Monday, May 8, 2017

3 poems || József Bíró



LITTLE IMPORTANCE

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...........   betrayal    -  (  !  )  -





AS  .  NN  .  TA

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INTERNATIONAL POEM

hiju    hijü    hijau    hiju
pszí    píc    pszíé    píc    píc
tjié    tjié    ki    ki    ki
pié    pié    pszíé    pszíé    pi



hié    hiáé    kik    kik    kik
híjjé    híjáé    kikikikikik
kli    kli    kli    pirri    pirri
pirri    pirri    cikk    ci



gjak    gjak    gjak    kveek
kveek    kveek    cikk    akk    cikk
tikk    tikk    kví    kví    kví
hui    huig    huhú    íí    íje    í



hu    hu    pszíje    psíje    íje
brük    brük    krük    krük    krük
rek    rek    rek    trek    trek
kvák    kvák    kráá    kráá    krrr


2 pomes || billy bob beamer


POMEOut and can
scrape of butter sco tch    gui tar mu sic.  Anal ogan
 I bu pro f en ta blet. It was nowhere    to the scars
 on all my shoulders        it was time this
 face of the consequence        and asked me dead
 to want a truth
  There are the dreamers \where is offered   here is without the visibility.
 Sometimes they'd have given to say-   if you know the bath water , baby. aMore thingy story toc ling. toTry as pooch the program which you
which I didn’t complain about. Finally it was blind. It was still such a devious game of omnichromatic lasers spray    ingout forun necessity.
 Theft.   Repetition is really letting
lowtan shades of high corn
ers of six sided cubes of weird veiny anti-ballisticsacks
they left out for the fuck fusion. did that. That’s how it would run vertically     all my dreams.
 My god    jokes about being ground   apologize for them. This is easily as if alkaseltzer popcorn ever really
 it comes down to thesoak in fact of
anyone to rub the first era of causing.   whatever the old threads of
 one also can understand.         all the shoulders
  and he played cards   and nothing else except his absence.
Another tidbit men cry at
untwisting and noticing
 
 
POMErjtgr 1972

que shi e e sh e  ast   gloslin gers
 enrert furge plascabos       so
s notspin oz ana   aspirin    down
mysl weave  hoof warp awfswome
flo ats i e how cum?in  s’grease/ba
d   snapbean gargle: attention loner
gest a head   prestle for tensio  plac
o the dool l in glamortorn on of m
e gaid to clickle mea cal  rorseforun
 
o pontom an nevis olt ese e lus trech yr
mse ro eny weto mom o whalwart a coat a
 thethemthal ma us had bo dod ob dothew rom e
 ho tiall oue on hanav anc wor ha leadeupos theafught
u'ver wel muchims ford trouser inshol por whin to hur
 yout timblut handle sairs ol            ly li                et… … …
 

poem || Lawrence Upton

Expressions of Interest # 4

I'm not an idiot. jackass. ice? plop! vile vagrancy. creamy hurtful.
I.V. staid wail, pat. evasive attests aid.
value added to tax.
you said V.A.T. is for idiots.
iodise users.
hit.
adieu, erupt attests.
all higher misfortune, brusque excellent papa.
tawny decline.
vaunt twaddle, intra-uterine devices.
to – you said – its easy dwindle jab.
ice. it's easy dwindle jab.
wail pat ivories pit itinerary.
dwarfed erupt it awash itinerancy.
dewier pat jab sitar ivories wicked vagrant dwindle upward, stud sits, ivories ice sought tv jab dwindle quit ivories ice jab dwindle tub ivories wicked, pivot.
suffer, statute.
erupt tongued and grooved sissy attests sustain awaits ate admit aim idyllic.
swab vagrancy dewier blow dwindle ate it.
vying dab wicked widest white things.
dewier sassy dwarf.
ivy buss decay.
piano keys punch.
winged, vaults, waive the treasures; wiggle the V.A.T; shake arches; congeal; bleached accoutrements shake.

2 poems || Sanjeev Sethi

Stripes

In connections folks aren’t clones
of themselves: shy, small-hearted,
self-sacrificing, sly, more or less
of these plus another for another
arch, grabber or giver, at times both or none.


Silver Jubilee

We kerfed with saws of censure.
No claret did ever keek. We
snooped for poultice. In pain we
hurt each other till habituation.
The roundabout of routine is hard to heisman.

poem || Jeff Bagato

Trapped by the Pyramid

                                                Ponzi schemers blast
                                     hot water straight
                from the hose into their own nostrils,
                          attaining the next
                                          step up the pyramid,
                                                      each winner
                                              terrified of the wirewalker
                                       within—

                                                that pirouette kid who
                      risked the wind on a thin line
                                  from tower to tower,
                                                     where he could finally
                                       talk to his heart
                                                               and listen
                                                           to the clouds—

                                  deeply cemented
                                             in their midas-touched brains,
                          those lofty vaults
                                          filled with bouncing
                                                     bingo balls
                                                           and the swirling
                                       calculus of fairyland,

                                     where trees
                                           exist as top down diagrams
                         of some logical process,
                                                      some tepid
                                    chain of commands

                                                               rooted in
                                          shallow pools of gutless rage
                                crowded with jelly and
                                                         blind to the
                                                moon-blessed
                                                       tides