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Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo Competition

Dangerous Mind
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Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 748

Gatling Gun(ned)
(Thirteen of 30 -- Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2019)

in the present might very well
be the antagonist of
rue and regret.
However, assuming the role
of oppugnant may not suffice
for perfervid ligatures have
proven to be a powerful
ally and conduit to the past.

When we kick out past pain
memories full of abusive bile
and fucking predators’ lies
to the curb……………

Does this liberate us from the past?

Three times today
Once a day
A bazillion times
a day
How much is too much?
Gatling gunning us with
an array of negative lead
and the shrapnel carving
we who want to help.

I would willingly take the
fucking short sword, the one
that causes the throbbing
the acute dull deadening pain
and despite my lack of emotional
Honor with a Seppuku* act
This is not Feudal Japan, home of
my ancestors and Brothers
Honorable Samurai.

I cannot and will not dishonor
Love and Kindness………..


There have been far worse ways
for us to harm each other
of our past attachment

In the blink of an eye………..
We are vaporized.


(I want to add forget but I guess it’s not that easy)
_______________________ _  
196 words  
133 unique
Honorable suicide committed by Samurai after they have shamed themselves or are failed their masters. Samurai could be ordered to commit suicide by their lords (Daimyo)
The samurai would disembowel himself, and when the pain got to be too much to where he might shame himself, his second would decapitate him.

Fire of Insight
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Joined 6th Jan 2019
Forum Posts: 98



I noticed the moon last night
On my way to the laundry shop
After almost a month of not seeing her in the sky
I missed the sight of her gracing the night with her light

More than half of her face was veiled by darkness
Yet her radiant glow was enough to light the earth below her and the path I walked on
Stars were scattered around her
Giving off their little sparks

Tonight I see her again but she looks melancholic in that pedestal she stands on
Her light is paler and dull than when I saw her last night

I have seen her more than a thousand times
Lighting the night sky since I was a child
But I never tire of admiring her luminous radiance and beauty
It was her face that stirred my young mind into dreaming
That filled me with wonder and awe as I gazed at her in those early years of my life

There's something magical about the moon
That pulls me to look up at the sky on a moonlit night
The sight of her inspires me to dream
To wander into lanes of memories
To that time in my life
When I was still a child living by the sea.


Fire of Insight
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Joined 9th Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 279

Беспредел ~ i
13 ov 30

мой солнечный свет ~

здесь следует мой надрыв ...
... отвести взгляд

 Я люблю тебя всей душой

~  Екатерина

you cast blind shadows ...

stir jasmine brewed in viper's venom,
tap-tap a locust leg on the delicate rim;
orange blossoms bloom in the steam
dispersing tatters ov pale leaves_
they would dance & settle into runes
were i not so blind to anything
but the yellow scorpion crawling from your throat

desiccated moths spill from
self-inflicted wounds,
i break fragile limbs from their husks
to suture my bloody places
{do they wail & scream
as i do}
do they writhe in agony when i
crucify their wings to my eyelashes
and wish upon a never...
... tell me,
i can't hear anything over my spun sugar illusion shattering

a hunched cairn ov nightingale bones
vomiting a seething mass ov maggots
from somewhere beneath my racing heart,
thorns grow from my spinelessness, i
murmur feverish litinies to
the fire in my veins, leach it from myself
in increments
{love letters on my alabaster skin
do you understand, darling man}
i am drawing ashen gifts for you in the chaos

... wouldn't the courtesy kill you too?

Nathaniel Peter
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 18th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 414



conversations in passing
a stranger barely acquainted
lodged complaints relapsing
behold the view of the world you painted
tell me again what is a matter of fair
scaled to compliance, hostage to circumstances
scapegoat community the knives that we bear
cut throat routines of our mundane romances
insignificant others, use me or call me obstacle to your own endeavor
small talk placation, tell me about the sky, all we are is yesterdays weather
storm clouds contrast to sunnier perceptions
the same light casts two different shades
I would trade my brightest night for your darkest days
enviable comparison for eyes discontented by the lies of all we lack
yearning for where you want to be
tell me who you were versus who you are and thank God when you look back
I'm not who I was but I'm still becoming who I am
enduring time and every effort feels like keep away
when expectation is the empty promise of results without the price
tell me about your dreams, what are you willing to sacrifice?
it's all a matter of learning how to spend the time we say we don't have to give
when every day goes squandered
you may be breathing, but do you know what it means to live?

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 752



I woke up at 2:56am out some erotic nightmare,
   Looking over at you like WTF?
A dream like some streamed meme I’ve never seen,
   A selfie of you with the caption, DTF!
I wanted to wake and take you in my loving arms,
   And tell you “Don’t you ever do that again”,
But my snide pride would not let me slide on over,
   So I thought I get this on paper and pen.

Hours later as I drove to work in the bright morning sun,
I thought to myself, maybe she meant downtown Fullerton.

95 Words
72 Unique

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 31st Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 492



In the shower this morning
I brushed by the goosebumps
on my right thigh with my hand.
The taut pricks of skin
making each hair stand straight up
made me want to feel your goosebumps,
and your relaxed skin too,
and the skin that you have shaved,
and the skin you haven’t shaved
with its soft curls,
and the super soft and special skin
that almost feels polished and shiny,
and the folded skin
comprising your
smiling eye wrinkles,
and the thin skin
on the top of your head
that’s hard to really feel
because of all your luxuriant hair,
and the tiger stripe skin
on your sides that reveals
you have tectonic plates
(I know you get self-conscious
But the fault-lines feel
topographically spectacular),
and that edgy skin you have
in special
usually concealed
that’s harder yet
more sensitive somehow,
and that sodden skin you have
if you can call it skin
inside your cheeks
and other spots.


Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2009
Forum Posts: 6399


Circle Concepts

In all things there are two halves, each part complementing the other, not an opposite
theirs is a nature of duals, scarcely duels
the contrast and other merely seen through a mirror that distorts reflection
inner and outer peace achieved through combining pieces
expressed collaboration rather than confrontation
the shady side beside sunny side both sides of a single hill
that is nourished, maintained and developed by each side's aspects;
the hill being a challenge to climb, moving ever upwards, and simultaneously a slope to rest against, to stop and contemplate,
the darker places and lighter places in life being of equal value
though circumstance may paint them differently,
so that a unique tree can grow on such a hill which has roots that burrow below and leaves that look upwards,
equilibrium achieved through different means:
the natures and aspects diverse not divisive;
the facets similar to a worm cut into two halves, that regenerate and move on to have different lives
yet each sharing a bond and connection
that is indivisible and inseparable despite any divergences
so it is that the whole is formed through halves
not necessarily equal or always balanced but in a state of fluctuation, ever transforming.
the hill ever proceeding through the seasons
for better and for worse, eroding and growing whilst the tree may bloom or wither,
the dynamic interrelated interaction that melds and connects all together
unified by a universal underpinning element.
no single solitary thing having sway over everything
as though an illusive circle that only appears when its segments swirl
that without the eternal whirling eddy cannot create a vortex
in turn assembling shapes in the shifting movement,
such is it identity and existence are perceptual
both established by definition and vagueness,
the tree defying description yet still having concept and character, its true essence unknown,
the concept of is preceding anything else
where being is a natural occurrence; established then formed and classified.

(Unique words: 200.)

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 12th June 2017
Forum Posts: 909

April' Fool


For Our Ancestors When We Meet

when looking into a mirror, my mother gazes back
with that twinkle in her eye, evidence of the love
she offered, never being short of having enough
for all who entered her life.    

as I repair a chair, broken in rough house play
I recognize the hands and skills of my father,
taught to me during the many patient hours spent
at his side while growing up

eating a piece of buttermilk pie or any of an assortment of dishes
I taste the thoughtfulness of my grandmother, for she always
made sure no one walked away hungry from her table
even insisting the leftovers be taken home by her guests.

even today when our family gathers to enjoy time
with one another, it is my grandfather's sense of humor
that is prevalent in many conversations and good natured
ribbing exchanged amongst the smiling faces

we all are but a composite of our ancestors, a miniscule
piece of each and perhaps someone else's as well, borrowed
and held close during our journey through life.
and when I meet you, it will be with these pieces of them
for to do less would be a dishonor to their memory

205 words, 139 unique

Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 150


brassy windy saturday sings

I have to lend a little more belief to the love I give you.
I softened your petals, at least,
my dark and lovely flower,
if I couldn't make you perk up.
You've been on artificial sunshine,
so it follows -
but I am here
in this city that is a meadow to me,
keeping this windy day
from stealing you
all the way away.
Brass sails over the streets -
the tuba jaunts
and the sax, the trumpets weave;
snares strike a march down
to the spot
where I watch the world and read.
You are at work
wishing for sleep,
I know,
but I'll be here
to smile what I can
through the clouds,
to your leaves.

And when I go tomorrow morning,
this city will be stuck in my head again,
the same tune as you,

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2523


Proverbs  [ NaPoWriMo 2019 Collection ]

II. The Giving Tree    

 iv. Appointed

 I wasn't planted by hands
 but earthen sod, soft
 from rain; a footstep
 pushing me underground

 Then darkness, perhaps cold
 who can remember centuries ago
 those mysteries of the womb
 how bones and branches grow

 Survival becomes nature's lottery-
 her die casted declaration war
 upon life's lot; roots choking
 out each other's passage rites

 Life is precarious; no breath
 guaranteed between breathing-
 that empty space deciding
 whether you continue living:

 suffer felling, cleared
 for constructed death;
 because strength knows
 nothing more than weakness

 about our appointed days
 be it nature or man-
 despite charting them ourselves
 . . .

words- 98
unique - 98


Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 21st Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 449

Poem 13 of 30

Dear burgeoning Star Jasmine
On purpose left to overgrow.
To welcome in the season,
put on a Springtime show

Your tiny blossoms, brilliant white, blanketing a verdant sky.
Perfume attracting acolytes.
Honeybees to flowers fly.

Fragrance gone, now brown petals fall.
New growth encroaches on human pathway.
To prune you gives no pleasure at all.
Your beauty remains in well-trimmed display.

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1217



Defying not just gravity
but all manner of limitations;  
more than southern Starling -
she's larger than life

An emu taking flights;
Aeronautic Vigilante
You'd do well taking lessons -
Spread your wings too!

Taking healthy bites
from  baddass Thesaurus Rex
who thinks he owns the block
Head not buried in the sand

No kowtowing, house bound
domesticated egg laying hen
she is, but a peacock instead -
majestic on throne of plumage

for Ahavati with Love 💜💑💋

inspired by the style of Emily Dickinson

Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 58

2am Donuts


you walked me to my car
like a true gentleman
I held it together as we said goodbye
but cried when you went inside

I felt like such a baby
I'm glad you didn't see my tears
but at the same time
I wanted you to

I cried on the drive home
I didn't want to walk in
with my face all red and splotchy
so I stopped for donuts

I don't care what they think of me
at the donut shop at 2am
so I dried my tears on my sleeve
and ordered two with the creamy filling

I ate one in my car
music blasting away my sadness
I didn't feel quite as lonely anymore
but I knew it would return

so I saved the other one for home
so that when I got back
I could be a little bit happy
before going to bed

and sleeping
without you

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 169

13/30  Johnny-Jump-Ups

Well, a trip to the garden center just for Johnny-
Jump-Ups must have been hardly a flight of fancy
given traffic; they grew everywhere and were
practically a weed once they got away.  

Popping up on lawns for years to come once
planted anywhere, those itty-bitty pansy faces
would always naturalize to white, purple and
yellow once gone wild.

But they were too darling not to add to planters
in Spring, so they were purchased in flats along
with other things.  

                   81 words, 65 unique

Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 1st Nov 2017
Forum Posts: 114


Fountainhead: Notes of an Online Journal


And in the cavalier of disregard
down alleyways back in the days,
I thought I knew romantic minds until
I found a place of loss of which
rare coins were tossed into a fountainhead.

A snapshot, a capture of this
that never changed in spite the worn veneer,
the bawdy steeped in gaudy cheap
atop the silent limestone catacombs;
the sewers’ dead below the streets.

Of hustlers and bistros above, each side,
dim along the darkened runways
elegance of the grand age of old wealth
and gilded masks in carriages
of dressage in the gaslight Paris nights.

The grande scheme no more; a facade,
a cabaret, the carnival of an
off-key honkytonk. And here the
lovers stroll bridges where shadows
from street lamps above they seek where others
still can plainly see their stillborn
remonstrants, like finesse and appliqué,
as they do, along les Champs-Élysées.

10/8/10/8/10 Alternating syllable line count throughout.
106 unique words

NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2019

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