Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020 Competition

None

30/30

The Topsy-Turvy World

There’s an encyclopedia of little people  
in the inverted topsy-turvy world
of my turkish coffee cup
with little feet, teensy-weensy teeth
swinging itty-bitty toothpicks like swords
quarreling small talks and big thoughts
with their army of red ants.

They swarm over ravine of swills
muddy hills; a black & white kingdom
moonless
sunless
godless, tunnels and streets.

Jami’s toll announces
الله أكبر
tongues tied in knots
nailed to palms
pilgrims sit cross legged on Kilims
woven in blood of Cochineal
playing chess
bartering for goats and oats
mustaches twirled like Omar Sherif.

Their giant ears interlard gramophones’
wing-ding jabber spiraling into a dark storm
looming on the black forest
swamped in murky tears.  

Tentacles rise from the depths, snaking
circumference of trunks in discontent
the subterranean revolution of wars
of a war
for a war
no one recalls which one
but the fight must go on
in the little world
of twirling dervishes, teeny imps
mini talks, big thoughts
herd of goats
and
gigantic
monumental
egos with no oath.

# 30 of 30

Fashionista! #15: Flattening the Curve
(Manhattan tiger lockdown)


Well here I am, the panic’s got me caged
Just like a million others in this town.
I wouldn’t mind if it were all the rage
In quarantine while COVID’s going round.

My daughter’s doing lessons on her Pad
Secluded in her room the way she likes.
I’m catching up on all the latest fads
In fashion ads last Fall betwixt the spikes.

It isn’t spikes that has me feeling down
Or even that there’s not much to live on.
Manhattan is my home & my playground,
A party that I’d throw all weekend long;

For when there was no social distancing,
The sexy guys who’d join me on a date.
Then back up to my place for wine & flings
When having them as dinner couldn’t wait.

I think upon those days, my tummy growls,
I call the pizza man to come and serve.
My smartphone does what I’d do if I prowl,
Deliver sans the cheese, flatten the curve!

GREETINGS GREAT POETS! And I do mean GREAT! If you've found your way to Mars, congratulations! You are almost home!

To those who have already crossed the finish line, congratulations!  We'll be doing ( or catching up on ) the parade of countries as each representative crosses first from their respected country later this morning, so stay tuned!  

EPISODE 30/30

BREAKTHROUGH!

And there was much celebratory festivation!

While everyone was cheering one another other for completing NaPoWriMo 2020, having penetrating beyond the Great Writer's Blockade - the Webmistress went straight to work creating Tropheees as fast as she could with the Stanza's Replicator, to be handed out after their return home.

DUG was reunited with the much revered beloved Muses, containing all the poetry of Earth's most beloved poets.

When we return to Earth, he tenderly said to the sacred books, I will keep you on a very high library shelf.

And that's when the champagne glasses started to slowly slide across the tables portside.

"We seem to tilting off axis," said Mister So Long, brushing away terminal mites and checking the monitors. "Sensors indicate a growing unknown gravitational field pulling us towards it. All People In Charge Of This Heap - what are your orders?!"

And as everyone quieted down and gathered before the Bridge's widescreen television, the leaning became more pronounced.

It wasn't a red dwarf.

It wasn't a black hole.

It was ... a space whale so enormous with a gravity field warranting its very own time zone!

"Warped Factored Let's Blow This Joint right now!" Commander Deannavati instructed!

But as much as they hit the gas pedal, the Stanza began orbiting the whale closer and faster!

That's when the alarms went off alerting them to the ejection of an escape pod.

"Farewell, my brave Federation Wardens and Poetfleet Cadets!" said DUG while BATMAN piloted the pod onto a direct collision course with the blow hole of the mammoth creature. "I pray we meet again under equally jubilant circumstances!"

"NOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo!  wailed the Webmistress as her loyal companion approached certain doom.

And that's when DUG turned to page 192 of the Muses: Volume 5 and began reciting Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken, creating a Blue Spork in the fabric of Time and Space just as he disappeared into the darkness of the beast's nasal cavity.

There was a bright flash.

The whale was gone along with the most heroic Earthworm they'd ever known.

Everyone lamented the tragic losses.

"Oh, they'll be fine," said Captain Blaze as he retrieved a stack of dusty books out from the Bridge's entertainment center.

It was the Muses ... but their leather bound covers were much weathered than ever before ..?!

Deannavati turned to everyone and said, "I forgot to mention - we recovered these from a cave near Stonehenge about three months ago. And now we know how they got there. It seems DUG went back into the Far Heroic Past, somehow ended up on Earth and left these for us to find!"

And there was much ooohing and ahhhing, because this meant a new adventure was in store for everyone come Stardate April 1st, 2021!

"Cue the Theramin," said Blaze



 

30 of 30

Nothing Like a Prayer
(sonnet)

I’m on my knees but nothing like a prayer.
For this… is not for view of godly eyes.
Too many faces, too much lost despair;
The corpses piled like shrines to facts’ despise.

The barker king, who seethed at teen’s retweet
That owned his ancient ass in Twitter wars,
Is still the author of his own defeat,
Now drinking bleach, a cure we should explore!

‘Kay so, listen, I know how hard this is,
He’s never really been not that into you.
“Your wrong, the Fox just told me I’m still his,
I have his hat and MAGA love is true!”

As true love heart beats stop, I’m on my knees,
Blind faith is deadlier than this disease.

92 unique words

(thirty of 30 - Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020)
sesquipedalian

i truly thought my ability to become the brook
i often find myself babbling about, here
and in real life would strengthen and enable
me to power through this poem a day for
thirty straight days. . .

This has not been the case!
i found myself many times in the Deep
(end of the pond) treading water, hoping
for a blinding bit of inspiration
if but for one day, at least!

But nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!
Instead, i dribbled, spilled, threw up (arms)
in floccinaucinihilipilification desperation
posting what i was certain is crap only to find
it relatable, comical or wonderful
for many readers – Huh?  (& Wow?!!)

and now, finally, this self exploring & torture
is winding down towards a much needed
rest and repast and for some weird reason
i find i am going to miss this. . .
a wee bit.

Only a little bit --
in May it’s back to being indolent!!


____________________
#NaPoWriMo2020
151 words  
109 unique

30/30

some final words about some final things that don’t mean much of anything

I’ve  growled my frustration
at the wayward ceilings turned to floors
we ditched the roll cage
heard dogs praying to the moon
as the wind plays smash with trash cans
on the cold asphalt

I whittle down the edges until
the pencil is a nub and still
the words want out
out into space

I slash the tip of my finger
so I can ease the backlog of all the things
I didn’t know I had to say

for instance

insanity tastes like all the junk food I never needed
fills my mouth with the last draw of the last cigarette
followed by the last drops of bourbon in my glass
until all that was left of me was base
was gutter low
there again I never was a class act
like all the other degenerate renegade poets
boozing
womanising
smoking lung-fulls of carcinogens
whilst fighting like the earless ally car
you’re sure has rabies
because the fucking thing will go anything

some days I wonder if it was worth trading
those freedoms to be another
worker in the cog that keeps us going
it’ was fun on the outskirts picking of the stragglers and strays
rutting in the night
screams laid bare

a stone cold killer
hunting for that one meal
that might finally satiate
those things inside that most people
don’t dare look at

I make my bed
clawing at the hardened ground
padding round in circles
I lie down with my demons

30/30

The Every Day: The Finish Line

I strolled in, signed up, and without
a plan, dedicated myself
to one note per day.

There were no expectations
other than, Finish; therefore,

every day became an off-the-cuff
journey to pluck from the tornado
of my mind
a solitary thought or emotion;

etching them into the grooves
of a page- stained letters
forming pictures of love, sadness
and triumph.

Moments of self doubt were
licking my heels, threatening to
steal a most valuable prize.

But, despite carrying a head
full of doubt, three legs trampled
over themselves to reach
the finish line.



*NaPoWriMo2020*
65 unique words
95 total words

30/30

Until The End Of The World
( TEAM NAPO)

When the moon loses its lust
And the oceans swell to giant sized waves
When comets collide and sprinkle star dust
And the crazy’s howl from the shadows like slaves
When the sun diminishes its heat
And forces the Earth into another ice age
When the vagrants take over the street
And the pillaging breaks out into civil rage
When the Aliens appear
And abduct the people for experimental specimens
When the Ozone finally tears
And the pollution suffocates the air in reversal regimens
When the sun and moon become an infinite eclipse
And darkness becomes the sole ruler of man
When vampires open kissing booths on strips
And search for the virgins that are their #1 fan
When the zombies arise
And eats the world into a barren wasteland
When meteorites rain from the skies
And the preachers cry out “Repent for the end is at hand”
When earthquakes start to grumble
And swallow the planet from the inside out
When the hurricanes rumble
And the twisters cry out
When the sky illuminates with lightning
And the thunder roars in horrific intimidation
When the rain pours down so hard its exciting
And the true poet realizes his best creation
When all is destroyed in total despair
And all that’s left is 1 boy and 1 girl
Team NAPO will be there
Until the end of the world

( . . .shit )

NaPo 2020, April 30th

30/30

MORE THAN A ROLL OF THE DICE

The dog chewed on a homely bone
the cat pounced on a burrowing vole
the day dawned as the sun arose
then dusk descended as the sun sank —
I suppose you could say it’s synchronicity
or the way one can see a conspiracy
or maybe it’s simply complementary
how forces dance in the way they must be.

The flowers open in tune with the light
then close again in tune with the night
as Nature cycles with purposeful gain
but doesn’t resist the humans insane
destroying her forests, her wetlands and lakes
Nature replies for Heaven’s true sake
I do not fight back, I bend with the times
when history flows with humanity’s crimes
and as has been said by a wise man of old
when the last tree is cut you cannot eat gold
you cannot eat money in this debt-driven dream
and nothing you see is how it first seems …

so the dog gnaws the bone, a bone of the dead
while the cat eats live food, remaining well fed.