The Poetry Art Centurion – #16 – #27

Hahahahahahahahahaha.

“Create 100 pieces of poetry art in just 12 hours to raise money for Shelter?” they said. (https://www.justgiving.com/James-Webster7/)

“Absurd!” they said.

“Impossible!” they said.

“Hopelessly optimistic!” they said.

Nearly 8 hours in, and just over a quarter of the way through,  it appears they were right. BUT, Dana and I are COMMITTED and we will work right through the fudging night to finish this challenge.

For now, here are the latest batch…

#16 Glam Dragons

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The village trembled with power chords
The high falsetto of their wingbeats filled the air
The sky was 90% glitter and 10% ridiculous hair
The glam dragons descended

The people made their usual offerings
Chests that overflowed with sequins
(the rest of the princesses’ outfits were also sequinned)
The mayor dressed himself in the customary spandex

But their appetite was insatiable
All that was left was sparkling ash
And the echo of synth on the wind.

The princess was pretty pleased with her new ride, though
Their screams sat at no. 1 in the charts for months.

#17 I Choose You (and I wish I hadn’t) – from the prompt: ‘like pokemon but with demons’

IMG_20150516_214313943

I burnt the village to the ground when I left
That’s why they call me Ash.

I don’t miss it much, my home was always the smell of sulphur
The flicker, drip and splutter of thick wax candles
The belch of flame from impish throats
And the pentagram fields of battle.

After the auguries, they tattooed my body with protective runes at birth
I summoned my first imp when I was three
My tongue bloody from the inhuman verbs
I murdered my father on my 8th birthday – it was easy.

And once my demons and I have claimed all 8 of the badges of hell
From the hunched overlords and their fattened incubi
I shall open up this earth
And drink it dry.

#18 Obligatory Poem About Writing A Poem

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Obligatory Poem About Writing A Poem

I’m sorry.
I’m really sorry.
This process just isn’t that interesting,
like, I write down words on paper.
It’s hardly rocket science is it.
This was a really poorly conceived idea
and I’m absolutely not sure why I tried
it and oh gods I hate myself right now
I’m a fucking failure oh gods why why why
why why why why why why
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHYYYY!?!?!!!!!

Ahem, here is a story about a dragon.

Once upon a time, there was a little dragon.

Their name was the same as your name.

This is to engender sympathy from you, the reader.

A lot of their interests were the same as a lot of your interests. This is also to encourage you to identify with the dragon.

Like you, the dragon was totally alone.

Like you, the dragon had wings.

The dragon stretched his wings and laid waste to the kingdom cos kingdoms are for losers and neither you nor the dragon are a loser.

The dragon made the world what they wanted it to be: which is ‘on fire’.

There is a moral here.

#19 Petition Response – from the prompt: ”Death receives enough petition emails to have to return some of its recently claimed acquisitions.”

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Petition response

After the petition reached one billion signatures, Death issued a press release

“For immediate release:

One soul.

Writer.

Blazing darkly like the wink of a star

Mostly made of words.

Grudgingly released as we were having a curry.

But be warned: the sequel is seldom as satisfying.”

His rotting flesh made it hard for him to use a keyboard.

But eventually he taught the voice recognition software to recognise his moans.

#20 In Triplicate

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In Triplicate

They had us submit ourselves in triplicate
Each atom fed through the photocopier
Our every cell replicated (twice)
As only one trifurcated could hope to avoid our fate

The triple-seated cockpit was a cosy fit of self-hatred
And barely concealed narcisissm
So it was a good thing we got along ok
After the first initial awkward threesome
Was judged to be the blurst idea
Don’t judge us – you so would have.

It was all fine – until that last second
As the apocalypse bloomed on the HUD
And we each caught ourselves thinking:
‘I just hope I don’t die here with you shitheads.’

In the end, we did all survive the end
There’s just a little bit of us that wished we hadn’t

#21 from the prompt “Where Has the Rum Gone? Rum used to be a thing, right?”

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It was distilled from God’s own tears
Harvested even as they rotted in their craters
Filtered through Billie Holliday’s back catalogue
And that Eiffel 65 song
Cut with the dust of every ground zero ever

It was dropped in a volcano
Left to mature under its molten tantrums
Then when its living livid head erupted
It was slain by the saddest night of the land
(who was quite conflicted by the whole thing)

From its blood, they made it
A perfume barely contained by its igneous flask
A scent so maudlin it moved Falstaff to melancholy
Brought Ghengis to his knees in regret.

It is totes emo, as scents go.
It would make you blue too.

#22 this thing (http://bit.ly/1QSrr8h)

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When I fell on this planet
Forced my folds and verges through the burning
I was weak

Assaulted by flame
And screaming neons everywhere
My extremes flowering in pain
I hid where I could

Four white walls
Soothing floruscent succor
And fragrant fears of the natives
None questioned my appearance in the gallery

One day soon I will be strong enough

#23 Black Dog

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Black Dog

Get off my fucking shoulder
Stop slobbering, you monster of spit
Learn to sit, you bone-chasing gloom-botherer
You omen of nothing.

From the first time you appeared in my garden
Lurking there with your anti-matter eyes
Drooling your death-drool on my aneamic lawn
Chasing tumbleweed, my insecurities and your own tail
From that first moment I knew I’d hate you.

I would hate you more
But all the energy I would use
To stoke that fire inside me
Goes into carrying you.

But I know your weakness
And over the course of years I will destroy you
Pill by pill
Word by word
One picture of kittens at a time.

#24 Merits and Flaws

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Merits and Flaws

St Peter wore all black
Arms folded in a physical ‘fuck you’
Holding a clipboard at the gates of heaven

“Let’s list your sins, shall we?” He said to her…

“Heresy.
Larceny.
Grand larceny.
Supermassive larceny.
Answering back.
Premarital sex.
Extramarital sex.
Megamarital sex.
Anal (giving).
Angel-bothering (related).
Moneylending.
Straight-up murder.
Bendy murder.
And … casting the first stone.”

“And in the plus column…”

Peter’s eyes glinted with hellfire.

“Good intentions.”

Of course, she got in anyway. Word is she had dirty pictures of God.

“Hells yeah.” she said.

“Blasphemy.” Peter mumbled, to no-one.

#25 Reality as a Construct

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Reality as a construct

When he finished the last line of code
On Second Life 2.0
He let out a sigh as long as existence
And thought “This must be what God felt like.”

FINALLY
A voice boomed in his head
SOMEBODY GETS IT

ONE PIECE OF ADVICE
It continued
DON’T CREATE A COMMENTS SECTION

#26 Theatres and Bicycles

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Theatres and Bicycles

Our local theatre was a bicycle
It felt like everyone had had a go

The boards trodden so thin
You could wrap them blanket-like round you

The well-known walk of shame in doublet and hose
Face caked in the cloying kiss of stage makeup

The names in lights changing so often
The scene kids held their raves outside

We loved it.
We loved it so hard.
For one night each, it took us to heaven
And made us stars.

All theatres should be bicycles.

#27 True Love

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True Love

I have loved
Badly
Brokenly
Beautifully
On the wings of butterflies and dragons
Stupidly and steadfastly
Unabashedly
In floods of tears and eyeliner
Like a moth to flame
And one time in a pub toilet
Heedless of the ‘wet paint’ signs.

Every last one of them was true.

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About websterpoet

I'm a performance poet, sometime stand-up comedian and general writer type. I also run a free weekly poetry text that sends poetry direct to your phone, just e-mail me at websterpoet@gmail.com with your name and number and I'll add you to the 'textshot' mailing list. Also, you can follow me on twitter @websterpoet
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One Response to The Poetry Art Centurion – #16 – #27

  1. Alastair says:

    truly fantastic stuff. i’m going to enjoy pouring over these with a fine tooth comb if that’s something one can do metaphorically speaking.

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