disposable poetry » snuff poems

what if you weren’t there

D. James — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 13:00:02 +0000

billy blew
his brains out
and no one noticed

billy blew
his brains out
and no one cared

billy blew
his brains out
and you ask

who the hell
is billy anyway?

well, what if
billy
were you

(D. James)

Posted in art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, d. james, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, snuff poems, writing Tagged: questions, self-referential

the dog at the end of the tunnel

D. James — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 01:42:07 +0000

yellow toothed dog
stares through
blood-shot eyes
in my nightmare

drooling
I know he
wants me
for his last meal

I’ve run from him
for hours now
maybe even days

in the end
he’ll have his way
because that dog
keeps me honest
because that dog
is me

his hot breath
rank with death

the only escape
is to wake
but either I can’t
or I already have

I’ll know in a minute
as he approaches
and I am too weak
to move

One way or the other
it ends here

(D. James)

Posted in art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, d. james, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, snuff poems, writing Tagged: dog, hell

nightrider

D. James — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 04:00:06 +0000

The half-moon laughs
as we tear up the road
screaming at the night

With nothing but chrome
and black gloss
we ride ’til dawn

Our piece of heaven
forged in hell
hanging with the
fallen angels

And when the sun rises
we’ll put another night
to rest

(D. James)

Posted in art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, d. james, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, snuff poems, writing Tagged: angels, dawn, heaven, hell, moon, motorcycle, night, riding

Mirror, mirror

sdoubinsky — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 15:54:11 +0000

Eros is sore

EL SEBBO

Delicate

sdoubinsky — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 06:51:37 +0000

Delicate
isn’t my name
and yet I am moved
by the imbecile
gently led by his father
down the street
while screaming songs
at the top of his head
I am moved
by a white cloud
standing still
over the city
like a gentle threat
I am moved
by your breath
gently lifting the sheets
deep in the night
when I can’t sleep
Yes delicate things
move me deeply
and confirm
the rage hidden
at the core of my words
The rage of impotence,
hope and rebellion
- but not despair
Despair, you see,
is too delicate
for me

EL SEBBO

There’s no place like home

sdoubinsky — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 09:59:29 +0000

but we sure wish there was

EL SEBBO

Bad ear (or I should get a medal for doing this)

sdoubinsky — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 11:18:00 +0000

My ear is shot
Haven’t slept in two days
and here I am writing
this miserable poem
Is it friendship pushing me
or just poetry’s bad junk
shaking me up and down
and never letting me be?

EL SEBBO

Anniversarery pome (To my partner in crime, DJ Eldon)

sdoubinsky — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 07:11:29 +0000

no candles
but fireworks
no explosions
but roman candles
we have written pomes
for one good year now
we are very tired
but our mouths are still
full of spit, tongue, stones
and words
no firecrackers
but live ammo
no funeral pyres
but a feather
of the Phoenix

EL SEBBO

If not

sdoubinsky — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 06:33:10 +0000

poems
are
free
like a bank robbery
a good fist fight
or a major break up
I said
poems
are
free
I didn’t say
they were nice

EL SEBBO

Another mystery

sdoubinsky — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 11:56:09 +0000

The white veil of morning
creeps around the house
The birds are black notes
and their song hang frozen
in mid-air
We drink coffee in the kitchen
and I want to tell you something
but your words erase mine
and I forget what I wanted to say
and there is no way you can help me
and we laugh it off and another mouth
replaces my mouth with different words
forming behind the seemingly same teeth
although they are actually a few seconds
older

EL SEBBO