216

Day 216 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day erubescent meaning "reddening or blushing."

War Zone 

You have your orders

I expect they will be obeyed 

Trudging through the snow 

This isn't what I thought 

This isn't what I expected 

Failure is not an option 

Absolute loyalty is everything 

The wearer of my flesh

These weak twiggy legs

My pulverised brain

My erubescent cheeks 

It won't take anymore 

I smile like a retard 

You must endure

You must push on

Your victory will only then be assured

The ends of it are messy

My odds and ends 

Without exception I'm broken

Without rest we toddle on

You cannot break

You must be strong

Abandon all weakness

Leave your flesh behind transcend it

No. 

This is the end of the line

The final bitter pill

Whether it be stinging pellets

Raining on us through the mud in front of us 

Or the whips of our taskmasters behind it's done

My body smacks into the hard clay like a dream

I can feel my skull bending 

It's beautiful and impossible 

The colours blend all together.

215

Day 215 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day doryphore 

"a pedantic and annoyingly persistent critic of others."

Discontent before the Law

The Court could not 

Account for the doryphore

At its doors

The army of panel wavers 

In angry bold letters - times new roman, Ariel even Comic Sans

The opulent gowned figures

Could not fathom the discontent

Brewing 

They wanted blood 

They wanted their blood 

There was a visceral mood

To the crowd and they needed 

It torn down 

They needed to see some symbolic destruction

Some reality to their agonies

The men and women in their suits and ties 

Did not see the yowls, mewls or screams 

Though they passed the throng each day 

There was a collective deadening of sensation as though their skin had turned to cobblestone, brick and sand 

The people demanded something

They could not say what it was

They could never account for it

Put it into the necessary terms 

So it remained lost 

Security hurried them on

Official business carried on 

Another day inconsequential as all others.

214

Day 214 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day Divaricate meaning "to stretch or spread apart."

Oysters 

Fresh from the sea 

There shells divaricated 

By strong arms 

The lemon commingling

With the shimmering white flesh

To lick and slurp 

That sweet gurgle as 

It slides through your insides

Pearl soft cream 

Feeling the brine briefly

Whisper at the tail end

The sea in your mouth.

213

Day 213 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Effable meaning "something that can be put into words."

The Silo

Tall corn rests shadowed by the 

Silo 

It rests in its shade 

The corn is restless the farmer 

Ploughs through it the stalks are tossed up all in sight of the silo

The farmer rests 

A kind hand greets him passes him orange juice freshly squeezed 

He inspects the crop 

In the tall silo stacked dry and barren

There is a pause 

An effable silence 

In the line between the shade of the silo and the white light 

On the yellow stalks of corn 

There is a meeting 

It is sacred and silent 

It occurs in the shadow of the silo

There is guilt and giddiness and trepidation 

The silence is all the more chilling and exciting 

There is something being born here in shadow of the silo and it is not corn 

The farmer has neglected his work

The tractor lies barren

There is only one place he may be

But who with?

212

Day 212 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day edacious meaning:  "having to do with eating or fond of eating." 

A tired sort of love 

I love you in a tired sort of way

Which is the best in bed 

It is the feel of a cold morning 

My edacious stomach embracing your breath of garlic and onions from a warm hearty meal the night before 

I love you in a peaceful sort of sense

When work is done and I'm stretched i feel my body shrinking gradually on that long road home to you 

The compression is joy 

I love you like the stiff pain of a Sunday morning 

Knowing the bliss of waking and knowing what lies behind the next horizon 

But knowing in this moment

As light shines upon us two balls side by side 

Anything is possible today 

We can do anything we want today.

211

Day 211 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day Deracinate meaning "tear up by the roots."

You're the Worst 

You're bad for me 

You're the worst 

It's time to deracinate

To grab you and draw you out like a weed

You robbed me of myself

You took so much of my time

(But it wasn't mine was it?)

You're a curse 

You're a disease

You took it all my name

You took my money

And my self-respect

They lie when they say you can get it back

I'm less than what I was now

Thanks to you 

You're poison 

You're rot of the most ignoble sort 

All the words you made me scull

All those lying and dirty words

That you couldn't hold back

Tried to pretend that you were

That I was bad

That I was the reason for your failings

You're bad for me

You were the worst 

I will be better 

Perhaps one day.

210

Day 210 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Deglutition meaning "the action or process of swallowing."

Rainy Day

Do you hear it trickle like a hydrant

Gushing and gushing 

They are scurrying like rats

Forced down gangways, footpaths, fortresses of construction and industry and into slew ways 

Mewling trampling 

The bolts of water smack their faces like curry 

Their pink swollen heads having difficulty with deglutition 

This wet shiny world 

The cracked asphalt, the broken paths, the eternal dirt and pebble, the dominance of the microbe and dust  

The trains rumbles their frames 

The trains shake and shatter 

The foundations tremble, yet somehow hold fast 

The carriages away and shake like the sense of the commuters 

Like a pendulum begging to end

Can you hear the trickle like a hydrant gushing

The sound of thousands of soggy feet.

209

Day 209 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Coriaceous meaning: "like leather." 

Dead needles 

There was panting on the balcony

A dogged and laboured series of breaths 

There was beer, vomit and sweat 

There was a wart crusted coriaceous mouth

and a surly gent who enjoyed the feel of a lash and the way his victims curled like delicate pine

Needles bending backwards and 

Snapping collecting into a pile

At his feet 

the colour of autumn.

208

Day 208 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day disenthral meaning: "to set someone free from enslavement."

A couple holds hands in the Family Court 

They were separated

I thought

There were issues 

But they were at peace 

The two of them like 

Old souls that had withered a battle

He was gentle 

She was happy to be guided 

She took his hand 

She sat across from him

They made a joke across the Court room

They nodded compliantly 

They departed having found the decorum an amusing joke and experience 

Never the word attached to this experience 

Never attached to the secret words behind their eyes 

Never attached to the hints of smiles and hope 

There was a deep love there 

Something arrive at after a long journey through darkness and danger 

So much in a single look

They weren't slaves to it anymore

They'd been disenthralled

Hate had withered 

But not broken them

Their hands held by finger tips 

And still so much there that still might not be.

207

Day 207 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day deterge meaning: "to cleanse something thoroughly."

Unworthy poem

Who is to say what is worthy 

To write about 

I am not sure this is worth your time

But apparently it's not something

That time will let me let go of

So a man sits on a train in Sydney

The trains have these three person seats (designed for three modest persons)

So what does this fellow in the stripe top do

Sit right at the edge of the aisle

He had essentially blocked passage to the two other modest persons

He knows what he's done

I wonder if he feels a burning pain in his heat and he knows my contempt my narrowed eyes

If I could shoot some guilt into him I would 

Maybe he's too old and worn to care

No he's barely a sextenarian 

There needs to be an exorcism 

A deterge of the fools heart

Anyway I am spent 

And am left in contempt

For this gent

This perfectly able bodied arse wipe

I pray someone will ask please shuffle on over

Someone may eventually and then my rage will spike again as he turns his fruity eyes 

And in them you'll find one thing only

I'm sure of it

Indignation.

206

Day 206 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Coprolalia meaning "the involuntary repetitive use of obscene language."

Coprolalia

Don't send it 

Don't send the damn email

The fuck wit will spin it

He will spin it 

And float it like a paper aeroplane

Around your ears

Don't press send you'll regret it

There too many run on sentences

There's no punctuation 

It looks like a wall 

He doesn't have time for that

Don't toss some garbled Picasso of words at him

That fucker pig 

He deserves worse 

To be brought down a peg to be reminded of respect 

Glutton 

No don't press it, don't you can't un-send it

Think what would he do

He'd do it different

I bet he would too

Fucker fuck him 

I'll send it.

205

Day 205 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day Constellate meaning "to gather together in a cluster or group."

Movement and Sound

Feeling the mesmerisation of the cosmos

Touch it the intangible glowing lights pulsing gyrating 

Seize this 

Rotary shimmering skittish 

Diamond sand and glitter streams 

Warbles drones as wind blows 

And kicks and fires in the chest 

Like explosions of life

Constellating.

Lingering as the pulse fades

As the tones die down

Thuds to a final stultifying halt.

Club X (204 of 365)

Day 204 of the 265 day poem challenge.

Word of the day Comminatory meaning: "threatening, punitive or vengeful."

Club X

What is there about it
The rounded flesh
The way it spins
The tease of it

Step back through the haze
see the full haired persons
rioting silently rocking
like morphine hit hospital patients
rocking their intravenous drips

Their words
You like the shape of the their words
On oval lips
You imagine that your name
will be upon them those
pink oval lips
You imagine the power that comes
with a name
Remembrance

The smell is acquired to say the least
the vomit stain on the carpet from where
they got too wild

There is skill
that one was nearly an acrobat
Could stretch in so many ways
The thought could make you ejaculate
That's the smell like your father's old
vinyl collection wet and collecting dust

The movements are slow
Undulate a nice word
that encapsulates what happens
with the hips and the way
this resembles waves
but we're far from sea breezes here
this is a hot sauna
not like at the spa house
There's spit and alcohol and crack
There's pinched lips

There's a phantasmagoria
With these chimerical dames
Blowing smoke through hot pink lips
and Blond manes

The drones and flares of dance music
The monotonous comminatory stares
and slaps
Dissapointment eats into the late night
early morning folk
who lose focus and seek contrition
from the wares here on display
This is a lascivious excursion
A tantalising holiday
...only it isn't

The hot fuzz of smoke contaminates
The hidden brawl and testosterone,
Estrogen filled sauna room
low lights and bodies silent in the dark
But not them they stand in dim pale moonlight
Like shining ghosts with fat milky thighs.

Waiting in the Dark (203 of 365)

Day 203 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day cantillate meaning: "to chant or intone a passage of religious text."

Waiting in the Dark

The thunder cracks
Lightning scrapes the sky
It seems like it will eat you
like a monster

But it's outside
Inside is the danger
in the blackness
between the halls and the cold tiles
and the cold snarling sniggers
of secret dark lips
that wait in the night
no cantillation shall halt it

Under covers pulled up
Under covers warm and snug
the monsters can be heard
a cool gust presents itself
noises happen - common noises
but not tonight - nothing common about them

The thunder cracks
It is closer
the lightning is a gigantic flash
and what will you see through the window if you
dared to look
will that dark face be there staring with
its wide clownish eyes
twisted into a gruesome look
resembling a smile
but there is no word for the way its lips are
its no smile
Smiles are after all for kind things.

Subtle Touch (202 of 365)

Welcome to day 202 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day breatharian meaning: "A person who believes that it is possible through meditation to reach a level of consciousness where one can exist on air alone."

Subtle Touch

She raked her hands over me
She dug in her claws
She breathed as a breatharian
Each breath was her last

My skin has lines
a microscope is no longer needed to see them

Her skin is always silk
I touch it
in my dreams and its like milk
I can drink it
I can consume it

My skin is wrinkled like a dry lake bed
It will peel off each night form
a scaly thing underneath my back

There are tiny hairs under her chin
They are delicate white whisps
I long to pluck them
Watch them germinate like seeds of her
Let them wilt and fade away

She bit me with such vehemence
She chewed away
my subtle touch.

Push & Pull (201 of 365)

Day 201 of the 365 day poem challenge.

word of the day barmecide meaning "illusory or imaginary and therefore disappointing"

Push & Pull

I was attracted to the polar opposite of you
I was drawn to your antithesis as though
my feelings were barmecide

I was pushed
that feeling of falling
except I was being pulled by my heart
That irrepressible urge
to fall forwards into the infinite possibilities
between us

I was drawn to your eyes
Your bold black pupils and the way they spoke to me like aliens
The discs of your milky white
The incomprehensibility that there was thought and feeling
Somewhere inside

I was attracted to you
We had a magnetism
That I could not pull against

I was drawn to your eyes
Lovely blue iris salt of the sea eyes
Lovely deep staring all seeing eyes

I was pushed
that sensation of being pushed and yet held
Like a vice as you dissected me.