More Free Verse

A Foggy Rainy Day (http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/110438-a-foggy-rainy-day/)

The sky is a green
And the light is a dim-
Both are together after
The thunder roared the night before.

Under the great cloud
The fog of a rainy day
Rolls in after a stormy eve
And that grey aired mist blends
And holds the damp streets,
Making the lampposts
Unrecognizable,
Making the swishing cars
Invisible,
And shrouds the planes flying overhead
So a blind eye is
Inevitable.

Now the trees that have drowned
May enjoy chilled air
Especially since the weather here
Has been summerly unfair.

The humidity is gone
So now there's a brilliant breeze,
And as I lay in bed
Across from my open window
I soak as much coolness as I can-

I know this weather well
And it will heat up and go.

Down on the Bayou


(Photo taken at Shreveport, Louisiana)


Down on the bayou, down by the river
Birds are chirping, seeking food on the water,
while people are walking, jogging and biking;
They're on their own little world,
minding their own ways
on a lovely Memorial Day afternoon.

Down on the bayou, down by the river
Billy met us at downtown for dinner;
I can't believe this nice guy Billy
For a JAG lawyer, he was so funny
"I'm not much of a good cook," he said.
"I cook my eggs in a microwave!"

Thank you Billy for such a good laugh,
and for the delicious dinner
by the riverfront;
You may not be a good cook,
but to me, you will always be a winner
no matter if sometimes,
you may not be able to prosecute.

Down on the bayou, down by the river
steamrollers are lonely docked;
People are celebrating in a near-by park
while a freight train is passing-by...
We take pictures and sit on a bench
under the shade of century-old trees,
and watch this little part of the world
silently..........
as time goes by
under the scorching heat
of the noontime sun.

Down on the bayou, down by the river
someone is waiting on the boardwalk,
gazing at the dancing fountains,
while people are lazily walking
down the river promenade;
Tick-tock, tick-tock goes the clock,
what are you waiting for Jack?
As darkness unfolds, the secrets unlock
for a family fun... Louisiana hang-out;
Come on down Jack, check this out!

"Namaste"



we keep getting sidetracked, let's start off
on another foot. Seems we are both infected
with the need to name-drop. Hold off on your
truth, one way, savior type nonsense, and I promise
to regulate my chaos into fractals that we both can
measure.

let's forget even that the term soul exists,
and pretend that you see some forever in
yourself, at least some flicker that is un-mother-
fucking believable at this exact moment, and man it
up enough to greet my particular particles that are
striving for recognition as well. We don't need no
stand up and salute type bullshit, me and you are the
first and last mother-fucking people that have entered
this meet and greet, let's shake hands, and rock out like
we're supposed to.

I love you because I have to. See, there is a lot to this
land grab, give me, give me, but at the bottom, is a re-
assurance , that the humble I, your king, should first
service. And I will scrub your feet, kind sir, because
life offers me such hogwash as penitence of sorts, and
as big as I am in poetry and love, ,you seem to own these
airwaves of the foot to feeding, and damning you means as
little as the misunderstanding that appearance is paid to
your missus, who sorta wants to fuck me, but as soon as wo
uld see me put to jail. Iron is our play thing, I beg that
your economy puts stock in art.

I literally put aside your ransom of kidnap
to chance meet our moments of clashed encounters
in some kind of story that suites your own. Tell me
which otherworld martyr I must be to satisfy your own
sense of adventure, while maintaining at least a shred
of the sincerity that it takes to scribe these words.

[font=Verdana]Just bumping this up. Thanks for your entries so far, guys!

40 74288730 690 323391 - T9 En (predictive text)

She was my only friend
She is me.

There were times enough when I spoke to air
Consoling her; musing me.
A quiet room lets you think quite clearly
Stalking lust's avenues whimpering in debauchery
I'd search for a trait I like to see
Of arms that grasp to never let go,
Of presence enough to bait that inner glow
I hunger for dominance but submit easily,
Eyes transfixed in sheer ecstasy.

I dream at night the most perfect dreams,
starring him, and me.
A court so crooked it sickens me
Strangely,
I cannot get enough of that scene
I am only a 8336
If it were obscene I would find it so
But I think of love, and hurt no more.

I glare at her glass prison
demanding answers.

I cower and bleed
I make a racket so he will notice me
Be with me, punish me
Hit me.
And it feels even better at its worst
To wish he would rape me?
The consoling air screams
I try to hold her turbulent heart
But, with my lust, I will not part
With every tear of desire lost,
The fire burns warmer through searing frost

So I question the reflection
Who only hates what she sees
Waiting up at night to see him come home,
I always hope he'd stop by to say hello
He doesn't anymore.
If he was always mine,
How wonderful would that be!
I fuck to be reminded of him
To imagine the finer details
And slake this wicked lechery
Until I'm close to screaming
"Fuck me 32339, fuck me!"

[font=Verdana]3 days left. Thanks for your entries so far guys!

Harlequin



The bell tower in the old church 
rang out stupid-o-clock in the morning 
and I was falling up the street towards somewhere familiar 
half empty bottle of Jameson and a shot glass 
tucked into my jacket pocket 

this part of town 
had long since settled down into chaos 
with blood on the streets, whores  winking at passers by 
and packs of jackals roaming around 
hunting down the old, the lame and the wounded 

I'd found this place some weeks ago 
after falling up the street at stupid-o-clock in the morning 
gotten jumped from behind, no warning
and woken up to see my blood on the street 

it was then, I heard her, christ; what a voice she had 
sent the hairs on my neck to standing 
almost put colour to the dreary black and grey backdrop 
of burned out cars and boarded up windows 

then she turned the bow in her hand towards her cello 
played a song that'd have the hardest bastard haunted for a lifetime 
a song of pennies and fortunes, of puffs and powders, lusts and temptation 
of her, bare breasted,  standing over a dead man 
without a tear in her eye, because she could not cry for someone 
who needed death as much as a cloud needs water 

and I sat there through all her songs 
'til the last one, Harlequin, where something deep within 
clicked into place, and she knew; because she'd stopped 
and in the silence, her face had brightened
 
she stood up, brushed down her nightgown, picked up her cello 
turned to go, and whispered "y'know  ..I'll be here; same time tomorrow"

then I went falling back up the town, past the skinny tom cats
that had gathered around a fish supper
dropped by some drunkard
who'd needed her hands to hold her hair away from the vomit
pooling on her lap

past the old train-tracks, to my part of town
the cul-de-sac with fifteen four bedroom houses and fifteen neat brown garden sheds

I went to bed and lay down, pretended not to notice all the signs
scattered around the room
the empty pill bottle, broken mirror, and blood stained clothes on the floor
that screamed
another episode had occurred


Jack,  I'm gonna enter this one instead if that's ok,  cheers

Jaysis... No competing with that. Here goes nothin' [:

Our eyes won't click when we fuck like we're going to die
Because
I want to feel it all
Just not so explosively
That my face disconnects from my head; she reaches for yours
independently
by some law I never understood

And I might worry a little
That you'll see me
instead of only needing to believe I'm there somewhere -
I'd rather
You were never sure I want you
as if need were secondary

But you're so here with me
So simply here
That I don't follow
the lack of tributaries
And you, sedimentary,
fall fast through my maps of imaginary lines
To where flowers spit fire
And water widens our mouths

I can't even speak anymore
From poetry having run over my mind
leaving traces of itself
But never leaving enough to lay

And you
have become the day

My poetry is only sleeping

[font=Verdana]That's fine, lepperochan, and thanks for your entry, Jestalessa

This heart is a symbolic semblance
Of the constitution that we pretend
To know that we feel and apprehend
A literal presentation of emotion

Is this an excuse for our lack of confirmation?
Could we portray what we mean without what's relative?
Is this all that you've come to see?
Or am I just a try hard with an over blown ego?

Have I just stated what is already prevalent ?
An egotist mind within your own assumptions
would be just as forbidding as it's own relativity
To claim that this love is so endlessly brilliant

A cackle from the nothingness of self assurance
The seldom thoughts that lay in dilapidation
Could be seen if it weren't that pride
Was the only benefactor to your own pleasure

And , if it's a must to be who you are
Then why the fuck do you strive so hard ?
To be something that you already were
A human being with nothing but humility

[font=Verdana]I've chosen a winner and runners-up. Thank you everyone for your entries to this contest!

Well done,  Craic, me ol' pal.

Congrats to Matt and Jesta!

woohoo, this one ....this one will be polished every morning

I'd like to thank the good people at the Irish red cross for taking care of the near fatal skin rash I picked up on a recent visit to Essex, this one is for you guys


cheers Jack ..mebbe next time Jesta   good stuff matt

thankya kindly Atakti  

Congratulations Craic, Matt and Jestalessa...CHEERS!