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Old 12-20-2012, 06:11 AM View Post #21 (Link)
hippo (Offline)
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21 snapshots of love

1. All across Philadelphia we swapped stories of love and the dumb-drunk rambles and tangles of sheets we'd accidentally tripped into before morning came gloomy and real and our animal masks peeled and we howled "God" as the city looked like the same memory we'd left it; shoes dragged between words of yesterday.

2. Crack-scar momma, they see her legs crooked by the weight of detox, frantic widowed stare, hollering "PLEASE!" but whispering "thank you", polite in her agony but anxious enough to forgo pleasantries and ask you up-front if you can spare any change.

3. And there, accidentally gorgeous in the roadside holocaust
accidentally gorgeous between epiphanies and the new pyramids
accidentally gorgeous between the glass teeth of an American jaw that ohms a national anthem of a thousand talkshow tunes stewed into a mushy white noise mantra.
you will find her nodding diabetic comas to the powerline kamikaze dawn
you will find her crafting altars and fetishes from fall's fallen leaves and the fresh abandoned words dropped like accidental bombs
you find Her in our brilliant vows of now "IamIamIam" and our secret window scraped wishings "ififif"
you find Her on the tip of the poet tongue tantrum tempered heavyasheaven/hotashell
you find Her in the hell we became in a lonesome panic in brightlight room, pornography glaring from the other side of insect eyed digital skin crawling its way into our most sacred delight carving its name in our childhood, in the hell we became in drunken stupors Icarus feet kicking cigarette runs from shitty motels housing ascetic consumption rituals anything to starve the soul starve the senses end the senses end.

Anything to end end end the and and and
I am I am I am
of madness muttering narrative
self-composed and franken
the constant muttering narrative
we drag kicking into bed
and rape idiotically
until all meaning devolves from the motion
and we robotically slam against the cage of our bodies
like broken toys;

you will find Her there.

4. Oh feverish idoltry of the temple bound ghost:

You dream of weeks, unweathered textures, visions soft hair and sunset slings
in which to rest your agitated crutch,
a crest of some ship crushed under a blushed storm-season sky
the great alibi of the one who got away;

"And somewhere in the belly of this snake is a child."

And yet your day
growing weary against the hypnotic lull of the city bus
asks forgiveness when it quits
early in 8 PM's glow
still humming the radio refrains
caught like hooks in it's tongue;

I want to know what love is
a dream speaks,
but when I ask the answer falls out so quickly
automated and motionless
fickle roaring roaring like white noise trickle fizzes
then the rush
and obliteration.

5.

Love, as shy as a dream to the waking world
an opened eye can disturb it's fancy,
a single glance to destroy the animal tale and then,
still clothed in Eden's shame,
what?

A look around the room to ask beyond the room
if it heard us were we quiet or furious
anxious or delicate
deliberate or sloppy
imaginative or missionaries
of our parents rituals.

But the night before,
our animal masks howling like God with neurotic excitation at the terrified task of joyous dance in the eye of spectacle
everything all neon and cockshit, pursed lips and dry wit, the open wolves of men among the wretched widows still jealous of the masks upheld unpeeled in this
cloak and dagger
mope and swagger
pedagogue of young and waiting
car wrecks.

Your body asks mine to dance. The lights are dim red strawberries. The music is gangster infused dub-step. Bass is heavy dull drunk pulse. The scene is formulaic bourgeois idoltry. Champagne bottles like heil fuhrers to a pop pantheon. Broken bottles like corpse of the fallen stars.

Set the night on fire
tonight's gonna be a good good night
I got a feelin
the party don't stop
till the sun follows Icarus home
till the neighbors call the cops
till we get low
down to the floor
no, get the fuck under something
the crows are home.

6.

"you
make me think
a lot of a small
fragile beautiful animal
a really jittery animal with wide eyes that wants to
touch everything"

and she says

"let me write you a beauty
a soft beauty can't hurt you
you may keep in your heart
as your heart
or a thing to sleep your head onto
when only sinking is left
but the sinking is a soft
and gentle beauty"

and she says

"love should make the heart jump shouldn't it
love should do something"

and I believe her, here,
with my imagined ocean between
our screens.


(All quotations from Stephanie Audizi)
  
						Last edited by hippo; 12-22-2012 at 08:37 PM.
					
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Old 12-22-2012, 10:13 PM View Post #22 (Link)
hippo (Offline)
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Join Date: Aug 2012
Posts: 111
Points: 24
Times Thanked: 17
An edit for Moriah.

Love, as shy as a dream to the waking world
an opened eye can disturb it's fancy,
a single glance to destroy the animal tale and then,
still clothed in Eden's shame,
what?
And of your day,
growing weary against the hypnotic lull of the city bus
asks forgiveness when it quits
early in 8 PM's glow
still humming the radio refrains,
love caught like hooks in it's tongue;

"I want to know what love is"
a dream speaks,
but when I ask the answer falls out so quickly
automated and motionless
fickle roaring, roaring like white noise,
then the rush
and obliteration.

All across Philadelphia we swapped stories of love and the dumb-drunk rambles and tangles of sheets we'd accidentally tripped into before morning came gloomy and real and our animal masks peeled and we howled "God" as the city looked like the same memory we'd left it; shoes dragged between words of yesterday.

And there, accidentally gorgeous in the roadside holocaust
accidentally gorgeous between epiphanies and the new pyramids
accidentally gorgeous between the glass teeth of an American jaw that ohms a national anthem of a thousand talkshow tunes stewed into a mushy white noise mantra.
you will find her nodding diabetic comas to the powerline kamikaze dawn
you will find her crafting altars and fetishes from fall's fallen leaves and the fresh abandoned words dropped like accidental bombs
you find Her in our brilliant vows of now "IamIamIam" and our secret window scraped wishings "ififif"
you find Her on the tip of the poet tongue tantrum tempered heavyasheaven/hotashell
you find Her in the hell we became in a lonesome panic, pornography glaring from the other side of insect eyed digital skin crawling its way into our most sacred delight carving its name in our childhood, in the hell we became in drunken stupors Icarus feet kicking cigarette runs from shitty motels housing ascetic consumption rituals anything to starve the soul starve the senses end the senses end.

Anything to end end end the and and and
I am I am I am
of madness muttering narrative
self-composed and franken,
that constant muttering narrative
we drag kicking into bed
and rape idiotically
until all meaning devolves from the motion
and we robotically slam against the cage of our bodies
like broken toys;

you will find Her there.

"you
make me think
a lot of a small
fragile beautiful animal
a really jittery animal with wide eyes that wants to
touch everything"

and she says

"let me write you a beauty
a soft beauty can't hurt you
you may keep in your heart
as your heart
or a thing to sleep your head onto
when only sinking is left
but the sinking is a soft
and gentle beauty"

and she says

"love should make the heart jump shouldn't it
love should do something"

and I believe her, here,
with my imagined ocean between
our screens.
__________________
"The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering." - Tom Waits

These are the people I work and play with. They're all geniuses and muses at once. I don't get an ounce of rest from inspiration. They just won't let up. I try to explain that if they don't let up I might not have any fears left to conquer. They don't seem to care.
http://www.facebook.com/LivingLoveTour?ref=ts&fref=ts
  
						Last edited by hippo; 12-22-2012 at 10:23 PM.
					
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Old 12-22-2012, 10:28 PM View Post #23 (Link)
Isis (Offline)
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7.

But one morning you wake up next to love's long animal form filling
the empty hollow on the other side of the bed, breathing slower than you move
so as not to wake it. Love does not like to be interrupted or, worse, startled
out of a meandering dream. You sit on the edge and watch the slivers of sun
rise over the dream and chase it across love's face, a dream that oscillates
between the warm shadow at the edge of the sheet and some instant
of exaltation and praise: like when a writer you love reaches out from the page
and grabs you by the throat till you cough, or for a second you feel the world expand
around you and the space fill up with the life of a billion other living things.
There are more forms of love than there are species on this planet,
an uncountable number, and all play out in sleep, just like as both of you slept
that night the ravens were holding their tribal congress in the mountains
and luminescent copepods lit up the shallows as if mocking the night sky.

And love will wait there while you do the little things over and over: shuffle into socks,
put on the kettle, push some eggs around in a pan. Love will put its nose into your neck
just as you are, foolishly perhaps but in the same way you do every morning,
reaching your hand over the blue ring, the open flame.
  
						Last edited by Isis; 12-22-2012 at 10:32 PM.
					
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Old 12-23-2012, 01:53 AM View Post #24 (Link)
hippo (Offline)
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Join Date: Aug 2012
Posts: 111
Points: 24
Times Thanked: 17
Currently Moriah wants this. I'm wondering whether this is only evokative sections, or just those that evoke nice emotions.

Love, as shy as a dream to the waking world
an opened eye can disturb it's fancy,
a single glance to destroy the animal tale and then,
still clothed in Eden's shame,
what?

And of your day,
growing weary against the hypnotic lull of the city bus
asks forgiveness when it quits
early in 8 PM's glow
still humming the radio refrains,
love caught like hooks in it's tongue;
"I want to know what love is"

All across Philadelphia we swapped stories of love and the dumb-drunk rambles and tangles of sheets we'd accidentally tripped into before morning came gloomy and real and our animal masks peeled and we howled "God" as the city looked like the same memory we'd left it; shoes dragged between words of yesterday.

you will find her crafting altars and fetishes from fall's fallen leaves and the fresh abandoned words dropped like accidental bombs
you find Her in our brilliant vows of now "IamIamIam" and our secret window scraped wishings "ififif"
you find Her on the tip of the poet tongue tantrum tempered heavyasheaven/hotashell
you find Her in the hell we became in a lonesome panic,

you will find Her there.
"you
make me think
a lot of a small
fragile beautiful animal
a really jittery animal with wide eyes that wants to
touch everything"
and she says
"let me write you a beauty
a soft beauty can't hurt you
you may keep in your heart
as your heart
or a thing to sleep your head onto
when only sinking is left
but the sinking is a soft
and gentle beauty"
and she says
"love should make the heart jump shouldn't it
love should do something"
and I believe her, here,
with my imagined ocean between
our screens.
__________________
"The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering." - Tom Waits

These are the people I work and play with. They're all geniuses and muses at once. I don't get an ounce of rest from inspiration. They just won't let up. I try to explain that if they don't let up I might not have any fears left to conquer. They don't seem to care.
http://www.facebook.com/LivingLoveTour?ref=ts&fref=ts
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Old 12-23-2012, 01:55 AM View Post #25 (Link)
hippo (Offline)
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Join Date: Aug 2012
Posts: 111
Points: 24
Times Thanked: 17
Love, as shy as a dream to the waking world
an opened eye can disturb it's fancy,
a single glance to destroy the animal tale and then,
still clothed in Eden's shame,
what?

And of your day,
growing weary against the hypnotic lull of the city bus
asks forgiveness when it quits
early in 8 PM's glow
still humming the radio refrains,
love caught like hooks in it's tongue;
"I want to know what love is"

you will find Her there.
"you
make me think
a lot of a small
fragile beautiful animal
a really jittery animal with wide eyes that wants to
touch everything"
and she says
"let me write you a beauty
a soft beauty can't hurt you
you may keep in your heart
as your heart
or a thing to sleep your head onto
when only sinking is left
but the sinking is a soft
and gentle beauty"
and she says
"love should make the heart jump shouldn't it
love should do something"
and I believe her, here,
with my imagined ocean between
our screens.
__________________
"The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering." - Tom Waits

These are the people I work and play with. They're all geniuses and muses at once. I don't get an ounce of rest from inspiration. They just won't let up. I try to explain that if they don't let up I might not have any fears left to conquer. They don't seem to care.
http://www.facebook.com/LivingLoveTour?ref=ts&fref=ts
  Reply With Quote
Old 12-23-2012, 10:50 AM View Post #26 (Link)
Ares (Offline)
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Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 168
Points: 8
Times Thanked: 38
I am
time consuming breath spitting
granary of skin cells
glued together
snowy fingers rapping inarticulate
mob minded verses on plastic blocks
to the tune of light bass
and gentle g major chords
"john mayer's singing his soul
to the tune of my chattering fingernails"
and i feel each bend
a ripple, a raid, a quake
on my skin cell membrane
rubber trampolines behind blue eyes
from a cornea tendrils peek
and touch
feel
like tears in this halogen lit
crowded with breath room
the music fades away,
today's work is done
the itch is gone
and so is time.
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Old 12-23-2012, 11:11 AM View Post #27 (Link)
Squint (Offline)
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The end started like this:

it started with a knock on your door, and maybe a flash of light. You're not quite sure if light did flash or your eyes just forgot any color but white.

Nevertheless, someone was still at the door.

So you groped your way across the room, feet tripping over each other like drunken lovers on the beach. One flips over, catches the other and you fall.

The knocking is harder, and you're trying to breathe but gravity's got you pressed, floor against your chest and the carpet's in your face-- and it smells a lot like her.

Air smells a lot like her, so you keep breathing.

You imagine the carpet is her skin, and you keep moving-- finger-walking along the lines of her stomach.

The thump of your head tells you that you've reached the door. Reach for the doorknob and pull yourself up. Blink until your eyes remember how to see. Open the door and smile.

She's standing there. Blue eyes. Blue skin. Black and blue, black and blue waters at her waist, to her neck, above her head.

Don't be rude.

You open your mouth to say hello
and swallow the ocean.
__________________
WANKY.
Most of my poetry is smut these days.
Epic narcoleptic.
I like giving crits
VM me if you want one
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Old 12-23-2012, 06:15 PM View Post #28 (Link)
bookworm (Offline)
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Location: void
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to ee cummings


i like you for being openly obsessed about things;
i like you for the way you carry hearts inside words you haven't really created but have
because our creation is limited to re-creation
(rain falls on the recreational ground, the horse jerks back and forth
as if trying to say 'fuck time fuck time let's play let's play'
and as rain fell silence fell as well and all the little girls fell
because the earth was pulling us towards some random american poet
someone is writing a tribute to in a hot room in front of a screen in a dry winter,
and praying to be heard, and feeling fun not at all
because she's so scared to fall)
__________________
Originally Posted by Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho
The void. Before the staring eyes. Stare where they may. Far and wide. High and low. That narrow field. Know no more. See no more. Say no more. That alone. That little much of void alone.
arcadia
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Old 12-24-2012, 12:19 PM View Post #29 (Link)
Squint (Offline)
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She was scared of falling
because someone had flipped the world.

Beneath our feet lay the stars and our hands groped
mindlessly, clawing for the grooves on streetlights.

Some slipped, some tripped.
Some cried, some died a little inside
when lovers ripped at intertwined limbs.
Fingers ached and joints popped.
I told her not to let go

I won't let you drift
without me.
__________________
WANKY.
Most of my poetry is smut these days.
Epic narcoleptic.
I like giving crits
VM me if you want one
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Old 12-25-2012, 02:27 PM View Post #30 (Link)
Ares (Offline)
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Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 168
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are you so afraid of yourself
that you shy away from
soundwaves within your brain
and scrimmage with the ones outside?

we can talk about it.
we can be fluttering butterflies in a post apocalyptic sky
stillborn wings that'd still fly
and beat on the beat of our hearts
resounding percussion on empty wavelengths
as if the clouds were drums
and had exploded like chat conversations on facebook pages
a beep for a new message, none for a new friend
you have me though,
a new friend.

i could help your brain break its cycle
and in the process, liberate mine too
sadness resentment fuck you i suck dude hope coincidence
confidence i am self esteem ego and incidence
break through this rain of emotions
like candles on night skies
torches of devotion
breaking all notions.

to the beat of your words
i could rap with my soul
and we could dive deep
in this sea of crimson expectations
and bloody resentments.

talk to me, don't be afraid.
this is an attempt at a rap. might go in the lyrics section if it works.
  
						Last edited by Ares; 12-25-2012 at 02:28 PM.
					
					 Reason: this is an attempt at a rap. might put it in the lyrics section if it works.
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