Saturday, April 29, 2017

The Shampooed Temple

enlightened polyethylene dawn promotes efficiency
while code

filtration twinkles counter worlds.  I master the oxygen
gazette and extract

shell smudge from timbered sonnets. You
have everything

and cash flashes smiles and toothiest
trolls. I want to describe

today but the shampooed temple
gets in the way.

***
Hey all, here is poem 29. Only one more day to go. Can you believe it, where did this month go? I have no idea.

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Friday, April 28, 2017

Holly Hock in the Headlights

***
Hey all, here is poem 28, a visual poem. You can make your own by using this tool http://www.languageisavirus.com/visual-poetry/index.php#.WQPj_dIrLIV  I just felt like doing something different today.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Thursday, April 27, 2017

July 4, 2055

For you. 

Half a cascading cloud take over
subordinate missiles nearby my
relocated toxicology

(cascading missiles, relocated)

hypocritical translations are
shadow warriors left for the dead
an electric spritz finds my market

(hypocritical, warriors, electric)

subsequent gold incubates tea stars
our debut culmination records
underground lava domes and arches

(gold, culmination, arches)


the last bunker imagination

***
Hey all, here is poem 27. I can't believe there are only three more days left of the challenge. Today, I wrote a petit recapitul portatif which is a ten line poem with 9 syllables per line, 3 lines per stanza. Between each stanza is a set of parenthesis with one word from each previous line, separated by commas. I learned this form last year and I like it because I love syllable poems. I also did one about zombies found in  Trick or Poem.

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A Latent Summer Memory

Let me pack you green
sunshine littered with starry

corpses in a bag with shallow
snow pockets as flaming

tears swirling melting
milk. This fleshless memory

of winter’s summer
spoils the romp

from storm tossed ocean
I find Neptune’s apple

wormhole in the maple’s
night field and you

won’t need the disguised sojourn
to drink a malicious mountain

I pluck  happy eyes
and sink through the earth.

***
Hey all, Here is poem 26, only a day late. I started working on it last night but I was really exhausted. I felt like just sitting in my chair and drooling.  This is a remix of old haiku I wrote several years ago.

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Tuesday, April 25, 2017

in the shoe box under my bed

transfusion  stormed by a sultry
specimen, knots of rampage
damage the silo. Straits  ravish

the boomerangs of  form
and the calyx of the marine-tethered
nitrate, chastened with the spanking

of roosters.  I hedge duels
and bayonets and the lopsided decisive
hue of wonderland

by nicotine. Wavering the morphine
on the formation torch, wandering
with delirious  frosted

stigmas to the slice  of a reckless superlative.

Source:   Tree, Iris. “Tranquility stirred by a sudden spasm.” Retrieved from: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45643/45643-h/45643-h.htm


***
Hey all, here is poem 25, only 5 more to go. I can't believe how fast this month went by.

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Saturday Night Revival

dark matter
flows
from claptrap preludes
and the fiction election
drifts
across the lost lake

hope inside, come on in, you need us

you linger over
atomic
spectroscopy and
create metaphor
                melodies

prayers for you, paradise is for the good sheep, are you good?

my composition
is  a metallic
aura
and air theory
you play may-day
disco

as I corrupt the spirit’s
lyrics

we know your scared, eat this cracker and pray, it will all be okay

our joint vision of near
dystopia
populates our pockets with
                 dollars

It really is too bad
education is diluted to
                dull waves
and allegiances to
nothing.

***
Hey all here is poem 24.  And I am caught up now.  Now I am pooped.

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Monday, April 24, 2017

Canoeing the World

***
Hey all, here is poem 23. I haven't done any emoji/pictograph poems sine I worked on Trick or Poem. And I thought today would be a good day to do one. Don't be fooled, this takes longer than it looks, at least it does for me. Perhaps, it is because I am not a big emoji user. I am fascinated about emojis though and how people use them especially on social media. I am interested in the meaning they convey. However, I am also wondering why we seem to be going back to pictorial representations instead of using words. 

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Origins


Source: Thoreau, Henry David. Cape Cod.  Kindle for PC, location 267.

***
Hey all,  Here is poem 22. I know I am a little behind but I went offline Saturday through Sunday and visited my parents. I got back last night and I didn't feel like doing anything. I am going to try and catch up my poems tonight. I can't believe this month is almost over. I am thinking of making a poetry chapbook with poems from my blog. There are some golden nuggets on here. 

Find more poets here at NaPoWriMo

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Lightening Strikes Chain Gang

Only Employment was Included!
labor prisoners

search the Edison
elevator but only find
an Iowa farm

And They Have No Warden!

outdoor candles observe
thought near the eye
one last time

The Syllabus for Electricity Ignite His Placed Life!

Source: “Events in Brief.”  The Delinquent 1914. Retrieved from: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54486/54486-h/54486-h.htm


***
Hey all, I know it is a little late, but here is poem 21. I thinking I am getting sick or it's tree pollen. Either way, my brain is a pile of radioactive mush. Today, I made a found poem. I took a section of my source and ran it through the "Powerball" feature on Applied Poetics. Then I took what was left and made the poem.

Find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo

Friday, April 21, 2017

Blessed Drudgeries

You crease  over the trepidation,
you crash  the lonely  breath—

the breath  is wicked,
the griffin culled,
each leakage  is repented  like spored worm.

You butcher the trapezoids
with blessed drudgeries,

you symbolize and crow—

you have bribed a wetted  laxative
in the winter,
it is hyphenated out,
whizzes up and siphons,
a guilty storm

***
Hey all, Here is poem 20. I like how this one turned out. It is has a nice cadence to it. I don't have much to say right now.

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Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Dimensional Hitchhiker

Crystal shadows
creep through daylight splinters as moons swim in a rose sky
with sharks

from silver dust
the dimension hitchhiker emerges from the tornado dry heat cracks
into stalagmites

one life.  one death.
one more life. another death. different faces- same
old essence

she collects
thousands of dreams memories, bits
of yesterday’s souls

and deja vu
through water ripples words will set her free and whole only on
the page

***
Hey all, Here is poem 19.  This one is surrealism and fantasy, with a bit of reincarnation. It was inspired by the phrase "dimension hitchhiker." I hope you all like it.

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Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Jupiter Clouds

questions   fade  in   moonlit  restraints
Jupiter  clouds infest the smoking  spot
light, I am the   jaded silver you keep in
the floorboards and you are the congeal-
ed infestation I twist  in   crystal  games.
what is it like to  own day and night? the
flick of the light bulb stains stoic records
no angel is supreme and  I lick the Milky
Way  with my sky wand.  And it is good.

***
Hey all, Here is poem 18.Today I took some words and phrases from my old poems and remixed them to make a new poem.  Then I decided to make  the poem as square as I could. Was there a reason? I don't know, what do you think?

Find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo

Monday, April 17, 2017

Obligatory Hoodwinking

In this faithful
domain, onions

lactate and traces
of cultures scrub

deranged submersions
the tollhouse wants a

retro rocket and global
ramifications

this saucerful
sorcery is my

stationary salvation
oxygenized

abstracts, jinxed
fellowship and anthrax

after the obligatory hoodwinking
I regain consciousness.

***
Hey all, Here is poem 17,   a surrealist poem. Because I love surrealism and I find it fascinating. The greatest thing about surrealist poetry is that you create your own meaning for the poem.

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Dawn of the Birds

As the sky fades
from Prussian blue to
Persian blue
they wake up-
a worm breakfast
and a fresh puddle bath
from yesterday’s rain
all before the sun hoists
itself over the die cut mountains

they hang up
their dirty tail feathers
shake out the nest
squawk and chirp
across the street to each other
like neighbors in the old city
when laundry was social hour

because a lot has happened
since nightfall, they gossip
about us and what we do
behind closed doors

***
Yeah! Here is poem 16 and I am caught up! So this one is a bit more fun and whimsical because poetry doesn't always have to be so serious. I was up at early one morning and the birds seem to talk to each other at dawn and just made me wonder what they talk about.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Driving, 3:30 a.m.

I prefer the blackness
cut with dim headlights
land squids in the distance
like good old gods
from that century
before madness
geodes and soda bottles
on the side of the road
glitter in the sky
and those dreams
are lost in the tribal
waters trapped
in broken aquifers
I am looking
up there somewhere
and are you looking
back at me

this message is all there is
when we are all gone.

***
Hey all, here is poem 15.  I was driving on the road late at night. And there is something really magical, surreal about driving on the highway at the time of night. Although I have a hard time seeing unless I am by myself, I love driving at the time of day.

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Halos in Darkness

whimsical wickedness
halos in darkness
tonight the leaky clover
sizzle  and wallow
temptations drizzle, the howl

shoplifts lingering
thoughts, a feline  tourniquet
in this blatant destiny  hollow
arranges breakneck whitewash and
the backward stanza

here it is now-
skirmishes  in the collective
with dromedaries  as  fugitives

and blankets of odd thoughts
in my garden of the moonless sky
filled with
halos in darkness
and whimsical wickedness

***
Here is poem 14. A surrealistic poem for you. I have ideas for two other poems, I am hoping they turn out as good as they are in my head. This is an old poem  and revised it heavily and it is like a brand new poem. Nothing like recycling old poems. Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Benediction Turmoil

When TNT  isolates  loyalty
who’s fear would it be?
tsunami herds turmoil
by benediction

fission is literature
burying the forgery  of memories
flares of oration realize
snapping slander,
scouring coal

tremors  burrow
the suspension command
back to a charmed  wasteland

distortion highlights
the bladed desecration
gritty circuits
stampedes the  lofty  horizon
formation ticks once again,

the slaughter will be blunt
and worship will be right


***

Hey all here is poem 13. After this poem I am three poems behind There have been forces beyond my control and I couldn't write any poems. And then when I did have some free time, I had to work on my school work.  Well I am going to try working on another. Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Looking for That Real Kind of Magic

my cut clown car creeps
among ambulance alleys and
cherry lunches-
sapphire sarcasm streams as
the serpent saves santeria.

***
Hey all, here is poem 12. I actually sort of followed the prompt today. The prompt was to use consonance and assonance (repetition of  consonant or vowel sounds). And this poem is also a tanka because why not, I love writing Japanese style  poems. I've been thinking about witches as I have been watching Salem  on Netflix and I keep up with The Originals on the The CW.  I also read a paper about MacBeth today and of course there are witches in that.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

My Immortality



***
Hey all, Here is poem 11. I know I skipped a day. I was just worn down last night, and when poetry writing time came, I didn't want to do anything but sit around and drool. This poem is part of my Pinterest project One Book- 300 Poems where I create a poem from a page in Debra Ginsberg's book Waiting.  

I am off to write today's poem.  Be sure to find other poets at NaPoWriMo

Monday, April 10, 2017

Cloister



***
And for something a little different... a poetry collage. I suppose it's not all the earth shattering since I have done them before, but I felt like doing one today. The poem is a reconstruction and remix of three different haiku I wrote several years ago. For a little help with the mixing I used this Dada Generator and wrote the phrases I liked and then created the poem. To find more awesome poets check out NaPoWriMo

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Spark Plug Trauma

Stargazer wine whispers
Permeated freedoms. My
Apple pleasures surrender sleepy
Relics to the holy grail
Kept on toll booth bunkers

Prowling beyond the veil
Lemon grass tonic and moko jumbie
Under the vestige. And I bisect
Gluttonous heliotropic souls

***
Hey all, here is poem number 9. Today's prompt at NaPoWriMo was to write a 9 line poem. And I thought why not? Here is an acrostic poem using the words "spark plug" which happen to be 9 letters, 9 lines. And guess what it is not a doom and gloom poem.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Today Was Once our Independence Day

The highway is empty; the black road stretches into the black night. The mountains just sit there against the denim sky whispering I told you so.  Ain’t nothing left in the town just neon pink store fronts and stores open twenty-four hours that no one is in. Because no one is around. The vacancy of possibility when there is nothing but empty towns and hospitals. It’s been how long? Time moves different now because the worries are different. No one to collect taxes. I hit the accelerator because I can, who will stop me now. Gray haze lays across the gentle slopes of the Alleghenies and the mountain turbines still blink off and on their safety lights for airplanes that won’t be flying overheard any time soon. Maybe they are sending a message, HELP US, to someone something (God, aliens, humans in Andromeda). Ain’t no help tonight and there was no help when it all went down. Adjusting the static on the radio just waiting for that other voice to break the black night while the family sleeps in the silence of our safe car, recently borrowed from the airport, full tank of gas, and I always wanted a Mercedes and the leather feels good and it smells new and fresh. I never had a new car before. Just as I speed toward home tucked beyond  the turbine SOS


in the valley, one 
red firework blossoms.
today-once it was July 4th

***
Hey all, so I am not sure where this gloom and doom is coming from. What inspired this poem was I was driving back from State College on I-99 and there was one firework, a red one to be exact. I don't know it just seemed odd and stuck with me. I let it percolate for maybe an hour and sat down and my computer, not really sure of what direction to take and the words just flew out of my fingers. I actually like this poem, is that wrong? A haibun fit the poem nicely.  Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Backward Sky

morale dribbles a  toothache
into faithless wood, a counselor at restraint
caroling with a harangue, distraught and light.
before-
she sleeps with  the contraption of her brew.

upon her silvery aviary of down,
dying, she bribes a long and syllabifying significance;
and waterproofs wholesale vitamins,
which rivet like blubber to the backward  sky.

and when, at times, wrenched  in her larceny,
she lets a future telegram  flunk,
some placid poise, some engine of sleep,

tame his homeless hardware. The technology
of soap glistens of irradiation
and of operations- he  hijacks
it from the superlative
tucking it deep in his helium.

***
I know it's a little late, but I will write another later today. It is like my day vanished before my eyes. I spent a good portion of the day working on my Shakespeare paper. Once that was written, I had to write my marketing paper. Then I tried to do a black out poem using a newspaper and it looked like shit, and I know scanning would be atrocious. I don't how other poets make their poems look cool. I guess I am going to have to use magazines. I just can't draw in books, it is a weird affliction I suffer from. Anyway find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Right Now

I Should Be
writing poems
and not making
pasta. I Should Be
telling you how the wind
sounds right at this minute
it’s all been done before
the wind seeps
through adjectives.

Right about now, I Should Be
somewhere else,  tomorrow
or yesterday making academics
faint with my genius

the furnace kicks on
just as the coffee pot
spews it’s last drip
and I find myself
living too many lives at once
the blurry transcendence
of chaos

***
And here is poem 6. Poetry writing has been difficult these last few days. I don't know if I am putting too much pressure on myself or my brain is somewhere else. Or who the hell knows. Today's poem is a free verse and stream of conscious poem about how I can't write a poem. Which is a bit ironic since I wrote a poem. Sometimes, when I want to write a poem and I have nothing inspiring, I work on a found poem. But sometimes there are too many source texts. Anyway, show some love to other poets this month and find them at NaPoWriMo

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Sweet Infringence

slowly over a cup of gold
from the black rose lake
steel glass thorns
 into shadow worlds
for pure love of the waiting

waiting for rapture
to coincide with wild flowers
and I bleed wild flowers
through the garbage
and intertwine in lava

lava erupts from melodious
serenity, come encase
my heart mind and burn forth
with sweet infringence.

infringent roots grow deep
in the ancient world.
The roots grow deep.

deep, pure sounds murmur
to my noisy mind and burn.

burn gold.

***
And here is poem number five. Today, I took an ancient poem (one from the 90's) and used this tool http://www.lazaruscorporation.co.uk/cutup/text-mixing-desk to remix the poem to form a new poem. I like some repition, which is a poem thing (so there is a fancy, literary word but my brain is kind of mushy right now. I have no idea what it is at the time) I haven't used a lot of. Oh yeah, I made up the word "infringence"  because I like the way it sounds. I have no idea what it means, what do you think it means? Find more poets at NaPoWrimo

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Night Whims

Water buffalo
Hunt from Orion’s white belt-
I need their life myth
Medicine trapped in star glass
Skeins of mozzarella drip.

***
Here is poem number four. So today I did an acrostic and a tanka.  The acrostic is made with the word "whims". Find more poet at Napowrimo

Monday, April 3, 2017

Shrinking Outlooks

I don’t buy protests
but distracted deadbeats
thrusting  novel medicines
into insomniacs.

My well-informed tonic
is restrained in England
we combine our modesty
finding spare rubbish

The pelican doses your stuff
I am alive and inquire an opinion
on shrinking outlooks.

Source: Wodehouse, P.G. A Wodehouse Miscellany.  Gutenberg.org  http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/8190/pg8190-images.html

***
Day three, so far so good. But then again, it's only day three.  Eventhough, this is a found poem, I am surprised on the final product. There seems to be a hint of politics, what do you think? Find more poets at NaPoWrimo

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Crystal Cane

diamond crack
and caramel
on the mouth
of a cool oven

saffron mingles
with raspberry
fillets, ginger
coughs fancy
papers on boiled
acid drops

clarified in-
nocence fringed
at the edges
of small bands
of gold, boxes
of glass divided
into fulm-
inating powder

acidulated mirth
rubs to sugar
fire twists
sugar into
demulcent
mold baskets

effervescence will flow over




Source:
How to Make Candy. Gutenberg.org http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54173/54173-h/54173-h.htm

***
Today, I grabbed words from an old candy cook book (1891 I think) from Gutenberg.org. These words came from the section "Crack and Caramel." I found the section heading humorous. Anyway like other poems I write, I write down a bunch of words and phrases I like and make a poem from them. Find more poets at Napowrimo

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Hypnogogia

The menagerie of lilies-of-the-valley and cotton candy flowers flourish in seawater. A somnambulant  sephora reflects international sunsets as tides of breaking music and the impulse of the aurora aggregate broom flow from coyote cloud stones. In the cave-story pulsar, my iris arrests pictures, a haunting sensation settles in the shadeling grove, and the evocation of the hidden book splashes colors on the wind.
Magic curtails the 
living, gods come out to play
I close the shutters.


***
Yeah, it is National Poetry Month! This is the first poem:  a haibun,  a mixture of prose poetry and  haiku. If you want to read other participants' poems in National Poetry Writing Month or if you need more prompts to get you started, check out NaPoWriMo