Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020 Competition
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
EPISODE 8/30
As the USS Stanza was travelling through Typer Space at Ridiculously Warped Speed, Chief Security Officer Summer Yar contacted the Bridge.
"Captain, Commander, Rear Admiral ... Christ, everybody! It appears we've had a security breach."
And appearing on the giant wide screen television was surveillance video footage of OrQ sneaking into an escape pod. Moments later, the pod ejected from the Stanza.
"Toh ghe'or?!" Warfyroo exclaimed as he rubbed the ridge on his forehead perplexedly. "Didn't we lose an escape pod already?!"
Spock-Josh was quick to explain.
"It appears that OrQ took advantage of quantum physics by jumping really high in the air just as we were entering Typer Space. Thus he was left behind in the immediate Past, through which he then leisurely wandered back into Episode Two and ejected."
"Wait," interrupted Captain Blaze, "this is hurting my brain ..."
"This is Science Fiction!" squealed Commander Deannavati, clapping her hands excitedly. "Anything can happen!"
"Oh, nooo!" Nurse Daisy cried out. "We're sliding because of all my fostered banana peels that are stuck to the Stanza's End Stop! We're going to zoom right by planet Quoteunquote!"
It was pandemonium on the bridge, as if were being filmed by a drunken cameraman. Fiftysevenhours was flung into vending machine, knocking loose all the Mars Bars. cabcool ended up like Oscar the Grouch in the garbage can. nomoth landed face first in Nurse Daisy's lemon curd pie.
And that's when T'PoetsRevenge dashed across the Bridge and like a soldier and a grenade, she flung herself Vulcan ears and all onto the Electromagnetic Ellipsis!
8/30
The Whore
Rain
drops
heavy
pounding the ground
like spaghetti water through sieve
merciless
exuberant glee.
The scene
drenched in a song
when we fumbled room to room
falling helplessly into silky sheets.
Giggles
drowned in nothings
whispered pixie in my ear.
Later,
when we knocked
golden daffodils in a vase.
I pretended not to care.
He offered to read Bukowski
“Prayer in bad weather”
bookmarked
yellow’d from lonely years
but instead,
I pulled the dictionary
Inquisitively thumbing
wildflowers and their roots
latin and common
pronouncing each word
with a flare
softly
elongated
with passing clouds.
He listened eagerly
sounds twisting lip to reap.
“Whore”
his voice cut
dipped in timbre.
“Would you want me to call you that?”
chartering waywardly in my eyes.
I turned the page slowly
scrolling to its origin.
“Whore” I repeated
foreign on my tongue:
Old English
Germanic
Dutch
German
Latin
“Carus”
“Yes, Dear,” I replied.
That’s when I understood
Buk and all his whores.
So loved..Oh love
Beloved.
The Whore
Rain
drops
heavy
pounding the ground
like spaghetti water through sieve
merciless
exuberant glee.
The scene
drenched in a song
when we fumbled room to room
falling helplessly into silky sheets.
Giggles
drowned in nothings
whispered pixie in my ear.
Later,
when we knocked
golden daffodils in a vase.
I pretended not to care.
He offered to read Bukowski
“Prayer in bad weather”
bookmarked
yellow’d from lonely years
but instead,
I pulled the dictionary
Inquisitively thumbing
wildflowers and their roots
latin and common
pronouncing each word
with a flare
softly
elongated
with passing clouds.
He listened eagerly
sounds twisting lip to reap.
“Whore”
his voice cut
dipped in timbre.
“Would you want me to call you that?”
chartering waywardly in my eyes.
I turned the page slowly
scrolling to its origin.
“Whore” I repeated
foreign on my tongue:
Old English
Germanic
Dutch
German
Latin
“Carus”
“Yes, Dear,” I replied.
That’s when I understood
Buk and all his whores.
So loved..Oh love
Beloved.
# 8 of 30
Covid19: Supermoon
You light up the sky
As you always do at night
When it is your turn
The world looks up in wonder
Seeing your luminescence
Full, bright supermoon
Shining brighter than diamond
Tonight I'm bewitched
By your ever dazzling charm
As I gaze up at the sky
A comforting sight
At this Unfortunate time
Of Covid nineteen
You light the night faithfully
From dusk till the break of dawn
You are no human
You cannot feel what I feel
On my sleepless nights
When anxiety visits me
Troubling my heart and mind
But tonight I'm glad
To see your bright beaming face
An image of pure beauty
I can think of when I sleep
And hope to see in my dream
Covid19: Supermoon
You light up the sky
As you always do at night
When it is your turn
The world looks up in wonder
Seeing your luminescence
Full, bright supermoon
Shining brighter than diamond
Tonight I'm bewitched
By your ever dazzling charm
As I gaze up at the sky
A comforting sight
At this Unfortunate time
Of Covid nineteen
You light the night faithfully
From dusk till the break of dawn
You are no human
You cannot feel what I feel
On my sleepless nights
When anxiety visits me
Troubling my heart and mind
But tonight I'm glad
To see your bright beaming face
An image of pure beauty
I can think of when I sleep
And hope to see in my dream
(eight of 30 - Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020)
Swevens
You are familiar with life
Your life flashing before
Your eyes prior to near
death or death. . .
. . .well for the past,
my past, a plethora
of sleeps
i’ve been dreaming of
past events of my
adult experiences.
No idea why --
No__
translation
inclination
interpretation
divination.
i should stop being
being indolent
get out my mirror
apply mineral water
and ask, hopefully,
related right
questions.
i am a wee bit out
of practice
but the dreaming
has not ceased
so scrying
is a definite
need for me.
___________________
#NaPoWriMo2020
87words
69 unique
Swevens
You are familiar with life
Your life flashing before
Your eyes prior to near
death or death. . .
. . .well for the past,
my past, a plethora
of sleeps
i’ve been dreaming of
past events of my
adult experiences.
No idea why --
No__
translation
inclination
interpretation
divination.
i should stop being
being indolent
get out my mirror
apply mineral water
and ask, hopefully,
related right
questions.
i am a wee bit out
of practice
but the dreaming
has not ceased
so scrying
is a definite
need for me.
___________________
#NaPoWriMo2020
87words
69 unique
8/30
Waking disappointment on a child's face
I shouldn't of come here,
not tonight,
too many mouths
that guzzle and gawp.
I want to sweep them with the buffet
into black plastic bags,
smash bottles into faces
slit several throats
with one coria graphed kata.
The rat has only just finished.
It wasn't content with three days
gnawing inside my muscles,
now it wants me to rot,
watch it run down my legs.
There's a resonance behind the bar
each liquid surface trembles.
I feel like a hunter breathing with the stag
as the optics rise and fall.
Then he's gone and I'm left with shredded
beer mats and soft drink labels,
enough confetti for a church wedding
or bedding for family of field mice.
The door opens and lets in
the outside.
I chromatograph the scent
of a thousand stale nights
wrapped in a cigarette smoke carrier,
trace elements I pick out and assemble
until I have that one drink
that isn't going to hurt anyone.
Waking disappointment on a child's face
I shouldn't of come here,
not tonight,
too many mouths
that guzzle and gawp.
I want to sweep them with the buffet
into black plastic bags,
smash bottles into faces
slit several throats
with one coria graphed kata.
The rat has only just finished.
It wasn't content with three days
gnawing inside my muscles,
now it wants me to rot,
watch it run down my legs.
There's a resonance behind the bar
each liquid surface trembles.
I feel like a hunter breathing with the stag
as the optics rise and fall.
Then he's gone and I'm left with shredded
beer mats and soft drink labels,
enough confetti for a church wedding
or bedding for family of field mice.
The door opens and lets in
the outside.
I chromatograph the scent
of a thousand stale nights
wrapped in a cigarette smoke carrier,
trace elements I pick out and assemble
until I have that one drink
that isn't going to hurt anyone.
#8
Love And Courage
courage means to
have bravery or valor
to love is not courage
love takes
neither bravery nor valor
love is easy
to love
is to accept
the beauty of
the human beside
you
to love
the girl at the mall
healthy fit
energetic sexy
youthful
to love
the teacher who
guides
nurtures
encourages
to love
the leader who
inspires
challenges
motivates
is simple
to love
is to accept
the beauty of
the human before
you
to love
is to acknowledge the
immortal immutable persistent
being
that exists
in the foul smelly
toothless animal
that reaches out
to beg
the politician who
conspires
compromises
imposes
the neighbor who
steals molests
gaslights
abuses
the lover who
judges
maligns
manipulates
to love
is to accept
the beauty of
the human before
you
to recognize
that imperfection is
the human state
for
to be perfect
would be to be
god
to love
the unlovable takes
bravery and
valor
to love is courage
Love And Courage
courage means to
have bravery or valor
to love is not courage
love takes
neither bravery nor valor
love is easy
to love
is to accept
the beauty of
the human beside
you
to love
the girl at the mall
healthy fit
energetic sexy
youthful
to love
the teacher who
guides
nurtures
encourages
to love
the leader who
inspires
challenges
motivates
is simple
to love
is to accept
the beauty of
the human before
you
to love
is to acknowledge the
immortal immutable persistent
being
that exists
in the foul smelly
toothless animal
that reaches out
to beg
the politician who
conspires
compromises
imposes
the neighbor who
steals molests
gaslights
abuses
the lover who
judges
maligns
manipulates
to love
is to accept
the beauty of
the human before
you
to recognize
that imperfection is
the human state
for
to be perfect
would be to be
god
to love
the unlovable takes
bravery and
valor
to love is courage
8/30
Ashes and Sackcloth
there are times
I wake up despondent
with no apparent cause
for my lamenting,
so I touch every loss
until they are
open wounds,
weeping for them
all over again
as if, perhaps
I missed something
the first time;
refusing to be undone
by this pathetic sorrow,
and growing tired
of my ashes
and sackcloth,
I think tomorrow
I’ll wake full of rage,
ready to do battle
in an empty room
with no one to blame
but myself,
I’ll blame them all
instead
and prepare to cut
my losses,
so that the next time
my soul needs to suffer
for no reason,
I’ll have someone new
to grieve
Unique Word Count: 79
Ashes and Sackcloth
there are times
I wake up despondent
with no apparent cause
for my lamenting,
so I touch every loss
until they are
open wounds,
weeping for them
all over again
as if, perhaps
I missed something
the first time;
refusing to be undone
by this pathetic sorrow,
and growing tired
of my ashes
and sackcloth,
I think tomorrow
I’ll wake full of rage,
ready to do battle
in an empty room
with no one to blame
but myself,
I’ll blame them all
instead
and prepare to cut
my losses,
so that the next time
my soul needs to suffer
for no reason,
I’ll have someone new
to grieve
Unique Word Count: 79
08/30
la vie de bohéme ~ {iv}
blossoming outside the confines ov expectation,
so deeply root'd in the bed ov dysfunction from which i
am fed, nourish'd
pluck'd by dawn {&} forc'd to wilt on
conformity's lapel
my edges turn'd to potpourri [primrose {&} (im)proper]
soften'd, shap'd into this serene bust 'neath which i
thrash/growl/scream
praying for cracks in the facade, a hairline
from which i
could ooze
black on alabaster, air my unexpect'd lungs like nak'd wings___
la vie de bohéme ~ {iv}
blossoming outside the confines ov expectation,
so deeply root'd in the bed ov dysfunction from which i
am fed, nourish'd
pluck'd by dawn {&} forc'd to wilt on
conformity's lapel
my edges turn'd to potpourri [primrose {&} (im)proper]
soften'd, shap'd into this serene bust 'neath which i
thrash/growl/scream
praying for cracks in the facade, a hairline
from which i
could ooze
black on alabaster, air my unexpect'd lungs like nak'd wings___
She Wolf
I lean to arch & crane my back & neck
To gaze up at the moon’s thick facial scars
From war clubs of the Inca and Aztec
In ceremony flights to reach the stars.
A she wolf on a ridge from where I pause
Looks up beseechingly into the night,
Her bristled fur, the digging in of claws
Will marrow forth its bone into moonlight.
The scene reminded me when I was born;
It was the mother Moon that is the same
And here I look upon its she-wolf form
Of which I suckled milk and live its name.
I know she senses me, her shadow One,
As in the desert breezes hears my breath.
As like so many times she’s often done,
Gives out a longing cry & stares ahead.
Double posting because of internet failure causing me to miss April 3rd to 6th.
6/30
Circles
The rust leaves stare back at me.
I grip the wood of the bench under --
Legs and thighs shaking not with cold -- but
Soul chills
To my bones.
Cycles.
Circles.
A vision --
Of a window and changing seasons,
Days
Into months
Of turnings over and staying the same --
Thinking,
Again,
And then again --
This is the one that will cure me
Of my "affliction" of hope.
The temperature lowered further,
Playing catch up with my moods --
Oh day,
Oh night,
Does it matter anymore?
Freezing fingers still holding on,
So cold I fear
My pinky might
Fall
Off.
I closed my eyes,
I raised my face to the now
Pelting rain.
Soaked to the bone and
Losing more hope --
That's how he found me --
And held my hand.
The professor gave me back
Some of mine.
136
97
7/30
Requiem On Water
The sky had gifted us with its calm --
With drizzling rain like fuzz on a tv screen,
Some drops distorting the
Outside world
As they hit glass.
The time was 4:51.
His hands reach for mine.
Clasped now as if in prayer --
Coffee,
For now, untouched
Between arms warming up
To the thought of
Shelter
After the pouring rain.
It was September,
And I'd grow another year older,
And he
Would, too,
As we did the years before --
The years before,
Caught in the waiting and
Wondering,
Universe,
Where is he,
Where is she
Existing?
Caught in the fear --
Of the wrongness and the dirt,
That we'd have to fly to the skies and dream and
Forget the groundedness and foundations.
Cloud cover --
That was what the first few months were,
Invigorated inferno behind closed doors,
Further improper,
Destination: hell.
Then -- a cooling rain,
A cleansing and we were born again.
He was the droplets on my skin,
The tears of my sin and heaven.
And when the ground around
Me is burned
By the world or
By Aunt Rhody,
Or my nasty neighbor Judy,
Like today,
Or yesterday,
He was peaceful waters.
He was a twilit beach.
The professor's green eyes held mine --
He sighed,
As he let go --
And raised my knuckles to his lips.
A girl,
A fall --
A catch,
A city and a man --
We have no plans of letting go.
236 words
149 unique
6/30
Circles
The rust leaves stare back at me.
I grip the wood of the bench under --
Legs and thighs shaking not with cold -- but
Soul chills
To my bones.
Cycles.
Circles.
A vision --
Of a window and changing seasons,
Days
Into months
Of turnings over and staying the same --
Thinking,
Again,
And then again --
This is the one that will cure me
Of my "affliction" of hope.
The temperature lowered further,
Playing catch up with my moods --
Oh day,
Oh night,
Does it matter anymore?
Freezing fingers still holding on,
So cold I fear
My pinky might
Fall
Off.
I closed my eyes,
I raised my face to the now
Pelting rain.
Soaked to the bone and
Losing more hope --
That's how he found me --
And held my hand.
The professor gave me back
Some of mine.
136
97
7/30
Requiem On Water
The sky had gifted us with its calm --
With drizzling rain like fuzz on a tv screen,
Some drops distorting the
Outside world
As they hit glass.
The time was 4:51.
His hands reach for mine.
Clasped now as if in prayer --
Coffee,
For now, untouched
Between arms warming up
To the thought of
Shelter
After the pouring rain.
It was September,
And I'd grow another year older,
And he
Would, too,
As we did the years before --
The years before,
Caught in the waiting and
Wondering,
Universe,
Where is he,
Where is she
Existing?
Caught in the fear --
Of the wrongness and the dirt,
That we'd have to fly to the skies and dream and
Forget the groundedness and foundations.
Cloud cover --
That was what the first few months were,
Invigorated inferno behind closed doors,
Further improper,
Destination: hell.
Then -- a cooling rain,
A cleansing and we were born again.
He was the droplets on my skin,
The tears of my sin and heaven.
And when the ground around
Me is burned
By the world or
By Aunt Rhody,
Or my nasty neighbor Judy,
Like today,
Or yesterday,
He was peaceful waters.
He was a twilit beach.
The professor's green eyes held mine --
He sighed,
As he let go --
And raised my knuckles to his lips.
A girl,
A fall --
A catch,
A city and a man --
We have no plans of letting go.
236 words
149 unique
#8 of 30
Why YOU Want be on YouTube and Deepundergroundpoetry
Go the gym or
just take a walk
Exercise your heart
your soul and mind
Walk it out for us
smile or just talk
behind a curtain
of digits
Hiding becomes death
isolation is a proven
contributor
to death
Your memory could fail
Your social skills
could weaken
Withering
...dying...
..do not!
Let us share
celebrating
your individuality
Please be real
don't waste the moments
Don't try for our love
expect it without
qualification
Give your blessings only
Save your curses
for the devil
Shield yourself
with truth
and friendship
Step out boldly
Why YOU Want be on YouTube and Deepundergroundpoetry
Go the gym or
just take a walk
Exercise your heart
your soul and mind
Walk it out for us
smile or just talk
behind a curtain
of digits
Hiding becomes death
isolation is a proven
contributor
to death
Your memory could fail
Your social skills
could weaken
Withering
...dying...
..do not!
Let us share
celebrating
your individuality
Please be real
don't waste the moments
Don't try for our love
expect it without
qualification
Give your blessings only
Save your curses
for the devil
Shield yourself
with truth
and friendship
Step out boldly
8/30
Sleepless Nights in The Devil’s Playground
The 4 Horseman
Part 2
The Red Horse:
Crimson blood
Graffiti his blade
The hue of magma fire
Ignites a deathly parade
Torrential flags
Waver their betrayed allegiance
Silent spokesman for the dead
Rainbow the heavens on their canvased grievance
Slaughtered lambs
Pilfer his soul
An undying entity
Enraged beyond control
Destruction quakes
Like rippled effects where ever he’s trotted
The manifestation of war
Deep-seated in death where breath has rotted
Mayhem hymns
Choir his chorus filled springs
Plucking fresh screamed agony
Upon his spirit-rooted guitar strings
Blood wine
His desired drink
Festered human flesh
Civil war brink
Sleepless Nights in The Devil’s Playground
The 4 Horseman
Part 2
The Red Horse:
Crimson blood
Graffiti his blade
The hue of magma fire
Ignites a deathly parade
Torrential flags
Waver their betrayed allegiance
Silent spokesman for the dead
Rainbow the heavens on their canvased grievance
Slaughtered lambs
Pilfer his soul
An undying entity
Enraged beyond control
Destruction quakes
Like rippled effects where ever he’s trotted
The manifestation of war
Deep-seated in death where breath has rotted
Mayhem hymns
Choir his chorus filled springs
Plucking fresh screamed agony
Upon his spirit-rooted guitar strings
Blood wine
His desired drink
Festered human flesh
Civil war brink
8/30
Manzanita
Manzanitas are blooming
My annual reminder, that a year has aged me, uplifted me, beaten me
Perhaps not the most comforting thing
But the flowers look pretty
On that manzanita tree
When I opened those journals I’d written months ago
I expected those thoughts, memories, and feelings to flood back into me
A contrast to the outpouring from mind to paper
It came back, but not the same
The manzanita didn’t change, it simply followed the order of things
The world is the only thing it has to appease
For me, it’s a number of things
But I’m a neglectful, journal burning young lady
I have no spring to bloom
And if I did, nobody would care to see
If I planted myself somewhere
And focused on growing, rather than reliving a dusty diary entry, I’d have more than myself to focus on
I’d be creating a season of my own
Not even a manzanita could compete.
Manzanita
Manzanitas are blooming
My annual reminder, that a year has aged me, uplifted me, beaten me
Perhaps not the most comforting thing
But the flowers look pretty
On that manzanita tree
When I opened those journals I’d written months ago
I expected those thoughts, memories, and feelings to flood back into me
A contrast to the outpouring from mind to paper
It came back, but not the same
The manzanita didn’t change, it simply followed the order of things
The world is the only thing it has to appease
For me, it’s a number of things
But I’m a neglectful, journal burning young lady
I have no spring to bloom
And if I did, nobody would care to see
If I planted myself somewhere
And focused on growing, rather than reliving a dusty diary entry, I’d have more than myself to focus on
I’d be creating a season of my own
Not even a manzanita could compete.
