When the 9 Strikes!

Nov 2004
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judih
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When the 9 Strikes!

Post by judih » November 18th, 2004, 1:37 am

July on a november day
18 more to go
woke up at five
itching to clean out the rain
the sky parted
red c's heaved high

18 holes shattered anew
words poured down
i could see myself in their shine
ego showers
me! me! me!

when will sinai retract its covenant
Has anyone seen Moshe (moe-says)
cousin winfrey's ridin up the mount on a mule:

peel open a grape seed
and find your tomorrow

judih

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panta rhei
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Post by panta rhei » November 18th, 2004, 5:23 am

nine is more than an hour old
here, by now, and how
'tis about to unfold,
this eighteenth day,
november grey,
as it plows its way
to plays and gold
...!

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WIREMAN
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Post by WIREMAN » November 18th, 2004, 5:44 am

4 and a half hours to go
here on the east coast
of a wake-up call, all of
us rollin' round on a ball,
this be the cyber space
place, bit of a respite from
rat race, and the 1+8 is
the magic number that rings
today and it equals 9, in
my world that's breaktime,
can't ya hear the whistle
blowin'?.............................

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judih
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Post by judih » November 18th, 2004, 5:59 am

12 midday
and all's dry
rain stops for a breather
hearing that poets are itchin on the typewriter
vowels warming up in the wings

words fly by knockin at the windows
chance voices seek favors (let me in)
cut us up and weave us in

but these fingers have other plans
these precious words
have their own sort of confusion
a maze-d, they wander at will
hoping for a breakthrough

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panta rhei
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Post by panta rhei » November 18th, 2004, 6:03 am

breaktime
quake time
prime take
on action:
inter-
yes
and
satisf-
bake a cake
of flow and rhyme
and feast and dine
on gourmet action!

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WIREMAN
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Post by WIREMAN » November 18th, 2004, 6:06 am

gotta make like
a hockey puck
head it up town
pirate a puter
do the limbo and
get ready for the
real lowdown....................

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panta rhei
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Post by panta rhei » November 18th, 2004, 6:11 am

words fluttering around fingers
like fairies, moody, and fragile

nuisances, almost,
their flurry wings too fidgety
their movements too restless
to take shape or form or knot
a connection

yet every now and then
a jiggling motion
settles on a finger

and becomes a warm ring

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panta rhei
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Post by panta rhei » November 18th, 2004, 6:13 am

the real thing
has already begun
is already here
and somehow
has always been
(and always
is)

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WIREMAN
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Post by WIREMAN » November 18th, 2004, 6:22 am

the eternal"NOW!"
tis the time, circle
complete, replete
with the us of an
awesome break away
outta the starting blocks
headed for poetic bliss.................

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wylde
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Post by wylde » November 18th, 2004, 6:35 am

my shoes ate my laces
fleet feet slumber in sleet
won race
unwound grace
starters entre the gun

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WIREMAN
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Post by WIREMAN » November 18th, 2004, 6:37 am

this show's got no time table
it's just gotta go, got's me a
10 minute ride cross town
stoppin' at all the lights, then
I'll be ready for some more of
this poetic lowdown.............................

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wylde
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Post by wylde » November 18th, 2004, 7:44 am

amy able is a table
with tee fer too
holes in won
keep commin back...


ok....

so.


yester yearn a bucket of bones
trundled
with vulture bleaks
brittle upwings
drafted by sore blending leaks
with the trumpter
and trombone whistling scolded
shoulders
crunched in hunches
misleading
destiny

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judih
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Post by judih » November 18th, 2004, 8:35 am

keep on truckin
r.crumb's helpful hint to destiny

tattoos come and tattoos stay
let that be a lesson to ya

my lessons left unlearnt
: bouncing balls do bounce:
so saith wiser ones than i

spitballs eventually land
no matter how many pacifists deny
(so proveth smarter ones than i)

it's all in front of our eyes
as scientists record
how writers mismatch metaphors

balls bounce, spit is wet
rotational pull brings back the truth
it is what it is

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wylde
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Post by wylde » November 18th, 2004, 9:00 am

of orbits and swan
song swam melon
cholia
flowering cauli
flower
ears
fed through truth tubular
belles
fingers in circles
answers in questioning
stones in pockets leaden limbs
floating into streams
venacular

perpindicular poplars of match
woulds
hewers of slaughter

and time stands on headless shoulders
engorged in feeds
troughs and slops

as the curdling yodels
throats
all in a chord

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judih
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Post by judih » November 18th, 2004, 9:16 am

the mime chokes herself
"strangle" "kill"
mime recovers
"throat" she gasps

as deep throat stays buried in last century's trivia
a voice murmurs
generations shall know more

what more
can we know?
is there not enough on our staggering plate
willowy legs shaking under the burden

what?
'throat' they mimic
throat, they throw tongues across the land

ghastly isn't it (comments dali)

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