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Daily Poetry

 
  

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astrojax69
09:36 / 06.05.07
inter-cavity, hurtling like puppies
the tragedy descends

the bowl-shaped floor cups its stony hands
and collects us, setting us
like jellies primed for the tooth
upon earth

an abcess seeps and oozes vesuvial
and the game is soon up
 
 
Dutch
22:10 / 14.05.07
Endtrophy

In the end, all graves are nameless,
the fame of all sundwellers and magic storytellers
is bound for simple decay, as they fade away.
In the end all fades away.

In the end, all matter lies unheard,
the words of all prophets and children's puppets
are bound for simple decay, as they fade away.
In the end all fades away.

In the end, all pursuits are aimless,
the claim of all theologists and hopeful futurists
is bound for simple decay, as they fade away
In the end all fades away.

In the end, all of nothing lies undisturbed
the hurts of all lovers and their stepmothers,
are bound for simple decay, as they fade away.
In the end all fades away.


If in the end, we must remain nameless,
our fame stolen and our stories forgotten,

wherefore then our words?

If in the end, we must remain unheard,
our words buried and our visions invisible

wherefore then our aims?

If in the end, we must remain aimless,
our claims but lies and fancies ill-begotten

wherefore then our hurts?

If in the end, we are nothing undisturbed,
our hurts trampled and finally indivisible,

wherefore then our names?


If nothing is to end it,

should we then befriend it?

To understand, what no being

can imagine being?


We can not know every thing

We do not know no thing

every thing is no thing

there is not no is

there is no is

there is no

there is

no.


o
 
 
Whisky Priestess
14:33 / 16.05.07
A "found" poem from Books. Title my own, all the rest is the work of some overstretched PR gimp.

Success
David Barnett, an award winning
journalist, has worked in
newspapers in the north since 1989,
he is currently Features Editor for
the Telegraph and Argus and
published his novel Hinterland in 2005
 
 
Dutch
22:30 / 12.06.07
They could not deliver themselves
and wished they could be parcels.
They could not save themselves
and wished they were but bites.
 
 
Dutch
11:44 / 25.06.07
Apology and Evolution

For years I have not seen
Each dark corner of oppression
Might is right, still the mighty claim
Inside their ivory towers
Never did I feel the pain
Inflicted on so many people
Such as I was privileged born
- Man instead of woman

I then thought myself not a part of these
Structures of oppression

No, I said, I am enlightened
On the problems of the oppressed
- Though I knew so little truth

Decisive words of reason cut through me
Errors were shown me, time and time again
Alas I might never fully understand, yet I
Dare now say I learned a little...
 
 
astrojax69
02:27 / 29.06.07
fuck,
i left the oven on

where is the treacle?
 
 
Dutch
09:10 / 29.06.07
There once was a reporter
who interviewed the deceased
She found one young zombielad
with whom she was quite pleased

Taken, even one might say
and doubly in surprise
when in response to her question
he said, not blinking twice:

I LIKE TURTLES!

Proving once more,
though they look like walking remains
Judge not a zombie by his outward colour
for they do not all like simply

BRAAAAINS
 
 
astrojax69
06:48 / 22.07.07

ode to cello


o, you are a dog.

yes, of all dogs, you are one. puppy.
yes. yes you are.

how can i turn to poetry
with beauty so pure
in such abundance, close as skin..,

eh, puppy? sit.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
13:45 / 15.08.07
Spam poetry in my inbox, under large-font ads for Adobe Photoshop. I quite like it. Is it a real poem or fragments/lines of other poems stuck together, anyone know?

I do not betray you, I still go forward,
That open before me? What I see
Like theirs ends? From what distant point of vision
What? What can you do?
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Still has to be intoned, as in a lonely
To pick up even the quickening of wind
Mère and Père Chose are walking away from the
Looms in the air, deliberate and slow,
Chose to walk out of it, they'd have to pass
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
To mark that square, perhaps: were Mère and Père
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
Set on that tomb in the eternal night;
In the woods, close by,
What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows,
From there. Toward . . .
"Be off!" say Winter's snows;
 
 
Papess
14:01 / 15.08.07
Ooh, I got that one! Pretty.
 
 
This Sunday
22:39 / 21.09.07
Someone asked me for a piece for an antho, so here's the first thing knocked out:

The wings broke
on the wasp on the
wall where
it waited where it died

Wonder if wind
would lift the wasp
or slip through missing
parts and let the wasp
fall but that seems
cruel

I cannot imagine wind
that would wonder
what the dead wasp
ever did for the wind,
that is, I can imagine, but
the wings are more optimistic
and it’s a bit rude to presume for them
when it is they and their missing panes
and the dead wasp holding a wall
missing
parts that the wind either will lift
or… the wind with lift because it is
not my option to opine on, but
the decision
 
 
astrojax69
05:27 / 05.10.07
i tried to poo
but nothing came out
i tried to scream
but could only shout
i tried to swim
but the water froze
i try to think
but i've lost all my toes

i sit and wait but the time has stopped
i tried to write poetry, but simply flopped.
 
 
The Ghost of Tom Winter
07:04 / 05.10.07
I had a wild hair up my ass and decided to post a spontaneous poem of ridiculousness.


Swing trees, collide in bees.
Little fancy turtle wings
make the lady go loony.
Tawdry tears tear the cheeks
of the train’s little tweeds.
And we sing soup songs
for the day’s long gone.
Gaze, gaze chikatee.
Gaze gaze, widowbee,
gaze gaze, nittytee.
Lorddough grab the show,
for the lord under the road.
 
 
Jawsus-son Starship
08:13 / 05.10.07
He was a big man,
AS a man he was slow and big.
Today he pushed his car.

He pushed it up the hill,
to come back down the otherside,
so he wouldn't have to push all day long.
 
 
Dutch
17:40 / 06.10.07
I am become a man possessed
Of Oppenheimer’s shadow

Brilliance

*flashed*

…an instant passed…

All were made to watch

With terrifying bleeding eyes
And skin turning to bubbles
With the knowledge of a thousand Gods
And the minds of awestruck children

With their backs to walls forever
And their last screams undying
With blackened babies clutched so tightly
And pleading arms outstretched

So they were made to watch
Made to breathe their death
Made to drink the water that flowed
Glowing with burning cancer

So they were made to watch
Made to walk on mars
Made to stumble and dissolve
Into rivers of decaying kindred

I am become a man possessed
Of Oppenheimer’s shadow

Vengeance

*flashed*

A lifetime passed

All were made to tremble
 
 
Alex's Grandma
01:03 / 07.10.07
'Stuff'

Second-hand books, dried flowers
Wine stains
And fluff
Memories

Old magazines about
The fashionable scene

Stuff
You make my home look rough.

You will burn.
 
 
Jawsus-son Starship
14:49 / 15.10.07
Within the yellow letter,
hidden amongst platitudes,
signed by those in the know,
you'll find your latest rejection.

BFD. Big Fucking Deal.
 
 
Hallo, Paper Spaceboy
22:46 / 15.10.07
The Death of Gay Pornography

A black jock-strap
strewn
across a manhole cover.
 
 
Jawsus-son Starship
09:27 / 18.10.07
Stretching out across the sleep,
Arms wandering round like the spanish,
beautiful wavvy brown hair,
light skin, pale blue eyes,
wearing my engagement ring.
 
 
astrojax69
18:35 / 09.11.07

i wrote this in china last year, just found it in my journal, searching fo something else. sorry it is so late. mebbe i should put it in the thread for comment, too..?




macau ferry

I
[en route]


instincts swagger on land legs
across swaying floors
flat horizon [corrupted
by islands and distant vessels;
receding] rising now, dipping
parallelograms of solo rhythms to tonal chatter
popping like children’s bubbles
then going quiet. nodules of tilted black
tufts, paused in slumber –
vik’s new shoes matching the décor;
lucky patch an omen for
so many chinese…

from the haze grows a destination
solidifying and becoming more than
bright silly commercial incessancy in plasma
pointing at

macau.


close now, twitter and peep of hand-held
conversations, volume rising in place of steam
in the chill cabin;
and beyond, the sky – a new world
awaits recollection




II
[return]


swirling into memory singular

small white tiles and green pipes stopped
in motifs, telling exotic lies, dried catch
of moist cod; incense and wines:

swarms of scooters
cackling in gaps not there. magic buses
filling, filling, filling, filling, filling, filling until we swoop away
and gasp like eels, heels snapping clunk stepping clack…


somewhere symphonic a man prone on a ledge, arm still
reaching
into air, stocking feet, the parade
passing by…

go up now, to cold canon taking impotent aim
at construction like reality, bamboo-clad, rising
to the mists; wanting more


without a sigh, leaving kittens on a stone
sleeping as the dead under glass, excavated
and displayed, bones from flesh pressed for time
- centuries, not seconds

but a day elapsed
like tides scooping the night across a journey
begun by instinct and ends
in a dreamless, formless now
 
 
astrojax69
00:10 / 17.11.07

a corrupted moon lingering.

liquorice reading neitzsche with dyslexic insensitivity,
the dog is dead!

remnants of distress falling through the open blind
neighbour flays partner, abuse in torrents like rain
as their cabbages wither in drought

no tyranny is too far
for the ants today, magnified by meniscus lens
slupping the honey i left out, the jar lid off:
fucking stupid - i was going to glaze lamb
little legs, amazingly this late, still twitching; antennae decommissioned


another night ceases with the sun again
too far to touch, too near to hide.
so, what else does neitzsche say, i ask the sweet black stick...
 
 
astrojax69
06:00 / 19.11.07
ca- ca- can't find the words to s- s- say
what i ca- can't find the thoughts to think about
that rumbles in plumes and rolls of roiling ruckus
ins- ins- inside my hollow skull

ink dribbles and smudges all over the careful letters
arranged in no par- particular order in the neuronic melee there,
just th- there, the- there where my finger traces,
nails scratching the sulci, pe- pe- peeling back myelin mazes seeking out

words, thoughts, random musing on abstract talents hidden
by the words i ca- ca- can't even start to fathom.
st- stupid st- stuttering brain, stupid st- st- stuttering head,
f- f- fu- f'get it, just f'get it all.


aah, typical. now, now it comes back to be, to me - same thing.
it was a p- p- poem, about nothing really, just love.
no-one cares about that anymore. my brain siezes up when i t- t- try
to make it splash out into the white spaces dormant before me,
unlike inside me, bloody gore and slashed organs collapsed upon themselves
in spite of the night, in spite of the wrenching heartaches endured for it.

but i ca- ca- can't seem to make it appear right.
you know what i mean. don't you?
 
 
astrojax69
09:05 / 30.11.07

down, why?


my life coach
pulled me out of the game
and put on a substitute.
 
 
Dutch
23:50 / 01.12.07
Ode to procrastination

His days are filled with lingering,
loitering thoughts and
half-assed perations

Knowing not where to go and so
going nowhere at all

His nights are filled with pondering
pandering lies and
simple masturbation

Knowing not where to go and so
going nowhere at all

--

Procrastination!

You lovely demon
invited out of leisure
lying laughing twinkling there
in grapeful decadence

Procrastination!

You are the fuzzy downfall

You are the late curtain call

You are the comfortable chair

You are the warmth of blankets

You are nothingness made fluffy

yet compelling...
 
 
Dutch
22:37 / 10.12.07
He refrains from abstaining
and remains oft entertaining
yet only until the moment
when all the drinking’s done.

He delights in foolish playing
and caricaturist portraying
yet only until the moment
when all the drinking’s done.

He seeks his truth in glasses filled
and with each poured-full glass
is thrilled enough to allow a glow
to spread on swollen cheeks.

He needs his shots to forget the bills
and with each sorrowful shot
kills enough of himself to show
the way a drunkard bleeds.

He knows that he cannot refrain
He knows his blood is thin
He knows and knows,
but knowledge alone

can’t kill death’s drunken grin.
 
 
Dutch
21:45 / 17.12.07
Dear Monsanto

Soon the code of all food and crops
Will be patented and sold
Soon the day will come at last
When they belong to you alone

And you will claim to end all hunger
And claim the right to profit, from it.

Soon the cells of all human bodies
Will rest inside your pockets
Soon the day will come at last
When you can tell us we needn’t be ill

And you will claim to end all sickness
And claim the right to profit, from it.

Soon for us the day will dawn
When we shall be forever grateful
Soon the dawn of this new age
Will hail our collective triumph

And we will clamber to attain it all
And claim the right of merit, for it

Soon the bodies of our choosing
Will be attained, at our disposal
Soon the food that nourishes us
Will be engineered by you

And we will clamber for a taste of it
And claim the position of subject, for it
 
 
Dutch
04:47 / 19.12.07
waste it

the sorrowful ashes spread
on a keyboard in the morning
too little sleep, almost dreaming
barely awake and fleeting
sleeping, no not yet

there is one last cigarette

to finish
 
 
astrojax69
01:38 / 21.12.07
c is for desire


a willingness to clamber upon rocks
amid showers of magma flushed from earth's bowels, a contentment steeped in the fragrant
telepathy of desire, that for c,

impels motion detains stillness and locks
it like a bike to a steel bar. the silken
gasps in a closed space warped like time
across ribbons of our egos, whipped into

the frenzy of delight, like a child
waking to finda santa's crumbs beside the
empty glass that last night held daddy's
scotch.

surprise! we all play games against our
emotions. we all play games against our
evolution and we all lose, both times.
desire is the path to fulfillment

which only the spewing earth can deliver.
a tree grows where matter has decayed
and i eat its fruit. will you?
 
 
Dutch
02:14 / 21.12.07
waste it too

slightly less unworldly
but drunker nuns the less
blessed must be all of us, sinners
we be surely damned.

wham bam thank you
george

there is nothing left for christmas

nothing but sobriety

locked up far away

hey!

almost ramonian, slightly

geranium pods at night

while wild wild rovers, no

nothing masks the sense

like enough of the

yellow
water

in the tired ends



bendover



hangovers



in quiet germany...


plea?

zzzzzz...
 
 
Dutch
01:16 / 28.12.07
chins that breathe!

powerrrr and gloom

dark and gloomy

is what I am

I need my parents

I need no bird

I am hurt

I am dark,

like Gotham
 
 
astrojax69
05:40 / 13.01.08
drawn like blood into a pipette
flushing and sloshing amid a spongy mirror,
hundreds of images, millions of images of his own visage,
white and pink and awed each gaze flustered
and scared, each angle articulated in myriad chaos,
some crazed and swishing ocean of droplets, every one
a haven or a cell

every one, home.
 
 
astrojax69
05:22 / 08.02.08
the poets are very quiet today, mother.
shhh, you'll wake them

but what shall we do if the poets sleep forever, mother?
shhh, stop asking questions about armageddon, my child.

mother, what is a poet?
shhh, my offspring mine, you might make me say...
 
 
Dutch
22:29 / 08.02.08
Reality trembled before a mighty dream...

Engaged in conversation with my pet,
a rat turned speaking mouse who, rightly, said
I had not treated my companions
with all the attention and love they deserved.

I chased him around the room as he fled,
only to fall on my bed before his sparkling eyes.
Then a light shone through the darkened window
with a vision from a friend new one year dead.

Startled I got up to find his arms outstretched
passing through the glass out towards me.
And I grabbed his arms and was pulled outside
to stand on a rooftop in sheer amazement, happy.

"How have you been I said", as I looked into his eyes
wondering what wisdom lay there, undiscovered in life.
"I have been alright", still glowing he replied
yet a sadness seem to pass through him then.

A girl who loved me once, yet loved him more,
appeared beside us on the grim, grey rooftop.
I recognized her, in this glow of life beyond
and questioned her appearance there.

I looked at him, as he felt his teeth, aching
my own began to pain me as I reached.
I had to let him go then, and now again
yet the girl remained where she was as he faded.

We passed together through the window into my room,
sat down into the room, to old people now belonging.
I sat down beside her on the bed, as she stroked the rat
that had turned mouse again and spoke no more.

Suddenly, two policemen, men in black and blue
kicked in the door and demanded to search the premise.
They shuffled and turned everything upside down,
yet I felt no fear or surprise at their arrival.

Still, the girl who loved us both sat beside me.
Silent as the picture of her inside of me has become.
Then two more people entered, carrying brown suitcases
filled with equipment for testing drugs and pregnancy.

I told them that neither of those were present,
but the girl who loved us both became suddenly warm and older.
She turned to me and I finally understood some meaning.
There was more life in this room than two people and a rat.

Reality trembled before a mighty dream.


(True story, yesterday)
 
 
Leigh Monster loses its cool
03:35 / 10.02.08
Cheerful destruction at night on the harbor
Bright karaoke rains brimstone on water
Fish mutate smoothly while ogling pennies
I'm petting myself on the docks

Notice the love between fingers and tar-ropes
Lullabies droning a sentient engine's hopes
Yesterday dreamt that the night flew on canvas
Thoughts diving hazy and low

Starfish who cling to the hull of the dead surprise
Love the dear smell of fresh diesel at sunrise
Believe it does wonders for mumps and for appetite
I'm long past needing to breathe

But barnacles growing in places no man can see
Sing high and sweetly of sailors who'll drown in me
Frequencies carving the salt from my open eyes
Kiss the grey buzz in my mind
 
 
Dutch
02:52 / 22.02.08
The land.



"What ever happened",

they say,

"to the land of splendored plenty?"


"The land of honey and inventions

has turned to be demented;

a shadow of its formal self."


"Everything is rotten now.

Everything is dying.

And everybody's lying

face down in the sand."


Understand that there never was

this famous land of plenty

Understand that there only was

a futureless useless dream.
 
  

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