#holidazepoemswap

[beaboutitpress]

happy holidaze poem by Rebecca Brown @notalake

i’m calling you on one of those giant phones from the nineties with a long twisty cord

they still exist actually in lots of places that aren’t where you are

i’m listening to the dial tone for hours and hours

all through the night

til it feels very reassuring i feel very calm

like i could listen to the dial tone for hours and hour more

there’s this dream i keep having that we’re driving in your hatchback

on the beach and we’re almost there we can see the sunset we can

see that place where we will be happy and we’re almost there and

we aren’t moving at all

i look at my body in the mirror and don’t recognize what i see

everything is completely different from last year

and i feel completely different

and completely the same

i am still lining your mouth with all my words

are you holding them still did you know

i was putting them there for safekeeping

i don’t want them back now i need you

to hold them for me for a little while longer please

#poetry #holidazepoemswap #holidaze poem swap

[nateglogan]

First copy these In crayon Copy these words on something Writing on your screen is fine if you only have whiteout or some other pleb scribbling tech We need to talk about last summer, and science butter, And the question of animal awareness. I could never resist your crime scene eyes and your expert thighs. I took that line from the last phone book in Maine. I'm tired now so just copy down what I've put here so far and feed it In crayon Feed it to your imaginary uncle.

--Andy Greeley

http://beaboutitpress.tumblr.com/

#holidazepoemswap #be about it #andy greeley

[jmacsteph]

Here’s Adam Tedesco’s Holiday Poem as part of the Be About It Press #holidazepoemswap!  Enjoy.

Hint

U can live longer if you forget parts of your childhood the rampage and gauntlet theme song to some big punishment that happens if you let the game play itself mister

Can you please help my mastodon its over there at the end of time singing Nick Cave / shooting up and I’m not starting over I sip water magnify the shine onto your pineal opera windows anger krakens eating Valdez In predawn dark I blow the doors off the laboratory let the rats eat me whole

When you let the medicine do its job in a place of hungry ghosts it’s hard to tell a toilet from a teacup the news from weather how to write this the beast shrivels up into a sick little man here where there are no walls

#holidazepoemswap

[shouldtotally]

Holiday Sweater

Holiday Sweater

Wind screamed down Koser Avenue like an angry Masai warrior brandishing a spear in each hand. I’ve never been to Africa but that is how I pictured the wind once I knew you were visiting. Everyone hid until dinner time. Only tiny bulbs peaked out of the earth like green alien eyes. I’d welcome them, but they were aghast at what they saw and smelled. Blinded by bedazzled Santa sweaters like diamond sneezes and assaulted by gallons of citrus perfume that would asphyxiate creatures known for their longevity- not one us of course- but rats and roaches, there was no one left to trap. Enjoy your stay at our roach motel -- the hearth smothered with Batman figures and his kin, which would be fine if they let any air in. Once poisoned and released, you are welcome to freeze to death outside on a psychological blood-letting tour of the neighborhood now back by popular demand: on ice. Not pertaining to how whiskey is served, but frozen in time like Beethoven’s death mask, frigid lips over pearl bone teeth.

-Jenny MacBain-Stephens

http://beaboutitpress.tumblr.com/

#holidazepoemswap

[erasedbyebye-blog]

be about it holidaze poem swap

It gets more crushingly awful every year How early night falls And how much effort it takes to roll out of bed

In the dark. But we do, don't we? We put on a pot of coffee And we put on our clean clothes

And even brush our teeth and hair. We are so fragile.

But that's not the real story. The real story is how we keep on.

I'm not sure anyone ever told you this

But half the battle is just getting out of bed.

Aine Farrell

check out the whole list of poem swaps :

http://beaboutitpress.tumblr.com/post/105847031914/this-is-the-master-list-keep-checking-here

#beaboutit #holidazepoemswap #poem

[thetsaritsa]

I wrote this for you

what do I want 

I want too much

I want I want I want

what do you want 

you want the world

what means the world 

what means any little thing

it is cold in here and 

I want to sit close to you 

I want siphon your warmth, better mood under

Seasonal compression 

under heaps of finely spun plastic bottles and other discount shop items

wind blowing against window and manic reruns on youtube 

keep us buzzing

keep us turning

keep us flicking crumbs out of our crevices

what means the world 

what means the best 

what means the littlest thing

#WANT #CHRISTMAS #holidazepoemswap #alt lit #poetry

[austincharcoal]

"Dyadic Ubiquity" by carrie hunter Cremate them all together. Another form of mass, little things, knick knacks. To steal, to fuck, to become. The hermit who seduces. The curate who abuses. The archaic cat. Dainties. Contrasted with laughing. A male deer, a measure of corn. Lots of toffees, lots of love. All the syghes. The bird on the rainbow seeing the sign of the ark. Crucifixion kiss kiss. If life ends, when life ends, kiss kiss, typography’s satan. Undo lands friend. Transmissional variant. My lines and your lines criss crossed. And the tea stain. Stolen goods over buttocks. True to the forbidden. The lost grammatical tense. After prophesy. Those having been hidden away. Alllusion to the orange peel. Pretty or different is still the same kettle. 

#holidazepoemswap #be about it #carrie hunter

[onlyherefordogsandbabies-blog]

HOLIDAY BABIES

these babies do not belong to me! but because the universe works in nice and strange ways i was gifted this poem through the #holidazepoemswap organized by alexandra naughton. i am very excited about it!

this is 'holiday babies' by kelly thomas

#holidazepoemswap

[lettersfromrobots]

holidaze poem swap

The Sophies // Amy Berkowitz

My high school had two Sophies. They were seniors when I was a freshman and I quietly adored them. They listened to Bikini Kill and wore as little as possible. My favorite Sophies outfit was two tube tops: one as a shirt and one as a skirt. The school administrators were always calling one or the other into the principal's office for... what, exactly? Our school didn't have a dress code. It was the kind of school where you'd have to set your electric guitar on fire in the hallway in order to get suspended. The Sophies were expressing a disregard for our serious learning environment. The Sophies were distracting the other students. The Sophies were putting themselves in a vulnerable position. Sometimes they sent the Sophie home, sometimes made her put on clothes from the lost and found. While one Sophie was waiting to speak to the principal, the other was stalking the halls with her long legs, bare shoulders, and tight lycra. Holding down the fort, making the debate team swoon, keeping the hallways a safe place to be dangerous and cool

#holidazepoemswap

[electronochuckyoung]

:: THIS CHRISTMAS :: by John Mortara #holidazepoemswap

asked Santa for a lobotomy asked Santa for a living wage asked Santa for an abortion asked Santa for a lethal injection asked Santa for a better immune system asked Santa for even the slightest sense of personal fulfillment asked Santa for a more manageable sex drive asked Santa to 'stop touching mom like that' asked Santa for a therapist that takes appointments on weekends asked Santa for a thigh gap asked Santa for a system in which social influence wasn't relative to material wealth asked Santa for help advocating against greenhouse gas emissions seeing how his workshop in the North Pole will be under water very very soon asked Santa if i could 'get a witness' asked Santa if i could speak to his supervisor asked Santa to 'send noodz' asked Santa for more wishes asked Santa for a relationship that doesn't end with me hating myself asked Santa for a gender identity that can be explained easily asked Santa for a ROBOT BODY asked Santa for a plague upon thine enemies asked Santa for 'friends' and then cried into his beard asked Santa for a porno flick that appropriately depicts sex as the act of two souls becoming briefly unified by pure spiritual energy asked Santa for Larry the Cable Guy's head on a stake asked Santa for a brief respite from the suffocating passage of time got you instead

#holidazepoemswap #john mortara

[glassgrenades]

Analemma

question the line structure of sun

question: my earth-concept

met a concept, a contract of muscle pulling at the air

a noise in this blood

joyless

#holidazepoemswap

[nateglogan]

my brain is the sweat on my lower back as i bike down the boardwalk towards
 certain doom. we're always. i’m feeling everything, five thousand multi-colored lights blinking at different intervals inside my blood. the sunset is so beautiful, i want to die. i want to crunch down on some sand, reminds me of chewing a gum wrapper all that electricity, god. god. i believe in everything. whatever. why not. i’m perpetually blown away by the sound of your voice after i’ve escaped. i hear it as salt. i lick my lips and it’s like nothing. there’s no mystery to be solved here. this is perfect. you are perfect. i am perfect.

by Joshua Espinoza

#holidazepoemswap #poetry #poem #joshua espinoza

[thetsaritsa]

Mark Cugini – “Summer Of Christopher Wallace” after Zoe Dzunko

I see the same patterns in whatever dumb moon when we’re lying on the beach or Machine Gun Funking in the freak museum. Will the whole fall be another mammoth root canal? I am not ready for the woods—my heart is a firefly hastily installed on whatever was left of the rest of August. So I take you to Fulton Street to bag groceries with Biggie— everything looks the same but it isn’t; everything is underwater. Everything is alone and all covered in plankton. I am cleaning your fishtank, but I am not a water mammal— your fish swim in circles but they don’t remember me. Your fish put on masks and forget who I was. Your fish are all assholes, and I am an asshole, too, vacuuming gravel and filling you up with the wrong sort of water. When I am alone in Brooklyn, I am thinking of you being alone somewhere else, thinking of clouds and balloon animals, thinking of popcorn and gluten and quinoa and other unfortunate dietary restrictions, but all of that is just you, really— you thinking of me and thinking to yourself ‘how can one good thing not be exactly like everything ever.’

  check out the rest of the #holidazepoemswap over at thetsaritsasez.com

#holidazepoemswap #poetry #alt lit #mark cugini

[erasedbyebye-blog]

THE DOGS

by Lauren  Artiles

start barking at the

swing of the porch door,

odd noises tinged with apology

and wheezing like the air expelled

after a backhand to the solar plexus.

The first dog knows about the way

quiet forms a film over cold nights—

first bubble-skin-slick and glistening

under the white half light,

then congealing like the surface of northern lakes,

thin enough to splinter under boot treads

or the weight of a singular howl—

and still she clears her throat

for the animal joy of being first to mar

something unbroken,

as the neighbor rasps Junebug, quit!

through the rusty screen,

as the noise sets the inside dogs rattling

like a cloud of tin cans tied to a bumper,

like a choir of old men coughing on a city bus.

At the click of the latch

they spill out into the yard

on a tide of hot breath,

and their barks roll off their tongues

in round shapes, falling in the air rightly

the way some words feel right in the mouth,

like want, or run,

and Junebug gets hitched to a leash

by half-dreaming fingers

as the moon rises one notch higher

above the wet black roof,

and the rest crowd back indoors

whining, slobbering and alive,

and man, I do not know why anyone

could need twelve dogs in a small house

yet there’s the pack of them,

checking for no danger before settling down,

heap of shaggy heads and rough limbs

circling the floor

#holidazepoemswap