Monday, November 18, 2013

Blue Matter (A Poem)

Her love
Was a chest void,
A wickless candle
I could not light afire.
We’d grope each other
In the half-lit
Friday sidewalks
Or parking lots
Outside movie theaters
Or in -front of mirrors
In department store bathrooms,
The show of her tattoos,
Pulse at the nape
Of her neck
That beat two-parts
For only me
Though I could never
Witness the blue throb
Of her heart matter,
Her gold lockets
And silver bracelets
Wearing their old hues
Onto my skin
Like something cancerous.
I shrugged my shoulders
One morning and broke
The rope of her void
From the cuff of my heart,
She dangled there
For a few seconds,
Harsh words, sad love notes,
The disappeared.

Written for a prompt at MindLoveMisery.

The Broken Thing (A Poem)

135
That last summer
Was a dissection,
Razor-skinned and marsh murky,
We dumped our old hurts
Into a silky-gripped bottle
Of cheap whiskey
And carved the indenture
Of ourselves into one another.

We carried a union
Of painful events
Into lanky-chaired cafes,
Strong as the blackest bean
Or the hardest words of Ginsberg,
And across the rain puddles
Of an isolated campus,
The art gallery a mouthful
Of inspiration that neither one
Of us could fully swallow.

The, befuddled of loss
We could not name, we raced
The nervous fingers of each other
Into empty move theatres,
Hoping the stagnant
After-breath of dead stars
Could breathe something substantial
Into the back-roads
Of our writers-block brains

But nothing we did could change
The airless, invisible thing
That hung between us
Like a lightless chandelier,
It’s hardwiring faulty,
Something had gone wrong,
And not knowing what,
We simple tossed it,
One less wager for the moving van,
The wheels of my suitcase
Playing connect-the-dots
With summer ants and bird droppings.

Written from a prompt at Sunday Whirl.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Stardust and Dead Matter (A Poem)

Morning was a celestial collision,
Mars teetering off the axis
Of her roaming-planet legs,
Blowing dents into Pluto
And snapping back the rings of Saturn
Like too-sturdy rubber bands,
Skinning shards of neon green matter
From the moon’s right hip
As she skidded past, dropping her
Stone fire into the outer core
Of our Mother Earth,
Spinning our clocks backward,
Shaving everything living
From the atmosphere
Like dust from an antique chandelier.
We survived the shaking assault
Inside our love cave,
Four stone walls
Where the roaches crawled
Like a tiny army of red matter,
We watched out of the mouth
Of a dead-end hollowed space
As the moon, angry and off orbit,
Threw her spinning gray stones
To earth, each one as assaulting
As a round, angry God.
Everything went as black
As the blackest heart of Faust,
The electrical lights of big cities
Gone vague and silent,
The magnetism reversing it’s wheels.
We kept watching as the earth slowly
Floated into the abyss of a black hole,
Strolling us into a starless shade
Of universal, smoking gray.
So we carved our good-byes
Into ancient stone walls,
And there was nowhere else to go
So we drank cocaine shots
And dreamed of being stars.

Written for a prompt at DVerse Poets.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Of Morning and Manta (A Poem)

We dream
Together
Two hearts
And one heap
Beneath a mountain
Of terry cloth
And floral.
You tell me
You’d like
To take me to
Some Spanish country
Or a tiny town
Nestled into the
Corner island
By the sea
Where village children
Ride their bikes,
Offering tasteless
Salt-taffy
To unsuspecting
Tourists.
My feet are cold,
Winter pushing itself
Against our
Bedroom window
And I reckon the sea
Sounds nice
So I smile and
You kiss my nose.
I stuff this moment
Into the happy sack
Of my heart,
Manta for
The lonely nights
Of some other year.

Written for Poets United and We Write Poems.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Inside The Ink (A Poem)

rorshach

There is a face
In the black light
Of a frozen window
And it’s hands
Are reaching out
Into a world,
This town a ruin
That folds atop itself
Like a mandolin retired
To the farthest corner
Of a dusty room,
The upper-floor grave
Of an almost-empty house.
The town is gone,
It’s people have fled
The weekly world news
Of another war,
And words have
Lodged themselves
Into the mouths
Of an angry God
Who no longer gives orders.
The world has gone awry,
The sheep are roaming,
Crazy men are burning books
In the tin cans
Of their own houses,
And the smoke…
It is slowly choking us off.


Written for a prompt at MindLoveMisery

The Plastic People (A Poem)


What I remember most
Is how well they loved
The hard plastic bodies
Of one another.
How the unsaid words
Would keep their eyes open
Come every Sunday,
Time spinning it’s frozen,
Nimble halves into the lightless
Corners of each room
Like a sundial mother
Gathering her young,
Savior of the darkest moments,
In a pixelated rubber
Of forever after.
I remember how their
Long holidays never ended,
The stories their purple
Painted radio stations told
Of an Iraqi war and
The midnight blood baths
Of tiny, soldier men
Who roamed the desert isles
Of some other country.
They would tip their
Unreadable bibles,
Pink lips frozen
To undecipherable Gods
In black corner clouds,
Unrememorable.
They were as alive
And breathing as me,
Behind the perfectly-painted
Shutters and always-summer
Where when they dreamed
They hoped for better
And the hurts they felt
Were anything but imaginary.

Written for  a prompt at Dverse Poets.

Friday, November 8, 2013

The Bodies Between (A Poem)



Time is
Three minutes ‘till midnight
And I pull
The shine of my skin
Between us
Like a starry sky.
Three candles resurrect
The shadows
Of so many sleeping things,
And the wall becomes
A beating flame
Of abstraction.
And us
In moon white,
The floating earth orbs,
Thirsty of this long day,
We pour the atmosphere
Full of each other
Like tiliting cups
Of cheap coffee and cocoa.

Written from a prompt at Poets United.

I was Away For a Few Days

So this year I decided to partake in Nanowrimo...for those of you who are unaware what this is, it's a website/challenge dedicated to national novel writing month.  The challenge? To write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November.

Now, I have my novel outlined and have been working (this week) on writing roughly 1600 words a day.  I figured I'd skip a month of poetry writing and my beloved prompt sites I visit weekly (Poets United, The Mag, MindLoveMisery, We Write Poems, and Sunday Whirl).  I thought that'd be okay, after all I'd be too busy for poetry...right?  Wrong!

I have missed the outlet, the venue for expression through my poetry so terribly this week that it sort of made the nanowrimo not even worth it.  So, I've revised my own goals for that.  I absolutely must write my poetry, it is my true creative expression.  So then I will strive to write perhaps 800 words a day on the novel.  50,000 is just way to much for me to endure in a one month period, it hogs all my free time, it makes the writing a chore rather than a joy.

My revised goal for Nano is 25,000 words down on my novel by November's end.  And I will still have time to write my poetry.  Shew, this week has been hard!

So, if I usually do your prompt and I missed it this week...I will be there next week!  :)