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Creative fun in
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2123453-Also-Mutants
Rated: GC · Book · Personal · #2123453
GI100 Book #2...random attempts at poetry.
A second attempt at "Give It 100!, since the first one ("100) turned out pretty well even though I didn't complete it within 100 days.

Click here to join me!
Merit Badge in Mythology
[Click For More Info]

*^*Salute*^**^*Balloonb*^*  YAY!!Congratulations on your fabulous challenge of writing 100 poems is less than your 100 days!! An amazing feat so you deserve a trip to Mount Olympus for a treat! You can walk in the hall of champions. *^*Trophyg*^* Wonderful expressions! Keep on shining. *^*Starstruck*^*

These are just rough sketches and ideas that are barely a little more rounded-out...they're not perfect but they're gonna be good enough to share here at least. Your comments, support, and words of encouragement will be greatly appreciated!


Sig for nominees
Best Poetry Collection
Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... Next
May 30, 2017 at 2:34pm
May 30, 2017 at 2:34pm
#912041
5-30-17


One day
they're gonna tear all these buildings down.
Stone doesn't mean we stay;
not like it used to,
         at least.

Feels like a wave
         and it's gone.

Word counts are arbitrary;
like song meanings
         or lifetimes.
The internet says it's ok
         until it isn't.
Are we? We don't know
         until we're not.

Feels like a wave
         and it's gone.

I am the sum of my peers.
I am the rise and fall
         and rise again and fall again.
Plant me firmly
with a stem bisecting my cheeks
         to make a run at this
knowing what my outcome is.

Feels like a wave
         and it's gone.

Sig for nominees
Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse
June 1, 2017 at 2:48pm
June 1, 2017 at 2:48pm
#912183
6-1-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


Tracks so narrow;
lives almost too wide.
Where do we fit it all in?
The mysteries of existence
are fueled by simple joys.
We pack, eager to go to the place
unknown to the map-makers
and track-layers...
loose stones and wooden beams
supporting the weight
of teenage dreams distributed
while moving at high speed.
It's amazing that we don't derail,
but on the rare occasion we do
it's often the best part.
The young part. The new part.
If you're unsure, maybe
you should join the ride.
There's never enough time
to say "we don't have much time".
June 2, 2017 at 4:10pm
June 2, 2017 at 4:10pm
#912255
6-2-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


I can see myself in you,
struggling
         to put
one foot          in front of          the other.
What we fail to grasp:
there is no winner, no trophy
for Disease League Champion.
Don't look down. There's nothing
more to see
but more
of nothing to see.
How can I be your railing
when it's me who needs
a stair?
It should be a simple concept...
one foot          in front of          the other.
Going. Coming. Yet
too tense to flee in
every which way
to move at all.
Say it like it scares me...
your paralysis becomes mine
attacking with temerity.
Spirals only flow in one direction
at a whirlpool's pace
and we have to walk ourselves
         together
one foot          in front of          the other.
June 3, 2017 at 5:10pm
June 3, 2017 at 5:10pm
#912327
6-3-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


Hybrid Turtle
gave up trying to outrun his shell.
The urge to coast on his coattails
of that legendary victory
over Maserati Hare
proved to be the bigger challenge
than the race itself.
He went back to the garage
knowing he
couldn't rely on the laziness
and tough-talking insults
of his childhood rival
and so he began tinkering...
he took some old parts
from long-forgotten electronics of the past:
some gears from a walkman,
the laser from a CD player,
and a bunch of pocketwatches
from a discarded trenchcoat.
With the help of Welder Streetrat
and The Owl formerly known as Strung Out,
they set out to remake Hybrid Turtle.

Maserati Hare was convinced
his loss was a fluke;
99 out of 100 times he was sure
he'd prevail. Parked on his couch,
he tapped out an email challenging
Hybrid Turtle to an ultimate rematch:
"Winner takes all! Control
over our vast parkland!"
The turtle and his pals just smirked,
and responded with "OK".
Satisfied, Maserati Hare clicked open
the PornHare tab on this laptop
and furiously began training,
as they say,
"like rabbits".

The new machinery was helping,
but Hybrid Turtle was not impressed.
"I have an idea!" shouted the Formerly Strung Out Owl,
"What if you ran on batteries?
Solar-powered?"
"That's genius!" Welder Streetrat and Hybrid Turtle
proclaimed.
The owl took to smashing his calculators
(he was used to scrapping parts
for cash, when he needed a fix)
and the rat took to assembling the pieces
to work in conjunction with
Hybrid Turtle.

On the day of the race,
the newly-mechanical turtle showed up early
with his pit crew in tow.
"When will the sun come out?" yelled
The Formerly Strung Out Owl,
at no one in particular.
They nervously paced
until Maserati Hare showed up
at five minutes before the starting gun
was due to go off.
"You ladies ready to do this?" he sneered
as he stubbed out his cigarette.
The contestants lined up
and with a *BANG* they went.

As Hybrid Turtle struggled
to get off to a good start,
Maserati Hare exploded from the line
and jumped out to a big lead.
"You can't catch me, and I'm
taking no breaks this time!"
The turtle was pushing himself
with all his might...you could see
smoke emanating from under his shell,
caused by the gears being taxed
to their limits. Sometimes
the hare would circle back around
to taunt his rival
and when he noticed the solar panels
on the flipped-up hatch of shell
he paused briefly in an attempt to
contain his laughter. "See?
Climate Change is a hoax!" and
off he bolted toward the finish line.

One last turn
had Maserati Hare out to a sizable-
perhaps insurmountable- lead.
He took a look back
to check his distance
as the sun roared out over the horizon.
The glare
off Hybrid Turtle's solar panels
caught the mouthy hare
deep in his retinas,
burning them to a shriveled mass of truth.
Stunned, he veered off the runners' trail
and onto the tracks
of the train carrying
the very last shipments of coal
leaving the town's shuttered mines.
He couldn't see them coming,
and he didn't feel a thing.

Energized by the arrival of sunlight,
Hybrid Turtle found a new gear
and beamed as he crossed the finish line.
All the parkland creatures cheered.
"Covfefe!" they screamed in unison,
which is Universal Animal Language-ese for
"Stupid rabbit...science is for real!"
Hybrid Turtle turned to his closest friends
and said "Thank you...
I couldn't have done this without you
and The Paris Agreement."
His only regret
was that Maserati Hare
would no longer be around
to truly see
the errors of his ways.
June 3, 2017 at 5:14pm
June 3, 2017 at 5:14pm
#912329
6-3-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


I'm tired of crawling out of my shell.
The analog architecture
of this body
isn't meeting
21st century demands,
and I can't live another hundred years
standing still.
But while you're getting me ready
for the next millennium,
don't leave me behind.
I need to keep up with the times.
The only problem I can see
is a future passing by
as I'm doing all I can
to live in the now,
and when I finally think
I'm all caught up
I'll have to climb back in
to see there's still so far to go.
June 4, 2017 at 5:54pm
June 4, 2017 at 5:54pm
#912419
6-4-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


Descended from defendants,
the gods still fear us
but in ways we never
         thought possible:
         we're marketable.
Power writes checks and
if money doesn't flex
we're not afraid to take it back
         to the original internet:
         the hex.
You continue to conjure up myths;
we conjure our gifts
with not spells but fists
         full of solutions
         you're too scared to question.
Do you even know who we are
or how we traveled so far?
All that matters to you is
         that you screen us
         by smoke, authority, or penis.
There is nothing holding us back.
We had an app for that
before 16921
         and there was nothing you could do.
         Oh, you still try but you can't prosecute.

There are witch hunts going on all across the globe...
in boardrooms, churches, schools and homes.
We need a silent weapon to fight a quieter war.
To get what is deserved, we have to lean on subtle force.

Footnotes
1  Start of the Salem witch trials  .

June 4, 2017 at 5:57pm
June 4, 2017 at 5:57pm
#912423
6-4-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


I let her think she ranks above me
but she doesn't realize
I'm on my own if I don't turn the crank.
It's not the companionship,
it's the entertainment I'm after...
and I don't need her but I can't let her go.
June 5, 2017 at 5:23pm
June 5, 2017 at 5:23pm
#912509
6-5-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


There's a past and a
future and a
man at the divide
silently longing to act on his own
intuition.
Free from a monologue
preachin' from inside
and a lifetime's cache
of strings attached;
long enough to see freedom
and loud enough to know
it can't be real.

If what you want won't stop you,
what you've done will.

With deadly fiber optic precision
another life's leash
lets up dangerously close
to countless possibilities
feigning every hope
and it gets him
         every
         single
         time.
As soon as the blue
starts to fade white
the strings jerk back
in time, seemingly,
nanoseconds apart...
reeling him loosely in.
He wants to come out
and play
but he's a puppet of his making;
the past, an incorrigible boss
and ruthless deal-cutter.
Control was signed over
long before he could
see intention for its worth;
before the glow could entice.
There is no show when
moving sideways.
Every wrong turn
gets him a little closer
to a sharper yank.

Close enough
is never close enough.

Sig for nominees
Best Long Poem, Free Verse
June 6, 2017 at 6:03pm
June 6, 2017 at 6:03pm
#912623
6-6-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


Our jaws often get anchored
in disbelief our faces can't break from.
Every tooth turns into a root
as we wind our way toward the truth.
If history owes us facts,
why are we reclined and relaxed
wishing our maybes on fallen stars?
That's how rumors start.

When we're finally ready to believe,
wandering's not only for mystique.
It's how you learn to separate
one-dimensional lies from faith.
To only see straight at eye-level
is like building your dream castle
with eighty rooms and all the views
but only furnishing the vestibule.

Searching doesn't start with looking
and the bottom's not the end but an opening.
We can be statues with a couple words,
collecting shit from aimless birds;
instead let's rely on our senses
to make the most of what life presents us.
If we're moving we can't be mismanaged.
We're not falling stars, we're orbiting planets.
June 7, 2017 at 6:08pm
June 7, 2017 at 6:08pm
#912709
6-7-17


30-Day Image Prompt.


Before you crack the seed case
ask yourself what you're trying to incubate.
Can science craft a better science
or is the ceiling too high to bother
birthing better scientists?
Lifeline or punchline?
Is the human still a human if it's
coming from a uterus or a pipeline?
You can't measure someone's age
by counting wires coming from their chest.
Is it worth it? Does the population need it?
I can name a hundred starving cities
in Africa, Asia, and America as proof
we're over capacity, but you say
it's best to pump 'em out,
give 'em room, let 'em grow,
and then they can figure out
everything else on their own.
You can't be serious.
You don't put that on a fetus.
Building bombs out of babies
wasn't the world's idea of existence
and the future's asking us for less of that intention;
turn your attention to preservation and direction.
Mass-production suffocates nurturing and compassion.
Umbilical USB cords tangle up functions
and confuse syntax with purpose.
No advanced civilization deserves this.
It's impossible to create a perfect baby or a womb.
Instead of play-pretending God
make yourself a better human.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2123453-Also-Mutants