Submissions by Strangeways_Rob
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Absinthe Strips Grey From The Skies
Absinthe please take my mind:
Sweetly, sugar bends the spoon
Stirs fragments of parenthesis
Piss and green stained
Words roam on unstacked shelves
In libraries of attribution.
In absentia, memory lakes
Buckled by tidal locked limbs
Belted & broken, descend
To bloated bodies,
Sunk at cathedral depth.
Haunted by the colours
Of the night’s soul, the
Asylum For Dead Artists
Paint their walls fifty one
Shades of gunmetal grey.
Everything may go green –
Everything may go.
Washed in...
Sweetly, sugar bends the spoon
Stirs fragments of parenthesis
Piss and green stained
Words roam on unstacked shelves
In libraries of attribution.
In absentia, memory lakes
Buckled by tidal locked limbs
Belted & broken, descend
To bloated bodies,
Sunk at cathedral depth.
Haunted by the colours
Of the night’s soul, the
Asylum For Dead Artists
Paint their walls fifty one
Shades of gunmetal grey.
Everything may go green –
Everything may go.
Washed in...
#love
#dreams
#sea #memories
#sea #memories
448 reads
4 Comments
Shooting Horses
After the crematorium,
We drop the urn on bar floor:
It becomes a nest of
Sawdust, vomit, whiskey
And our friend Johnny.
There’s that joke.
You know the one?
A horse walks into a bar
And the barmaid asks him
“Why the long face?”
Well, a nomadic steed
Fresh, indeed, from mo(u)rning fields
Gallops from dawn to twilight
Town to town, hooved shoes
Clicking a Latino rhythm.
In the litany of celebrity equidae
- Trojan Gulliver Champion
Mister Ed Silver 1 of...
We drop the urn on bar floor:
It becomes a nest of
Sawdust, vomit, whiskey
And our friend Johnny.
There’s that joke.
You know the one?
A horse walks into a bar
And the barmaid asks him
“Why the long face?”
Well, a nomadic steed
Fresh, indeed, from mo(u)rning fields
Gallops from dawn to twilight
Town to town, hooved shoes
Clicking a Latino rhythm.
In the litany of celebrity equidae
- Trojan Gulliver Champion
Mister Ed Silver 1 of...
#love
#dystopian
390 reads
2 Comments
Breaking Graves With Word Waves
Dear unruly reader
Let me invite you to a fiction barbeque
Grilled verbs,
Cremated chapter & verse:
Draw your hearse alongside me
Pour a franklin font &
Watch how the colours run.
The fahrenheit is frightening.
Seeking refuge in the kitchen,
Talking post-war Polish prose
With a blushing boy from Ukraine.
A girl from Oxford city
Showing her latest tattoo:
WRITE YOURSELF INTO MY DIARY
Over an elbowed Elvis, all shook up.
INTERLUDE
We walked as pall bearers
In...
Let me invite you to a fiction barbeque
Grilled verbs,
Cremated chapter & verse:
Draw your hearse alongside me
Pour a franklin font &
Watch how the colours run.
The fahrenheit is frightening.
Seeking refuge in the kitchen,
Talking post-war Polish prose
With a blushing boy from Ukraine.
A girl from Oxford city
Showing her latest tattoo:
WRITE YOURSELF INTO MY DIARY
Over an elbowed Elvis, all shook up.
INTERLUDE
We walked as pall bearers
In...
#love
#music
#WritingPoetry
427 reads
2 Comments
Talking To Alan Bennett About Penguins
LIGHT FADES
‘Appen an axe may befall me
In ginnel or wintry wood
Should be of rust and oak;
A refined English death such as
The charge of the light brigade
Would not suit my constitution.
Bloomsbury bric-a-brac shrinks
Under an idle twilight,
The Stephen sisters sketched
Sipping tea, seemingly, from
Over the planet’s lip.
Bookshelves creak under passion.
Walls of the vase grow thin
White petals darkened by fetid water.
Above all else
Shit will always grow to surface.
Fussy BBC lady...
‘Appen an axe may befall me
In ginnel or wintry wood
Should be of rust and oak;
A refined English death such as
The charge of the light brigade
Would not suit my constitution.
Bloomsbury bric-a-brac shrinks
Under an idle twilight,
The Stephen sisters sketched
Sipping tea, seemingly, from
Over the planet’s lip.
Bookshelves creak under passion.
Walls of the vase grow thin
White petals darkened by fetid water.
Above all else
Shit will always grow to surface.
Fussy BBC lady...
#fiction
#respect
411 reads
4 Comments
broken tree >> on river bend
Upon my bough,
June breeze pins me to the scene.
Brow of my beloved
Astride an amethyst trunk,
Arched towards rainfall
Tears the bow of harboured ships.
Old fisherman shares a nod -
Awkward reverence of existence -
Objectifying space between us.
The comfort of strangers.
Riverbed reflects a painting:
Into which we step,
People of oiled canvas, as
Burnt matches unframed.
Sunset sulphurs
Strike tomorrow chime.
Looking down into drowned
Weeds, savagely whirling,
On verge of uprooting. ...
June breeze pins me to the scene.
Brow of my beloved
Astride an amethyst trunk,
Arched towards rainfall
Tears the bow of harboured ships.
Old fisherman shares a nod -
Awkward reverence of existence -
Objectifying space between us.
The comfort of strangers.
Riverbed reflects a painting:
Into which we step,
People of oiled canvas, as
Burnt matches unframed.
Sunset sulphurs
Strike tomorrow chime.
Looking down into drowned
Weeds, savagely whirling,
On verge of uprooting. ...
#love
#universe
#nature
629 reads
1 Comment
This Night
# Vizz
#love
#universe
627 reads
3 Comments
Darling, Are You Ready For The Electric Chair Yet? (lyrics 1990-ish)
Her memory is dancing on my fingertips
Last tango of my knuckled heart
Chalked my outline on the bedroom floor
I am no body, have nobody.
Darling, are you ready for the electric chair yet?
They’re showing ECT dramas on the BBC
Oh come around and I’ll plug you in
Shock yourself back to me.
When I heard her talking Latin
And tattooed PLATH on her desk
Me and my heart….oh me and my heart
We stole the weekend away
Dreaming of the Monday girl.
Darling, are you ready for the electric chair yet?
They’re showing...
Last tango of my knuckled heart
Chalked my outline on the bedroom floor
I am no body, have nobody.
Darling, are you ready for the electric chair yet?
They’re showing ECT dramas on the BBC
Oh come around and I’ll plug you in
Shock yourself back to me.
When I heard her talking Latin
And tattooed PLATH on her desk
Me and my heart….oh me and my heart
We stole the weekend away
Dreaming of the Monday girl.
Darling, are you ready for the electric chair yet?
They’re showing...
#teens
#lyrics
362 reads
1 Comment
Even Whales Get The Bends (Haiku Harpoons)
Vestmanna bay blood -
Sea burns angry, just enough
To remind us. Just.
Upon calves cradle,
Would you slaughter your mother
Shoal loving her child?
Breath breezes her heart
In(uit) death shade, vast blue,
O’er gunships stars fade.
Meat slabs blubber oil scent
Trails death drift for no reason.
Sea snow shepherds ice.
Chasing moon plastic
Earth’s last rites in Armstrong sight;
Anoint grave oceans.
Sea burns angry, just enough
To remind us. Just.
Upon calves cradle,
Would you slaughter your mother
Shoal loving her child?
Breath breezes her heart
In(uit) death shade, vast blue,
O’er gunships stars fade.
Meat slabs blubber oil scent
Trails death drift for no reason.
Sea snow shepherds ice.
Chasing moon plastic
Earth’s last rites in Armstrong sight;
Anoint grave oceans.
#sea
#ignorance
434 reads
1 Comment
DROP DEAD
#Morality VIZ
#morality
700 reads
4 Comments
Penblwydd Hapus My Love & Other Things
The world will one day fade
Skies be packed away
Assembled in some other universe.
The last bell will clink off a cliff;
Chime (kneeled) knell in cup of sea.
On oak shelves
Libraries will borrow time
From a circle of trees.
In the beginning was all things wood.
It was silence, mountain rain
Siren song timbres, poetry
Which brought us here.
Point on the horizon, so distance
Fathomed unimaginable, until
The sun cut through the ocean.
We sail our ship o’er dry land.
Love wears jewels
Over its...
Skies be packed away
Assembled in some other universe.
The last bell will clink off a cliff;
Chime (kneeled) knell in cup of sea.
On oak shelves
Libraries will borrow time
From a circle of trees.
In the beginning was all things wood.
It was silence, mountain rain
Siren song timbres, poetry
Which brought us here.
Point on the horizon, so distance
Fathomed unimaginable, until
The sun cut through the ocean.
We sail our ship o’er dry land.
Love wears jewels
Over its...
#love
#birthday
#MyInspiration
498 reads
5 Comments
DIGGING TIDES
Toil of sun smeared spade,
Forking limbs horizontal to
The hardening earth:
As a gravedigger reluctant, to
Leave further space for the dead.
The old man’s back buckles like
An old iron bridge bearing
Exhaust thrust of lorry pile up.
Age stoops into shed
Struggle to draw cigarette, to
Gates of his putrefied mouth.
Eyes blacker than crow feathers
Butterfly cadaver mascara.
Death at his elbow, vertebra
Valediction ropes
Memory to burnt bridges.
The old man feels fern & roots
Lapping his...
Forking limbs horizontal to
The hardening earth:
As a gravedigger reluctant, to
Leave further space for the dead.
The old man’s back buckles like
An old iron bridge bearing
Exhaust thrust of lorry pile up.
Age stoops into shed
Struggle to draw cigarette, to
Gates of his putrefied mouth.
Eyes blacker than crow feathers
Butterfly cadaver mascara.
Death at his elbow, vertebra
Valediction ropes
Memory to burnt bridges.
The old man feels fern & roots
Lapping his...
#MyInspiration
#nonfiction
429 reads
1 Comment
hummingbirds - we will become everything of this
/Viz
#love
#nature
#spiritual
408 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Strangeways_Rob