Category Archives: Spoken Word Poetry

Timaeus Lavrov… Thomas Zinniger, “things I’ll never say.”

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Thomas Zinniger

seedless Kyotonian flagellum Novergrove Trinidad horosceticism stullar blithe myelin Arkansas ascertizing the manscaper brainless pube on Draka rovering the antithesis zenith sempiternal cena that pixelated in tusk mex and swine flu apricot cheeky red wines oooing electrohanukkah to gabriel hemoglobin surpleen pool fountains of Bastillian Masma
 
and abelian GNU Zumbas ignoramus its signifying temporicity chronesthesia perfect clockwork mechanism Descartian vertical motion casts of zaichik shigella
entirely
filled with
ellipsimical gedankensteine allo
 
seedless Kyotonian flagellum Novergrove Trinidad horosceticism stullar blithe sea shells are in Campbellors Chakai of 990 brochure tribadlist-monocolor desolent italiano
cannan palooza thresholds heteromony
 
snuggie wympeariewo Camillo
embargoed vials sigma-sext-chiksenmihai Gedanken Melrosing: “HOLY MATRIMONY — kano baccalaureate Laudat —”
 
seedless Kyotonian flagellum Novergrove Trinidad horosceticism stullar blithe for Abu egg shells are beginning to huggle-singularizing midst camoozling Ershwing dimorphism a heteromorphous pin swollen with Agrippan spieler
 
plasticized Kandinskian-Leningrad abacuses corea Jacksoul turbulence dialecticism: pan-realism
any конечно medium of Anglesteinian swollen microunanimous gibberish particularized astericism copicularartar morphoeic-hylomorphetical zookini.
 
 

“things I’ll never say.”

“smitter solidaridad: tamperkapangasquard, Horatiomatique altoBenetarian, anthropoorientalism”
lex necessitam: Occam’s parsimōnia; enigma
Hoodian-Academio-cankersource bruxisim-missiers-pathetique
defile bar-coded Norwood Pier — agnosognosia-synaptic-discernible
regularity pattern: universal set
predominant general tone(s) устала-question:metaacquiser-ECCLESIASTICUS-Deus’s
Weltanschauung-silo-hungaro
cold-stone: mechanical erections, TeX zimaobjekto parmessan olaffle-infantilism renegado
wasteland:
desolate “Allegro s. Camille unbiased, innatist —”
creamery sub-markup nonlinear multiple realizability TABULA RASA queer red
pipe Quagshire Livingstone magnolia linguining femur Samper-unsequencable-wimminpreforma
Agalite clandestine, ombre ritualized katiki SPIRITUAL DEATH; heraclus globe-trotterZeller’s-
Samperperson
 

Timaeus Lavrov, is an up-and-coming, previously unpublished, seventeen year old writer from British Columbia, Canada with an interest in digital parts-to-whole philosophical musical instruments. Other interests also include bias detox, unspeakable languages, and self-sufficient living.

Copyright © 2016 by Timaeus Lavrov

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

B.Z. Niditch… The Jazz Poet – Passing By

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THE JAZZ POET

Line by line up
crowds are in the shadow
in the sax riffs
of my new translations
feeling their body of joy
as the music sounds
from landscaped heirs
off islands of the sea
where adventurer tourists
on a large ocean liner
hear me in an opulent time
playing smooth sax
in the cool night air
risking my new melodies
by once frozen lips
on rowing
words of memory
no longer poisoned
by motionless lovers
nor abandoned by absence
for warring times
of fiery alarming devotions
under cold sleepy covers
now my good gestures move
as red and orange leaves us
with voices embracing Fall
when everything is new
in voices of water and wings.

PASSING BY

We are passing
to another season
with fresh sunflowers
in our garden hands
poetry will survive
all barbed wire
of poisoned jealousy
beyond villages
of freezing grey
as in a Hardy novel
watching departing feathers
counted on flying wings
on tall grass ravines
and murmuring shadows
from tall branches
as a mourning dove sings
by a sailor lost at sea
at the light of a tumid river
and now at peace
we’re trying to make amends
after a tourist jaunt
though the coppery rain
quickly covers us over
with clay sky memories
of a new Autumn
leaves us by cool rocks
under a shadowy orchard
wanting new friends.

 

 

B.Z. Niditch is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher who resides in Brookline, Massachusetts. His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including:Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and Art; The Literary Review; Denver Quarterly; HawaiiReview; LeGuepard (France); Kadmos (France); Prism International; Jejune (Czech Republic); Leopold Bloom (Budapest); Antioch Review; and Prairie Schooner, among others. His latest poetry collections are “Lorca at Sevilla”,”Captive Cities,” and “EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE” published by Penhead Press

Copyright © 2016 by B.Z. Niditch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stephen Philip Druce… Television Apocalypse

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Television Apocalypse

Television apocalypse –
the anarchic celebration,
the annihilationv
of the sweet invention,
now the devil`s mesmerising
mechanism,
television – a poisonous snake
slithering in a slime
on a prime time scour,
we are furniture leaches
for them to devour,
its venom renders
us dense to digest
mindless soaps for dopes
with subliminal hidden agenda`s,
with its sexist, most
politically correctist,
ham over-actors
for uncultured cattle
in a trough of x-factors,
the vultured staring,
the documentary violence
overbearing, the chicken korma
spilt in the t.v. remote battle
in the living room corner, five
star movies long vacated
for one star turkey`s
to feed the perceived
uneducated,
gunshots wake up
babies in their cots, etched
nightmares on the kids not
in bed yet, watch indiscretions
before the watershed, the university set
in unamusing stand up comedy –
abusing the slot, saved by
the canned laughter
we can all spot,
comedy shows discriminate
the working class
and are so unfunny
you need to smoke
grass,
the random flick through
of the channels – a bad decision,
nudity on when the parents
are there, an unexpected
surgeon`s incision scare,
television –
the five minutes of fame
ambition, to be a celebrity
with only the brains for
infantile games, showbiz shames
television –
sport overkill, overspill,
no fun – overdone,
television hurts –
its breaking twenty four hour
news, coshes a brainwashed bruise
upon my t.v. weary head,
twenty four minute adverts
kill me dead,
traffic cop shows with
cameras persecute the motorist
and lecture headmaster style,
twist the driver`s words and
put them in a statement file,
stop them without probable cause –
just to harass, no consent to search
but the cop just ignores and expects
them to kiss his ass, television –
deserved of our derision, the over-hype,
the over-sell, the over-ripe, the t.v. hell,
but now it`s time to intervene, let`s
smash up the old, the new, the portable
and the flat screen, this cheap, crude
heap of repeated multi-channels grim,
this sacrilege is a sin.

 

Stephen Philip Druce is a poet/humour poet/ humour essayist published in the UK, USA, Canada and India. In August 2015 he signed an ebook deal with Tri Screen Connection in The USA – with his British style humour book of Absurd and nonsensical essays – QUIRKY SHORTS. link here – http://www.web-e-books.com/index.php#load?type=author&product=62

To hear Stephen read his poems/humour poems link here http://youtu.be/nLBrHCkeSMg

Copyright © 2016 by Stephen Philip Druce

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dennis Caswell… To Fire

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To Fire

O leaping catharsis of atomic libido,
you have us. You sold yourself as a god
who comes when he’s called, and now
we lick the sludge off the bottoms
of primeval vegetable drawers
so we’ll never need to leave home
without a tankful of you.
BANG! Remember that?
That was the cosmos beginning.
Back then, you were everywhere
and everything, but now you’ve grown older
and learned to calm down, though sometimes
us clots of you feel you still in there.
Heraclitus didn’t need Einstein to know, “All things are
an exchange for fire, and fire for all things.”
For instance, I can exchange 3500 bucks
for a lovely certificate entitling me
to build confidence and foster a sense of empowerment
by instructing seekers to walk on you.
A Viking circumambulates land
holding a gobbet of you,
and that proves he owns it
(the land, not you).
I can’t figure out if you’re a genius
for making yourself the go-to metaphor
for both terror and sex, or if
you’re as reckless and stupid
as an incurable virus that has no idea
it’s killing its dinner. You have us locked
inside Earth’s garage, with your many engines
running, and not even Vulcan,
Vesta, Nusku, Girru, Agni, Pele,
or Kagutsuchi can make a wish
and blow you away.

 

Dennis Caswell is the author of the poetry collection Phlogiston, published by Floating Bridge Press in 2012. His work has appeared in Raven Chronicles, Floating Bridge Review, Crab Creek Review, and assorted other journals and anthologies. He lives outside Woodinville, Washington and works in the aviation industry.

Copyright © 2015 by Dennis Caswell

 

 

 

 

 

 

Graham Isaac… Hat Trick

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Hat Trick

Curtains and tights.
Doves and canes.
Caps, cufflinks, gloves,
shining.
We were that joke about
the truck, who turned into
a cornfield.

Hey ravens! Hey crows! these stalks aren’t for ignoring.

Pendants and saws.
Repurposed coffins.
Lights so bright or
none at all.

(crystal, but with a joke about balls. A twitch and a wink)

Capes, capes, capes.
This knife can cut through an
ordinary leather sofa in
ten minutes. Think what
the whole set could do. $19.99.
These shoes were the finest
taps in all the land, we
can be your cobbler.
Keep in mind, we used to
be people who used to be
a truck.

Rally, motorcycles! Rally, flamethrowers! Rally, chrome-winged-donkeys.

it is so unfair that these
things repeat themselves.
Nonetheless, we were velvet curtains,
waxed goatee, blazer. Twirling
a rabbit on our finger, blowing
a kiss in sparkling blue pastel,
what they wanted to see,
harsh realities not withstanding.
(this knife cuts through cob. Wheel, wheel, wheel!)

 

Graham Isaac is a writer living and working in Seattle, Washington. He holds an MA in Creative and Media Writing from the University of Wales, Swansea, where he co-founded The Crunch, South Wales’ largest regularly running poetry and spoken word open mic. He hosted the monthly Works in Progress night at Richard Hugo House and co-curated Claustrophobia, an underground poetry and performance series around Seattle. He was also co-curator of Five Alarms: The Greenwood Lit Crawl. He has a book of poetry out in the world called Filth Jerry’s Guide to Parking Lots.

Copyright © 2015 by Graham Isaac