Tag Archives: spokenword

PoArtry – Miss Polly

“Miss Polly” by Derek Baker, an interpretation of the original poem

Caterwauling choirs, cranberry with canned fizz bull doze sleeping giants across causeways

Emerald eyes rupture roots standing italic, shaking spears at any globe in orbit.

Teacups and tiaras take the biscuit when the silver spoon isn’t full of sugar.

Dunkers hold court but it’s a masquerade ball.

Play by rules you’ve retweeted.

We fall for the measurements kissing the ground hoping they’re others sizes.

A pound of flesh isn’t that expensive.

Have a heart! That’ll do

Won’t you chuckle, brothers?

We sigh into cyclones pedalling clouds to pander.

Ganja seems more sacred than the Ganges but its peace, love and respect right?

Let’s all hold hands please

But don’t touch me

Alright, if you must

Just don’t thrust into the dovetail.

We try to make the “would” work when what’s supposed to isn’t the bigger prism.

Expect folk to harmonise with our music even when the track is hidden.

Ask them to rock our world and never throw stones

Ask for granite provolone in chromosomes forgetting a skeletons just a mobile home full of flaws and cracked windows.

Playing scratched records hoping our set has some floor filling singles.

But what has the bigger ring to it?

Be who you are even if we disagree? OR tick every box until nobody breathes?

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Filed under Art, Random Poetics, Society

Pistons

Carry me home

Slay bells toll

A maze in this mould, bridging the gap

Burning soles find heaven I’m trying to put my face on the map

Why smash your pumpkin when you’re a sweet potato

I carry me home on this crowded railroad.

Adding carriages can be painful and I hate reservations.

Carry me home shattering webs and fathoming dust.

 

Die? Me?

I rust raging rainbows

There’s levels to this painting.

 

Your stares dress me on fleet streets where you’ll find that I’m a neon pink and lime shrine

You’ve got to be a pupil to see me in more than black n’ white

Oh, you think death is strange?

So it’s not just I.

If life is a cycle I’m here for the ride

 

I’m here to shake chandeliers of shamanic tears till diamonds find their way to their crown.

Is death an emergency stop or a slowing down?

 

Carry me home canoodling setting concrete.

Carry me home crowd-funded by choruses and crashes.

Feed me clashes to comb

There’s science to the magic but I don’t want to know.

As I know sure as the slay bells toll

I’ll just use it to carry me home.

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Filed under Random Poetics

Squatting in Space

Railing from missteps

Time slips through my fingers

I can’t catch breaths

With every blink, I beat my breasts and suckle solar flares

Somehow I’m running from my right to be bare

Yeah!

I wash in polarising pools of platitudes and curses

What’s love if they only say patience is a virtue?

My life ain’t chapters they’re verses

I hammer definitions like a wordsmith.

Flattered by my flaws there’s no iron in my steel.

I’m arrested by bars but.

Somehow I am the keys I can’t feel.

How can I drive my life if everything else takes the wheel?

You tell me

What’s the formula one needs?

Is it bleed, heal and repeat?

Is it greet, grope and retreat?

Is it please, police, preach and never teach?

When you’re aiming for the stars….

You don’t lighten the darkness reaching for bleach!

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Filed under Random Poetics

Home Is A Diving Board

diving board

Trapped between the sound of splashing and touching water

Wearing fanfares to allay fear

Fostering first finishes from ticks glimmering

They say…

Stand within ear shot of the gun to know your target

Is clapping the fruit of the harvest?

Drown, and become a compass from a floating carcass.

Another one who did the math only to make up the numbers

Saddled with sackcloth, shame and numbness

Straddling feint margins, seeking waves as markers.

Struggling to strum the melody of the barking.

Seeking to beat this with heartstrings.

A war-torn dome is only enlightened by stillness.

Choose your weapon before tumbleweed kills you.

Strike with every breath, release gold or reach home.

Time the trapeze, then reach and step.

Let your soul know this was a good body to rent.

 

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Filed under Random Poetics

Shaking the block

Writers block writing stop
Fighting what fires flocks
Painting luscious lions, locks
Ignited align with minds that won’t malign your crops.
You won’t see diamonds stop.
Shining when clouds climb on top.
The rush of the ride will drop.
Sometimes you’ve got to be a minotaur to get behind the door.
Frames change games, meanings names.
Blame remains that same iceberg lettuce.
This ain’t your average Tetris.
We shift gears because our vehicle lets us.
Watch your steps sun, don’t be caught in plain tiffs and vain rifts.
Your gift deserves more than memes and gifs.
I chop it up through writers block to give a soul a lift

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Filed under Random Poetics