish
blackish
denim
and chaps
those under the knee boots
worn to
to the raw fiber
that once hid
under the shiny
polish
of mirror hide
and well the thing with
horse lovers
is they all smell like horses
some like the manure
some like hay
but they all reek of a horse
the thing with aromas is
some just seem smelly
some wear them well, though
some make aroma sexy as all hell
admit it you've known
a horse person
who seeped sex appeal
i believe the expensive perfume
is exactly the same routine
on some it's class and sophistication
on some
it's just a smell
[!]
And the fragrance was called 27
Anonymous
on the inside (26th)
my mind was on the music
how it sounded
and how it moved
but my heart heard the words
riding the tune
and without warning
the rhythm disappeared
no drums and no guitar
all sound narrowed down
to emotions
rich and filled with pain
the world too distracting
I had to close my eyes
and let expression fill me
washing through my soul
more than just a tempo
not just a banging beat
the song became a window
into someone else's life
and they never knew me
never knew my pain
but their words proved
there's a human understanding
inside we're all the same
their heart hurt
same as mine
my mind was on the music
how it sounded
and how it moved
but my heart heard the words
riding the tune
and without warning
the rhythm disappeared
no drums and no guitar
all sound narrowed down
to emotions
rich and filled with pain
the world too distracting
I had to close my eyes
and let expression fill me
washing through my soul
more than just a tempo
not just a banging beat
the song became a window
into someone else's life
and they never knew me
never knew my pain
but their words proved
there's a human understanding
inside we're all the same
their heart hurt
same as mine
