RENATA, 12 november 2020
mam zamiar tylko go uwieść
powiedziała Lilith z getta
między nim a łóżkiem
szalona żona
a potem jej grób wyskrobał
łono Assi chyba nie całe
bo potem próbowała
przyoblec się w rolę pani
Tedowej Hugesowej
w podziemiach światłowodu
bezkrwiste niebo
nie rodzi gwiazd
piekło otworzyło swe brzydkie usta
a Ty dławiąc krzyk
odchodzisz taka niekochana
przepraszam to tylko romans
który rozhuśtał śmierć
RENATA, 12 november 2020
Pełen chaosu bezlitosny
świat i czyjeś młode JA
na marginesie książki
w garnku pełnym bigosu
bulgocze
niedomknięty szklany klosz
wyraziste słowa
dla nich za mała głowa
wyrwały się na papier
depresyjne morze
zakorzeniło się w głowie
głęboko jak kwiat
doskonałość w drodze do raju
potykała się brzydko chcąc brzytwą
pociąć cienie upadków
warsztat budził demony
balansując na cienkiej linie
zysków i strat
i zostać i odejść
umrzeć zmartwychwstać
zamknąć korowód
i być na czele
aniele pozwól
kochać i być kochaną
przemienić się w każdą
istotę nieznaną
opisać ich pragnienia
emocje bezosobowo
kultywując każde słowo
Jezu co za przystojny facet
aż to się stało! z wzajemnością
jakby wymyślony z szaleńczego snu
artysta duszy i sztukmistrz poezji
szalona ze szczęścia obłąkanie
wyciągnęła z najdalszych korytarzy
to było dziecinnie proste
zamienił ją na inną
obie winne swojej zagłady
on bawidamek
werdykt wybrzmiał
nie istnieć
pigułka gazu
odgoniła szaleństwo na zawsze
tymczasem
gdy żona szara myszka polna
została zdeptana i upieczona
ona nowa egzotyczna zmysłowa
Lilith zjadła Teda jak kotleta
krwistego
lecz najpierw schrupała
dwóch i pół swoich mężów
ech to grzech a przecież mówią
że to kobiety są winne cudzołóstwa
Assia brylowała zdobywała
hipnotyzowała spojrzeniem
jak sto diabłów Azji
dla samca gotowa na wszystko
odebrać to nic trudnego
fatalna meduza
w swe tłuste usta
wkłada fiuta
obudzona z głębokich nagich kwiatów
nocy w odmętach zaułków i korytarzy
wciąż widzi Sylwię ona dopiero zza grobu
jest silna wciąga jej duszę oddech energię
w otchłań
nabija gazem jak siebie
Assia ulatuje w powietrze
z dorobkiem
RENATA, 12 november 2020
chcę być twoją dziewczyną
zjeść
ciało twoje poczuć dreszcz
zatopić w oczach
pić słowa
z twoich ust
ubóstwiać
rodzić się i umierać
zdzierać odzież i skórę do kości
chcę z miłości
oszaleć
i dalej dalej dalej
rosnę w siłę
ocean tęsknoty przepłynę
serce słodkie czekoladą
oddam ci u stóp
wypływając z cienia
louis gander, 12 november 2020
THERE ARE so many others that can start a loud stampede
of people running after them so that they all can read
the script of rhymes that fascinate their scrutinizing minds
to entertain emotions - emotions of all kinds.
But I am just a lonely poem buried here inside
a dusty book unsuited and unable to provide
a morsel of excitement to those readers I can't see.
They're browsing here, undoubtedly, on either side of me.
My words are like a dried up rose with bent and broken stem -
and that's why I'm a lonely poem, unlike the rest of them.
It's dark inside this dusty book. Forever, I will stay -
yet wonder, will I ever see the sunny light of day?
Rejected, I'm compelled to cry, but that I can't condone,
because my ink would surely run and I'd still be alone.
So tears I hold. I'm saddened so- and oh, I'd love to shout.
But I'll be stuck here up until this book I'm in's thrown out.
I prayed that you would find my words because God answers prayers.
He knows my good intentions and I know He always cares.
So when my prayers are answered and you read my story rhymes,
I pray that we can just be friends and have some good ol' times.
And though you will not see me smile, please know that I'll be glad.
and pray one day we'll find these times the best we've ever had.
But if, by chance, another poem's your fav'rite one instead,
I pray my words go with you when again I go unread.
©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
louis gander, 12 november 2020
The cabin built with sturdy logs
(that firmly stood awake)
was nestled snugly in the trees
beside this quiet lake.
A dim and amber light shone out
to greet the lonely eye -
reflecting off this tiny lake
here under cloudy sky.
Through window pane, that sorry lamp -
far off on other side -
had shone from on a tabletop
with unseen chair beside.
And faithful chair supported all
the poet's ev'ry task.
Yet that old chair is empty now,
"but why?" you maybe ask.
You wonder who that poet is
or why he is away.
You wonder if he writes at night
or all throughout the day.
But when he comes, the chair again
will groan under his weight.
And over many months and years,
his work will rhymes create.
Now you might think and may conclude
of him, you didn't hear -
but I know this, you've read his work,
at least this poem here.
A glow begins to pour across
the sky in loving fun..
It reaches out so wide and far
with nearing of the sun.
And that light now reflects off of
a paper holding rhyme -
and calls me from across the lake.
I guess it's about time...
©2015 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Satish Verma, 11 november 2020
The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.
In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.
The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.
Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?
The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.
Satish Verma, 10 november 2020
It was punctuated night.
You sleep into wakefulness.
The space between the shut-eyes
trembles, when you start sweating.
The infant-death of the dream,
incites the borderland. The-
flames rise in a partisan way,
to erase the memories of guilt.
You are in deep grief for the
coiled sperms, from end to end,
they were longer than the body.
Would you like to wake up a jinn?
A digital forgetfulness, you seek
to solve the enigma of life.
Satish Verma, 8 november 2020
This spectrum.
No it will not work.
I am not there in the
shade, smoke filled barn, or-
in secular morgue.
Stubble burning was
like legend of war.
How do I shut the
door of diamond moon-
in the kingdom of
weeping night?
An animal in you
will not sleep, claiming the
innocence of baby steps.
A virginal vanity.
Nobody stops you to
display the grains of salt.
Would you listen to the land,
flight of words-
passage of time?
Satish Verma, 7 november 2020
The moment of truth has-
arrived. The earth
has moved the man. It was
accidental verdict. You know,
which cell you will be incarceated now?
My flame-singed eyes, search
the inception of integrity above board.
I am afraid of myself to
admit that societal violence
has come to stay!
Celebrating the birthday of
a self-propelled god, I go
into irreversible retreat. God
bless the wax house, fire was
raging on hills.
The blood cherries, blood on
your shirt, blood rings on your
fingers, and blood in my eyes.
steve, 6 november 2020
It cuts just like a knife, every time I hear your name...
And I feel the blood just drain away, as we start to play the game,
You're never going to give me, the part of you I need...
And I'm never going to let you know, just how much I bleed,
The tears rain down inside my head, and I am washed away...
As this heart is broken once again, by things I couldn't say,
I tried to hide this "burning flame", but I got too close to you...
Now my world is burning down, and there's nothing I can do,
Even tears can't douse the flames, as I begin to burn...
And the pain that only lonely brings, is far too strong to turn,
My heart's desire in front of me... and yet a world away...
But I'd give this life to feel your love, if only for a day.
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