by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Writing

Long, Forgetting

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I walk with a bittersweet taste
down these streets, too aware
now I’ll never be home again

Can you hear me?

Furious ghost of my youth!
Angry spirit assails me,
screaming in torment!

Through agonizing streets,
down years, I’ve tasted love
and toppled fears, yet lost you
… things I held most dear

Oh, hear you!

Hear me screaming…

by Jeff Glovsky
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by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Works in Progress, Writing

Unwritten

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No Babies

Jeff Glovsky / Photo of Jglo

* * *

I’ll start it!  I’ll start the dance!

Fish twist and wish

to be connected.  Primal

tappings into something longing

as the two of us.

Sustained piss shiver, poison throat,

and need.  Quake, flop

and sway a little…Heed the drum

and feed the Hunger flaming

up your Soul …

Conga
by Jeff Glovsky

 

I threw a Poem

and no one came …

 

At the beginning of January,  I posted a few unfinished Random Poetix, and invited participation in adding a line or two.  Though a few of you “liked” this, I only heard silence … There was not one WordSpeak-ing …

So I’ve added my own lines … I play with myself!

* * *

doodle, doodle #1)

certitudes, loud ‘certainties’,

across love covered, self-righteous

breakfast tables

you and I fornever

always


#2)

I’ve woke up broke

before

but not broken

beneath

broken promises,

furious eyes


#3)

In the slice knife that is

A.M., I cut through

to get my things done

Cross Raspail, boulevard Leclerc

I fax a note to dear old Dad …

* * *

Feel free to contribute still …

&

Always be a poet, even in prose.

– Charles Baudelaire

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by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Writing

Virginity

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because you never forget your First

Random Poetix
Anger

Subway’s down there
Hear it comin’
Just been mugged
Suspect runnin’

Don’t know why
I was beat up
Kicked my cane
Stole my cup

Got no money now
Can’t buy booze
Got no future
Got no shoes

Make me want
to kill somebody
Mold they bones
like Silly Puddy

If I’m caught
I might confess
Go to jail
Kill da rest

(1987)

by Jeff Glovsky

inspired by

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(Unfinished) Business, by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Works in Progress

Quick Ones (While She’s Away)

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doodles and sketches

In the least green, meanest

streets of the city, trees

preen, praying for

respiration


I remember the hugs I

used to give her;

remember

the love

we would shudder and

be in


Still feel

the warmth of

her body and sighs;

still drown, when

I tap my mind’s eye, in

her eyes


Together is how I still wish

to remain

with, inside, her.

Outside

is unbearable

pain.

more Random Poetix in the Members Lounge;
and other unfinished business

by Jeff Glovsky
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by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Writing

Doodlin’ the New Year

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This Happy Nu Year

* * *

I’ll start it!  I’ll start the dance!

… then you come in with a line or two and we keep it going:  I’ll choose three (3) lines from your submissions to my three (3) poetry doodles below, in January.

At the end of January, I’ll post the nine (9) lines that I select … your best lines, which best seem to flow and complement each set of my words, my lines, below … and then you can vote to help us build …

(y)our new poems.

Alles klar?  Alles gute!

doodle, doodle #1)

certitudes, loud ‘certainties’,

across love covered, self-righteous

breakfast tables

what’s the next line, Jaspar?


#2)

I’ve woke up broke

before

but not broken

… Yo!  help me out, yo


#3)

In the slice knife that is

A.M., I cut through

to get my things done

Where am I?  Anyway?

* * *

Send me your orphans — your left lines and Good Ones — or new lines and images you conjure, to complement my three (3) poetical doodlings, above …

&

Always be a poet, even in prose.

– Charles Baudelaire


visit the Members Lounge

for more Random Poetix
by Jeff Glovsky
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by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Writing

Members Lounge

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PoloJPGRandom Poetix from

Writers-Network
***
Let's Make Babies in 2 0 1 5
Whore Touches Self

( À Charles )

Whore touches self
on parts infected with
stains of old lovers,
vile caresses…

Moldy lips cleft,
shriveled flesh,
try to smile;
parted thighs repel,
reveal
sadness, sickness, deep inside.

Whore touches self now,
applying youth magic…
remembering long agos,
drying dimmed holes


Alison

Blonde — whiskey-laughing,
nicotine husk and
drunken smile (out of head!)
invites me to a moistened world…

Affirms me and accepts me there;
aroused appraisal,
more to share,
firm curves! And ripened
testament to sin:

Begin with nape,
atingling down to
ridges, bold and true;
still down further,
apple bounty: Pointed,
ripe and two.

From there, we ride
the delta plain
(it’s there where stains are common oopses… !)
Flaring fortress down below
surrounds the place
I want to go…

There!
Yearning long-ways,
smiling pinkly,
inside deep, recurring
nightly in my head,
the chance to bed blonde
Alison, all in
virgin blue and
red from heat
beneath the neon…

Moon and Jazz Blue drift Manhattan.
Mornings out and up
with tea and
thoughts of lustful
revelry, and
Alison.

But not with me.


Hot Nude Fish

Hot nude fish, you know
who you’re, yeah
you, who hotly flop, who
heated, heed the sounds I make
while hinting (hotly)
toward your hed’nist
bents.

Spent, flopping!
heat and fish-like, scent
of learning, seed
of Life up in you

*Kiss!*

To
Hot Nude Fish!
what makes me
vast blue days less
empty…

Random Poetix on this page
Long Reads & Short Stories
©Jeff Glovsky

Always be a poet, even in prose.

– Charles Baudelaire

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