Monthly Archives: February 2017

When Walking over Muddy Fields by Maj Ikle

I am not a silent poet

Start slow,
Keep your eyes on the baby steps low
Do not look too far ahead
instead, plod on
Know you will get there
Find stones and tree roots to press
your careful feet into
Follow the dogs for high ground, not pigs
they look for hollows to wallow in
Scan the sides for elevations
however small
And don’t take the bramble’s jokes
personally at all
When climbing up a muddy bank
follow the footprints you know
Steady as you
ninja go.

View original post

Advertisements

Je Suis Juif by Howard Richard Debs

I am not a silent poet

how is it to be told? . . . in detailing the facts themselves?

—Charles Reznikoff, Reznikoff Papers Box VII, Folder 26

 ..

His assailant tried to saw his finger off [News report]

Horrible [Facebook comment]      two Jewish brothers wearing skullcaps

 ..

said they were driving in Bondy [News report] a northeastern suburb

10.9 kilometers from the center of Paris [Wikipedia]    the “City of Love” [Quora.com]

In the Middle Ages Bondy was mainly forest notorious

for robbers and bandits extremely dangerous [Wikipedia]

 ..

they say they were forced off the main road by another vehicle the driver

and a passenger shouting “Dirty Jews, you’re going to die!” [News report]

Why is our world moving backwards? [Facebook comment]

The brothers were

abducted       surrounded    kicked     punched repeatedly [News report]

..

The situation in Paris has been getting worse [Facebook comment]

 ..

Jews are leaving France in record numbers

amid…

View original post 457 more words

Foraging by Stephen Daniels

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Golden sultanas
contain as small an amount as half a
sprig and a generous seasoning of
symptoms – including vomiting and diar-
heat. Whisk in the butter and check
in Hanover and in Munster, including
the reducing cooking juices.
The woodlands close to their refugee shel-
pour the rest of the marinade.
40 reported cases, mainly linked
using a heavy kitchen knife, slice
them for the bearded amanita
shred the Kale finely, cook in the
Mediterranean area
gently, then add a little salt and
ing them. It’s tragic, particularly when
flesh is still pink and juicy within.

This poem was created using a random method, using the two articles:

‘Refugees fall victim to poisonous mushroom’ – Guardian (Page 19), Wednesday 30 September 2015.

Nigel Slater ‘Grilled Partridge, Orange and Lemon Marinade’ Recipe, Observer Food Monthly, September 2015, No. 174 p.24.

Lines were separated according the article and numbered. Using a…

View original post 94 more words

All the Pills are Sick by Heath Brougher

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Remnants seized otherwise joy

from the tinsel basket laid on the windowledge

soft enough to be pillows; rectangular embryos pious

mothershrouds floating hands over mouths

oozed with sap, eternal man dances

the hallways clear to forgetfulness,

thrust standing by the gasoline when possessed

along enthralled visages of spilled dreams

learning their nonsense to be blanked and turned into reality

thisly fosterably and lulled to a dormancy

men play pill games to sever, once frail

near the extraneous engine, blubber from the meat

soft again enough the bloodripple succumbs

to the sedated pain we hear yelps

through the rampant noise of the bloodbath

thus earplugs find their way

to deafen the voice when he sees you spill stringent dreams

during the preface thin and blonde to the metropolis

from otherwise joy wholesomely oblivious embryos

stragleholding somehow rectangular piousfed

their dullnipple ultimatums of nearly-nonexistent men

dancing though hallways to restricted whorerooms

by…

View original post 6 more words

Jam Bomb by Heath Brougher

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Your ooble booble drooble oobles

your hastas wastas wistis gerk

your timid tidal epidural fleek on scric

blowning offa opal open poem cone pome

sulled silled sashed slashed mumma fumma

into vast kummatose Galaxy

hydrational disproportion izn’t probeerly pud to

gether in toolshed enoughing flavorless stuffing

groog grod manna raze the already deady

heady and no heady but bendy

send me away awash awhorl

send away for me cornucopia hands

that are not hands…………twisted gaVeyard all there so sadly amany.

sky traps mountainheads on school teacher properties.

View original post

Bullets in Babyheads by Heath Brougher

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

It feels like the spoon has left Ohio in bus smoke clouds with

Predators and Orthodontists everywhere. Everywhichway I look

I see is something else seeing something else. THAT’s what I should be

doing right now.…….Not THIS!………………………….Hours

……………………………..pass

and then

you awaken to find that

you dropped your coat in the grapes

and threw the suitcases like Frisbees at the moons

of Jupiter as your psych-0 eyes barely blunk (0ßà0)

View original post