Tag Archives: napowrimo

I am AM

I am where the outcasts go
where money matters less
and identity more

I am awake when others sleep
single, mono, long play
I am static

I am the news that matters
You can travel from your chair
I am always there

I am the soundtrack of your life
Your secret love, once more
I am AM

Written for #NaPoWriMo day 23

This one’s dedicated to you, love hunter

I’ve added a video of me performing this one to the bottom of the page. It was shot on April 24 2016, and it’s my first time reading a poem on stage.

Amsterdam, the ancient New York
in the fall of 2001
Red lights, big city
I don’t remember what I wore
(I may or may not have looked like a whore)

You want coke, heroin, Viagra? the little man hissed
And so did the second
and the third
For the life of me I couldn’t imagine what I’d need Viagra for

For one: I’m a woman
For two: I was in heat

I’d heard rumors though
Viagara could make your lips swell
like Mick Jagger
that rock ‘n’ roll cunt

But my panties were tight as they were
and tights are always tight when you’re six feet two
no need to fill them up even more

Scene one: a bunch of transvestites
taking the obligatory walk on the wild side
checking me out for size
– wrong gender

Scene two: a staggering stag party
hanging their cocks out to piss
vomiting at the same time
wetting their shoes

Scene three: lone riders
wanting to ride a white horse
popping pills, cheap thrills, banana bar bills
– what for?

(I still wish I’d remember what I wore)

Would you believe me if I tell you nothing is more boring than the red light district at night?
But I was in heat
and I didn’t know that
People kept a safe distance
for I steamed
my pores evaporating
juice juice juice

We ignored all the french fries,
(a lover’s gotta eat, right?)
and chose a sex cinema instead

Fucking going on
like there’s no tomorrow
like yesterday wasn’t born

Behind us a plastic bag rustled
the guy took out some tissues
to blow his cock
I guessed

How hot

The action was up and down
up and down
she moaning (not)
him groaning (not)
the director was a master of suspense (not)
Maybe we witnessed a climax, or ten, or none
Maybe Harry met Sally
and Sally met Sally

We had no reason to stay
We had no reason to go

We never touched I think
I would have remembered
or would I?

Amsterdam, Sin City
in the fall of 2001
Red lights, big city
The most boring thing I’ve ever done

(I think I still have that dress I wore
it would have been of more use on a whore)

Written for #NaPoWriMo day 22. You can find the prompt here: http://jacket2.org/commentary/recipe-writing-new-york-school-poem

I enjoyed writing in this strange form so much that I wrote a completely different one, called First we take Berlin. And when I decided to go on stage for the first time, I picked it as the one I’d read. Because I thought it was the most difficult one, and I didn’t mind a challenge on top of a challenge (performing… argh!). It’s here if you want to see it

Some body I used to know

Some body I used to know

Now and then I think of when we were together
You felt like you were mine
and I could lean on you

You got addicted to a certain kind of sadness
it was doom and gloom
and tough to be inside of you

But you didn’t have to cut me off
Refuse all contact
Issue a restraining order

You didn’t have to stoop so low
to sever our arteries and let me go

Now you’re just some body that I used to know

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
I was doing fine
but you wouldn’t let me alone

You had me believe it was always something that I’d done
that I was born a sinner
and always needed to prove my right to live

I didn’t want to live that way
sorry about everything
all the time

I’m so happy that I cut you off
I admit it was a little rough
too much blood but I had had enough

All that’s is left is the body that I used to know

The inspiration for this poem – day 19 of NaPoWriMo – came from listening to this song that I love. Then my mind wandered off in more gruesome directions…

Ask the dust

The gin was conspicuously strewn across the room
leaving no chair free to sit on

The lice on my skull squirmed
thirsty for something else than blood and dandruff

I picked up the ripped bathrobe
soaked with milk and cornflakes

Sirens in the distance
Time to leave
The poets will be here soon

Written for #NaPoWriMo day 18. Using the prompt where you go to the nearest book and pick ten words from page 29 that attract your eye, and the use 7 of them for a poem. I ended up with 8. The book was Ask the dust from John Fante.

May I add that if you like poetry, John Fante is a writer you should really check out? His sentences are incredible.

Wishful thinking

I wish you were here
I am all alone in my hotel room
I can’t stop thinking about you

I feel lost without you
I want you near me
I want to be with you night and day

I’m not kidding

There was a prompt about ten lies… You as a reader are invited to do the wishful thinking and decide on truth or lies. Written for #NaPoWriMo day 17

Full stop

Jesus died for somebody’s sins
but not mine, he said.
Perfectly aware
he was strapped to an electric chair.

The rooster crowed three times.
My job is done, he said.
Perfectly aware
that he’d had none.

The man shrugged and said
I ate the apple since there was no stone to throw.
I was perfectly aware
that I’d reap what I sow.

The executioner washed his hands
and said my hands are clean.
Perfectly aware
of the unfolded scene.

Do you know what he did?
He killed all first-borns, I said.
Perfectly aware
that he did it.

Perfectly aware that he did it.

My contribution to #NaPoWriMo day 16. I used the first sentence of this song as a prompt:

Second hand

Won’t you lend your lungs to me?
My spare pair just got punctured.

I’ll return them on Friday
together with those flat feet I borrowed.

Would you like me to wash, iron and fold them
or do you prefer to do that yourself?

I’m afraid I spilled some tar and feathers on them
but I’m sure the stains will wear off

Now that we’re on the subject, may I ask:
Could you lend me a hand perhaps?

Written for #NaPoWriMo day 15. My inspiration was the first line of a Townes van Zandt song that I have always loved for its mysteriousness.