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Official DUP NAPOWRIMO (National Poetry Writing Month)

poet
LobodeSanPedro
Guardian of Shadows
Sierra Leone
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Joined 16th Apr 2013
Forum Posts: 3036

circle but is it full

It's easy to claim it
When you e done none of the work
Hid behind the mask
Of self righteousness and indignity
For thwarting two generations
Now you want to plant your flag
Whig
To sit in judgement
Place the scarlet letter
You've used them all
P
W
D
One thousand sins
Paid back three hundred
Fuck that I want the other 700
Nurse Betty
More like Nurse Ratchett
And you better believe
I'm Jack Fuckin McMurphy
I broadcast games without your goddamn TV
They all take your pills
I spit it out
Can't wait until I can take them fishing
Cast of your lies
Let the bow crash and break new waters
Sames way I'm gonna break that neck
Killing you
Won't be softly
But it will be sweet

poet
LobodeSanPedro
Guardian of Shadows
Sierra Leone
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Joined 16th Apr 2013
Forum Posts: 3036

Laundry Girl

she has apple eyes
And rag doll thighs

That have been tied in knots
By those who called themselves lovers

I share my cigarettes outside with her
It gives her chance to unload their covers

She tells me everybody's load has a story
Three months ago
That old man did laundry for two
Now it's just a colorless one
Lost his partner to cancer
Who lived the life of forgotten son

That women there is a foster care pimp
12 loads for six kids
She does rescue work too    
Saves dogs and kittens
Just call her Noah

We sip coffee from my cup together
Because I'm too broke to buy her
Her own

She says next cups on her
She finds treasures left in the machine
But decides one cup again

She wants to make we become friends first
Before we become lovers

This laundry story girl
With her apple eyes
And rag doll thighs


poet
crimsin
Unveiling
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 25th Jan 2011
Forum Posts: 1694

Poet

I had a dream about you  
it's your hard
no holds bar poetry
that gets me

I saw you
like you portrait yourself
raw, sharp edged
rough kind of guy
with a touch of gentleness  

in my dream
I was composing poetry to you
you were busy talking on the phone
while I thought of prose
to entice you

just another woman
from a lonesome page
of a book you've yet to read

I'm hint of whiskey
a dash bawdy whore
with a tender lavender
scented soul

taste of me at your leisure
& know that I take your poetry
into my dreamscapes

poet
FromTheAsh
Dangerous Mind
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 103

it's too late

you saw in us
(if there was an us)
as little more than friends
your heart remains locked away
not for me to share
time and time again you said
you've known too much pain
(though you confess not on my account)
it seems I had come too late

I saw in us
(when I saw us)
a rainbow after the rain
the promise of beauty to be shared
hope and love and laughter
if we only dared
I too had been hurt
but thought maybe together
we could weather it better
wasn't it worth a try?
if we took a risk and ventured out
foolish me, I naively believed
where love might be found
there's no calendar or time
it's never too late

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
33awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1111

Welcome to Day 19 and 2/3's Eve! T-minus 12 days and counting! After you post today you'll be 3/4's the way home, Poets!

We're holding strong at 21 eligible for the trophy! I predict everyone of them will finish!

Ahavati
JohnnyBlaze
mel44
RevolutionAl
Earth_Child
Jade-Pandora
Hepcat61
LobodeSanPedro
MadameLavender
DaisyGrace
Viddax
Whale
FromtheAsh
Magnetron
MaryWalker
PsycoticMastermind
Anarchitect
Josh
SatansSperm
Crimsin_Unveiling
David_MacLeod

Congratulations to our Featured Napo Poet, Josh!

https://m.facebook.com/DUpoetry/photos/a.10154508509648665.1073741826.148635498664/10155142722273665/?type=3&source=48

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
90awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 3270




April 19 ( NaPoWriMo 2017 )

A 60's Muse

From what I knew of model shoots,
Her coiffed long hair of blonde corn silk,
And pouty lips with gapped front teeth,
She looked like nothing I had seen.

This Kenyan girl came from the wild,
A London rave of magazines,
So tall with grace and shapely legs,
Would turn the heads of ev'ry fan.

But early in her new career
Of Mary Quant and Carnaby,
A handsome boy of rocker fame
Would meet her on a movie set.

He asked her out but she declined,
She didn't know just who he was.
'Twas "just" a Beatle it turned out,
The lead guitarist, George, was he!

Still, they would wed event'ally,
And then met the Maharishi,
Who taught them how to meditate
In Rishikesh, north India

Then George would write Pattie "Something",
His anthem: a mantra to love.
In their lives came Eric Clapton
Who wooed the muse to George's chant.

On walls were claimed that he was God,
Who too would write his hopeless love,
His "Layla" to her he'd lament.
For George loved Eric, bro's for life.

But in between these passion plates,
There always was this winsome muse
Who's name and image can't replace
The heart and soul of Pattie Boyd.


image: public domain

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1111

XIX. Experience: First Steps, Toddler Years

There is less to remember about growth
where everything was restricted: Area 51;
off-limits, the slapped-sting of hands --
barritoned resonance of, "No!" on repeat.

Sugarcane stalks gnawed pulpy
by tiny rat teeth too-young for class;  
Some lighted holiday carousel fueled
by candles, melting wax hot to touch.

Spirits; Light Beings mirroring me,
their cloudy play rooms only inches
over mine, secret entry ladder visible
before its veil permanently sealed.

What we experience in a youthful
Heart proves comfort in solitude;
A Magical theatre called 'Trusting'  
with no explanation or logical reason.

These little things known as our world
are extended gifts from the homeland,
before doubt seeded itself as adult into
ripe thoughts, contaminating pure Belief.

Twisting Truth into an acceptible version,
Else what would all the neighbors think.  
...

poet
MaryWalker
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 121

19/30


Witches Are Bitches Four (Square's Her Game)

She's always charming
the pants of the boys

When it comes to the playground
Four Square is her game

You certainly don't want to
invite her to play Dodge Ball -
one hit to that schnozz
or the beauty mark located
above her upper pouty lip
would certainly spell
big trouble for you

I mean it
Don't get on her dark side
She has pentagrams aplenty
packed in her backpack
black salt and colored chalks
for every occasion you can imagine

And she's not afraid to use them

So, consider yourself lucky if she
just kicks you in the nuts
and walks away




poet
Anarchitect
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 21st Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 75

Killing FOX News by Bill O'Reilly

He's is doing us a favor
writing a new novel
drenched in flavor and spice
A salaciously savory diversion
from other imagination deprived
books he's authored, available
in bookstores everywhere
now at a bargain bin price

His new literary achievement?
Penned in actions, not words
telling the story of how he
rose to stardom in the media
medium of Entertainment News
with help from other creeps who
systematically abuse women
behind closed doors

I think he should title this one
The Buddy System
but it is blatantly obvious
he's not very creative with titles

or with covering his tracks
as witnessed by so many
cash settlements paid to
the growing list of his
victims




poet
Hepcat61
geoff cat
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 809

April 19, 2017

CYCLE III: WATER

Percolation

Millennia with every form subscribed,
In single orb to moving mountain's gauge.
From sea to bog to steam-filled jungles' bide,
‘Til rock’s impact inox with galax phage.
Then solid waters dimmed the lifely sun,
And others’ pass made way for others’ reign,
With wooly fur both grown and taken from.
With ice’s withdrawal, came sapiens’ campaign,
And cities built on mighty rivers’ run.
And waters’ weaponry became a pall
From Persian times to seas off Jutland’s beach,
In waters owned, a place for castle wall
To drown advancers ‘fore their battles’ breach.
A grave for Vikings and lost sailor’s tombs,
But waters also healed their battles’ wounds.  


poet
Josh
Fire of Insight
Portugal
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Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 110

NaPoWriMo 19/30 for April 19th, 2017
Villanelle No: 19


NATURE’S MESSAGE

Was it a permanent message of how we could be free
standing on survival’s brink as sanity disappeared
where Nature held the clues with huge vitality?

Some believe in holy books and quote “these things must be”
four horses of the apocalypse plus other stuff afeared
Was it a permanent message of how we could be free?

No-one said it was easy to watch the dying bees
toxic stuff in water, air and earth - plus evil screaming weird
while Nature held the clues with huge vitality

I took myself for a walk, heard the rhythm of the sea
my soul was calmed through tears when sailing boats appeared
Was it a permanent message of how we could be free?

I flew a kite for freedom, the four lines whistled me
sent a kindly message by the way the kite was steered
and Nature held the clues with huge vitality

If I was so damn sure then faith would leave to flea
and vanity of knowing would scupper what’s to hear
Was it a permanent message of how we could be free?
Oh, Nature holds the clues with huge vitality.

poet
Magnetron
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 20th July 2014
Forum Posts: 367

19/30


Degenerative Metrics

Generation Degenerate
Knocking everyone different
downgraded as second rate
Equate terrorists with Muslims
Equate Muslims with Blacks
within the borders of your
White Supremacist State
Rabid foamings at the mouth
about the Rebel Flag's heritage
and its importance to the South
Rejecting friends and family
and everything worth while
Degenerate Generation
living in denial
I've no desire to keep up
with your live stream of hate
Senseless, endless
this descent into maddening
Intolerance of beliefs not yours
Yours taking precedence
Politics and Religion
Religion and Politics
A radio with one station
Obsessed beyond fixation
The only subjects
you've got time for
feeding your daily fix
You do nothing but denigrate
in volume cranked up to SHOUT
There's more to life than living
by your degenerative metrics
What choice do we have
but to tune you out
along with all the other
religionist racist pricks?




poet
Viddax
Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2009
Forum Posts: 5722

Dipstick Politics


Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown;
and the wise shudder at the thought of power,
instead many clamour
for position, for power, for importance,
using every tool available to get ahead
yet hardly ever with an open heart.
Each dirty trick and act of subterfuge
perpetuates the amoral contest
wherein power exchanges hands
deaf to cries of salvation and mercy,
where the bombastic will it
and the loyal must see the dark deeds done.
To shout is to vote
and to stay silent is to die
assent, dissent, consent;
it matters not with the lack of common sense
as posturing and promises
win popular vote,
yet wisdom has no choice in blinkered election
with faux battle lines drawn
yet bloodless strength is brought to bear
to grease the gears of continual idiocy,
so that when all is said and done
it is the tragic, comical case
of nothing new under the sun.

(Day and Entry 19, 18:20 GMT)

poet
MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States
56awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 4048

April 19—You’re Almost Maxed Out

Another email, though
I unsubscribed—Citibank
still thinks I’m you, online.

You’re up to 18,400 points,
now.

Funny, how it added up
after I left. At
one point per dollar
spent, it only took you
eighteen months to
rack that up.

But wait—
there’s more….
my name used to be on that
account, so
I know that the limit is $25,000.

Cha-ching!  Now
who’s the spend-thrift?
Not me, like
I was always blamed.  

This is all you.
I wonder if my password
still works……?

poet Anonymous

vandalism vi
19.04.17.    poem 19 of 30

iii.
the worlds condensed
into
a single grain of sand,
an agitating pearl
rolling between
tongue & palate.
i wanted to kiss you
& perhaps you tasted
the loneliness in
that single exchange.
loneliness
vodka
easy mark.

ii.
probably would've followed you anywhere that night,
blame it on
the neon lights & unsteady legs & stiletto heels
& my fingers curling
around your arm for a little more than finding my balance.
you didn't seem to care
that all i needed was a cheap distraction, a tumble & not so much
as a goodbye
after your sweat dried to salt crystals on my skin.

i.
you resonated
with something i'd
lost in
a moment of
careless confidence.
similarly you'd become
something i regret

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