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Official DUP NaPo/GloProWrimo 2018

Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2009
Forum Posts: 6287



There is power in words,
just ask anyone who plays a healer class;
words can revive the dying
and help the party survive
even as the system seeks to grind them down,
as the fighters roar their rage
and the casters create destruction
from but a few syllables.
As for the players themselves
a few words can convey their tale
make you feel the pressure
join in the joys and sorrow
and have empathy for the epic.
Whether the words are wielded
as weapons to blast the goblins
or as shields to heal the ailing
or to simply state the barbarian rushes in
they all have a power and force
that you have to hear to believe
that pictures alone cannot convey.
Woe betide any who face the bard
or someone who is a budding bard
as the words there are set to kill
or at the very least thrill,
never mind the Dungeon Master
themselves uses words
to set the scene
describe every surrounding
detail each death
and sum up the story so far.
So just remember the capability of language
as there is power in words,
even against sticks and stones
a thick dictionary does not go amiss.

(Unique words: 121.)

Zaroff poetry
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 3rd Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 67


"Resting in the right mindset: don't cut wrists but ledges off buildings we stand on instead"

Layered pouring surface concrete hardens over time.
i fell, bonded among fluent feelings; green code
burning through the circuit cords cursive creator.
conducting;a symphony built off faulty scaffolding of sin.

Ideas of you haunt these voiceless words on wayward pine wooded lips
and your sapphire blue explosions fade away;parching me,
cloud of debris and smoke settled in the sea of dusk,kicking up lungs.
this race for your heart was never a game
but a fatal gunshot from your garter belt.

you didn't need my physics holding you down
but i'd hoped you would reconsider the thoughts in which you left.
i'm sinking faster in the silence,
this solitude...but i'm surrounded by a sea of people.

they;being of black & grey shade,
shuffling their feet to daily routines
as daylight dies in television sets.

these shoulders are too far to rest your head,
autoclave sparrow.

American traditional troubled,
tasting streets of desperation,
smell the gasoline off fingertips from the pump.
spinning out from car wrecks,
windows bursting on impact.

you are how falling occurred.
harvesting breath as the taker,
time master trailer tanker driver,
siphoning; because i blinked and lay broken
as fine China sucked up from the vacuum cleaner.

geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 942

Hawaiian Idols
(German sonnet)
formule poťsie ťrotique 26/30

Soft trade winds gentle fan the budding coffee rows,
The sapphire depths, the taste, and Hanapepeís lights.
In waters soft as resting loversí spent delights,
The day goes down in subtle flares as hard night grows.

On Poipuís sheltered reef, a fleeting glimpse excites,
Its muscled length extends then disappears again,
The rounded lips above the mouth, its light contain,
And deepest pleasure find, as our pursue invites.

How we devote our full employ, our end obtain.
We match the waterís rhythmic rise and slow withdraw,
How sweet its salty sheenís rejoice, as Kāne saw.

As finally we persevere, our prize we gain,
We praise the island gods, awash in natureís awe,
Humuhumunukunuku apuaía


P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 980



When I was a sailboat
on a English channel I bobbed
beside a seagull
whose name I never asked,
who didn't care to tell me,
I sang songs about my youth when my timbers were stronger, when three thick,
country lads fit for adventure
would clamber over my edges
on a sandy shore of the South West
as the strongest of the herd pushed
and jumped in after,
they'd tell tales of their plans for blood and hard labour,
I'd listen, quietly,
safely carrying them on their way,
they'd drink, well, three would
the thin one would hum with the sound of the waves and smoke
which made me a little nervous. Eventually the three drunks would sleep
and Smokey Joe would navigate me home.
You know, I've sailed alone, with a few seagulls for many years,
I still miss the one who set me free.
C'est la vie.

Guardian of Shadows
United States
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Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 4664

"More", is More

(NaPo #26, April 26, 2018)

Fine lines exist
hoards and minimalists;
"Less, could be more", say
beliefs of decor authority
who deemed them, correct?

I would beg to challenge
thought processes
of conservative-ism, pasting
ones home with things
and colors
suitable for eventual resale.

The world cannot see
what is not there, in
plain view.

I balk at ideas
of furnishing abodes
on the basis of
what some future owner may like.

This is me,

"More" is more , if
more is done right, and
I shall fill my inner rooms
with all I've ever wanted.

David Macleod
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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Joined 5th Nov 2014
Forum Posts: 929

Groundhog Awakening   -  - - -  (26 / 30)

how many times did it really have to happen?
To wake discovering any or all of the following

Cold, wet urine soaked sheets and blankets
One bit of peanut butter toast stuck to my face
The other bit of toast stuck to my inner thigh
A used condom hanging between my butt cheeks
The front door left wide open, everything stolen
A relatively fresh human jobbie in the kitchen sink
Only one of my shoes is found; in the microwave
A large aluminium Police Stop sign in the lounge
A dead Celtic supporter enclosed in bubble wrap
Mum watching interracial porn on a loop catatonically
A spicy pepperoni pizza stuck to the toilet window
A naked woman sleeping face down her ass painted
Looking in the mirror, both eyebrows shaved off
Four stray dogs locked in the double wardrobe
A Jehovah's witness nailed to the kitchen cupboards
A headless welfare benefits inspector in the garden
A dead swan underneath the bedroom sheepskin rug
A note from Big Mad Malkie saying 'Ya're dead ya poof'
A note from Big Malkie's Gran 'Hurt ma boy an A'll cut ye'
One thousand, empty bottles hanging on the wall
Finding out the crack you were smoking was aspirin
Finding out the crack you smoked was your best buddy
A wreath on the front door saying 'RIP Fiona Smart'
Finding out that Fiona Smart was Big Malkie's mother
A rancid pile of vomit in the bath, a guy stirring it
Your car on fire; a sign saying Big Malkie was here
Downing a can of lager with six floating cigarette butts
Vomiting lager and cigarette butts on your Mums head
Forgetting my own name: Pretty sure it's not Gertrude
There's 3 dead blue faced friends; had snorted toilet block
Finding a policeman's hat with the ice pick still in it
I went out last night with £20 now I have £300
Six prostitutes arrive saying I hired them for breakfast
Realising with relief I am not really in my own house
Waking up in the intensive care ward; dead / deadish
Realising that my furry tongue contains real fur (cat)
Thinking what I need now is another ten vodkas or so

You'd think by now I would know
That I am a consummate alcoholic:

Zaroff poetry
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 3rd Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 67


"Out in the distance i called your name; and the fog from the field responded"

You feed my addictions desires,
drumming decadence off eyelids blinking,
boisterous fashion show diva daily.

a twitch of the muscle from wrist to index imprint
attempting to sit still.
i fantasized you aerodynamic.
i put hungry hungry hippos to shame.

a sun bent motel bed in california where you perfectly laid,
let me seep into your perky breasts by nightfall,
tantalizing chest.

choke me on the next messaged line typed with the inside tips of thumbs,
gushing for the flood of seductive suggestions comes next.
i jumped over conversation pieces as barrels from the original Nintendo's Donky Kong.

i cashed out like you do at 3 minute max bank robbery with a gun and president's mask.
checked out from reality for awhile; a luxury i really couldn't afford but a vacation i needed.

white cells in the bloodstream,
baking as 3 ingredient peanut butter cookies,
i blew my tea pot top from the steam.

stepping into a realm where time passed at a progressive rate,
clocks melted,
words were a pleasure piece wrist watch as well a personal sadist.
days passed and letters turned on me,
teeth on dinner for the first time in weeks.
high tide rolled in and jerked me out to sea.

we've come full circle to choking on water.
the feeling of drowning never leaves when i try to pick myself up.
parts of me have been plucked causing the water to stay at bay,
just enough pouring out to keep my feet dragging the bottom.

no, nets are what pulled  me from the depths and treached me in the throat on shore.

blood brought the werewolves,
holy water hand grenade,
be a dear and bring the wooden steaks and electrocution would you?

what is this madness that i've built?
breeding ground for infection,
latex lingerie,
tongues starting in Tennessee and stretching past the coastal reefs.

grey cold swept into hair,
hammer fed,
skin and bone peanut britle.
a bastard barking matted fur,
i shot an orchid in the head and hid behind the smiles body.

to abandon creation is insanity,
doctors know that,
Frankenstein knew that;
cultivate for a better tomorrow.

we are but beasts,
brooding in the night-
building shame as a pyre to throw ourselves.
cast off
burning the embers till' coal turns cold
and the crowds pack up they're families in body bags;
travel size,
fun size at Halloween they called it.


playing catch up

Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 117


can't take the bush out of the rose

I have been called
from those lips
as of late,
"My delicate flower."

I have taken on
in my hips and flushed face
a rosiness
that returns the kiss
of this new power:

a buzzed, holy head
biting my neck
with hunger ever-urgent -
ever holding on
to two weeks left,

before I have to skip this town
like my hop-scotch stone, thrown,
bruised my heart and the ground
where his bed is drawn
like summer chalk,

before I am cut for a new bouquet.
I wild cling to my pink,
sweet, wild stains, in the meantime,

and the dewdrops from this life on the bush -
this time
of real rain.


the longest alarm clock notes I have ever heard

this morning,
more of the joy confined to April -
this April,
my budding voice,
the year's skipping of showers
It wanted to be gray,
but these days -
he and I have made them flutter
like shy bluebirds.

oh, this morning,
I saw the white sky give up,
and Thursday splashed through the window
to see us wrapped up together,
fucking with intention
first in early silence,
then straight through his alarm.

He said something in Russian, with my name in it,
and I said, "you can tell me if you want."
He said I probably already knew.
I kissed him hard.

right through the alarm.

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 945



settling for less than
asked, the Universe
tasked, gathers together verse
synonomous to precision words she
basked in; candlelight ambiance
while soaking with honey brandy
in hand, relaxing back in the
bathtub filled to the rim with


Any amazing find in abundance
she was happily ever after
tacked to the vision board
in her mind

Darling, to yourself be kind

in whatever you've lacked in
and let it happen

for Ahavati with Love


Lost Thinker
United States
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Joined 25th Mar 2018
Forum Posts: 29

Stop Lying to Me!

People misunderstand so very easily
With some very simple subjects that all can see
Why lie to my face when youíre caught in the act
Slowly changing your story, this is how you react?
I know that youíre fibbing but I wonít call you out
Iíll let you trip over yourself and what itís about
Waiting for it to come back and bite you in the ass
I know this seems harsh and a little bit crass
But I love seeing liars get their just dues
Thatís why I always try to just tell the truth
Itís the habitual liars I just donít understand
When theyíre caught in the lie and just stand
Making up excuse after excuse with lies so quick
Will never unravel with the lies oh so thick
Come on let it out youíre only fooling yourself
And all this stress cannot be good for your health
Not that you really care to take ownership
Though your fast with a joke or some quip
You pretend to be everyoneís friend but who knows
Your nose is getting longer, just grows and grows
How deep are you now, can you even see the light
Can you claw your way back up, do you have the fight
Iím not sure if you do anymore, if you know what itís like
To deal with everything, not set aside what you dislike
Itís not how the real world works in this bubble that you have
Itís not unicorn farts and butterflies, sometimes itís a drag
Someday you will wake up and I pray that you see
Where little white lies will never trump pure honesty
Come little one, let me show you how the real world really is
So you can grow up and learn all about this

To drown

They say come back from the waters edge
It only makes me want to go further
The colors seems less vibrant to me now
And all I can see is the glittery surface
Rising to meet me as I keep my pace
If I dare to keep walking breathing will slow
Water will enter my throat
But will I shake or shudder in fear
Will colors become vibrant again
I donít know, the chaos is far away

Itís only peaceful here

Thereís no telling me what to feel
What to wait for, who to be
Whom I should meet and wait to love
All these years and so much wasted time
Going with the status quo again and again

But I donít want to anymore

I donít want people to love me only phyiscially

I need something more now
Something my ever dwindling family cannot provide

I want my own.

I want to linger on those moments.
I want to help and to be helped
I want to love and to be loved
Not to be told the next guys who gets you is lucky?

Why canít it be you?
Why canít you be right for me?

*double posting today to make up for yesterday. Caught a cold*

Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Joined 3rd Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 211


Living with your judgement
daily exercise is shame
taunting my unworthiness
unable to diffuse blame

scornful ridicule
propelling humiliation
reinforcing beliefs
of eternal damnation

defeating words repeated
chorus for indignity
sustained in disesteem
rearing malignity

your disgust quite obvious
I cling to disgrace
bearing your contempt
confidence has no place

this mirror I possess
reflects inner lamentation
although faulty in its mockery
manifests my fixation

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1797

Anatomy of Loss



Deja senti, or so now I feel
presence within the memory well
reforming our destiny again

Water of Life from the central Source
glassine in natural element;
such a pure and flowing remembrance

No paranormal needing explained
simple organics personified
creating a free-will circumstance

Arthritic bones, olden and hinged
creak beneath aged sinew and flesh
of our third dimensional Beings

Atrophied shale of retired muscle
rocks gently a sagging train of thought
requiring no intuition for this;

When all is quiet, and all is done
Others won't remember what you said
nor what it was you did, even when;
only how you made them feel

And that's the entire Truth of it

. . .


For my J, with Love 💜

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 30th Oct 2016
Forum Posts: 161


To Be Seen

First proclaimed in the year
Madonna reached half century
another day to celebrate
whatís made evident to be blessed
26th of Aprilís breadth
visibility on the breeze
what was covert is now made plain
a healthy wind that still blows

Itís the day to be seen
out of closets into day
for the fair that love the same
walking tall without shame
by the singles or the pairs
itís still pure no matter what
beauty found and then proclaimed
fealty to lifeís desire.

Relationships bloom from loveís loam
too long buried in plain sight
what was hid is now
bearing fruit for futureís gain
whatís once kindled none should forsake
no longer should the door be closed
celebrating the joy of self
shared with others in loveís embrace.

Alistair Plint
Dangerous Mind
South Africa
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Joined 24th July 2012
Forum Posts: 911

Polyamorous With A Family

Sometimes, a man has to write
a man has to write
He could slap it
in erotic
Choose self
slam an observation
call it love
if you lucky
He'll add it to dark
tag it erotic

Or he may
just go completely metalic
and green

Truth is
When a man has to write
what a man
has to write
It's not what's
written between
the < Title>
and < / end>
that counts for shit

See a man with a book
and an eye
the feline
the poem

Just to fit a last line
that leaves
our flogger
hot wax
nipple clamps
electronic shocker
while you hang from galvanised chains

My application for consent
was granted from the Goddess
She's colouring in her Rule Book
Pop on to South Africa
We'll have you
< /end>

Entry 27
Letters to Society, God, Jade
& The Goddess
GloPoWriMo 2018
Posted April 27th

9. Poet : Write a poem about another DUP poet, and why you enjoy their work. Extra Kudos if that poet writes about you.   (My reply to Jade-Pendora)

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


My Little Quiet Place

My little quiet place
My tiny space
Whispers lies, speaks hate
Locks me in, alone
But not really left alone
This isnít safe
Get me away
Oh wait, my mistake
My mind I cannot escape
So let me die
Suffer in this base
My little quiet place

Time keeps ticking
My heart keeps beating
When will it stop
When will I finally be okay
Out with the fog that polluted my dreams
Even sleep is torturous
Give me a break
Let me out
Of my happy space
My saving grace
My little quiet place

Give me comfort!
Give me peace!
Destroy this house
Let it decease
Like me
A troubled young soul
Begging for release
From this living hell
This damn space
Iíll never erase
My little quiet place

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