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Official DUP NaPo/GloProWrimo 2018

poet
samael
Samael Talmudic
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 3rd Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 67

15/30


" "Arkhos" meaning "most important" 04/15/18"



Visionaries came fourth,
chopping down mountain ridges into highways
smelling of white baby powder.
 
butt hurt, not because i'm a soft bag of emotions
but because pegging the first time leaves you a bit saddle sore.
 
entertaining in home instead of at the bar,weather it be for a mother in law or a manajatwa.unspoken fantasies eat ideas on a simple walk to the bathroom.
 
do i remember how to pretend for these people?
i'm a charade box built into a lie falling from the snapped cord elevator shaft.
 
Charzard drinking cherry coke.
 
i pulled into the driveway and just sat there thinking of you. how your lips lunge for words on fluffy white cloud dreams that i built for engine failure.
 
a nick nack paddywack on a second hand shop shelf.emotions never anticipated me being so brass,blount,and balls to the walls gung ho.
 
maybe i'm a stupid pope ass hat.
 
i played Axis & Allies building up tank driven Germany, conquering  Belgum and the Netherlands for submarine strongholds;but that was years ago and have greeted a billion thoughts and strangers placing pizza and medication orders since then.
 
i've contemplated suicide, Pizza hut salad bars, and Alpha voice impersonations from the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers T.V. show; not to mention pink fizzing bubble bath bombs breaking the surface of a hottub i don't own.
 
will my memories and ideas live on in verse for the hungry,young,eager eyes? maybe through donated body parts,scatter me to a hundred amputees and doner lists if need.
 
archnemesis, archdiosis,close down the department store mall in my mind.four story ball pits connected by rope netting ramps,confetti cannons causing commotion.bumper cars,virtual reality simulator roller coasters you build the track yourself.
 
broad sword,broad side cynic. theres too much bread on this sandwhich and not enough white punk rock princess legs;not enough leather studded hand job make out session red lipstick stains.
 
Royce Union silver piece of junk i snuck around the side,traded back for my dark green GT DYNO;not that a tradeback requires permission or anything.his big sister seemed like a whore anyways.
 
some people say "let me AXE you a question aigh't?", those people are dumb and need to fix their sentence; my structure and spelling suck sometimes, but its about the attempt to better ourselves.
 
charlie horse in the morning as you wake up,thats what i want to be if i come back as a ghost.gripe all you want or greet me as the person you thought you knew.i narrowly escaped sliting my own throat by accident, well off to the injection chamber chair.
 
what would you choose for a last meal before you died? i'd say boneless fried chicken,mashed potatoes with white pepper gravy, macaroni & cheese,and 2 glass bottles of Coca-Cola.maybe an October calendar pin up girl airplane tattoo, tearing away at what i thought would be the road to a new future,a better future.
 
 
burn me on the books i though would make a difference,yet i would never have time to read. am i a lot like you? trembling heart in a burlap sac being slung around,beaten against walls?
 
do me a favor,write a poem and staple it to a random telephone pole down the street;we're all dead people talking and the chatter will consume us.why not plant a thought with seeds strait from the heirloom library?

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
110awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 3687


Fashionista!: You knew she would!  *15/30

I’m Fashionista, boys, I have arrived!
I’m wrapp’d in jungle print from head t’ sash.
How lovely that the paparazzi’s thrived,
Be sure to get my best side when you flash!

I’m all a flutter, ask me anything,
For I’m an open cage I offer here.
You see the cuff links that I wear as bling?
Each pair a conquest, and a souvenir!

Excuse me, boys, my Uber is at hand.
You’ll help me with my bags so be a dear
I’m Belaire Motel 6 right on the strand,
I’m famous in New York for my panash.

Oh driver take us somewhere nice to eat,
You look as tasty as I’m sure you are.
You hardly make a profit so I’ll treat,
I love to dine al fresco in the car!

I’m free today, I haven’t any plans,
It must be jet lag, though I came by bus.
I’m sure you heard of me in spite th’ bans,
I’m rich I’ll pay your way don’t make a fuss.

It’s such a lovely day, th’ breeze, th’ sun,
I hear my stomach growl, apologies.
You’ve park’d so far away from everyone,
It’s time for lunch, so don’t be ill at ease.

How lucky of me, doing what I do;
My trip is going just as I have planned.
And all they’ll find of me what’s left of you:
The tiger paw prints trailing in the sand.




Copyright©️2018 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.    
*NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2018


(The latest installment of an original character of mine who shape-shifts when the urge often strikes.)

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
45awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1455

Anatomy of Loss

VI

.i

We cannot retain
what is not ours to possess;
a formation of atoms
into three-dimensional artifacts

Tangible energy housed
in humans and trinkets
landscapes and dwellings

A whirlwind of molecules
swirling in formation

I tap my energy
into a phone or computer
its meaning resonates
with the me inside you

Vibrations of feeling entwine
in affectionate mastery
Or, clash in respective history
begging us question. . .

What has been left undone within me
that requires healing for peace;

What did I step out of myself to see


. . .

15/30



For My J, with Love💜


poet
ImperfectedStone
P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
19awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 960

14.30
UW:66

Paper

I haven't got all the answers
Strung from a cherry tree,
Nor in dried leaves in your tea,
I can't be a quiet loving moment
Or the support before the noise.
However I can catch your embers,
I can salt your wounds,
I can collect your toenail clippings
And hold your hair while your nose bleeds.
No, I don't have the fix
But I can cook your fish, baby you
Through the Summer.
Though you wouldn't want me,
Your used tissue,
Your broken shoe,
Your loose tyre,
Tired and weeping through the night.



15.30 UW: 57

Scissors

Opened in the Winter
Exposed to the cold
Cast out from the cult, knocking on doors,
Boldly whispering secrets
To the new
And you
Meet my eyes
With a softness,
A surprise.
You oil the soreness, you shine what has been black
And close what couldn't be,
Throw away vs. Repair,
One saved from the modern age
A seedling hidden
Free from the tribe
Yet renewed
In the still
The safety of your use.

poet
Thetravelingfairy
Thought Provoker
United States
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 35

15/30

A Few Shades Darker


Maybe I was a different shade today
Perhaps I’ve lost my hue
A reflection doesn’t capture the soul
I try and see beyond the water
He doesn’t see the same human
If only I had artists eyes

If I were his painting
Would I leap off the canvas?
Would it display the tint of my heart?
Maybe he’d paint over it all
Mix together new colors
Washed away with his brush
I become a new picture
One that’s a few shades darker

poet
thepositivelydark
Fire of Insight
Philippines
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 28th Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 94

11/30

R.

Baby, baby, it's late.

Baby, baby, my
Mind wanders
With my melted bones
Unguarded -

'Cause I fucked myself into bliss.

Baby, baby, this
Made me wonder
About pulling you into
The bathroom between
That building and those thick of trees,
Get down on my knees -
Kiss,
Kiss.

You made me wonder
About that desk and that corner,
And when you
Pull -
On that hair of yours,
God, please let me do it
For you.
Hold on to you
With that push - pull,
Like how you play me with those eyes.
Tease,
Tease.

Let's do it on a Wednesday -
So my skirt will be easy enough to lift up,
And you -
Just fill the spaces in between.

Sing for me
And I'll play it on repeat for days.
Sing with me
And I'll give you a melody you won't soon forget -
Dancing, hips swaying -
Baby, baby, pull me close.

Have your way with me and I
Will show you my way with words -
We could be the poetic erotic,
Filthy on page fifty.
If you only knew,
I write about you.

I never ever
Ever wonder -
I have a shield of shame and guilt.
But, fuck it, I bet
You jacked off to thoughts of me as well.
(You sang so.)

Baby,
Baby,
You slipped through the cracks.
Oh.

Slither -

In -

Baby,

Baby...


Get out of my head -
Don't keep me up all night.
Kindly fuck off.

------------------------------------------------------

12/30

Afloat

I have found the loneliness of the ground
As I was soaring through the sky.

I have found life in little deaths.

Life was coursing through these veins -
It was rushing electric -
I was making sounds
From the pleasure and the pain
Even after
Gravity had pulled me back down again.

Eyes and lips seek companions.
And gaps between fingers are loud at night -
At blue skies -
At dawn -
At twilight.

And the place between my thighs
Is aching for life -
And warmth -
And connection -
The filling of the void,
The caresses after.

With whispers from phantoms,
I reach great heights.
Wearing my dirtied white dress
That I get tired of sometimes.
But I -
I always ache,
For someone to hold me and
Tether me to the ground -
After all the dreams,
All the highs,
After all the sounds -
Where it
Would kill the lonely...


[Double post, yay! I'm trying to fully catch up soon. ]

poet
David_Macleod
Guardian of Shadows
United States
32awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Nov 2014
Forum Posts: 735

Pirates of Souls   - - - (16 / 30)

I went for a long walk
off a very short pier
after turning to you
my deaf ear
it was right for me
to walk the plank
it was mainly you
I had to thank
I swam away from you
through shark infested custard
you thought I wouldn't do it
said I couldn't cut the mustard
I could only cut the cheese
well who cut the cheese
when I made it to shore
on my own
and told you
to fuck off
you and the pack
of lies you rode
in on
you are now
just a wide receiver
how does it feel
the shitty end
of the constipation spoon
thing is there was no spoon
you were always full of shit
that's why you floated
like a bobbing turd
wallowing in a raw sewerage
that all came from
your brain enema
well your head enema
there are no
brain cells there
Just prison cells
that you locked
people and their
souls away in
not criminally minded
just bonded slaves
white slaves
who would have thought
white men with no
white privilege
mundane servitude
get yer smokes for ya boss
wash yer cottons for ya boss
feed ye like a baby boss
wipe ye down clean boss
there is not enough
caustic bleach
that would clean you
I am not driving miss Daisy
I am driving an ice pick
into the base of her neck
bleed her out
I was told this
Was just impossible
But I proved you can
get plenty of blood
out of a stone
the sad thing
is that this was
a rebellion for one
your emotional demise
made no real difference
to your character
as you carried on
collecting new souls
to destroy
and abandon
some folks never get
what they deserve
especially when they
deserve mistreatment
and punishment
some people are charmed
without being charming
some people say bless
without being blessed
some people are evil
without being the devil
there should be a hell
for these people
but there isn't
they will die alone
or surrounded
by sycophants
trampled by
forgetful elephants
they have one deathbed regret
loving was alien
real love
never given
or received
now that's what
I call punishment
What a waste of a life
This life of waste
I have no tears
I bought in beers
To celebrate
I would dance on your grave
Even if you were getting buried
In shark infested custard
The plank has gone
The pier survives
If you want to lose your pirate
Buy your own parrot and
Get your own plank
And just swim away



poet
rowantree
Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 116

15/30

bye bye essay

Look,
I've calculated it -
skipping it altogether would mean, at the worst, a low B.
And my transfer college won't even see that grade, anyway.
But
I have changed over the past year
into a person who looks in the mirror
and no longer sees "lazy" looking back.
I haven't felt tired in weeks,
not even the day after relapsing and smokin' up -
not even after quitting coffee cold turkey,
it's not the caffeine -
but I can't bring myself
to start this thing!
orrr to decide not to do it
at all.
Hm.

Meanwhile,
the songs and poems are pouring.
I feel healthier than ever.
Still physically hopping out of bed.

My only motivation for writing this goddamned essay tonight
is more time to roll around in verse tomorrow morning.
So be it.
Tell me godspeed.

poet
RevolutionAL
Alistair Plint
Dangerous Mind
South Africa
20awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th July 2012
Forum Posts: 865


Dead Poet, Society.


In the quarter moon
an entire
bookshelf
lies
lost

dormant
space
in a cyber village


.
:
;

In appreciation for ten years of solid
reading
gold

I present
Journal Entry 1018
(You're invited to a speed read)


clouds
burst
darkness
no
silver linings
golden ends
or
treasures
sparkling
rainbows

Christ spare
a moment
to apreciate
a nomad
warrior

(they call it
mobile living)
and it's spacious
with
campfire stories

Untill she fills
the driving
seat
well, then
[and only then]
it drives
like
a Twin Cam
with a
Free flow
screaming
Fuck You
to the
wind

smacking
a hold down
in
the
corner
flooring
steel
to the
metal
enroute
a bar,
jukebox
and
closing time

slapping a
handbreak
- a 180
middle
finger
at
Society;
because
see

FUCK YOU

and ME!

we took
it
commercialized
and
gang raped
the
essence
of that
damn
park
[we drove through]
when the
table
hit
the
goddamn
windscreen
while
the woman
owned
Kings
daughter's
clowns
and
courts


[<3]



Entry 16
Letters to Society, God
& The Goddess
GloPoWriMo 2018
Posted April 16th

9. Poet : Write a poem about another DUP poet, and why you enjoy their work. Extra Kudos if that poet writes about you.  





poet
cloventongue89
Nathaniel Peter
Fire of Insight
United States
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 18th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 360

Whether I’m Winning or Losing, Alone (16/30)

You speak like a thousand-poem liar
Caught up in the delusion of romance
Do I envy what you have?
Or just see a fake when it presents itself

Careful not to draft the blueprints for home on a whim
Speaking of love, I don’t believe you
The moment’s bright as the future is grim

I can see the defects in the diamond
Or is just a contusion in my eye?
Perhaps some kisses would be better never given
And some greetings should start with goodbye

Nothing can ever go too well
Before it seems we’re maintaining the perfect condition
To watch the world fall apart
Or is it just the wreckage relative to a broken window?

When a stranger’s tragedy is an exclusive earthquake
While I stand amidst the fractures of a neighboring foundation
As we make plans in the construct
Of a day that continues to evade fruition

Whether on the cusp of one’s dream
Or another’s nightmare come true
Pivotal moments wake us from the coma of routine

A fear haunts my every victory
Just how long will the calm last?
When tidal waves are the evidence of the undercurrent

God forbid anything ever goes too well before it turns to shit
I’ve never known a precipice without collapsing
When all I have to lose is more to squander and every summit is counterfeit

Can I trust myself with joy?
Or is all that provides it
The very things I take for granted

I hate your love song because it stands a reminder
Of what I’ve never known
And all I can’t attain, is heart
Because money can’t buy love
Just a night to tolerate existence

Before I wake up again, alone
Searching for a counterpart
With none to speak of
Even downhill presents its own resistance…

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
110awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 3687


Technique is Heaven  *16/30

I don’t recall when I’d forgotten how.
One night it came to me while still in bed.

The heavy quiet, static in my head
That told me ‘take a picture of yourself’.

You know, a selfie taken privately,
At least that’s what the static said to me.

And so I did or, drifting, planned to do
As sleep was setting in, “just for a few”
I murmured, and then put it on the ‘shelf’.

But when I woke not knowing night or day
I tried to think of something glib to say
But shut my mouth my ego’s calling shots:

You think you’re pretty slick, I told myself.
I guess I am, look what I did, but when?

I haven’t been with anyone but you.
You still retain the things you knew back then.

“Back then”, a time when I was free to be
Exploring with my sensuality.

You weren’t asleep, that selfie made you hot!
But tell me how, I thought I had forgot!

You needed to refresh one’s sense of touch,
So with your ‘self’ in hand you did as much.


I felt my fingers stroking to & 'fro,
And said to me, ‘I'll do now what I know.’
     
That's all there is to feed your woman’s bent,
Technique is gold, technique is heaven-sent!




Copyright ©️ 2018 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.
NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2018

poet
poetryaccident
Fire of Insight
United States
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th Oct 2016
Forum Posts: 161

16/30

Whisper Liberty

The ropes spoke a separate tongue
whispered soft against limbs bound
an honesty denied by the world
their definition is the pure lie
those hardened chains are not freedom
responsibility spun from dire needs
it’s no wonder that escape is sought
in the twine spun to cord

agency released while still held
put aside by full consent
of both parties as knots pull
against the flesh desiring more
liberty springs from hunger felt
a strong desire to be bound
restriction giving so much more
as spirits lift beyond four walls

society would disagree
judge the bill and not the meal
as what’s bound for pleasure’s sake
becomes the bargain in the end
short release from true bondage
that cage of life that holds us down
this brief illusion of escape found
as the ropes whisper liberty.

poet
rosegold
Thought Provoker
United States
2awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 28

12/30

Panic

brain lit up like a match
struck on sensitivity
hand tremors
stay still
you look like a psycho

remember to breathe
deep and slow, count to eight
lungs choked by invisible hands
calm down
you're hyperventilating

uncontrollable panic
fists clenching skin
overstimulated
stop spazzing out
it shouldn't be that bad

hot flashes, cold sweat
ears ringing like fire alarms
head pounding, confused
you can't stop blinking
say something, do something

obsession, disconnection
trying to keep it together
get help
you're not stable
not safe

poet
mel44
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 205

14/30
Adaptive Capacity

Our future undoubtedly at risk
denial no longer applicable
emission of greenhouse gases
will render earth uninhabitable

profoundly altered precipitation
melting glaciers and Arctic ice
detrimental rising sea levels
flooded habitats, a heavy price

inundated with extreme weather events
hurricanes, tsunamis, volcanic activity
typhoons, landslides, seismic quakes
devastating aftermaths, in our passivity

heat waves, droughts, decreasing crop yields
extinction of species, deforestation
depletion of natural resources
without sustainable conservation

shifting temperature regimes
rapid, sustained warming
damage projected to continue
failing to heed the warning

Mother Nature’s omnipotent force
and climate change acceleration
fearing humanity lacks survival capacity
for the fury accompanying her adaptation

Double posting due to being unavoidably over committed this weekend.

poet
mel44
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 205

15/30
Sewing Buttons

Each submission, considerable revenue
payment for poems does rapidly accrue
expression through composed lyrical phrases
fanciful buttons accepted gratefully as wages
for use of words as illustration
unexpected, valued, compensation
earnings applied, instantaneously in trade
thoughtful responses begin to cascade
frequently following emotions bared
identification, similar experiences shared
compliments obtained surely provide
confidence, encouraging a sense of pride
critiques redeemed, growing attentively inspired
through instruction, knowledge ardently acquired
perhaps the most precious of transfers
occurs when searching for profound answers
as a soul on its knees in complete despair
offers cathartic writing, affording repair

Inspired by Sewing Buttons prompt

Double posting due to being unavoidably over committed this weekend.

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