Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020 Competition

7/30

Somehow

Someday I'll hear her where she remains,
somewhere in the old room
where part of me still lives.

Someday I'll kiss the sky to reach her
where she resides in me.
Somehow she will be waiting
in my shadow.

Don't worry, my Horizon,
you will forget her
as my knees will remember loving her,
and reaching up only to fall.
I'll pick myself up to fall from her mouth
as words unspoken, dying, sputtering.

Someday I'll become myself and find her
gone to become the sky.

I'll look up and call her Mother
when wrath rains down
and the Heavens cry;

Then her shadow will become
the most beautiful part of me.

       .....

#OceanVuong

#8 Of 30


Fear Of Action


I am waiting
With a secret yearning
To be closer to your heart
Feel it’s soothing beat

Calm my thunder inside
Give me those lips
Burning dreams play with intensity
Will whispers touch

Suddenly drowning
Treading waters of desire
Let me drink
From that loving cup

Soulful salvation
Could be at hand
For both of us
Just listen


Total Words: 58
Unique Words: 53

#7
Cranky in Nova Scotia

I’m tellin ya,
the arse is gone right out of ‘er today.
I’m feeling some crooked.
This isolation has me ready to bite someone’s head off.
My knickers are in a twist and
I’m gonna blow a gasket,
or maybe biff something through my screen.
I’m going off the deep end,
hot under the collar
and owly as fuck.

Just a bag of nerves,
honest to frig,
I’m crazy as a bag of hammers.
My whole day went arse over tea kettle,
and my nose is out of joint.
Holy mackerel,
I guess my brain must be busted
‘cause I’m feeling right stunned.

Hey listen, Mr come-from-away,
if you want to scoff at my temper
and the funny things I say,
just go on, Buddy, you giv’er!
Fill yer boots! Laugh away!

7 / 30

supply + demand

The most peculiar thing
about human life doing this
tip-toe stop
and barely balancing

is who seems
to have been flicking the earth,
whizzing the top.
what kind of force.
Because anyone who’s thought about it
at all
knows
it’s about something more

than the chank of cash registers,
of transactions galore,
of gimme this for that,
and the more you need it,
fuck it, I’ll charge more -
more,

it is so fucking ugly
that there’s no other way to say it,
that if you’ve thought about the magic,
the insanity that is
the fact of life,
of waking up to this every morning,

looking out of whatever window
at the moment
you’re affording -

it’s so ugly
to ponder and find
that if you open up a body’s door
and peek behind it -
the cell walls of each being
concealing the power to love one another
and process these things called feelings -
looking out of eyes at all,
having a head for the reeling -

hideous that - well, the question -
would we have gotten this far
if not for finding out
how to put want,
dissatisfaction,
desire
and debt
into other people’s mouths

and reel in?

that paying, paying, paying
is all we can handle
and charging, charging, charging
is the beat of blood here

is keeping me safe

the fact a healthy life
needs to submit
to so much funding,

of someone somewhere
needing, desperately,
something.

When you stop and notice
that the ads coat every surface
Pump into my ears
here at home
where they leave the TV on -

it’s the one thing I can’t rip my awareness from,
and the one thing I can truly call ugly.
unfeeling.

like rats coming back,
it was always around,
but now it is frozen
for staring.
the stocks.

The moneyworld has stopped.
We can’t maintain a thing.

The paint is peeling.

7 of 30


This New Day, Raison D'etre


Let me show you
Through the soft and gentle folds
Of fabric stitched with a fine silk threading
My raison d'etre

See there in the yellows of sun
And the pinks of this special moon
A new season
And reason to bloom

I have had days too long
And nights that fought the dawn to come
I have been so tired
From lonesome walks that I placed first foot in surely

But there are heavenly eyes that have brightened to see my arrival
And my eyes would shine to see yours

Of possessions
I need none but this
A loving glove for my hand that feels good in yours
To cover past fortunes told

But covered only a little while
until the comfort found in our grasp
Is as easy and familiar
As you once thought it used to be

NaPo 7/30

Tetrachromat

Rods and cones
Go together like butter and scones,
Helping the eyes to drink up the tea of life,
From daytime to the nightlife.
Sometimes if you're lucky,
You'll be able to see more of the world, fancy,
For the gods will grant you another scone,
For you to enjoy, with mind-blown.
I've been blessed to see betwixt
Colors intermixed.
I remeber when I was a wee bairn,
With mine eyne, I could discern
Between marker duplicates that ended up in my box,
And rather unorthodox,
Would organize them all by cap color,
Because some of the duplicates had a lighter or slightly off-tone color,
Though I knew it didn't matter which one I picked to draw with, for the ink was the same color.
I have always been an artist as well as a poet,
Which I would never give up for a minute.
I am greatful to the gods for the bounty they have bestowed upon me,
For I would not be me
Without it.
Seeing all these glorious, peace bringing, colors as I have been wont to,
I humbly say thank you,
For making me who I am to-day, true.

7/30

Just a Little

The words are not coming to me tonight
It’s not like I’m preoccupied by some greater plight
Nor do I have a million worries or woes
I guess that’s just how sometimes this goes
I have an idea like many others of my craft
While it isn’t much, it’s something to give back
To ease a little discomfort from the heroes that are
Who travel to the hospitals where there jobs are
If I can do just a little to help them out during this stress
It isn’t much and it isn’t the best
But try I must as every little bit counts
For the ones I can, better off than without


Unique words: 82

7/30

Kaleidoscope

Truth or a compassionate lie / What makes attraction die / Placating wry / Aiming for the sky / Lane adjusts / Switch out my pen for a sunset paintbrush /  Another one writes their lust / No biting, all self-trust / Delighting in breaking past the crust / Blasting is never enough / Passing the crime / Catching up / Normalizing deviance / Nobody reading between that much / Keen. Must climb / Dreaming of us signs / Time and stress. / Kindly find one and the other becomes less. / Motherfucker of a test sometimes / And the best doesn’t get a golden fiddle / Blessed castles get whittled / Turn the page / Riddles engage / A little of the archaic page / Middle aged gutter sage says / “Young and making it”, / Running to scrape it / No escaping, no fate / Every day I awake is a way to gain elevation with every statement / Quaking chops / My train of thought run hots because I was trained to go hard with all I got / From bottom to top / Fluidity affixed / Monopolizing the ripple of “What if?” / Riding my upvote because through my kaleidoscope? / Everywhere is blue and crisp, / Quaint and just fits. / When the day finally spills / Every particle and wave stands still, / Nightfall lands and instills an unmanned quill.

7/10

My Little Lucky Bean

“Here you go!”
What’s this?
A little lucky bean?
She handed it so adamantly
It really got me wondering
Why she chose to gift me
With this peculiar thing
All curled up
Shriveling
I even named him Larry
Did I just name a legume?
That’s scary...
But as my shift grew long
And stressful
My little lucky bean
Came in handy
Just chilling in my jacket
Cheering me on
How surprising
Thank you for this treasure
And whatever thought provoked me
To hold onto someone’s rejected item
Making me undeniably happy
And lucky

7/30

The Door and its Nail]

There were mechanics-    
i had to bump determinately
this one sweet
spot
with hip, but also
press a palm, as against a heartbeat    

to want
to search
humanity with the nerve ends of a palm
and cherub cheeks of fingertips
if wrong
if nothing happens
we
reorient hand lower
to press the panel with a creak
for the unjamming

i can’t explain this habit without

a brain working ahead of time
saying without saying- try this, try this alter-

native, I had naively accepted my lot

to never open the door without this combination

hip, palm, detour the nail

every
time

it’d nail me

one day
the day our house nearly burnt down

the house came alive
every plank was talking and humanity had
a
loose epiphany, parochial nail

the old child inside said epigenetic-  
I said, freedom is epic and grabbed the head
it slid out l
ike air
like prophecy

i shoved

the dark panel so it'd rebound
apart from its frame, and
like a thumb-ful of raccoon-
it opened

this annunciation of a door,

and i
thumbed my nose, said- see,

years of martyring my position
came of no use

in riddling that sacrifice

I had
accepted my situation
with no ancient culture

to consul
for a parable
of the nail and its door

here, I
made my own    
demarcation of womb  

a book goes unread    
in nature's survival of things.

but the door opens
and opens to

who’s out there
besides time



148/246 words

8 of 30

Holding Back Reality
(c) Sweet Oblivion 8.4.20

You cannot take me far away, because
They will not let us travel in huge balloons;
We cannot sail for eighty days: this loss
Of transportation, means all my swoons
And faints at tales of voyages through wild
And wondrous landscapes, must be things of dreams,
Skype is our verbal lifeline - freed from mild,
Magnolia walls, each reverie redeems
Itself by being secret and unbanned
By the authorities - while we stay still
And murmur in our moonlights, we have planned
To love so many places, (which we will
As we find great escapes); though we don't move,
We hold reality at one remove.  

86 unique words
103 words

(8/30)

Barterers

We need to barter before Corona slaughters us all
Instead of being gluttonous because we want the ball
This is a call to action for every faction reading this
It's time to be team players and dish the assist

Divisiveness will not get us any closer to progression
It'll just aid and abet this pandemic led depression
Persuasion of the nation seems to be futile
So we'll remain in isolation for quite awhile

None

8/30

A Heart Is Merely A Pump

The weight of a mans heart is barely 300grams
a woman's slightly less
and beyond the fatalistic beating

60-80 of those a minute

pumping life into the furthest reaches of the cosmos
as science reveals connections in the human brain
link beyond that of the stars in the sky

I burn for the curled warmth
of your breath on my face
tickling
inviting me to stare
into the unknown

the abyss that stares back

my breath quickens
pulse races and all 300grams of
me pounds as if I am sprinting
from death
as if the maelstrom of ideas I hold
are phantoms leaking out
being consumed by the simple act of holding you

cocooned in Sanskrit
writings calligraphed on you skin in indelible ink
invisible to those who refuse to see beyond the surface

I see lines I want to trace out and whisper in the dark

scribe those words on all 300grams of my beating insanity

taste your taboos
kiss them
until they’re integrated
so I can help you conquer your dreams
not stand in the way and strip you of your triumph
but to shield you from wounds that would altogether be fatal if I wasn’t there

I find some kind of gorgeous huger
in the suffering of fools in love
as if a heart beating battery acid
and a mind clouded in dizzy fogs are all that matter

I burn for you
ache to join in the topography of your flesh
breathe your sanguine  perfume
to sample a moment of awe
hair raised in shivering piloerection

I melt

Aristotle believed the heart was a lamp that kept us warm
mine surges into wildfire
whenever I read the depth of you

engraved in all 300grams
of my lifes blood