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Write No Cliches ... Pull No Punches ... And Keep Going All Night
I get a phone call from you on my birthday.
I’m not sure if you know the date’s significance,
or if it’s just coincidence
that your first call in about nine months
happens to come today.
If you know, you don’t mention it.
The words ‘happy birthday’
never feature in the conversation.…
Posted by Stevie Gray on December 29th, 2009 at 7:29pm — No Comments
The karaoke killer
is setting out his stall.
He's killing country music
in the Black Country mall.
He mangle-strangles every song,
mallet-tongues it cartoon flat,
shreds it with a rictus grin
under a comedy cowboy hat.
He karaokes all traces
of desire and loss.
He makes Paper Roses sound the same
as The Old Rugged Cross.
No lovelorn lonely strangeness,
no lost highways and no sin.
If Hank Williams is in hell…
Posted by Robert Warrington on November 7th, 2009 at 10:50am — 3 Comments
Forget, why are we here?
I’m thinking, why was i there?
Failing hair, aging face.
Why should I have ever
Been living
In the past tense?
Forget, why are we here?
I’m thinking, why was i there?
The smoke keeps telling
Me there’s fire.
But you can get the smoke
Without the fire.
If the truth spoke it’s
Self I’d call it a liar.
Forget, why are we here?
I’m thinking, why was i there?
Thoughts of pressing flesh
Eye…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on November 2nd, 2009 at 10:34pm — 2 Comments
Posted by Gregory Dancer on November 2nd, 2009 at 10:08pm — 1 Comment
If... was whispered
Only was replied....
very softly
Hugh then listened
and decided to walk past
for it was an Only
And the PopCat
kept ahold of the Ape
as they walked through
If was whispered
And Hugh danced
replied he did....
Only........
he prefers candied coffee
methanol flavored cigarettes
…
Posted by Donnie Kay on October 28th, 2009 at 9:18pm — 1 Comment
Who were the Olmecs? Who were they?
With their raised houses
Their ingenious ditches
Their earth pyramids
Their basalt thrones
Their jaguar masks
Their concave mirrors
Their unknown symbolism
Their weird figurines
Their palm-thatched roofs
Their undeciphered hieroglyphs
Their rubber ball rituals
Their jade art
Their deliberately buried monuments
Their stone heads dreaming in the primeval jungle
Their obsidian arrows
T…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 26th, 2009 at 4:42pm — 1 Comment
When they told me I had cancer
I was overwhelmed by a sense of things needing to be done
or done again, done better
I went to the archives and pulled everything
The novel that never got beyond the first few pages
Short stories that stalled after a promising first paragraph
Numerous notes towards essays never written
Flawed scripts to unmade films
Partial lyrics to unrecorded songs
Going through it all turned my stomach
The incompleteness of everything s…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 26th, 2009 at 4:32pm — 1 Comment
The boy had never felt so alone. At the field’s edge, fixated on the motorway running alongside, its steady swish of headlights, he wondered whether the people stowed inside each car were in a big hurry to get somewhere or if it just seemed that way. Sometimes the sky felt so high it was beyond reach but now its black mass was oppressively close, overwhelming and almost suffocating. He splayed his hand out an inch from his face and could barely distinguish it from the night. This made him lau…
Posted by C. Boylan on October 26th, 2009 at 1:10pm — 2 Comments
It’s Not Green
Brady could always hear the dripping. Reddish green mucus like with loud “plops” on the concrete floor. It was a constant companion in the dark, the smell…
Posted by Patrick Broussard on October 25th, 2009 at 10:36am — 1 Comment
In my cracked crystal
I see broken windows
I see a wrecked flat
I see you showing your bruises
to a sceptical officer in charge
I see one year
of statements at the police station
I see a fist with your name on
I see a restraining order
not worth the paper it's written on
I see a different flat
I see him spotting you in town
and following you home
I see more broken windows
I see him standing in the dock
in a sober suit
and a caref…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 25th, 2009 at 10:15am — 1 Comment
You are a floating wood
of violet trees
You are violet trees
with roots of blue starlight
You are blue starlight melting
to liquid diamond
You are liquid diamond
budding in to firedrops
You are firedrops forming
a handgrenade of flowers
You are a handgrenade of flowers
exploding in slow motion
You are a slow explosion
in a sky of ten dimensions
You are a ten dimensional sky
with an ice cloud sun
You are an…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 25th, 2009 at 10:09am — 1 Comment
In your dreams you're always in a loop
You go back for your bag and you've got no boots
You go back for your boots and you've got no bag
You keep wondering why this keeps happening
You keep remembering it's a dream and then forgetting again
In your dreams it's always the end of something
or the beginning of something
or you're attending something
Something puzzling
like a prize giving ceremony with no ceremony and no prizes
The people in your dreams are…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 25th, 2009 at 10:00am — 1 Comment
Avoid travel. It's a risky business.
Avoid the home. It's where most accidents happen.
Avoid the sky. Things fall from it.
Avoid the ground. It's not as stable as it looks.
Avoid food poisoning. Don't eat anything.
Avoid war. It can break out anywhere.
Avoid dogs. They bite.
Avoid people. They also bite.
Avoid airborne viruses. Don't breath.
Avoid disappointment. Don't get your hopes up.
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 24th, 2009 at 6:24pm — 1 Comment
I dream about you Babylon
How I stood at your gate
awed and enslaved
surrounded by colours
I'd never seen
by gods that were not mine
I dream about you Babylon
I dream about you Babylon
old capital of Sumer
old capital of Akkad
I dream of your dazzle
your lions and flowers
your terrifying brilliance
I dream about you Babylon
I dream about you Babylon
of your animal god Hadad
of your sky god Marduk
of your…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 24th, 2009 at 12:22pm — 1 Comment
The girl with the cool head
The girl with a heart of blue quartz
The girl with the light shining through her skin
The girl who was unexpected
The girl who captured the moment without knowing
The girl too humble to know her own strength
The girl who got to me
The girl who stepped out of Pharaoh's shadow
The girl cart-wheeling through the yellow flowers
The girl dodging wind machines in Tornado Alley
The girl who flowed
The girl of the intrepid…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 24th, 2009 at 12:12pm — 1 Comment
Another heavy pilgrimage
along the branching arteries of corridors,
footsteps muted dull on green linoleum,
through the fog-thick smell
of disinfectant and slow dying,
to stand by your bed,
amid the sprawling intrusion
of tubes and wires and machinery,
and hold your hand…
Posted by Stevie Gray on October 23rd, 2009 at 7:51pm — 2 Comments
I had one good thought
but it didn't last
I had one good feeling
but it was a while ago
I had one good idea
but I didn't act on it
I had one good plan
but it didn't work
I had one good brain cell
but it died
I had one good day
but it was a fluke
I had one good eye
but it was in the middle of my forehead
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 23rd, 2009 at 2:00pm — No Comments
Mood Music
Buzzwords kill
Buzzwords kill…
Posted by Donnie Kay on October 22nd, 2009 at 8:10pm — No Comments
October 21, 2009 / 12:27 pm
The rudeness of the
Day to day, the way
Brief moments are
Supposed to suffice.
The I have all day,
Then disappear, the
Insincere. The build
Me up and blow me
Up and wonder why
I'm so fucked up. The
I love you but only
When you're not you,
You're always wondering
What I can do for you.
The oh Val. The damn it,
Val. The you're never
Going to get it right, Val.
The way the pa…
Posted by Val Val on October 21st, 2009 at 4:07pm — 2 Comments
"So what is this?" Kane asks the man in front of him. "It's a key." The man says to the perplexed Kane. Key in hand Kane looks to his right and to his left and sees only a long blank hallway, the right end of which seems to never end. But on the left end of which there is a wooden door, with a gold handle. A door Kane would expect to see in Alice in Wonderland. Still confused he looks the man in the face. The man is an elderly old asian man with sparkles of grey that looks like snow on asphalt.…
Posted by Prince Euo on October 12th, 2009 at 6:41pm — 2 Comments
A Mourning occured.... or perhaps a Morning happened.. ......
Either way,,, Aether way?
Things have been known to have died
And Hugh asks
Do ya think?
And The Popcat dances
Then says.....
Ask me.
Nothing noble
Nothing great
Nothing will be as
Valuable as gold
At this rate
Whisper sweet nothings
So there’s nothing to forget
…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on October 8th, 2009 at 9:09pm — 1 Comment
I’m in so much pain right now that it hurts deep down to the core of my being. I never knew I could feel pain like this clean. I am so severely sad and I don’t know what to do with myself. The only comfort I feel is in the arm of Stephanie. She is my true blessing from God. I really don’t think I would be here right now if it weren’t for her. I miss Bam more than anything. I feel like a part of me is gone. I want to remember every detail of every moment I spent with him and I can barely remember…
Posted by Roscoe on September 29th, 2009 at 10:19am — 1 Comment
You’re doing fine
I’m not going to cosign
Wanting a catastrophic line.
Please call on the Divine.
The clock goes “tick”
Feeling oh so homesick
I have an excruciating itch
What I crave is toxic.
You’re doing fine
The clock goes “tick”
I’m not going to cosign
Feeling oh so homesick
Wanting a catastrophic line.
I have an excruciating itch
Please call on the Divine.
What I crave is toxic.
It took one call,
Peering out I saw it all.
Hustling your new eight ball,
I watched…
Posted by Roscoe on September 29th, 2009 at 10:13am — 1 Comment
She came to me like a ghost from the past. The last traitorous three months had been nothing but constant havoc. We barely even spoke after we found out about her fatal disease. She shunned me, for she didn’t want me to miss her when she was gone. Little did she know, that she was it for me; The love of my life and there was no one else. I craved for her, for her soul, her body, her spirit. She hid from me. But today, She came. She came to our room. She came to the place where we had our most in…
Posted by Roscoe on September 29th, 2009 at 10:07am — 1 Comment
Little donkey, my kicking mule.
That tamed the wisps of chill-born
Sparkling spite of temporal length.
Laying ; babe sleep warm, within,
the head-balls of refraction.
Little words, my kicking mule.
Speak…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on September 28th, 2009 at 6:50pm — 1 Comment
I like the man and the matches
…
Posted by Chocolate Soda on September 27th, 2009 at 3:06pm — 1 Comment
the last recorded incident of Rubik's cube sticker removal as a means to an end primarily as a result of changing policies regarding horse glue by the good people of Ideal Toys -Alex Vermitsky Matt Torrance or Vance (don't ask, I don't know) lived until he died. Not remarkably, not unremarkably which I suppose leaves us with common flashes of brilliance but it wasn't until I was approached by Vance's sister that I got the idea to write about him she said Vance had wanted me to go…
Posted by Alex on September 23rd, 2009 at 12:16pm — 1 Comment
September 22, 2009 / 1:35 am
In the you-are-who
You-want-to-be
Category, I fail
Miserably. In the
Eyes of my family
I am not worth
The fee. Each day
Is new, condition
And shampoo, brush
And review, say
Thank you. I am
A hoarder of emotion,
A seeker of devotion.
If I can't have what
I want I turn into
The debutante. In my
Mind at least. My inner
Beast. Six years old and
Wanting fool's gold.
Posted by Val Val on September 22nd, 2009 at 5:41am — 1 Comment
Posted by Matthew Abuelo on September 21st, 2009 at 2:56pm — 1 Comment
As far as the stars can stretch.
From this gutter wretch .
Into the area of fantasy and fiction.
The things beyond our knowing
Far from that on which we base
our conviction.
I can know yo…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on September 21st, 2009 at 8:50am — 1 Comment
August 8, 2009 / 2:01 am
Where do we always meet?
Way down there at the bottom of
The cheat sheet. Incomplete
Bedroom suite. Indiscreet
Whiskey neat. Backseat driving
All the way to surviving emotion.
Ocean separates, devotion waits.
Two am calls for free skate,
Was I looking for a soul mate?
Did I take the bait or are you the
Blue plate? Verbs I forgot to
Conjugate ready to procreate
And I am just linge…
Posted by Val Val on September 18th, 2009 at 4:49pm — 1 Comment
Believe me, I don’t do this often anymore. My stiff neck has transfigured into resignation in Seat 9G as the airbus climbs towards the sunlit heavens; I’m plastered against the littl…
Posted by idyllwilde on September 17th, 2009 at 3:01am — 1 Comment
Like a noron, I stumble bumble along the early morning sidewalk in a needful gait searching….for something. What is it? Why am I seeking today? It’s a vague feeling in my belly. It’s intangible, this feeling. Chasing a concept like a bear with fluff for brains, say “Winnie the Pooh!” It excites me, sniffing the delicious possibilities out of the air. Catching sigh…
Posted by Donnie Kay on August 24th, 2009 at 9:50pm — No Comments
A song was playing on the radio of some car that was driving by me slowly. I’d recognized it from a Christmas play I’d seen when I was very young, like seven. Now I was eighteen, a grown man, and walking away from my parents’ home, down the street I’d lived on since I was born, which I doubted I’d ever walk back down again. The car rolled at the stop sign and the song took me back.
There is the Lonely, There is the Lonel…
Posted by Nicole Hellene on August 12th, 2009 at 6:03pm — No Comments
I wake up without you,
and it’s your birthday.
Somewhere else,
you’re still asleep,
alongside someone
who is not me,
while a bloodshot sun climbs through haze,
struggling above the rooves behind the house,
and paints my hallway
red.…
Posted by Stevie Gray on August 9th, 2009 at 7:56am — 2 Comments
Cornwall again.
Without you this time.
This time, it hasn’t stopped raining,
and this time,
there’s this girl here with me.
And she’s great.
Her breath breaks on my neck,
as she laughs at some joke I make
with her head resting on my shoulder.
He…
Posted by Stevie Gray on July 28th, 2009 at 7:50pm — No Comments
I want the splat and the slap of it,
The squelch n’ squeeze.
Soft-pressed skin against jagged hard bone,
The red to pink truth inside us.
All the underwear lies cast aside.
As one rides astride.
All the pretence of philosophy ,science ,
Fashion and the art of words
Cast to the past non-resident .
This is the truth of our existence.
The reason for life’s persistence .
Posted by Gregory Dancer on July 12th, 2009 at 2:44am — No Comments
Was what I saw
sitting in encounter
you in Tampa
between bird cries: wheels of
broken big wheels – hair silly
string and sad string?
Was what I saw
sitting in Kenosha.
north bound children
with no hope for encounter?
*
Through milk dishes, fishing line
and generous summer storms
Tampa rains over
trash: space we generously called
a garden.
*
while passive driveways are plowed
in Kenosh…
Posted by Alex on June 24th, 2009 at 8:30am — No Comments
for Charlie
I.
Candy Cones experienced a brief renaissance in Candy Land
an oddity of architectural taste: finicky and old-cat guarded
Cones eye-dotted by the predicable phases of a comfortable moon
or garden position: curved back proximity to generous crop yields
ascetics put to council by the wise: gingerbread
men, lolly girls, dark skinned chocolate that defied
definition; a choice to live without a map – who
does and does not pos…
Posted by Alex on June 24th, 2009 at 8:28am — No Comments
It''s how I remember "sleeping like a teenager"
on beds of Astroturf, piss
and handball
whistling good morning sunshine,
attending brunch,
worthwhile getting up
And our friends still see us on Mt. Olympus
bolt between fat knuckles…
Posted by Alex on June 24th, 2009 at 8:18am — 2 Comments
You are OK Duud.....
Hugh reaches out and draws
Another window
Half in and mostly out
The PopCat looked
back inside
At all that was
There
Through his window
Then he skipped
And once again
Walked his rail.......
Follow me.........
This is the only window
that you get...
Walkin.....
Skippin..
Along the Rail
Posted by Sean on June 14th, 2009 at 6:36am — No Comments
Everything is killing me.
You rendered me so fragile –
a child toddling past
the park bench where I sit
to contemplate the future
looks up at me and gurgles,
and I
break down. Of course.
He leaves to go get ice cream
or chase a ball
or whatever kids do,
[am I confusing them
with puppies again –
which one fetches sticks?]
blissfully unaware
that the mere sight of him
stabs me in the chest
repeatedly.
Such violen…
Posted by C. Boylan on June 3rd, 2009 at 12:20pm — No Comments
Hugh the PopCat had cleaned up Looie as best he could.
Which is very good indeed.
And now Looie was able to walk about in Hell after 20 years.
Anyone else? asked the Ape.
Hugh furled his wings, and replied
(In a silent manner) Depends.....
Who else have you left
In Hell?
The HouseApe stopped.
And the TaraByrd bobbed
And Oskar turned
And Scout looked
I do not know....
I cannot leave yet?
Can I?
No…
Posted by Sean on June 3rd, 2009 at 4:16am — No Comments
MIOM
May 31, 2009 / 12:15 pm
I don't wanna talk about
How I feel, don't wanna
Seal the deal. Don't
Require that praise I used
To desire, one of these days
I'm jumping the next train,
Forget the mundane. You
Don't wanna be me when
The lights come on, I can
Recite the Gospel of John,
I forget what we agreed upon
But I know I'm withdrawn.
In a roundabout way I'm on
Alphanumeric display. If you
Can decode a Pindaric…
Posted by Val Val on May 31st, 2009 at 3:46am — No Comments
It’s reached the end, but how can I pretend
to live with all this know-how?
Been waiting on nothing way too long.
Can I go now?
Just turn back on what once was,
Walk on through what is.
Now I know how can I live with this.
The Shadow branches ,spider twig silhouetted
Guillotine sharp sunlight hurts my eyes,
As most things do when this clear.
The past is always far too near.
It’s reached the end, but how can I pretend
to live with all this…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on May 21st, 2009 at 9:46pm — No Comments
Posted by Paul Grimsley on May 21st, 2009 at 12:52am — 1 Comment
Hey Everyone:
Here is the link to my page on examiner.com where I work as a housing writer.
http://www.examiner.com/x-6452-NY-Progressive-Examiner~y2009m5d17-Speaker-Christine-Quinn-calls-for-rent-hike-freeze
Posted by Matthew Abuelo on May 18th, 2009 at 4:38pm — No Comments
Posted by Gregory Dancer on May 15th, 2009 at 8:30pm — No Comments
Posted by Gregory Dancer on May 15th, 2009 at 8:28pm — No Comments
There’s too many
Philosopher’s stones to
Cast or carry
You find them on the street
In your friends and family
In loves and losses
In cheap
Double crosses
Well Pick them up,
And cast them away
Even though
You’ll pick up a
New batch the next day
Posted by Gregory Dancer on May 15th, 2009 at 8:27pm — No Comments
Posted by Gregory Dancer on May 15th, 2009 at 8:24pm — No Comments
5:29 PM early shutdown
shut off from the world of
half an hour ago
when i watched the multivalent
flip through switches
and just stood there
running down used-up phrases
annoyed at my lack of anxiety
an ice statue of former self
my unhindered mask
i feel somewhat petty
in my exclusive conversation
sonic shut off
teddy bear eyes
alive with lies
but all i hear is the friction in the clouds
watching the open-close twinge of speech…
Posted by Wendy Grimsley on May 14th, 2009 at 9:16pm — No Comments
Sorry to all the ships at sea...
Sorry that i've not been a very good friend to anyone on my list.
Y'see (or is it Sea?), i don't spend much time reading on the net due to a daily battle with mind storms or what the public calls migraines. I'm in a quagmire of sorts, stumbling down the lane, unable to rid myself of such a mucky reality. Sure i'm on meds, but they don't do much except strip my biology of its immune system. The catch there IS 'i have to be on said meds or not get…
Posted by chimmy chimmy coco puffs on May 13th, 2009 at 2:34pm — No Comments
Originally this ran as a series of questions to specific writers in 3 issues of New American Review (9-11) published in paperback form running through the years 1970 to 1971. In the final question "new millennium" replaces the original "sixties".
1.Why do you continue to write? What purpose does your work serve? Do you feel yourself part of a rear-guard action in the service of a declining tradition? Has your sense of vocation altered significant…
Posted by chimmy chimmy coco puffs on May 13th, 2009 at 2:26pm — No Comments
"Submission"...
i just realized how pathetic that term is for us struggling writers, who must surrender our dignity, our wills, & our hopes in an ugly form of getting recognized when we submit our art to the concealed Submission Departments...
Submission...
An evil sound to an evil process.
We know who you are, why do you make us into beggars with bowls? Make our humanity loose & holy like second-hand clothes given out at the…
Posted by chimmy chimmy coco puffs on May 13th, 2009 at 2:24pm — 4 Comments
Laughter.
Sense of floating;
I'm on to of the world.
Alcohol.
It's been a better friend
than you could ever be.
Just as surely as life is killing me,
alcohol is eager to help.
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:49am — 1 Comment
Love never seems to be enough.
Like a farmer you work
and work and work...
harvest time arrives and you have
nothing to show for it.
Just a lot of dirt. [Hurt]
Love is a master illusionist.
Master of trickery;
making you feels things,
making you see things,
to then just ....
Vanish.
Like it was never there.
Love is a like a promise that is never fulfilled.
You hope and hop…
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:49am — No Comments
Ages ago,
once upon my youth,
I had tea with the Devil one afternoon.
He looked at me over the brim of his cup and said,
"We've had a couple of run-ins,
how nice of us to sit and chat."
Oh, how could I refuse him the privelege,
he is after all my greatest friend,
You see, with him I am guilty of nothing, I owe nothing.
He's a liar though, and an excellent one he is;
he lets me have whatever I please,
but then decides…
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:48am — No Comments
My life has been stamped.
VOID.
Dull and monotone,
my eyes glazed over;
they have long ago stopped searching.
Right outside of my life,
I can see color,
and in my dreams
I can feel the warmth crawl over my skin.
My eyes are always looking ahead,
set on the color I cannot reach.
Life is black with
sadness
pain
nonfullfilment…
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:47am — No Comments
I feel like I am not real.
Like I am just a product of a conformist society and
I I I
Do Do Do
Not Not Not
Exist Exist Exist.
Why is it wrong to want more?
To be more?
To achieve more?
You have to drag yourself across the ground,
and they only treat you nice out of spite.
Sleep my dear,
It is the only release you get.
At least in your dreams you can pretend you love yourself.
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:46am — No Comments
I hate my life.
I hate my life.
I hate my life.
This is why I want to die.
Maybe in the place beyond the grave I'll be able to shine,
wipe my tears and dine on a feast of joy,
on a feast of something more.
Something more than this load of shit I call my life.
I hate my life.
I hate my life.
I. Hate. My. Life.
A place where I am not bound,
bound by these chains my family put me in…
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:44am — No Comments
{It's just a piece of a story}
As
the years pass, all the colors bleed together until at some point I’m
gazing into an ugly, sluggish, confusing depiction of time. What is
time? How could time possibly be defined? Why is it defined? Is a year
really a year…if it is not, then what is it? It doesn’t have a
beginning or and end for me, it just keeps on going until I can almost
feel as if it has stopped. What if it doesn’t r…
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:42am — No Comments
Life came to me;
brand new,
with its very own set of wings
and a promise to lift my burdens
if I was to forgive thee.
The time has passed where
you charmed grudges with your grace.
Here is your opportunity to be set free.
I love you.
I forgive you.
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:41am — No Comments
There was something wrong about this day. As I stood watching the sunset as I did every night the air seemed to be an oppressive force closing in around me. Watching the clear bright blue of day transform into the varying shades of pinks and yellows of sunset, something was not right.
He would wake soon, and it made me anxious. I’d always been anxious when i…
Posted by Acadia Harper on May 10th, 2009 at 12:40am — No Comments
Posted by Paul Grimsley on May 7th, 2009 at 11:42pm — No Comments
Ashtrays overflowing.
Cigarettes crushed out
In empty coffee cups.
Ashes falling from
The tips of forgotten cigarettes
Held carelessly in your left hand
As you scribbled poems
On scraps of paper.
Remember the time
You set your own hair on fire?
You smouldered
While I `stumbled to find
The words to tell you
You were burning up.
You said these years together
Were all bonus,
Th…
Posted by M Lederer on May 3rd, 2009 at 3:49pm — No Comments
In a house with high ceilings
and attendant women in premature middle-age and flat, sensible shoes,
where old people come to wait it out
when there’s no more talk of ‘getting better’,
when time inflicts cruelties that relatives cannot bear to watch,
in a room opaque with the ever-present smell of failing kidneys, weakened bladders,…
Posted by Stevie Gray on May 3rd, 2009 at 11:21am — 2 Comments
It's an ugly word. I am fascinated by the potential in the new technology both artistically to create a grand metatextual kind of performance writing and also professionally for a writer. It's an eternal balancing act for me. I am not a romantic. Shakespeare, Dickens, all of them had to do the same thing, find a balance between self-expression and communication. There is absolutely no point saying anything if you don't care if anyone hears it. And prose style is important and everything you writ…
Posted by gingatao on April 28th, 2009 at 7:25pm — No Comments
every day understands itself in the light of you
those ocean hours between your sunset and sunrise
you were never a whisper, always a strong voice
you sweeten the dark of my coffee mouth
the ribbons of your smoky thoughts unwrapping
curling around to halo your head
the luxury of your hair, the expense of your skin
the delicacy of your perfect architecture
i was uncarved wood, an unmade bed
a self-made complication of a puzzle
a shadow looking for a li…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on April 22nd, 2009 at 4:56pm — 1 Comment
I have seen hell
in the theory of holy war
I have seen hell
in the theory of common sense
I have seen hell
in the eyes of a blind idealist
I have seen hell
in the shine on the polished boots of power
I have seen hell
shivering in the shadows of unfamiliar mountains
I have seen hell
shivering on a nearby street corner
I have seen hell
in the self-delusion of gangsters
I have seen hell
in th…
Posted by Robert Warrington on April 21st, 2009 at 6:38pm — No Comments
Posted by Stevie Gray on April 1st, 2009 at 11:24pm — 1 Comment
Searching his memory for the “right” companion music to sidekick his reading about Rocket Boy, it struck him accidently like falling debris and already on his Ipod. Red Hot Chili Peppers Blood Sugar Sex Magic. It all comes flooding back, his San Diego days –early 90s- when the tape was stretched to its limit “und…
Posted by Donnie Kay on March 27th, 2009 at 9:38pm — No Comments
sweeping, take a moment to energise yourself on the craziest broom-stick rodeo never seen
and practise laughing aloud, without a trace of self-consciousness – if children, lunatics
and evil masterminds can manage it, so can we –
now wait for someone to pass by the window and burst into song, at the sort of volume
reserved solely for midday shower solos when you’re certain nobody’s home
- did you startle them?
good.
what,…
Posted by C. Boylan on March 20th, 2009 at 10:17am — 1 Comment
Did you know that we dream of winter
to bury the fear of what is behind the door…
Posted by Matthew Abuelo on March 2nd, 2009 at 1:46am — No Comments
No where was becoming very familiar, as the Ape and Hugh and the TaraByrd bobbed along behind Oskar and Scout.
As they made their way, they came upon a demon with broken claws. In between its claws were bits of hair.
The Ape picked him up and asked "Looie.. is this you?"
The TaraByrd was not around when Looie went into hell, so she did not know.
Hugh , being a PopCat recognized him however.
And the Popcat began to clean Looies claws,
20 years worth of…
Posted by Sean on March 1st, 2009 at 2:22am — No Comments
After the war
you were still milking
the cranial harp
but it was atavism at twilight
morphological echoes
in the hour of monarchy
Expelled from the vertebrate grotto
the sublime moment
of vegetable metamorphosis
you indulged in the nostalgia of the cannibal
burned more giraffes
or pumped out gaseous swans
dead Christs and last suppers
brilliant trash
till your soft watches
and cybernetic o…
Posted by Robert Warrington on February 28th, 2009 at 10:54am — No Comments
I can be your favourite fiction.
I can be legend.
I can be
your most cinematic
regret.
I can be
your vigilante poet,
your angry idealist,
your antihero, or whatever
cardboard cut-out
you want me to be.
I can be
that leather jacket shrug, that
casually enigmatic
soundbite in the dark.
I can be
cryptic and meaningless
in your sheets until morning
among the ashtrays and the empty wine bottles.…
Posted by Stevie Gray on February 24th, 2009 at 4:33pm — 2 Comments
Scout kept moving........ as did the ape. and 1 and 2 moved also.
Hugh did still keep the insanities at bay......As hisss wings shifted and histed. AAAAnd colours happened.....
And Scout moved..... Over there.......~~~~> And one and two folowed....... Scout......
And the PopCat kept the insanity
There then and now followed an irridecencenc...... (or brightly coloured shit)
And the Ape died
But the PopCat
Realized
Posted by Sean on February 23rd, 2009 at 3:22am — No Comments
Miles pass without words, the vaguely shifting horizon my only beacon.
After briefly gnashing and wheezing like a man with a pulmonary disorder, my old pickup’s transmission dies on a minor highway, twenty miles from the last town. Mountains twice the size of anything I’d seen before loom in all directions, the details of their snow decked upper ridges losi…
Posted by Josh Baker on February 22nd, 2009 at 7:23pm — 3 Comments
a Babylonian
boundary stone
lies broken
forgotten
on its side
other empires
rise and capsize
generations of feet
erode
implacable steps
horses
become mail coaches
mail coaches
become slow cars
on solid tyres
a Babylonian
boundary stone
lies broken
forgotten
on its side
Posted by Robert Warrington on February 20th, 2009 at 11:33am — No Comments
Hugh the PopCat sat atop the HouseApes hed... errr head, and looked over at the TaraByrd and asked her something simple. This simpleness consisted of asking " why was the Ape hugging"?
The TaraByrd continued to bob back and fro as she rode along, and after deciding a thing , replied "Inchers".
Hugh then swore. And popped off the head of the Ape. Then stared at Oskar (Who was still swimming backwards). And Oskar said to Hugh "IInchers.....one by one, and Timothy is in his own Hell"…
Posted by Sean on February 19th, 2009 at 1:41am — No Comments
i'm skimming off the skin
to discard the flakes of an old burn
this is only business
where do my loyalties lie?
it's nothing personal if i shove
i know where the edge is
and all about physics
survival has you strung
the shackles you create
pure as snow (guilty as night)
you taught me how to do this
how to slip the knife inside
gently until they want it deeper
old dogs turn old tricks
suck new dicks to get a head
lik…
Posted by Wendy Grimsley on February 17th, 2009 at 2:12am — No Comments
You can’t touch me push me
punch me sing me a lullaby.
Don’t even try to please me.
Don’t ever fathom me.…
Posted by David P. Eckert on February 17th, 2009 at 12:24am — 2 Comments
Dark lake flows, wind at its back,
running for it’s natural life
like a man caught up in the currents
moving forward cause he can’t look back.
…
Posted by David P. Eckert on February 16th, 2009 at 4:21pm — No Comments
Spirits of the earth let us live in peace here
Spirits of the earth who were here before us
Spirits of the earth accept us
Accept these tokens in your honour
Accept these tokens we have buried
Accept us here earth dwelling spirits
Accept our fires in your honour
Accept our dances in your honour
Water spirits let us drink here
Spirits of the earth let us live in peace here
Spirits of the earth accept us
We the newcome…
Posted by Robert Warrington on February 15th, 2009 at 12:37pm — No Comments
The HouseApe continued, along with the insane Popcat Hugh and Oskar.
Hugh kept popping, and Oskar kept swimming backwards.
And the houseApe wandered past Timothy on his way from hell.
The Ape reached out and did grab and hug Timothy close.
The PopCat did then dance, and Oskar decided.
But the Ape was still in hell
Posted by Sean on February 14th, 2009 at 4:26am — No Comments
Check bomb door circuits 1 thru 4
Uhh... Bomb door circuits Negative function... lights red
Switch in backup circuits !
Roger..... Still negative functionj..........
Still negative Sir.... The operating circuits are dead Sir
And the PopCat waited.....
Stay on the Bomb run boys......
And Oskar looked at Hugh.....
Negative function!....
And at that moment, the Ape sighed, aaand whispered...... (with way too…
Posted by Sean on February 10th, 2009 at 3:05am — No Comments
Posted by David P. Eckert on February 7th, 2009 at 11:32pm — No Comments
Snow wavers its way to earth,
worrying at the trees and grass,
twigs, walks and roads it blankets
as if it hesitates,
afraid to hide some small truth
to be lost in the slush and melt.
There is beauty in the white quilt
with its subtle blues and yellows
under the sun's rays,
a respite from imperfection
of our stumbled lives,
our carelessness under cover
or even gone beneath the weather.
We need this white wet
powder of youth
to rest our…
Posted by David P. Eckert on February 3rd, 2009 at 9:50pm — No Comments
Airway intersection
between species
leaves the big bird
gliding
water landing
…
Posted by David P. Eckert on February 2nd, 2009 at 8:27pm — No Comments
After a few time periods of travel, Oskar swam out from his pocket and hovered backwards facing the Ape. Being this was was hell, the HouseApe didnt notice, and kept his head down as he walked.
Zzzzzzz said the PopCat as he rode. And the TaraByrd snored a note softly. As all was dead in hell, and the HouseApe walked.
Oskar did keep pace and thought as he swam backwards in front of the Ape and he swam to the Apes ear and whispered "I know of a pocket close by, follow me ".
The Ape…
Posted by Sean on February 2nd, 2009 at 3:10am — No Comments
As the Houseape moved/walked/travelled his way from hell (for he had found that singing or drawing did not completely work) he looked over at Hugh, as the Pop Cat had been peering over there. Now, "over there " when you are traveling from hell is a rather relative place, and a PopCats gaze can be hard to follow in the best of times. But follow it he did.
And as the gaze was followed, he noticed a fish swimming alongside the travel/journey/whatever. The Ape of course was curious about a fis…
Posted by Sean on January 31st, 2009 at 8:15pm — No Comments
The HouseApe had rissen or perhaps arose from the mudpits of hell. And had wiped his face upon the shirt of a passing demon (Lower case demon that it be).
The demon started to.... glare, or maybe to speak about the insult. But Hugh uttered a song he had learned from the TaraByrd. And the TaraByrd drew a window with her beak. a window she learned from the PopCat.
And the demon was sent lower.
As it was, the coming together was not easy, the HouseApe put out his hands. Hugh spr…
Posted by Sean on January 29th, 2009 at 2:06am — No Comments
Almost made a way
along a travel
from almost here
or from there.
wherever.
The HouseApe moved
but was stopped
as the demons kicked
the shit out of his organs
But he awoke from his
pain filled haze
as the PopCat
Latched
And took the lead
The TaraByrd
sang softly
as was only possible
for her
whenever.
Hugh then did leap
once again upon the HouseApe
as All sto…
Posted by Sean on January 26th, 2009 at 2:07am — No Comments
You have worn me down
with your silence
The clashing rocks of your silence
have worn me to nothing
The colossus of your silence
has flattened my hillside
The chain-mail wall of your silence
has divided our counties
The pumice of your silence
has buried my township
The towers of your silence
have lorded over my winters
You're too quiet
that's your trouble
said the man whose silence
could de…
Posted by Robert Warrington on January 22nd, 2009 at 9:26pm — No Comments
The HouseApe moved with Hugh and the TaraByrd upon his shoulders. and Quickly now he did move. As the middle part of hell he was in, but wanting out of.
As the Ape moved, Hugh once again whispered,but this time he whispered to the TaraByrd. And he said "here are my drawing tools". And the TaraByrd sang, "Here is how I sing".
The PopCat began his instructions, and the TaraByrd began hers. As the the HousApe was intent on his moving from hell.
As it was all traded, Hugh the PopCat…
Posted by Sean on January 22nd, 2009 at 2:38am — No Comments
Hugh had gathered all the bits of hell (lowercase that hell be)
And had whispered to the HouseApe that this was a fact.
So the HoseApe, or HouseApe rose up off of his face, pushed the PopCats hat back.
And peered.
And asked him "Where are the Pieces?". Hugh peered back and replied "I gave all the Pieces of hell (lower case that hell be) to the TaraByrd". The Ape looked up at his right shoulder and said "not your fault". For she was still not able to sing.
An…
Posted by Sean on January 21st, 2009 at 2:01am — No Comments
The virgin snow falls
won't stay pure for long
paw prints or salt
pressed into ice
succumbs to the world.
And you end childhood
for a hope of a face
staring into your eyes
a reflection of you
fixing your place in this world.
Snow does not care
if it lands on this hill or that.
With no flakes the same
they don't care
where they're from
or where they'll go.
Ice, water, vapor,
a flake's always changing
on the go
daylig…
Posted by David P. Eckert on January 21st, 2009 at 12:04am — No Comments
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