write a really WEIRD poem

[wagravity]

touche to the mustache
stuck in potato skins
grown from the stomach of a waitress
she never really cared
she never really noticed

and undertow forms under toes
suck me in to melody
for deflecting bullets with machettes
is impossible
it's improbable

coffee glasses and champaign mugs
used at portholes, i see clearly
as the piano stares me down
it's so intimidating
not so complicating

rush an ambulance to the graveyard
i think someone is dead there
tip-toe through the roses
they shine so bright
when dusk becomes night

temptation of nicotine swells my ears
like the potato skins
grown from the stomach of the waitress
i never really noticed that
she never really cared

[Dark Muse]

Hello?
.
.
.
.
can
.
.
.
.
anyone
.
.
.
.
hear
.
.
.
me
.
.
.
hello?

[Dark Muse]

Sin-
ful

de-
light

savoring
sweet
temp-
tation

of life

Quaking
shaking
staring with
eyes wide
open

You are the
Queen of
the night

Schooled
by your
touch

Spurned
when I
diss-
apoint

Love me
ten-
der

or love me
nev-
ver

Slave & Mistress
joined

to-
gether

[SleepyWitch]

I am the snow indifferent
on fields outside a train
coming from you
sunflower smile and frown,
I didn't know you were broken
until........
I must have fixed you

You are the snow indifferent
on scorched skin and that
place where light is slow
and the almost-pain that
makes us whole
lies coiled-up waiting.

[white camellia]

Hello?
.
.
.
.
can
.
.
.
.
anyone
.
.
.
.
hear
.
.
.
me
.
.
.
hello?

Hi, Dark Muse, I like this one. I like the simple question.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you

T   W   I   S   T   I   N   G 
             in 
            the 
         W  I  N  D 

                   Free 
                        F 
                        a 
                        l 
                        l 
                        i 
                        n 
                        g

[Dark Muse]

Nobody knows
Nobody cares

We are not here
We are not there

The Dogs of Despair
the Lords of Nowhere

[TheFifthElement]

Watching you

I can see what you’re doing
out there,
through the kitchen window.

How you bend low,
dip your hand into the shallow
pool and stare into it
as though reading your fortune,
or calculating a path to lead you
thought the stars, reflected
there in the gathering gloom.
See you drink it;

I turn back into the room,
disgusted with your
need to consume everything
you lay your dirty hands on.

And yesterday
I saw you in Tesco,
and followed you
down the petfood aisle;
saw you smile as
you lifted the Whiskas biscuits
over your chin, tipping them
into that big mouth.
Saw your fishy-black grin

mincing around the store,
never before have I laid my eyes
on a man so thoroughly
beyond redemption.

Then last night I closed
my eyes so I couldn’t hear
your gritty lies, or sink into
the blackness of your breath.
I felt you rising over me
consuming me
all but completely, your teeth-marks
deeply printed to my breast.

And the rest, I guess
you already know. I am watching you
out of the window, and wherever
you go I’ll be watching.

[blp]

Very good, 5th. I was afraid it wasn't going to be weird enough at first, but it eased into it, which was good, better, in a way than going weird right away.

[TheFifthElement]

Wow, that was quick! Thanks blp, I've been playing around with rhyme and that's where it took me. Tesco, of course

[blp]

This joke will cut you up, he said,
He seemed to see the knife flash
and his sides split
with violent shaking
eyes screwed nearly shut,
lips stretched back grotesquely.
This joke he seemed split with,
Violent, shaking, lips nearly back,
shut grotesquely, and his will
seemed cut, his knife stretched
and split back, said flash, shut
the knife, the joke, his split,
eyes split back, shaking, nearly cut.

[blp]

Now, kid, with your pid buck toot
Get out, by your anguished knees and feet
Tell. It. Son. This
for a gap-toothed boatman rolling up
on the shores of newly fascist
fragrant, sceptered, windswept and
God.for.saken
Land of my fathers, mothers and various
unrelated descendants of Kane.
Hello! What's cooking, kids?
What does a fella have to do
to get a bit of action 'round these parts?
And who died and made you manager
of this
here
boondock?
Dronk King fleecing
arms of a young boy
open naively to the world.
Ball. Play with ball.

[blp]

The bark is scarring, Cat pain, Mordechai, Beely
bodking parturates unusually flatulently, even for her
over her new nightgown and out pops
the playboy of the western world
reading yesterday's Times
and rolling the afterbirth around his mouth
like chewing gum.
I'm him, he says, winkingly, the drool dripping
with other effluvia
down his dress suit front.

[Silas Thorne]

I laughed out loud when I read that last one,and then looked back and saw the ones before it.. great stuff blp!

[Zee.]

haha really cool.
Reminded me of how Only Revolutions *check it out, is written