24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
wind
the wind blows & blows & blows
then the rain arrives, wild
no one knows where from
valiantly the old house resists
by whistling loudly to itself
while the wind continues
… until my bones move
In the death of winter, The goldfinches fly To the little feeder in the big pine. Some might say, Most likely to eat. Others may say, to socialize and mate. I listen respectively. Smiling in secret. For I know in my heart, The goldfinch is here Out of necessity. Instilling hope with their colors in the sky. Assuring smiles with their songs on the bleak, cold air. You see, I know, they bring the first sights of Spring. *Based on the title “The Goldfinch” by Donna Tartt
The Mushroom Suit
Now I lay me down to rest
This mushroom suit will look the best
They put me only three feet down
To leave me here then went to town
I had to die I was quite old
There’s no regrets I was quite bold
My life was large I got around
My stories will indeed be bound
These mushrooms chew and eat bad stuff
Our toxic world has made things rough
I didn’t want to leave a mess
To take up room in a big old dress
So here I lay and start to blend
Into the earth I’ll never end
My word to you you’re gonna go
So plant no junk just loving glow
TobeTT # 8
I put my headphones in
I lock myself in my room
Blasting my music so I can’t hear
Your screams are piercing through
I know what you’re saying
But I don’t want to
The same fight you always have
She’s lazy
He’s cheating
She’s hurting
He’s leaving
The venom in your words is poisonous
You don’t hear the cries of your children
The pleas we beg for the fighting to stop.
In the end, it just destroyed us
Tore the family apart
And left us abandoned
It even took our house.
But yet, it continues
Despite that you’re separated
Always putting us in the middle.
In the dark night stood
A tall, tall tree
Covered deep in a dark hood
An old, old tree
Its roots branched out
And spread in the sand
Reaching far, far out
Right in the middle of the land
The branches swayed in the wind
A thick trunk hit the floor, hard
The leaves were nowhere
For the tree was bare
There was a hole, a huge one
Leading inside the hollow tree
Sitting on a stool hidden from the sun
Was the iron man leaning over
He chopped and cut
Moulded the pieces of iron
Thud, smack and a krut
Working away in the night…
Maybe I’m just some asshole Gen-Z
PacMan swallowing words and avoiding
my own ghosts, or maybe my identity
is not something repressed but grown
like hair or fingernails, trimmed into
shapes that make sense, repainted
and groomed, changed with the times.
My genders stack like dead skin cells,
growing into something long and beautiful.
My room is littered with flannels, the most
non-commital brand of masculinity
I could find– #dyke, #butch,
#transmasc– but maybe I have it
right this time. Maybe my girlhood
was nothing more than bad fashion
sense, a childhood costume I’ve long
outgrown, but I cannot imagine
my voice being deeper than it is,
if it would sound more or less
like myself. Maybe I would wear
skirts again if I could pair them
with a beard. Maybe there is still
time to figure out what kind
of man I want to become.
Poem 8
Quickie ((WARNING….if poems like this make you uncomfortable please skip))
By: Ashley L Powers
Our eyes meet
And I get chills down my spine
I close my eyes and dream of you
Your hands on my thighs
My body shakes at the thought of you
Wondering what you feel like
Grey sweatpants
Your imprint
The only thing on my mind
Lusting, trust me
I can imagine you thrusting…
…whew damn now I’m mesmerized
Daydreaming
Wet dreams
And I’m at my peak
Temperature rising
I would be lying
If I said you didn’t bring out my inner freak
Open my eyes
And to my surprise
We’re face to face
My back against the bathroom stall
Nails in your back
You deep inside me
Giving me your all
I release
You release
Our energies connect
You and I both can’t deny
Us together….
Creates some bomb ass sex
I wipe the lip gloss from your lips
And I fix my hair
We straighten up our clothes
Sneaking out the bathroom….
…..back to work we go
Sing angry songs with me
alight with that
despondent fury strung
along marmalade branches
sticky perfection
that catches everything
but the flies
iron & wine
the pagan, the angel and i borrow a car
overtake the white toothed man
listen to the buzzard’s lovesong
as we flee the carousel racing instead
toward our forgotten house by the sea
no one’s bones are ever innocent
the shepherd’s dog sings songs to the wolves
fearing resurrection or the urn
every boy with coins, bets his soul
knows the devil never sleeps
never finds peace beneath the city
hope is a flightless bird, choking in our american mouths
Whilst everyone is happy
That she got a perfect partner to spend her life with
The father is upset
Because he is going to take the reason for his living away from him
Whilst everyone is rejoicing
That she got a perfect partner to look after her
The father is worried
Because he is going to take the reason for his pride away from him
Whilst everyone is celebrating
That she got a perfect partner to share her joys and sorrows with
The father is envious
Because he is going to take the reason for his smile away from him