Daily Archives: December 9, 2015

spectres & fieldings: six mid-apocalyptic sonnets by Nathan Thompson

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

I

the castle derek is my ambles
ambition I will reach you
wraithed in moonlight shredded
railings interrupt entrance me
no portcullis can prevent
ghostly presence plastic
bag caught on aforementioned
& such antlers jousting
jest me you bells tinkle
vampirically false in glass
beds beside the lady fielding
is truncated gothically
magical this all
souls cock crows no more

..

II

thunder burns the switches
sweet again marsh mallows bring
out your candles dead
eyes fishing hooks the lake
roils closer pitched slipping
fins emerge atonal klitschkos
whistle through your key
holes molten smoulder
silver toned oh lady fielding
bite me shortly wispy knot
tonight too tight and pull
the curtain over stupefied
grim knockings uncanny fancies
desperate for snacks explains no twiglet

..

III

my wrap round shroud my balcon may
I enter rules like role play fielding
me – oh you! – enough eternity
already’s too long…

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Today Birdcage Walk – 14:07 by Myriam San Marco

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Shut up shut up shut up

 

All together now.
What do we want?

Freedom.

When do we want it?
Now.

Freedom.

Now.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up

 

Grinning excited moonstruck children. Singing marching blood is pumping. Sweaty palms and faces dishevelled. Ahhh the rush

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up

 

All together now
PUSH
what do we want?
PUSH
when do we want it?
PUSH
Now
PUSH

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up

 

Bumbling adrenaline. Petrol-bombed flowers. Shoulder-elbow-thrust into barriers, helmets, batons, shields.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!

Grinning excited moonstruck children singing marching blood is pumping

Sweaty  palms  faces  dishevelled  Ahhh  the  rush  onwards  and  upwards

Rebellious toy soldiers clamour we breathe Carpe Diem music everywhere

Capture the flag the moment the one…

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Today Image is everything – 8:50 by Myriam San Marco

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Hey you!

You up there on the statue, can I take a few shots for The Times? No, not with the girl.

Just you.

..

Do you see me?

..

I see you ninja stylee spiked red hair swagger – front-page priority
CK boxers peeping out of black skinny jeans

Knees poking out of your 18 holes-mean

..
Do you see me?

..

I see you plastic gangster scowl tell no tales – headline ready
I see studied bravado round your smuggler’s smile
Stormy grey eyes sharpened to a point – fragile

..
Do you see me?

..

I see you wired ripples relentless bantam weight – newsworthy
I see fear-tangled hands fiddling your missile-full kitbag

Yeah baby I see you. I’ve Instagramed your strut – right

..

Image is everything

..

Hey you!

You up there on the statue, can I take a few shots for The Times? No…

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Today Artillery Lane – 6:55 by Myriam Sn Marco

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Universities across the country have been subject to unprecedented levels of violence from the police, targeting a resurgent wave of activism against the privatisation of the university system.

 ..

Waiting for the sunshine to stroke your face

Waiting for your eyes to open

Waiting for Today to punch in

..

Reaching for coffee

Reaching for clothes

Reaching for volume

Eager, intent, up

..

He looks at me standing, naked

Come back to bed, he says

I’d like to see you burn

..

A ‘National Day of Action’ has been called today. The event currently has more than 1 million confirmed attendees on social media, with students set to travel to London from all over the UK.

..

In the space before I wake, I soar – Limitless

In the shape before you speak, I glide – Impervious

In the breath before That Day, I dreamt – Unfettered

..

I look…

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Today Parliament Square – 16:29 by Myriam San Marco

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Behind barricaded sneers: a breeze, a blast, a gust, a gale, a whirlwind of jabs, slaps, stabs, clips, clouts, cuffs, slugs, smash thump and pummel.

Look left. No, don’t look left. Too late. Snap.

A boy curled up, defensive wounds on both arms, blunt- force trauma to the chest and legs, black tyre residue imprinted on his top, blood flowing from the sharp-force trauma to the head: alive?

Look right. Snap.

Bodies cringing under the smirking hurricane, one head injury looks to be in shock, broken humerus jutting out in 2 places with possible bleed from the femoral artery: prognosis is less than 5 minutes.

Look ahead. The tube station is calling come in and get away. Snap.

A hand on my shoulder.

Don’t turn around.

Try to lift my feet off the quick-sand pavement.

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Gingerbread Weekend by Paul Point

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

That.
Listen
Did you hear that?
That sound
Did you hear it pass through?

A sound filled with
popcorn smiles
water bomb laughter
beanbag acrobatics
gingerbread weekends
melted marshmallow evenings

The next decade of our youth
has laid its stairway out before us,
so we can smile, laugh, somersault
half way from the nest we knew,
in search of sounds we can call
home once more.

Paul is a writer, reader and eater of chocolate whose work focuses on ‘re-storying’. He is a member of The Circle of Freeway Poets, hosts shows in Dorset and London and founded The Chocolate Poetry Club.
“Paul has an assured, clear and engaging voice. One to watch!” Vanessa Kisuule.

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