Official DUP NAPOWRIMO (National Poetry Writing Month) 2017
18/30
I Know What You Did
And I know exactly where
the bodies are hid;
buried in shallow graves
upon your conscience
because you couldn't be bothered
to get your hands dirty playing
the role of the bad guy
She died of a drug overdose
He died from rampant alcoholism
True, you weren't responsible for
the addictions that culminated
in their eventual demise
No one asked you to save them
from themselves
You only expedited their exits
with your strategy of ignoring
the self destruction occurring
under your very nose
The real question
that begs to be asked is,
Do you know what you didn't do?
You may have been a
pall bearer at the funerals
loading caskets into the hearse
and lowering them into the ground
but
you did not lift a finger to help them
when it mattered the most
when they needed someone
anyone
to say, Enough.
I Know What You Did
And I know exactly where
the bodies are hid;
buried in shallow graves
upon your conscience
because you couldn't be bothered
to get your hands dirty playing
the role of the bad guy
She died of a drug overdose
He died from rampant alcoholism
True, you weren't responsible for
the addictions that culminated
in their eventual demise
No one asked you to save them
from themselves
You only expedited their exits
with your strategy of ignoring
the self destruction occurring
under your very nose
The real question
that begs to be asked is,
Do you know what you didn't do?
You may have been a
pall bearer at the funerals
loading caskets into the hearse
and lowering them into the ground
but
you did not lift a finger to help them
when it mattered the most
when they needed someone
anyone
to say, Enough.
18/30
I've Got Big Balls
No one really wins at bowling
as pins are going everywhere
knocked off their feet
when just standing there
minding their own business
How easily
they all fall down
and rather conveniently given that
the odds are stacked against them
as a giant ball is lobbed
in their direction
Choose your angle
Put your own spin on it
The damage is as good as done
You perfect your strategy
and meticulously keep score
even though you are the
only person in the alley
The real challenge
or should I say fun?
begins when someone with balls
comes along and does
exactly what you are doing
but does it better than you
and beats you at your own game
I've Got Big Balls
No one really wins at bowling
as pins are going everywhere
knocked off their feet
when just standing there
minding their own business
How easily
they all fall down
and rather conveniently given that
the odds are stacked against them
as a giant ball is lobbed
in their direction
Choose your angle
Put your own spin on it
The damage is as good as done
You perfect your strategy
and meticulously keep score
even though you are the
only person in the alley
The real challenge
or should I say fun?
begins when someone with balls
comes along and does
exactly what you are doing
but does it better than you
and beats you at your own game
NaPoWriMo 18/30 for April 18th, 2017
Villanelle No: 18
A FREEDOM IN COMMITMENT
Harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
pouring on a paper spilling ink with budding flowers
put my feet together firmly, dived into the lake
Daily smiled exchanges merely spout a give-and-take
others offer greater riches tapping higher powers
harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
Balanced on a tight-rope yearning knowing true from fake
stood behind my lined defences ‘fraid I’d get devoured
put my feet together firmly, dived into the lake
Swimming as the killer-whales were shaking me awake
clocking time is rocking mine and indicates the hour
harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
Charging through my body cells there shoots a dormant ache
pushed me pointing, spirits waiting, mixing sweet n’ sour
put my feet together firmly, dived into the lake
Standing on the edge of freedom sensing what’s at stake
recognising sacred ground I build a better bower
harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
I put my feet together firmly, dive into the lake.
Villanelle No: 18
A FREEDOM IN COMMITMENT
Harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
pouring on a paper spilling ink with budding flowers
put my feet together firmly, dived into the lake
Daily smiled exchanges merely spout a give-and-take
others offer greater riches tapping higher powers
harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
Balanced on a tight-rope yearning knowing true from fake
stood behind my lined defences ‘fraid I’d get devoured
put my feet together firmly, dived into the lake
Swimming as the killer-whales were shaking me awake
clocking time is rocking mine and indicates the hour
harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
Charging through my body cells there shoots a dormant ache
pushed me pointing, spirits waiting, mixing sweet n’ sour
put my feet together firmly, dived into the lake
Standing on the edge of freedom sensing what’s at stake
recognising sacred ground I build a better bower
harried by a surplus gifting wrung from heaven's estate
I put my feet together firmly, dive into the lake.
His village was by the river
When the big rain came
The river rose and washed
His village away
Ke Ba Lai felt his heart torn out
and the sun hid behind the dark clouds
A month later the British
Came on their boats
Finding no village they carried on
Up the river
Ke Ba Lai saw in this god's blessing
as a high noon sun that cast no shadow
It was thirty-nine years
Before more Englishman came
His people were prepared
And they killed them all easily
Bai Ke Ba Lai was both cunning and brave
and gave thanks as the sun was rising
Forty years after the flood
Again big rains came
And the river rose washing
His town away
and Ke Ba Lai accepted only god sees all
and he prayed as the sun was setting
As he hid in the marshes
The British found him
They tried him and exiled him
Faraway in Cape Castle
but Ke Ba Lai saw that God was merciful
for the high sun had cast no shadow
Then one day they came
Took him on a boat
Back home and crowned him
Bai which means king
for what god made only god may judge
For the grace of his sunlight blesses all
When the big rain came
The river rose and washed
His village away
Ke Ba Lai felt his heart torn out
and the sun hid behind the dark clouds
A month later the British
Came on their boats
Finding no village they carried on
Up the river
Ke Ba Lai saw in this god's blessing
as a high noon sun that cast no shadow
It was thirty-nine years
Before more Englishman came
His people were prepared
And they killed them all easily
Bai Ke Ba Lai was both cunning and brave
and gave thanks as the sun was rising
Forty years after the flood
Again big rains came
And the river rose washing
His town away
and Ke Ba Lai accepted only god sees all
and he prayed as the sun was setting
As he hid in the marshes
The British found him
They tried him and exiled him
Faraway in Cape Castle
but Ke Ba Lai saw that God was merciful
for the high sun had cast no shadow
Then one day they came
Took him on a boat
Back home and crowned him
Bai which means king
for what god made only god may judge
For the grace of his sunlight blesses all
18/30
The Devil Is In The Details
Can't say I wasn't warned
Mess with the Devil
and you'll get horned
Adding injury to my insult
His head was adorned
with a thorned crown
If I was smart
I would have backed down
Instead I got in his face
all up in his business
corporate affairs involving
soul acquisitions and
eternal rest homes
such lucrative industries
Said, Satan!
I demand you give me
back my parking space
And while we're on the subject
quit acting like you own
this forsaken place
And now he's got me
at the Ninth Gate of Hell
tending the tollbooth
Didn't really think things through as usual
as if you couldn't already tell
by where I ended up
but that's the god's honest truth
The Devil Is In The Details
Can't say I wasn't warned
Mess with the Devil
and you'll get horned
Adding injury to my insult
His head was adorned
with a thorned crown
If I was smart
I would have backed down
Instead I got in his face
all up in his business
corporate affairs involving
soul acquisitions and
eternal rest homes
such lucrative industries
Said, Satan!
I demand you give me
back my parking space
And while we're on the subject
quit acting like you own
this forsaken place
And now he's got me
at the Ninth Gate of Hell
tending the tollbooth
Didn't really think things through as usual
as if you couldn't already tell
by where I ended up
but that's the god's honest truth
A Year Ago Today
When under blankets
on the bed
I lay
dreaming of my
funeral day
Writing tripe for
speakers
to say
Thinking ways
to blast my head away
Seeing life in negatives
photographs lacking sway
black and whites
covered in fodder and hay
I was lost
with a sign on my head
reading "Just go away"
Look at it now
it's all Joy on a tray
Oh just look at the
happiness of today
Every second is a smile
and whistle
I just can't wait for the
fifth
of May
[☆]
This is the 19th day!
Enhancing depths
Though your poetry may have turned to ash
even in those remnants
it still retains an overwhelming atmosphere,
even the smoke has substance;
outer planes and worlds
of deeper, darker, experience
are shown through the smoulder.
I pine for each new mould
that I may witness
each enchanting sight
Everywhere, all around,
depth and description is given
by unfolding flowing panoramas
Passion that fosters
my intimated appetite,
satiated zest
I inhale the quasi fumes in my face
blown to me by the winds
of yesterday
dropped onto
by the dreams of the past
that have been
favoured by the muse
embodying sensation
will you vent today
if favoured?
or are you living elsewhere
experience at the forefront?
Another candle
sat in the darkness
more than just to bring crimson light.
(Day 19, Entry 18, Submitted GMT 00:04 on the 19th)
Though your poetry may have turned to ash
even in those remnants
it still retains an overwhelming atmosphere,
even the smoke has substance;
outer planes and worlds
of deeper, darker, experience
are shown through the smoulder.
I pine for each new mould
that I may witness
each enchanting sight
Everywhere, all around,
depth and description is given
by unfolding flowing panoramas
Passion that fosters
my intimated appetite,
satiated zest
I inhale the quasi fumes in my face
blown to me by the winds
of yesterday
dropped onto
by the dreams of the past
that have been
favoured by the muse
embodying sensation
will you vent today
if favoured?
or are you living elsewhere
experience at the forefront?
Another candle
sat in the darkness
more than just to bring crimson light.
(Day 19, Entry 18, Submitted GMT 00:04 on the 19th)
Transformation
Adaptation
Sometimes
Not adorning light
Muddled
Shadowed
Grief upon invite
Agony
Distress
Unflavoured tone
Wishing
Remaining
Inside the known
Burdened
Fearful
Silent numbing
Carrying
Unbalanced
Before becoming
Insecure
Exposed
Outwardly broken
Then
Emerging
Pursuant
Slumbered spirit woken
Uprooting
Tackling
Thorns from begin
Confronting
Countering
Demons of within
Responding
Awaiting
Changes set free
Splendid
Insightful
Marvellously thee
Adaptation
Sometimes
Not adorning light
Muddled
Shadowed
Grief upon invite
Agony
Distress
Unflavoured tone
Wishing
Remaining
Inside the known
Burdened
Fearful
Silent numbing
Carrying
Unbalanced
Before becoming
Insecure
Exposed
Outwardly broken
Then
Emerging
Pursuant
Slumbered spirit woken
Uprooting
Tackling
Thorns from begin
Confronting
Countering
Demons of within
Responding
Awaiting
Changes set free
Splendid
Insightful
Marvellously thee
MadameLavender said:
April 18—Punt
Shoulda, coulda, woulda…
But at least I hit the fifty
word count, for today’s
entry in NaPo,
and let’s hope for something
better, tomorrow.
http://i1376.photobucket.com/albums/ah16/Ahavati1/PicsArt_04-18-07.29.47_zpsppsb0x7k.jpg
April 18—Punt
Shoulda, coulda, woulda…
But at least I hit the fifty
word count, for today’s
entry in NaPo,
and let’s hope for something
better, tomorrow.
http://i1376.photobucket.com/albums/ah16/Ahavati1/PicsArt_04-18-07.29.47_zpsppsb0x7k.jpg
People
Frankly my social peeve is people
A wandering clamour of inept morons
An ignorant shower of hate filled maniacs
Ill mannered wastes of redundant skin
Brainless to the point of being swamp life
The only redeeming thing is your ability to die
For my liking not in the numbers or quickly enough
I am accused of being a cantankerous old bastard
But it is clearly you and not me, I’m just great
Loving, caring, witty, fertile, pleasant and modest
Unlike the cum gurgling fuckwits of my species
I have never met another human being that hasn’t
Eventually fucked me over and left me to bleed
Humanity does not deserve a God to save it
Humanity is a bucket of shite without the bucket
It’s a filthy disease, hopefully there is no cure
I even find your children just fuckin annoying
I hate you and them, simpering piles of flesh
My hope is that mankind does what it does best
I hope you all die, leaving only me
There is no saving you and yours
Please press the self destruct button
You are what you are: delirious scum
Praise the Lord, halleluiah
The missiles are flying
Frankly my social peeve is people
A wandering clamour of inept morons
An ignorant shower of hate filled maniacs
Ill mannered wastes of redundant skin
Brainless to the point of being swamp life
The only redeeming thing is your ability to die
For my liking not in the numbers or quickly enough
I am accused of being a cantankerous old bastard
But it is clearly you and not me, I’m just great
Loving, caring, witty, fertile, pleasant and modest
Unlike the cum gurgling fuckwits of my species
I have never met another human being that hasn’t
Eventually fucked me over and left me to bleed
Humanity does not deserve a God to save it
Humanity is a bucket of shite without the bucket
It’s a filthy disease, hopefully there is no cure
I even find your children just fuckin annoying
I hate you and them, simpering piles of flesh
My hope is that mankind does what it does best
I hope you all die, leaving only me
There is no saving you and yours
Please press the self destruct button
You are what you are: delirious scum
Praise the Lord, halleluiah
The missiles are flying
eulogy of repents
It is in these moments
of longing & melancholy
devoid of human contact
like a cardboard cutout audience
at the funeral of a dictator
that I find myself
pouring another glass of poison
on the rocks
this socially acceptable form of torture
trying to ease the pain
of killing her
& the subsequent burial
I unearthed our memories
like some antiquated biography
left on a dusty shelf
in an airless room
long sought to be forgotten
from my mind
it was the scent of her chimera
that took me to that door again
the broken heartstrings
that had bound
my hands
that fashioned the key
to open it
the exquisite torture
of your essence
that made my hand reach for the handle
wishing to run my hands
through the ashen remains
scattering them
to the winds
& now I have no one but myself
to make me suffer
04182017
It is in these moments
of longing & melancholy
devoid of human contact
like a cardboard cutout audience
at the funeral of a dictator
that I find myself
pouring another glass of poison
on the rocks
this socially acceptable form of torture
trying to ease the pain
of killing her
& the subsequent burial
I unearthed our memories
like some antiquated biography
left on a dusty shelf
in an airless room
long sought to be forgotten
from my mind
it was the scent of her chimera
that took me to that door again
the broken heartstrings
that had bound
my hands
that fashioned the key
to open it
the exquisite torture
of your essence
that made my hand reach for the handle
wishing to run my hands
through the ashen remains
scattering them
to the winds
& now I have no one but myself
to make me suffer
04182017
April 18, 2017
CYCLE II: WATER
Incubation
As slowly cooling suns’ refracted light,
Above the steaming haze of primal ice,
Did flavor gas with particles incite
To arcing lines’ electrical entice.
In torrents flew for eons without stop,
To burning rock that split the wet in two.
That other gas would come from shattered drop.
In age on age, the vapors’ congress grew.
On seas beget in rage beneath the storm,
That scored and mixed the elemental dust,
In warming stew and cooling air took form,
A single cell of proteins’ iron rust.
From simple life did all life come of age,
Were amniotic oceans’ first engage.
CYCLE II: WATER
Incubation
As slowly cooling suns’ refracted light,
Above the steaming haze of primal ice,
Did flavor gas with particles incite
To arcing lines’ electrical entice.
In torrents flew for eons without stop,
To burning rock that split the wet in two.
That other gas would come from shattered drop.
In age on age, the vapors’ congress grew.
On seas beget in rage beneath the storm,
That scored and mixed the elemental dust,
In warming stew and cooling air took form,
A single cell of proteins’ iron rust.
From simple life did all life come of age,
Were amniotic oceans’ first engage.
