Archive for poet

The Walking Dead

Posted in One Shoot, One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , on July 9, 2011 by dustus

Can this be hell?
What can I tell?
False perceptions
Frozen stroll—

Distorting what one
Thinks too…
No

Sense expansion among possible side effects

Light severs eyes with flooding lens
Ghosts trod hunchbacked in marching bend
Warning sign an angry red
Tears may shed without regret
It’s not about what others get

Fugue state alters how some stand
Caught amid processional blend
As fear surreal, can’t comprehend
What we perceive may be pretend

And it is your dream…

That needed to amend
While higher consciousness attends

No outlet taped to concrete block
Transit rumbling after shock
Their streaking frames in motion caught
Silent nightmare scene
Rose-tinted land
Watch us go by
The walking dead

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Want to listen to The Walking Dead?
Next Sunday will be my last post for
One Stop Poetry
.

I’d like to thank all of you who have supported my work and encouraged me to write my best.  And special thanks to Chris G. for turning One Shoot Sunday into something great.  We’re sorry to see it end. Thank you for your understanding and for sharing your amazing work with us on Sunday.

*photo by outstanding photographer Neil Alexander

Can’t Wait

Posted in One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 21, 2011 by dustus

Tongue bit, clamped
Could taste it bleed
Mixed with saliva
Stifling cries of, “Please
Baby, don’t leave!”

Enter time’s return rush
Knowing regressions
From cross words
Puzzlement, smell salts
Warped log cabin of make believe
Where cathedral ceilings brace—
Maple syrup drawn from intimacy
Guess I never expressed—
What she had once meant to me

Sh…
Hermit crab lurches
Like an old man with crooked legs
Hubble, hobble, watch ’em wobble
Through scopes of spray mist…
Over canvas beach
Pebbles smooth, tide swell
Scuttle into eternity

Sounds from perplexed hearts
Crests sharp—over barbs and bark
Trapper claw snaps down
Spits out entrails
As the earth spins side projections
Giving to new life…

Finding spirit on skewed point
Dissecting mind
Without reach
Emptiness cradles stars
In the wake of shedding duck trails
Shimmering waters, ululations glisten
Dovetails, and billowed sails
Shy eyes hid behind hair sway
Sky climb to a golden age
Those autumn harvest days
When life sighs, breath held
Chest tight, on deck over water main
We rage against dying light
Run out of what we mean
Pour one for me
Red wax drips lethargic
Myopic, uptight
Revealing myself
Wounds close as I write
“Can’t wait until love
Will finally feel right.”

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Care for a reading of Can’t Wait?

One Shot Wednesday (Week 51)
@ One Stop Poetry
It’s my turn to host!

A Life That Works

Posted in One Stop Poetry, Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 7, 2011 by dustus

I’d like to share a happy song
Figure out what does go wrong
Itching scalp from burning sun
Seldom let myself have fun…

Want it real?
Sushi raw?
Lacerations from a jaded saw?
I’d like to tell you how I feel
Man up from clown
Stand ground, appeal

Layers of an onion shed
Nightmare turns away pretend
The ceiling shows time’s twisted flow
Adjusting eyes tune street lamp glow

These walls are bare
As will, heartbeats
Jugular, nose
Breathe, repose
This is what a writer chose
As muffled echos ocean close
Interstate drone
Time alone
Everything I wrote and own
Spells drip catching studio skylight—
Wings melt into a candle vigil and
A life that works
Perceived self-worth
To walk this earth
Past pain, main, rebirth
Limbs coated with sweat
My pride, hair, and dirt

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Care for a reading of A Life That Works?

One Shot Wednesday (Week 49)
@ One Stop Poetry
Host: this week the honor goes to
poet & friend, Mr. Brian Miller

When Machines Mend

Posted in One Shoot, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2011 by dustus

photo by Rob Hanson

Forgetting, over hours
Details under interrogating fluoresence
When machines mend
This antique Elizabethport Singer
Will bind sturdy seams again
Holes in ripped jeans
An old weblos patch
Then I’ll pay the pub a visit
Talking over 2 buck drafts
Pouring to home; a smile basks
Planning new tapestries
The artist tips his frosty glass

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When Machines Mend reading…
The above poem was written for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. Rob Hanson took the fantastic HDR photo.  Today he is interviewed over at One Stop Poetry.

Time Shared

Posted in One Shoot, One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 14, 2011 by dustus


Once uncertain feels distance
Abysmal, lovelorn mist fraught
Lonely, lowly, sinking, hold me
Never let me go through temporoparietal injunctions
Mental storms fog, shoveled death beds
Where dropped flowers lay
White roses arise
Stemming from paralysis
Dirt strewn among the blushing clay
My heart strains when I miss your face
And dying cares to slow this pace…

Coiling off—farewell acceptance
Trailing back to DNA
Our bench boat warmer
Because what can’t be
Provisional learned lies, profit sized
Unamended changing ties
Fooled cause, your training wheels
Blister heals as pinwheels turn
Broken seals, clubbed line
Derivatives at brunch time
Reflecting our liquid mirrors
Iced to stone
Served with sprinkles
Scooped into cones
Leave it to Beaver

Scintillating, this mantle drifts
Aligning skull bones, in lit fused
Cosigning algorithmic, beta, fish
Over billowing horsey rides
Starfish grow limbs throughout the night
Beneath day, a cross of sand
Beyond smoldering spreads of “muster seed”
There’s us again—each grain a second
Forgetting me; not to mind
Whispering suspensions
As you turn down
Lost lanes
Plush pillow spreads
No carousel exile
Arcade revolving
Cranks carnival tunes
Crackling vitriolic, ultrasonic
Soundtracks stamp eternity
Doffing fedoras from origamic newspapers
Placebos in your Coke and wafers
Kindness never asked for favors
Running red lights
She howled in labor

As the morphine drips…
Sandy seconds ensconce frail wonder
Tick-drops, bleating thunder
What’s that again?
Wind chimes entangle
Shearing sheep
Cat tail run
Under rocking chair
Comp-bleat
Pinched ivy vines
Rusted watering cans
Dreg coffee grinds
Fresh sheets billow country laundry lines
Detergent to the blacklighting moon
Humid swelling summer nights
Her leg sways in sundress, to bluegrass
Mandolins, banjo picked
Lip-licked, swing pushed
Reality over Everest
I was there
Few lines measure
Tenderness until buried
Treasure, missed
Open chest
Blood and grist

Unobserved en masse
Before holding back, your hair
Only time hearing swears
Supplicant before porcelain
Cold compress to forehead
Throw rugs and beach blankets
Combating hypothermia
False alarms, miscarriage
Like our sea this afterbirth
Brine stew, circuit breaks
Welding sparks
Riding bikes
Dream built
For two that is
Really one—what a deal!
Once knowing love
Recounting us
Experience proves
Unquestioned trust

Carry on this being
Your certain return
Recalls warm new eyes
An apocalypse of pupils
Blinking bulbs of feeling was
When our children first called me
Daddy, it was their mother’s garden
Were Lilith tended floral bloom
Aching through time
Without possession
We are nothing
Except for another’s memory
Reality being what disintegrates
Crumbling into liver splotches
Broken time pieces
Tears watering hospital lots
Cracked windows
Unwound watches
Among the oil stained stalls
Past vacation spots
Means to end
Holding hands
Beauty, I could
Feel you
Hoping not to
Pass alone
Or go
Home, emotions swell
Of principled uncertainty
Vibrations, atomic energy
Coded bones, human genome
Stemming from cells
Imprisoned wake
This naked room
Accredited mistakes
Leading to continue…

Fumbling amid the apathy
Blinded by universal surrender, fate
Overlook, pathology
Born back into dreams of oblivion
Among the hints that banish afterlife
Finding each other
Lost from age
Yet closer through time shared
Existing until the end of our days

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Would you like to hear me read my poem?

*The above photograph is courtesy of UK photographer & friend Fee Easton. Fee returns to One Stop Poetry for a second time. Her photos comprise today’s One Shoot Sunday Picture Prompt challenge.

Fee also lent me the photo prompts for my triolet called A Golden Scheme, Dying Requests, and a recent poem called In Love Again.

Because She’ll Sing

Posted in One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , on May 10, 2011 by dustus

Because she’ll sing when I come near
Our love song changing both our lives
Flesh shone in tone; alights night skies
Bare arms entwine absorbing tears

While reconciling faith sincere
Once Triton trumpets, giants fly
Because she’ll sing when I come near
Our love song changing both our lives

When music’s made beyond tide shared
Sound locking eyes, our present time
Seashell echo; two gulls swoon high
I’ll give far more than wading cares
Because she’ll sing when I come near


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Would you like to hear me read this Rondel?

*click here for explanations of the form

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One Shot Wednesday (Week 45)
@ One Stop Poetry
Host: this week the honor goes to
One of my favorite poets…
Gay Cannon

Sounds Like Life

Posted in One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 26, 2011 by dustus

Poetry Challenge “Favorite (or least favorite) Things”
A Bookstains Challenge

This poetry challenge is based upon a poem (well a bit of tomfoolery) that Lynda for Bookstains/Echostains wrote ages ago and forgot about.  But the idea for the challenge was inspired by Jesssica’s Japes wonderful poem “My Least Favorite things.”

“The challenge is simple – just write a poem to the tune/rhythm of the song from ‘The Sound of Music’ inspired by your favorite or least favorite things.  To start you off, here’s the first bit of the Julie Andrews version.  In case you don’t know how it goes – here it is on video.”

My Favorite Things  Sounds Like Life

Imagine an author rejected by agents
Piles of manuscripts rot in the basement
Trying to capture what’s lost through no means
Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams

Expressing emotions through vectors and color
Writing too much ’cause he can’t find a lover
Many see Jesus as resurrecting
Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams

Breakdowns through trauma; forever seems fleeting
Bombardment of images won’t equal feeling
Being original is poetry
Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams

And when the avalanche comes down
As our carnival leaves town
We still search for a reason through time…
Exhaling sad sorrow
Don’t cry for tomorrow
Sing onto death
Sounds like life

(repeat ad nauseam)

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Want to listen to me read this one?

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One Shot Wednesday (Week 43)

Celebrate National Poetry Month! (US)
*hashtag your tweets #NationalPoetryMonth
@ One Stop Poetry
It’s my turn to host this week!