Skinny's thread

"Dark lashes licked the pavement
in anticipation."

Mmmmmm purty! Purty zesty piece.

 

Ah, to be young again!! And yeah, you know I like this.

 

I can see that this would appeal to you, yeah! Thanks for reading!

 

I laughed
at impending hecatomb.
I shouldn’t have done
but it’s just so symptomatic
of my pride in all I do.

Sheep
bare-arsed, humiliated and scatty,
remind me
of these bored congregations.
Irritated gnats
consuming inadequacy with relish.

How can I lift this local ale
amongst you?
How can I drive
and breathe this air, simultaneously?
What does this city teach me of shearing
and shows?

We want you to build the limestone barriers.
We love to build ourselves
small empires,
to be tabled,
chaired
and overtaken
in the name of progress.

Can we sustain ourselves
in the current climate?
Inefficient strains of bacilli
drift beyond these powerhouse windows.
The hum of industry
isolated and disconnected
from reality.

 

You had a pint,
I think,
and leant across the table
to meet my gaze with your fingertips.

I remember
those Manga eyes.
Now tarnished,
pewter,
tired,
from seeking the furtive mind
beneath baseball caps.
Clogged up
with oil from the inspection pit.

I notice now
footprints
in the ivory sand
that had only just begun to trickle
when we caught rays.
Now it's dirty gravel,
pooled and clustered.
I sidestep.

This furtive mind
is also tired.
It is not the feed
that you remember.

It swims in the head of your beer,
and clambers out.
I'll not be swallowed up again.

 

Airbrushed in prose,
which compliments my memory,
I am flown in.
I am comfort.

I anticipate anticipation
in the air when I arrive.
Enveloped many times over,
clustered in sweaty palms,
I am gift-wrapped
and delivered.

What happens next
is a mystery.
Perhaps I am torn and exposed
here, in the open air,
under the sun.
Perhaps I am held close to your chest
wrapped in linen,
buttoned up till later,
and then,
over dinner,
consumed.
Or, by evening lamplight,
devoured
before bedtime.

 

read a lot of this (ok i admit, not all) and all i can say is WOW!! Wow, holy shit this poetry kicks major ass over my own! I'M BLOWN AWAY!! really, have you considered getting a book of poems published? I'd buy it... hell yeah! man, this is great great great great poetry! I love it, Skinny, please keep writing until your hand falls off, and even then, tape record it....


Really I want to thank you so much! You totally inspired me to start writing more again! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

ok i'm done. sorry for going on and on but I enjoyed meself!

~~~~~Rock on~~~~~~~

 

Seeing my ex can sometimes make me wonder: What the hell was I thinking? But other times I'm a lot kinder.

 

Ouch!

 

Lol!Thanks Lover/Young_Peace. I kinda like my hands though, so if you don't mind, I'll try and keep them! But seriously thank you for reading. And apologies for giving you a hernia!!

 

yeah but it was the good kind of hernia....


no just kidding. but really, rock on, man. This poetry is some of the best I've read in a long time!

and kepp your hand too.



~~~Peace~~~

 

-just a simple bumpity- :sunglasse

 

hey, very good idea on your own thread, especially since you have so much to share, i'll have to remember to do that from now on. I really enjoy your work, it's definately something i've been able to identify with as opposed to some of the other writings in this section. have you ever put together a book or zine? i'm in the process of doing that myself now...if you've read any of my stuff and you'd like a copy, send me your address and i'll see if i can send you one. keep up the beauty...spread it, love it, live it. peace.

 

Thanks Dreamrhythm, for your time and comments. I haven't put together a book or Zine - this is as close to a collection as I get. I haven't read any of yours yet, but if I like what I see, will be in touch!


And ta Kitten!!

 

Bellicose and lecherous, me.
I flirted with you,
giggled, fluttered.
You promised gold and trinkets
Well, I’m sold on tat
and cheap.

 

I fell from the cradle
that hung, shrivelled
from a twig,
a million miles up.

I shook off the cracked withered sheath
too soon.

I wallow in this dusk-lit puddle,
that dreams of ocean breezes.
We are both crawling,
too small to gush gutterwards,
too misshapen to fly.

 

Monday morning pillows clutch my cheek,
Injured sheets cling crumpled to your rising back,
Sliding empty and cool back onto my thighs.
Empty bed now, and sounds of bathroom endeavour.
Raging weekend passions subside, and now
Yearning for tonight begins.

 

Peripheral vision and interpretation
Enchant me. Can't say I'll
Never want black over white,
Undone, or all done.
My loving remains loosely divided
Between sharp rays, and
Regions of shadowed sentiment,
Always shying from your illumination.

 

I have no lights
tonight
in the hallway.

Just one flickering bulb
obscured intermittently
by the moth of hesitation.

The words of the novel
I read earlier, in the tub,
tingle in my pores.
I smell flower stalls in Paris,
see tulip print cotton,
feel the old man's ejaculation
on my ceramic sides.

My anticipation then was
transmitted to the fervent bubbles
between my thighs.
And now,
champagne bubbles burst
against love's ulcer of nerves
in this dark corridor,
and your kisses disturb the wings of
flocks of moths
in the pit of me.

 

Nicely done. I'll never look at moths the same way again...
Okay, kidding aside, it really was nicely done - the whole poem, I mean.