Poets of Cardboard

Sullen pirates steal the golden fire
Ezra Pound with terse tight words
Surrealism and Dali fight the world
Picasso only paints abstract lust
War infects Enlightenment poise
Poet Laureates of the system
Paris dapples stringent classical paradigms
Van Gogh’s potato eaters the man of earth
Pablo Neruda lets love come thru the soil
The Lost Generation, exiled
The Beats Howl with rebellion
Real art, real writers, street poets, angst

In the distance ice gathers
Modern fragmented man
Bureaucratic hollow man
TV man
Herd man
Images of success
Tummy tuck poets with face lifts

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Word Salad

A dying princess;
Beads scattered upon a card table
Dribbled on the floor,
Like a Salvador Dali painting;
Floral print frock
Falls to my ankles;
The clock strikes half past twelve.
Lint eternally ground into the carpet,
No dirt devil.
Read ancient food, “ poetry’’
Passing thoughts of self- harm:
No afterlife?
Mother is gone.
I was not allowed to cry.
Passing thoughts of self- harm;
Burning in Hell,
Afterlife.
Dirty, stained carpet,
Tablecloth, paper towel,
Rectangular container of Seroquel salad.

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poem by Claudia Krizay
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I'll Be Waiting

I watch the river like a clock
Sunset scallops of pink shells
Moon soon to shine
Breeze as light as whispers
Freedom in the leaves
Trees remind me of sanity
Away from all the shills
Away from the profound
Away from the money changers

Night draws out my muse
Come to me beyond age

No converse
No sordid paragraphs
No conceptions of myth
Bring your penance
Bring your coloring books
Violet sweetness
Red apple apogee

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Love You More

Space between the kisses
Paris blue art
Color like the melting candle
Delivered from restrictive structure
Meaning in the relative streets
The times between the wars
Freedom like surreal gold wings
The mind is the greatest drug
I open to jazz like a hungry lion
Breeze washes through the trees
You are the Chloe of art
Bass notes rich with sultry life
Slow deep sax notes
Emotion brings new clouds
Opaque joy
Radiant past connected with narrow alleys
Universal light in sunsets of purple whispers
The baby cries in the other room
We always make love
We are sensuous rivers

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Your Gold Dress

You gold dress is whirling around
Like a fan its lifting you high
High above the ground
Never coming down
You gold dress is burning alight
Deafens me with the sound of the sun
Setting fire to the night
And everythings all right
Vibrations coming my way
When youre floating on by
In your gold dress
Vibrations coming to play
When youre filling the sky
With your gold ... dress
Your gold dress is shaming the stars
A thousand melting dali guitars
Make no sound
And dripping slowly down
Your gold dress is all I can see
Blind my eyes but there it will be

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song performed by Xtc
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Sa Wala Ka Sa Tuo Ko

Usahay, maglakaw akong mag-inusara
Sa karsada sa inyong dakong syudad.
Dili ko kaharong magtan-aw kanimo
Kon ikahinagbo ko ikaw
Sa sementadong dalan.
Ikaw naglakaw usab nga nag-inusara
Hangtod sa kaadlawon
Gikan sa halawom nga kagabhion.
Gasadsad ang akong sapatos
Usahay sa akong kahubog
Nagdala og daghang lapok,
Lamog sa abog. Ug ikaw usab labaw pa
Kanako. Mas bug-at ang imong
Tiil nga walay sapatos. Guba nga tsinelas.
Kagabii nagtagbo ang atong mga panan-aw.
Wala kita magkasinultiay.
Nakita ko ang paglabay
Sa hangin sa imong aping.
Napalid sa makadyot ang imong buhok
Morag dunay buot ipasabot kanako.

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poem Shootin’ Momma

Poem Shootin’ Momma……,
Lay your poem gun down…..,
You keep writin’ & writin’……,
Like a circus clown…..,
Your brother was a gambler….,
And your daddy was a farmer…..,
You got a hot trigger finger……,
Poem Shootin’ Momma…! ! !

Poem Shootin’ Momma……,
You’ve got a way with words…..,
With lots of bright sayings…..,
And quotes from nerds…..,
Whether just in high heels…..,
Or a sexy pajama……,
You make my body tingle…..,
Poem Shootin’ Momma….! ! !

Poem Shootin’ Momma……,
You’re rockin’ my world…..,

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poem by Trade Martin
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Time Runs Out

Spill the paint over a circus clock
Time is set
Pulse and waves in slanted disdain
Paradise broken
Spanish tears opaque museum
Live the will of a new door
Painter and poets crushed incants
Arrange the stars that cry
Mortality amidst your dream caves
No hands folded
No pious genuflection
Stations of art
Birth just a shadow
Bold libido with golden wings
Circles where writers gather
Tombs garnished by Dali

Fauves red blue angst
Eaten by wild beasts
Cezanne soars in the Louvre

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Galilee Hitch-Hiker

The Galilee Hitch-Hiker
Part 1

Baudelaire was
driving a Model A
across Galilee.
He picked up a
hitch-hiker named
Jesus who had
been standing among
a school of fish,
feeding them
pieces of bread.
'Where are you
going?' asked
Jesus, getting
into the front
seat.
'Anywhere, anywhere
out of this world!'

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poem by Richard Brautigan
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Feeling Like A Salvador Dali Watch

Feeling Like A Salvador Dali Watch

I lie
in this park

scattered with daises
& cigarette butts.

The sun orders us
to take off all our clothes

and we
mere humans

obey it.

The sun
pins us to the ground

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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The Ceiling Is Bendin

Well, its midnight in a liquor store
In texas on halloween
Salvador dali watches
From his window in a dream
Jesus is a rock star
Who destroys all he sees
Godzilla is a cowboy
Who is dressed up as a queen
She isnt as depressed as she used to be
Come on over here, my dear
Well, I hold my head real still
So I cant see very far
They got all these vietnamese
Heads stuffed into jars
They got all these things
That make them look like theyre way in
They use polythene plastics
On their bods instead of skin
If I had someone to talk to
I wouldnt mind so much

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song performed by Flaming Lips
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Humanity poem in Hindi by Deepak kumar deep

Aasman me sitaron ko
kisi se ladte dekha hai?
kya suraj chanda taaron ko
raushni sene se adhte dekha hai.

Kya kabhi shikayat ki hai hawa ne
ki mai muft me kyon bahun
nadee ke sheetal jal se poocho
kya kabhi inkar kiya usne
apna jal dene se..

Pashu pakshai bhi apne anusar
sewa jagat ki kare hain
pedh paudhe sabhi ke liye hai
dhoof, chon, hawa
verna, jaati, dekh nahi dete..

Kintu,
ye insan hi aisa kyon
apni khudgarj lalsaon ki khatir

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poem by Deepak Kumar deep
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48 - Little Sister! ! !

Little sister this advice i give to you
For the life ahead it will help you through
Never be afraid to ask people questions
And to make mistakes to learn lifes lessons
When your mad or drunk try to keep self-control
Never leave your drink or mix your alcohol

Try to stray from the crunchy nut lane if you have no permit
And to read Shakespeares Annie if you haven't already done it
Travel the world El Salvidor Dali is a must see
And to Wales for the Endinborough festival we'll go, you and me

Another bit of advice your big sister suggests
Is when your out in public try not to show your breasts
Do not, i repeat do not date another ginger boy
instead buy yourself a nice rabbit shaped toy

My sister i am proud to call you
My bestest friend you are
A big bubble of trouble

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poem by Nicola Burkett
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Galleria

Galleria sober with magenta circles
Victor Hugo rings the strange bells
Guillotines of the repressive museum
Dialectic maidens voluptuous and serene
Straight line poets march in protest
Concepts as rigid as steep cathedrals
Definitions become inkwells of rules

Freedom paints with thick brush stokes
Fire shines from apples of her breasts
Her eyes pruned by a purple moon
Blue cisterns like sisters of a brothel
Cézanne wrestles with convention
Verlaine showers vermilion satin sheets
Poe an exorcist of the seriated feathers

Her pink toenails bold as the new jungle
Neruda gathers seashells of sensual nipples
We are the sparks of sapphire wine
She sings of Spanish thighs

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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My Paint Heroes

All of paris giggles with flags
Laughing lions leap up from the page
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks good from where you paint from
Barcelona, nuclear festive, wire women
Wriggle from lifes cage
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks good from where you paint from
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks like its all a party
Packed with my paint heroes
Like its all a party
Packed with rousseau
Miro, miro, on my wall
I love you the most of all
In port lligat, liked his gala
Waxed antenna, brushes up a storm
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks good from where you paint from
Catalonias atom caveman

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song performed by Xtc
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My Paint Heroes (home Demo)

All of Paris giggles with flags
Laughing lions leap up from the page
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks good from where you paint from
Barcelona, nuclear festive, wire women
Wriggle from life's cage
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks good from where you paint from
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks like it's all a party
Packed with my paint heroes
Like it's all a party
Packed with Rousseau
Miro, Miro, on my wall
I love you the most of all
In Port Lligat, liked his Gala
Waxed antenna, brushes up a storm
My the world looks good from where you are
My the world looks good from where you paint from
Catalonia's atom caveman

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song performed by Xtc
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Behind The Mind of The Abstract Poet...

Kaleidoscopic verve of vision
we dare to tread finest lines,
steady as the marionette
dangling o'er a child -
recklessly, drunkingly,
grade school tom-foolishly,
metaphorically breathing,
teasing and testing,
delivering loud messages
so subtlely...as 'we' do so well,
quite collectively, such variety,
like potpouris scent of diversity,
synthesizing all principles
of written locution;
and have you studied
the grammarical bible
of parlance, keen lexia
in lieu of lingual dreck?
personally i'd rather
be accused of shibboleth,

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poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Ode to Salvador Dali

A rose in the high garden you desire.
A wheel in the pure syntax of steel.
The mountain stripped bare of Impressionist fog,
The grays watching over the last balustrades.

The modern painters in their white ateliers
clip the square root's sterilized flower.
In the waters of the Seine a marble iceberg
chills the windows and scatters the ivy.

Man treads firmly on the cobbled streets.
Crystals hide from the magic of reflections.
The Government has closed the perfume stores.
The machine perpetuates its binary beat.

An absence of forests and screens and brows
roams across the roofs of the old houses.
The air polishes its prism on the sea
and the horizon rises like a great aqueduct.

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poem by Federico García Lorca
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1919

Before the threat
And dismal cold gray
of mourning
Came the sun.

And Charlie Comiskey
should've turned in his sleep
should've turned in his sleep
shoud've turned…

Insane Sun
Floating above the earth
Like some extravagant madman
Spending next year's allowance.

The same burning sun
In the same afternoons
In all the cities
East
and somewhat

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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Pyre

Dim nefarious windows
Macabre taste that strands me
She wears a Vulcan robe
Embroidered Spanish Magic
We race for the doors of perception
States of mind in tandem pleasure
Mazes of pyramid corridors
Buried between the sadomasochistic
Dali paints in dreams of prisons
The ultimate prisoner of time
No secret tunnels back home
Wrought iron cemeteries
Spurned by the noble sun
No sweet womb that laughs
Safety shattered by the plague
Teutonic swords in dire visions

Ravens eat the flesh of poets
History is such strange madness
Thistles and thorns grow

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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