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Just shoot me your absolute best/favorite piece..
One entry per poet..
No other rules apply!!
New or old piece..
Even if you won other competitions with it..
Hit me with your absolute best piece..

Intricate B

is this an audio america's most wanted thing?

this is one that a lot of people seem to like

UNDERNEATH THE MOURNINGSTAR

THE TRAGEDY OF GOD-CROSSED LOVERS)
 
 
I spied Faith sitting upon a rail.
Fair hair in the wind,
Watching the ships set sail.
Whispers from her wonder if
She’ll ever see me again,
As I sail off into the rift.
 
Gone to fight in God’s own war
Clad in celestial armor,
I go to break the door.
Of things so vile and beneath
Us, the holy army.
We will crush them under our feet.
 
     In Heaven, God looked upon Faith.
     And saw that without me,
     She was but a wraith.
     And sadness filled His heart.
 
Between the battles, I dream of her.
Sitting there so lonely,
Drawing her picture in the dirt.
Falling leaves remind me of the time
Of splendors and apples.
Before sin was a crime.
 
       Here in His kingdom sat one so blind
     To the love that shone
     But then Faith was still mine.
     A forbidden affair in His home.
 
In the heat of Battle I threw down their King.
Their morale was broken
And enemy horde felt the sting.
I proclaimed my victory for God’s glory
And headed for home
To Heaven, to tell the story.
 
     Word spread to the Lord of my win
     But He was full of envy
     For in His house Faith and I sinned.
     In His eyes there were many.
 
Sat her down in comfort.
Then told her about my doom.
She wept upon the shoulder of the Lord.
But him it was just
Another player knocked off the board.
 
There she stood on top of the stairs
And the air was so thick with despair.
Her stricken heart set to un-tune her,
And grief poured forth to consume her.
With one last pull of the heart strings
She cast herself from the spire
And the cold night air was lit up with fire.
 
     God was then struck with a rage
     And barred me from the chamber floor.
     I was to be condemned in a cage
     And I looked into the face of mistrust
     Once filled with just, but nevermore.
 
“Cast me, Father, as you cast her out!
Throw me from your heart!”
And thus, I lashed about.
“I have lost Faith to her doom!”
The, I, The Morningstar
Cursed God from Heaven to distant moons.
 
     And He said,
 
     “Her pride for you kept her so fair.
     Your death by my word led to despair.
     I cast you out, into the dark.
     Let the lash of her death leave a mark.”
 
And so I fell
Through fire and earth.
To rule beneath
A new rebirth.
And still I search
For where she burned.
I have looked afar,
From Hell to Earth.
I am still The Mourning Star.

      my poem breaks


you know what this poem is about,
and you know you won’t like it.
because this poem knows too much…

this poem knows that you are heart-broken,
that your misery is unbearable.
and if you had a gun and one bullet, you'd blow your brains out.
but what would that accomplish, except to leave others
to laugh at your weakness.

so you come to poetry for solace,
as you hide in the shadows of discontent.
you look for comfort in gentle words
and you coat them with your tears.
and the poems are kind to you…but not this poem.

this poem spits in your face. it says there is
an entire world out there, loud & untamed.
this poem says go out and walk in the sun!
take the beast by the horns and conquer it!

but you don’t find this inspiring, only disturbing:
why is this poem so different?
who the hell does this poem think it is?!

so you get angry, and when your anger peaks,
you take a sledge hammer and beat the poem

until it  s..h..a…tt..e.r…s


until it    b…r..e…a…..
                          .,…k.….s…..

johnrot said:is this an audio america's most wanted thing?
Lol, one would think..
I mentioned you on the radio today JR..
Bro, you'll never guess what's happening..
You should inbox me.

He Felt Alive~

He had just passed a marker on 285,
miles away from that old city life.
Wondering how he could feel so alive,
He shifted the gears and he said "I'll just drive."
Something about how the Moon hit the fields,
Something about how the Country was still,
Something that night grabbed a hold of his eyes,
And the Road got so Jealous She threw him aside.
He lost all control and he swerved to the right,
Hit the embankment and rolled a few times.
He came to and he was in back of his car,
Painless and staring straight up at the Stars.
He tried to get up but much to his dismay,
He could not get up and right there had to stay.
And so he just laid there gazing at the Stars,
Listening closely for just one passing car.
He cried cause he knew why his tries were in vain,
Why he couldn't get up, why he didn't feel pain.
And then he was relieved that no cars had passed by,
He didn't want to live like that, he'd rather die.
As he accepted it and let Death creep on in,
Head lights hit the field, a horn drowned out the wind.
A big semi rig saw him right in the road,
and tried honking his horn to get him to go.
He realized what happened and called for some help,
And then got out to see what damage the Road dealt.
He saw the man laying there on the back seat,
And asked him if he could get on to his feet.
With a moan that had surely come from some dark place,
The man just looked up and right into his face,
He said "Just leave me here and they'll cast me astray,
I just made a deal with them all, anyway.
I told them I'd go peacefully with no fight,
If I had a place with them up in the Sky.
So, please, wont you just drive on into the night.
Please, Sir, I beg you, wont you just let me die?"
"You know I cant do that" The truck driver said,
"you cant take your place in the Sky til you're dead.
There's help on the way and I'm here til They come,
So you just hold on and They'll fix you up, Son."
He drifted away and fell into a Dream,
And, for just a moment, forgot everything.
He lost himself deeper and deeper inside,
and then woke to the sting of some bright, blinding light.
He mistook it for a sign that he was now dead,
But it was only the light above a hospital bed.
He screamed and he cried and then off to his side,
The Truck Driver stood up and he tried to confide.
He said "Hey, Son! It's okay, everything's alright,
You're still here with us in this Life and you'll be fine.
Don't let this take your light away, you're still alive!
Nothing can bring you down if you fight to survive."
 
"Oh yeah, what's left for me to fight for after this?
What, on Earth, can lead me now to some kind of Bliss?
My Life is now a Prison and a chair shall be my cell,
Not a FUCKING THING is fine, in case you couldn't tell.
What am I to do with Life? Who could Love me now?
I swear I'll take my place with them some way, some how."
 
"Is naught left in this life to bring you peace of mind?
No kids or family in whom some joy you'll maybe find?
It cant be so easy to so quickly succumb,
Why do you wish for the end so early in your run?"
 
"I can not be free when I depend on a chair,
I'm meant to roam around freely without a care.
I cant lay in the Grass or throw Leaves in the air.
Now I cant do anything but watch Life from a chair."
 
"I see..." was all that the truck driver could say,
He knew nothing he said would matter, any way.
He heard this mans cries and, though he was so numb,
He knew by the pain in that voice why he'd come.
He walked to the bedside and took the mans hand,
And said "Son, for reasons that I don't understand,
I feel that I was meant to be there at that Time,
Like I was meant to be some kind of Neon Sign.
But what I feel and what I see right now are fighting me.
Half of me wants you to live, half wants me to set you free.
If I'm gonna help you I want you to tell me why,
You wont even try you're just choosing to die."
 
He said "I chose nothing, it fell upon my feet,
And now, thanks to me, I'll never be complete.
So I wish to Dream of a World unlike this,
Where I cant walk or run, or feel a simple Kiss.
I wish to find a place among the brightest Stars,
That is why I asked you to just leave me in my car."
The truck driver didn't say another word to the man,
Just put his hand over his mouth and nose,
Sent him to his Promised Land.
And when He left the hospital he thought He'd take a drive,
And, for the first time in his life, He felt Alive.

This one seems to have gone over very well with both men an women here and elsewhere...


Freshly Fucked


Between the slipping of cloth    
and sliding of skin    
   
hands tease    
tongues taste    
tendons tighten    
and muscles release...    
   
With sighing sounds    
shaped to desire    
this appetite we satisfy    
   
I tense as kisses, hot as wax    
travel my body    
between breasts craving attention,    
down a tummy expectantly taut,    
along hips which lift    
encouragingly..    
   
Explore me    
I implore you    
   
Fingers move on inner thighs    
a sacred massage;    
teasing strokes in velvet waves    
that stir this hunger    
this craving for your touch    
   
And I bind you    
with firm fingers grasping    
the contours of your masculinity    
inscribing my intent    
as with lips and tongue and teeth    
I weave kisses    
and words of love    
hot across your abs    
   
Sighs heat to groans    
and your motions    
urge me to move    
   
slower    
   
closer    
   
lower    
   
until, drawing you into my mouth    
you are finally    
and fully consumed;    
teased with encircling motions    
along your honeyed length    
until such attentions deliver    
ambrosial droplets    
to flavour our next kiss    
   
Passion burns    
as muscles clench -    
gasping as skin pierces skin    
We become    
a jigsaw made of flesh    
   
I rest astride    
your virile strength    
hips generating    
a rising pressure-    
currents of electricity    
stimulating    
our movements' ebb and flow    
   
finally    
fulfilling and fulfilled    
   
in the softness    
of heated shadows    
   
your name    
   
becomes    
   
an exclamation    
   
of release    
   
We smile to see each other    
in this most authentic way    
freshly fucked,    
feeling loved    
   
this is    
as real    
as anything gets  
 
 
Nous sourions à voir de l'autre  
de cette façon plus authentiques  
fraîchement baisée,  
sentir aimé  

JohnFeddeler said:       my poem breaks


you know what this poem is about,
and you know you won’t like it.
because this poem knows too much…

this poem knows that you are heart-broken,
that your misery is unbearable.
and if you had a gun and one bullet, you'd blow your brains out.
but what would that accomplish, except to leave others
to laugh at your weakness.

so you come to poetry for solace,
as you hide in the shadows of discontent.
you look for comfort in gentle words
and you coat them with your tears.
and the poems are kind to you…but not this poem.

this poem spits in your face. it says there is
an entire world out there, loud & untamed.
this poem says go out and walk in the sun!
take the beast by the horns and conquer it!

but you don’t find this inspiring, only disturbing:
why is this poem so different?
who the hell does this poem think it is?!

so you get angry, and when your anger peaks,
you take a sledge hammer and beat the poem

until it  s..h..a…tt..e.r…s


until it    b…r..e…a…..
                          .,…k.….s…..





Wow..
I like this..

i c me in ICU pts, I-IV

This four part poem is inspired from my time as a volunteer in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU)at the Combat Hospital at Kandahar Airbase, Afghanistan.
 
i c me in ICU I
 
this one lies in pieces,
most missing...
they keep him doped up
he should be
he has a long flight back to India
 
this one is whole,
but is empty inside
he leaked out of himself from
a thousand little holes in his body
his spirit is mechanical, machine
his face is like purple yogurt,
they don’t know why
 
this one has a hole
right in the back of his head
he says it hurts, and is thirsty
I dip a sponge into a cup of water for him
"keep it coming mate!" he tells me,
I can't give him a straw
the doc blasts him with Fentanyl
his eyes glaze over with a smile
 
this one's head is held together
with gauze and wire
he fights with himself,
or what was himself
they restrain him to the bed
it isn't a fair fight,
the demons are winning
so he just goes limp after a few rounds
i think his breathing is not a blessing
 
it is not real,
my floating around this place
i move and do work,
but feel outside of myself
like a charlatan in a spotlight
who has forgotten his lines,
and his place in the order
 
i have spun this web for myself
and now surrender to it
i came here looking for a church, a cause, a meaning
for guidance and answers,
i will find one i am sure
i will not escape this path,
this is the new way
a new way to know what is real
 
again my profession is teaching me,
after ignoring me for so many years,
I am becoming more awake,
and will be thankful like a pilgrim,
who gets to see his deity,
and is blessed with purity of being,
my spectrum is coming full circle,
from ways of death, to ways of mercy
 
it will be a long time,
here in this place
there will be more,
more of them to see
before i am rewarded fully,
and finally empowered
with the perfect knowledge,
the perfect sight
 
given to those who hide their anguish,
in the service of those,
whose fortunes have stopped
and for whom life has become
a wonder of pain
 
i finally leave the hospital for the day
the intense heat breaks the spell
and i am again just a number in a sea of numbers
 
i need to drink something sweet
to beat the smell and taste of decay out of my mouth
but the cola is smashed into nothingness by it
it is only after 7 hours, that i can taste again  

i c me in ICU II
 
i cut my hand in two places,
diving for cover,
dust got in and it will infect,
all for a false rocket alarm,
on the way to the hospital,
on a sunny Sunday afternoon
 
can you see a country's future in the faces of its young?
not here, the faces of this place's young are burned
and swollen so tight you think their heads will pop
 
is a country's destiny held in the minds of its young?
not here, the minds are mashed to jelly by 30mm rounds
and leak slowly out from behind a dressing
 
the body is durable,
but the mind is not,
five AK rounds smash ribs away,
and when I reach to turn the man's body
so it can be washed,
it is if he has been carved by a
whittler who made a mistake,
like an impressionist sculpture,
the side is missing form
 
we orchestrate these mad installations,
the rebirth of victims,
and this place is the museum,
but not enough, nor the right people come to spectate,
it is just us the functionaries of false mercy,
moving to beats in time and measure
 
to play out a charade of mercy
in the eyes of a blind god
so we may say we held no prejudice,
to a non-existent tribune,
to sing platitude opuses of kindness in kind,
in response to great unkindnesses
done unto mortal creations of immortal origins
 
we wash everyone here,
friend and foe alike,
the docs don't pontificate on politics,
they just wish our boys wouldn't shoot the insurgents
in the jaws all the time
it is too much work,
and it takes so long to heal....

i c me in ICU III
 
the operating room waits,
in all of its sterile glory
the picture perfect example of man's great
Hippocratic humane endeavor
 
all lined up and potent
with healing potential,
everything you need to put humpty dumpty
back together again,
as the clock ticks
soft beats in readiness
 
then the dance begins,
the splashes of sound and the whirls of movement,
all the parts mesh,
all makes sense in theory
a great method of formulas in motion
 
to meet the non-sense,
the illogic,
the frayed picture
that is the body before them
the tangle of man
and his ability for self eradication
the stupidity of action is not sagely debated here
 
there is only damage control,
the releasing of tourniquets
changes the body from a dusty brown mass,
to a crimson liquid flood,
patch and pull,
burn to cease the flow of blood from a heart,
not knowing its hopeless task
 
to sustain life to a body,
no longer able
to carry out its murderous work,
that tangoed with a dragon,
whose teeth pulverized flesh and bone
who gambled and lost, stamped out like a bug
 
hours tick and the iPod weaves operas of irony,
grimly humorous, but it strikes me stupid,
another one bites the dust/knocking on heaven’s door
this locks me up in a momentary trance
of dumb acknowledgement
 
but the smell of burning skin snaps me back,
a split toe with projecting bone
rattles me into observance,
the realness is setting in,
my limits are under siege,
i sweat and breathe quickly,
my eyes swim,
and i have to force deep breaths
 
i appear calm,
my mask hides my open mouth,
spit forms at the corners,
all focus goes into not adding puke
to the blood on the floor...
the familiar burn of nausea taps me on
the back, reminding me of who i am and what i know
 
a calm neck roll
and shoulder shrug is followed
by nine yawns in a row, no lie, nine,
starts to steady my nerves
the hours click away,
the frags clink as they are cast
into metal bowls,
the evaluation continues as the docs work
 
the arm will go,
this leg will go,
both ankles are broken
frag wounds are disinfected and patched,
the litany of doom grows,
but time is an enemy,
the gas passer warns
in funny terms,
saying the patient is getting sicker....
 
it takes all of my strength not to laugh out loud,
this is the funniest thing i have ever heard,
sicker, sicker...?
it means they have to stop
so the body can be stabilized,
i learn that you can operate a body to death,
amazing...
 
i see the grunt outside,
the armed guard with nothing to guard
the body that came in has been purged of its bad intent,
he tells me that the other insurgent died,
chewed up by the apache,
reduced to a pink pile of stinking rags...
IED emplacers that got caught
 
he has done this drill before,
and can’t wait to sleep,
on the beautiful ivory sheets of the ward beds,
he is as dirty as the patient,
and just as young,
he sips water
and keep his rifle pointed at the ground,
dressed in scrubs as well
 
the dance winds down,
one by one the docs pack it in,
stitching and noting the wounds for their journals,
dressed and clean, i see his face,
young and feral
no sympathy stirs in me,
but I have helped the docs
 
passing chucks and fluffs,
kerlix and such,
just a set of hands for hands stuck in a body,
another set of eyes
for eyes focused on what is not usually seen,
the aftermath of our special cannibalism,
the awe after the shock
 
the rooms stands,
defiled, turned upside down,
raped and bloody,
screaming for relief,
we crawl over it scrubbing and washing tirelessly
the tension relaxes,
jokes come,
masks are removed
 
whole faces warm the room,
we look each other in the eyes
we affirm what just happened,
and settle,
i feel myself become centered again
in my existence and knowledge
i become myself,
i float back into my life
 
no hate has risen,
no gloating finger do i point,
all destroyed humans are the same,
after ideology and hate has been blown off of them,
the tri-amp Marine lies next to the brain-dead
taliban, no flags fly in their eyes now
 
we are indeed the same in agony,
we are indeed the same in ecstasy,
we only differ when we paint ourselves in-between shades
insane logic descends on my mind,
calculated life-saving directed
after calculated death-dealing,
the fine circle of madness
 
it cannot be pondered,
to do so would drive us sane,
if ever absorbed,
this place would disappear,
and we would all walk to the mountains
and never go home,
for fear of being made
to ever having to ignore our hearts again
 
Note: The insurgent from the operating room, code named “Champaign”, died.
 
 
i c me in ICU IV
 
i lost the first patient i had ever known
he danced with an apache and could not keep up,
falling to the road, sweating blood
 
four hours spent by the docs and staff,
wasted....but they did the drill
and did not care that he was an enemy
his mother will never know, that the best
treatment in the world was given by infidels
and devils in white masks
 
who exercised conscience without consciousness
and danced for him a dance of healing hope,
who cherished his flesh as their own
 
his father will never know,
that women touched his son,
women who were not married to him
and did not care about taboos over life
 
these deeds will never be known,
and never paid tribute
they do not care,
they only want to go home
and to relax on beaches and boats
 
they don’t tell their families of the horrors,
it is not for them to bear,
they must be
kept free from knowing the stripes of cruelty
 
they talk of their children,
playing sports and growing up,
while a 12 yr old boy lies,
blasted by a bomb he picked up to sell
 
i held him,
so he could be cleaned,
he turned in drug induced sleep,
and moved against my hands,
his spirit not believing
what had happened to his body
 
small coughs came from a tubed throat,
"easy little brother",
fell from my mouth,
the nurse asked if i was ok,
my face betrays…..
 
it is not good form to show emotion,
in ICU,
it is a sign of an amateur,
a dilettante,
u must keep the mask on,
until u leave the ward
until you are alone

Petit_Minou said:This one seems to have gone over very well with both men an women here and elsewhere...


Freshly Fucked


Between the slipping of cloth    
and sliding of skin    
   
hands tease    
tongues taste    
tendons tighten    
and muscles release...    
   
With sighing sounds    
shaped to desire    
this appetite we satisfy    
   
I tense as kisses, hot as wax    
travel my body    
between breasts craving attention,    
down a tummy expectantly taut,    
along hips which lift    
encouragingly..    
   
Explore me    
I implore you    
   
Fingers move on inner thighs    
a sacred massage;    
teasing strokes in velvet waves    
that stir this hunger    
this craving for your touch    
   
And I bind you    
with firm fingers grasping    
the contours of your masculinity    
inscribing my intent    
as with lips and tongue and teeth    
I weave kisses    
and words of love    
hot across your abs    
   
Sighs heat to groans    
and your motions    
urge me to move    
   
slower    
   
closer    
   
lower    
   
until, drawing you into my mouth    
you are finally    
and fully consumed;    
teased with encircling motions    
along your honeyed length    
until such attentions deliver    
ambrosial droplets    
to flavour our next kiss    
   
Passion burns    
as muscles clench -    
gasping as skin pierces skin    
We become    
a jigsaw made of flesh    
   
I rest astride    
your virile strength    
hips generating    
a rising pressure-    
currents of electricity    
stimulating    
our movements' ebb and flow    
   
finally    
fulfilling and fulfilled    
   
in the softness    
of heated shadows    
   
your name    
   
becomes    
   
an exclamation    
   
of release    
   
We smile to see each other    
in this most authentic way    
freshly fucked,    
feeling loved    
   
this is    
as real    
as anything gets  
 
 
Nous sourions à voir de l'autre  
de cette façon plus authentiques  
fraîchement baisée,  
sentir aimé  

Damn, Petit..

Cold shower...

Not because of the renob..

Wow..

Not sure if it's my best piece, but it's one of my favorites:

White Spires


They dot the landscape
And the skies,
As I drive—
Churches among the towns
The trees,
Some left to the elements,
Others preserved,
But all white-spired.

I would climb them—
Perhaps I can see you from there,
Far off and waiting,
Living your life in a land
Connected by distance to mine.

If it would bring me closer to God,
I would stand atop their peaks
And whisper in His ear—
“Please, let me go;
Our paths have met,
Let them cross
So that I might run to him
Finally.”

MadameLavender said:Not sure if it's my best piece, but it's one of my favorites:

White Spires


They dot the landscape
And the skies,
As I drive—
Churches among the towns
The trees,
Some left to the elements,
Others preserved,
But all white-spired.

I would climb them—
Perhaps I can see you from there,
Far off and waiting,
Living your life in a land
Connected by distance to mine.

If it would bring me closer to God,
I would stand atop their peaks
And whisper in His ear—
“Please, let me go;
Our paths have met,
Let them cross
So that I might run to him
Finally.”

Very good madam .

Raven of Sorrow

     
Tie-dye sunsets turning doleful shades      
I through these silken curtains gazed      
At the dreary forms displayed      
As shadows in a purple haze      
The lucid sky grows ever dimmer      
The Sun a weak and dying ember      
Cold winds set the trees ashiver      
In the twilight of December      
     
I sat and scowled in reverie      
Brooding on things that now shall never be      
It seems the fates, at last, have severed me      
From all my hopes and pleasant dreams      
     
Something deep within me stirred      
The remnants of a dream differed      
Echos of whispered murmured words      
Never to again be heard      
     
Volumes of forgotten lore      
Lay strewn out across my floor      
As i floated off to realms of sleep      
Where ebony winged demons creep      
     
Thoughts of her becloud my mind      
In my chambers thus confined      
And my loneliness combined      
With the side effects of wine      
Cause my mind to fabricate      
Illusions in my weary state      
     
Ravens shrieking in the dark      
Pecking at a bleeding heart      
Alas that tell tale heart is mine      
On which these ghastly ravens dine!      
     
And that still beating heart they tore      
Upon the grave of my lost Lenore      
Where she lay forever more      
the birds perch shrieking      
"NEVERMORE!"      
     
Awaking in cold sweat i shuddered      
Thinking i should have closed the shutters      
Then scarcely could a gasp I utter      
As through my window a black bird fluttered      
     
There it perched upon my  window pane      
There it stared in cold disdain      
Then rose the first rays of tomorrow      
And away flew the raven of my sorrows

Fat Cats  With Laxatives      

Big hats
fat cats
overpaid
and over-rated
bad banks
broken laws
extra tax
for their failures .


Closed doors
loans no more
cash injections
for their managers
still tall
with the gaul
to object , reject
de-rail you .


Big faced
greedy eyed
in disgrace
with wallets lined
their fat fingers
tinker , linger
with the money
they take from you .


Sky scraping
saviour , havens
time wasting
half baked , brained schemes
lying  fake
pensions big rake
then they take
all your savings .


Expenses scams
double properties
the working man
pays for all of it
parliament , politicians
break the laws
they invented
we all abhore
the implemented
lack of public , funding , spending
closing doors
on good health schemes
and the poor
with pure olympics .


Governmental , coalitious
argumentative , avaricious
so repetitive
full of bullshit
eating laxatives
as they spew it
no insentives
to stop bankers
wanking in their
mansion houses
without gumption  
to not sting
the working man
or fix anything .