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Official DUP NaPo/GloProWrimo 2018

poet
Thetravelingfairy
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 35

18/30

Discovering You



Maybe you’re the moon
A side to you forever hidden
How I long to know the shadows of your heart
Kept locked away somewhere in space

Vast like the ocean
Sink me
Drown me in your mysteries
Remind me how I love to swim

I believe that together we can get somewhere
Travel through the Milky Way
Sail the ocean blue
If you’d let me guide
Let me discover you

poet
RevolutionAL
Alistair Plint
Dangerous Mind
South Africa
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Joined 24th July 2012
Forum Posts: 907

Will You?


Write some fucking poetry
will you?
Add a fucking location
protaganist
and a half assed story line
Load it
full of
metaphors
similies
alliteration
and
some fucking
raw
real
life

We're sick
of your soppy
love crap
The wind
trees
rivers
and birds

Just write some fucking poetry
will you?
end
the damn trite
you spew!
No one really
cares
how late you were
last night
or if you ate
oxtail
stew

Oh for Fuck sake
write some
fucking
poetry,
will you?

Use that
fucking artist's
eye;
slam
abstract
in the words
you paint;
make
the grammar
tight!


Entry 19
Letters to Society, God
& The Goddess
GloPoWriMo 2018
Posted April 19th


10. Comments : Write a poem about you DIS-Honestly Critiquing or offering up Frenemy Feedback on another poet's poem ( or someone doing either to you ).




poet
rosegold
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 28

15/30

Couldn't help it


Oh, sweetie
Don't feel so bad
I know you did things
You desperately wish you hadn't
But remember
You didn't plan this
Caught up in the moment
Didn't realize the consequences
You're still clean
Amazing and pure
You've only shared light
Now you're looking for a cure
Nobody hates you
Oh, how could they?
You're overflowing with love
Of course you can't help but give some away

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

There's No Such Thing As Originality (19/30)

Are we behind the bars of time?
Serving the efforts of the future
As we depreciate the moment
When everything is an investment
Where’s the yield?

A war of thoughts in me
And all that steals my attention
A conversation had, long overdue
Insights given of listening
And self-reflection is measuring up
A standard forged on the lips of our best intentions
Well-spoken and lifeless

Generic love letters addressed to an obscure recipient
Caught in the perceptions of a faceless audience
Budgeting my time after the words
Authenticated sentiments of inspiration
Sold short for eyes sooner to criticize than absorb
What does the world look like after a single shade?
When color blindness short sights rainbows
And a symbol for repealed wrath is misunderstood
As if grace is a means to condone corruption

Taking shots through a lens of bias
We are the same on opposite ends of the spectrum
When there’s nothing new under the sun
Just various angles that a ray shoots through a raindrop
Everything bleeds grey in a world of black and white
Painting through mediums of a heart with visions for relative conviction
No values apart from the benefit of your own sight

Bouncing thoughts against a plot undefined
Your flaws beg to question the underlying cause
As we’re categorized and filed according to labels
How drab is the world framed by the context of you?
As we’re processed through the gears of all things one sided
You’ve got all the mechanics to manufacture meaning
But your heart is a generic serenade…

30. The Poem Factory : Write about a so-called eccentric genius who mass produces poetry in his ginormous factory filled with amazing technological gadgetry that unfortunately churns out poems with no originality.

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 3935


Miss Stress  *19/30
( Articles 1 through 18 )


1
your name
is merely a #
to Me.

2
My dungeon has
nothing
made in the States.

3
Euro stitching
enriches
making contact.

4
A kindness
for weakness
you won’t get from me.

5
Present nude
your body,
assume to Me.

6
When you
disappoint Me—
the willow switch.

7
When you
disobey Me—
Cat ‘o nine tails.

8
If you’re a good boy,
I’ll spank
the sweet spot.

9
No safe word
belongs
in your mouth.

10
A session  
won’t end
In aftercare.

11
you’ll eat
what you get
when I say.

12
you’ll shit
where you are
if I say.

13
you’ll drink
your hot piss
every day.

14
you’ll
polish my shoes
with your tongue.

15
you’ll watch
but not touch
till I nod.

16
you’ll thank Me,
when bathing,
with foreplay.

17
you’ll sleep
in my kennel
in nothing.

18
The closet
will be
your new home.

So remember—
you asked Me.
Sign here.

X__________________🖌



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

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
48awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1613

And then there were 18!

Greetings, Poets! Welcome to DAY 19!  

The DUP Revolution is a poetic revolt that takes place between April 1 and April 30, and began in the year 2017.  DUP's Poetic Patriots, numbered at 18, having lost nine to the bloody battle, will persevere to win independence from Great You Can't, becoming the NaPoWriMo Champions of Deep Underground Poetry.

They will defeat Great You Can't in the DUP Revolutionary War in alliance with the Muse, proving once again, the pen is mightier than the double-edged tongue!


1. Ahavati - II✔✔✔✔
2. JohnnyBlaze - II✔✔✔✔
3. JadePandora - II✔✔✔✔✔
4. Viddax - II✔✔✔✔
5. Mel44 - II✔✔✔✔
6. cloventongue89 - II✔✔✔✔✔
7. David_Macleod - II✔✔✔✔
8. rowantree - II✔✔
9. ImperfectedStone - II✔✔✔✔
10. MadameLavender - II✔✔✔✔✔
11. ThePositivelyDark - I ✔✔✔✔✔
12. RevolutionAl - II✔✔✔✔✔
13. Hepcat61- II✔✔✔✔
14. poetryaccident - II✔✔✔✔
15. Thetravelingfairy -II✔✔✔✔
16. MisfitPoet89 - II✔✔✔✔
17. Samael - II✔
18. Rosegold - II✔

Charge, Poets!

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

16/30

"Of cloak and hood it came just past sunset"


A woman not more than thirty stood aimless,
hands cupped around her trembling mouth in disbelief;
gasping for air,
almost hyperventilating.

standing around the left side of her ajar car door;
glasses barely hanging on,
tears touching the cold concrete,
black hair,
black hoodie
& blue jeans in the falling night.

five or six other vehicles stood still.
onlookers
waiting,
watching,
as the car struck man lay motionless on the ground
at the roadway split.

i drove by helpless,
on to the grocery store i went.
upbeat brass jazz trumpet rang out into the overhead speaker system
and down the isles; not caring someone had just died.

sirens rang out, zipping down the roadway,
past traffic lights,
past glazed doughnut citizens
living vanilla extract lives.

climbing back into my truck
i realized Ivor Winters was reading me aloud
"Before disaster" just before passing the wreck
off a CD i had bought earlier that day.

upon returning home
emergency services had scraped the man off the road,
absent of red & blue flashing lights,
white chalk body outlines,
detectives with tan London fog coats,
fedora hats,
asking questions to bystanders.

and Death took their next victim,
vanishing into the night.

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

Ivor Winters "BEFORE DISASTER"

Evening traffic homeward burns,
Swift and even on the turns,
Drifting weight in triple rows,
Fixed relation and repose.
This one edges out and by,
Inch by inch with steady eye.
But should error be increased,
Mass and moment are released;
Matter loosens, flooding blind,
Levels drivers to its kind.
Ranks of nations thus descend,
Watchful to a stormy end.
By a moment’s calm beguiled,
I have got a wife and child.
Fool and scoundrel guide the State.
Peace is whore to Greed and Hate.
Nowhere may I turn to flee:
Action is security.
Treading change with savage heel,
We must live or die by steel.

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
48awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1613

Samael, I'm unsure if this is one poem with two parts, or two, being the second isn't numbered and there's no footnote to your post.

poet
samael
Samael Talmudic
Fire of Insight
United States
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 67

It's one poem, the second  is by Ivor Winters who i was listening to on audio when i saw the car wreck and the guy get killed, a bit haunting and had to be included to get the full effect and ambience.

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
48awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1613

samael said:It's one poem, the second  is by Ivor Winters who i was listening to on audio when i saw the car wreck and the guy get killed, a bit haunting and had to be included to get the full effect and ambience.

Okay, thanks for explaining. I wasn't sure if it was a tribute inspired by him or what, as I'm unfamiliar with that poem. Sorry you witnessed such a horrific ordeal. I have the t-shirt on that myself.

poet
samael
Samael Talmudic
Fire of Insight
United States
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 67

17/30


"Tantalizing trip through the turn stall: a day dragging to the East of the county"


The devils trill sonata in G minor played into the morning light.
i saw murder and compassion in your eyes.
a lover at a 9 AM window sill daydream,
a bird in flight standing still.

three days off from work could kill a man.
day one i'd wish i had slept more,
though the pillow calls
i'm still numb from the naming of medications on repeat.

i don't recall the timeline,
chores,
stores,
books!

yes i remember now,
we drove down Magnolia Ave,
past the beggars with a limp,
past the malt liquor bottles broken on the sidewalk.

once lovely houses now boarded up,
bootleg DVD stands,
run down B-B-Q joints,
cheap brown ugly hooker motels,

ran by families who charge $8.00 for parking when the carnival's in town.
this time it was the book fair
with rows and scores of tables,
bustling with parchment,
picked ripe for the taking.

the poetry table picked me apart,
maggots to the rotting dishes in the sink.




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


Author's Note:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7rxl5KsPjs

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chilhowee_Park

poet
Viddax
Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2009
Forum Posts: 6246

19.

Minions of the Underground


We follow brave Ahavati as our new Achilles
and we are the Myrmidons;
pressing ever forward
despite the murmurs
and rumours of others.
Our fate is to follow
to press onwards
meeting each day's pressing need.
Words are our spears of ash;
violently striking true
yet cast aside by Time's cruel march,
linguistic prowess
marking each session
overcoming the conflict of inspiration
crashing against our syllabic shields
only to clamour again tomorrow
for our inspiration to run dry
and have us bow low
and expire in that dust.
Yet we refuse,
and stubbornly defy such monsters
stabbing at the Hydra of hate's heads
to carve out our own story
and not give in to such despair.
Though the Minotaur
tests us with endless options
we know our theme
and thwart the labyrinth.
Even the Gorgon
cannot stay our hand
smashing through the block
it creates in our path
writing and proceeding.
Our voices ring clear
no horse lord can make us hoarse
no Trojan trickery
to strike at us underground.
So it is that we face such creatures
as we proceed in competition.

(Unique words: 126)

poet
rowantree
Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 116

essays. so many essays.
doubling up today

18/30

dapples

I can't shake gratitude
for the present,
and that's perhaps my favorite of my gifts.

I ache for home,
but even so,
I know I'll miss the mornings here.

For the cold air through the window
and light washing the room,
and the sounds outside,
birds and lawnmowers and babies crying
and all.

Each piece of pleasant makes
this place
and all places
more than a midnight
or a midday:

each peace of pain,
a shadow,

and they crash together,
moon or sun splattering and swaying
patches in the shade,
dappling every day
of my temperate life.

-

19/30

nightvoice growing

Seems
a year ago
I was just a wistful howl
shooting up from wolf-throat
into big unknown.
People would hear in their homes,
and grow
chills, smile,
or raise their eyebrows
in vague wonder.

I've become colossal:
I slap their windows! -
hiss from darkened oaks
in wild wind! -
I curl around,
a sound that hooks itself on crescent moons;
people leave their homes
to hear my tune -
or, I am carried
to them through
cricket cries,
owl hoots,
and - soon -
the buzzes
of the bugs of June.


poet
David_Macleod
David Macleod
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
34awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Nov 2014
Forum Posts: 874

Here Comes Summer    - - - - - - (19 / 30)

a sunny day in Glasgow rarity really for sure
it signals to the locals time for sunbathing
it won't be around for long then back to rain
I cross the bridge to the park, a green space
It's the busiest I've ever seen it, an invasion
The green is hard to see because of gaudy colours
Men in pink shirts and yellow shorts bask like sharks
Everyone of them a sexual predator, I am disgusted
They drool as they start looking for young flesh
And there is plenty of that on show; Glasgow's finest
Who will give it up oh so cheaply after cheap wines
The sun splits the pavements, tarmac steams mist
That smells of burnt rubber and road killed humans
Such a delightful smell, it almost gives me wood
I scan the parks throng, seeing Glaswegians at play
Her summer top wilfully showing too much flesh
Look at her, breasts out suddenly it's a nudist park
Bikini bottoms and daisy dukes walk wiggling their asses,
Like fucked in the head cat walk models ready to blow
They wink and they slut smile but only at the men folk
I see them for what they are surely god can't be happy


All bright eyed and bushy tailed looking for nuts
They strut and pout like two dollar cheap hookers
I feel all their sinful imaginings I'm motivated by rage
The mean are sexual deviants from grey hair to no hair
They will fuck anyone with a pulse, possibly some without
The woman are no better; whores, Satan's filthy sluts
They peddle their wares; vaginas, Tits and damnation
They will all meet there demise and be sent to Hell
Some sooner than others but all must be punished
I talk to the Lord God Almighty and he is not happy
but still he allows them to strut around like whores
the male peacocks might as well expose themselves
The sun shines brightly but I only see the darkness
The darkness of sin and sexual depravity, it's ugly
It's time for God's servants to take appropriate action
The world now on its moral knees needs to be cleansed
I roam the park considering options that are available
Oh so many that need to hear his voice as I often do
They need salvation from their evil degrading ways
I get a tingle as I innocently watch and mingle
that's why I am roaming around and about

People relax with picnics of shop bought sandwiches
All washed down with alcho-pops and strong tonic wine
On a day like this they are all out and about; too busy
Single parents with prams and so many benefit cheats
People who are not sick phone their employers being sick
Old people avoid the park, drunk horny men spells trouble
There's the occasional fight breaking out: cock fighting
The sun starts to dip it's light wasted on the park scum
They start to evaporate, the crowd thins itself down
Not appreciating the exquisiteness of twilight time
This is my favourite time, most folks off to the bars
It all quietens down And God will show me a saveable soul
In the semi darkness of twilight it's time for his light to shine
As a servant of God I must obey his words and his choices

There she was a vision, such a pretty little thing
long blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, seems too pretty
to be a slut whore, but My Lord God makes no mistakes
He only works in mysterious ways to those that know him not
She's wearing a see through white top and a black bra
Not a good look unless you are a dirty, cheap prostitute
She's wearing denim shorts, rather frayed at the legs
I look more deeply I can see her panties, a white frill
She stands up to wave at someone: Ass cheeks on display
She sits down again, it is clear I must save her from sin
I walk slowly towards her hands firmly in my pockets
Getting much closer, I put on my latex gloves silently
Well I must, I don't want that filthy whores fluids on me
I am in touching distance, I gently touch her hair, I smile
She leans back and takes numerous selfies on her phone
What a vain little slut, but judgement has come for her

So much for a rare bright and sunny day in Glasgow
I move in quietly with arms and hands that try to hug
I have the power of Christ and a chloroform cloth
Struggling is short lived and as always futile; in the van
It's at time like these she'll wish I was just a rapist
and not Gods servant, a sinner killer and taker of souls
the torture will be long, bloody and brutal
if it's worth doing it's worth doing well
I will cleanse her in her own blood
Her salvation formed by her screams

The next time you decide to go to the park
On a sunny day in Glasgow I would give you some advice
Men; Put your cocks away, I do male sluts as well
Women : Dress appropriately no flesh on show
Let me hear an AMEN!

poet
samael
Samael Talmudic
Fire of Insight
United States
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 67

18/30

"Chilhowee park:1913 National Conservation Exposition"


Golden lights danced on the waters black
electrifying the night,
shadows consumed one hundred and two years and counting.
i'd hoped the legacy would have been brighter today than it was then.

conservation rolling steep in the hills and grand staircases that stood
boasting corsets curves,
accident insurance,
and Booker T. Washington speeches.

amusement ate my heart out
then carried it over the timeless lake, down past the dirt roads.
sun umbrellas shielded the fair skin,
suitcases went hand in hand
with men's derby hats.

life was black and white,
everyone got dressed up to go places
custom tailored suits & ties,
pretty Silk Flat Crepe Dresses and heels.

segregation and Jim Crow laws were just starting to be cut down.
Catherine Wiley judged the fine art competition,
shes buried just over in the Old grey cemetery;
southern Appalachia spilled water colors.

they blew up mock coal mines,
tamed elephants entertained,
Mozelle of the Mist made a spectacle to behold.
thank god for Knoxville’s marble industry or else we wouldn't even have the band stand.

i love the taste of history in a photograph.


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


http://www.easttnhistory.org/exhibits/first-fair-its-kind


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catherine_Wiley






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