Poem of the day: The Dead Girls Speak in Unison

Danielle Pafunda

The Dead Girls Speak in Unison

Do not pretend that you don't like it
when we threaten you.

We see you getting pheromone stink
under the collar, moaning, baldly.

Motionless, picturing decay.

When we creak your step,
when we crack your glass,
when we tap tap tap,

that is a bone

that is all we have

though we are very shiny,
and filled with beetles.

We are made entirely of bone.

Like an idol.

Like the tusk of some wonderful past.

When you cleave to us,
your skin will fuse,
hot calcium meth,
and in the myth,
you will be named for us.

Poem of the day: Ants

Ravi Shankar

Ants

One is never alone. Saltwater taffy colored
beach blanket spread on a dirt outcropping
pocked with movement. Pell-mell tunneling,

black specks the specter of beard hairs swarm,
disappear, emerge, twitch, reverse course
to forage along my shin, painting pathways

with invisible pheromones that others take
up in ceaseless streams. Ordered disarray,
wingless expansionists form a colony mind,

no sense of self outside the nest, expending
summer to prepare for winter, droning on
through midday heat. I watch, repose, alone.

My poems: dark waters

dark waters

don’t get near me
you might damage me
and once the damage is done
we can never go back

these dark waters
where you found me by myself
eating away at time
reminiscing
allow me to float
wander
find protection

and I came back here
because somehow
it always makes me realise
that belonging
is being part of a bigger lie

that it is nothing but a haze
similar to the ones you feel
when someone is trying to fix you
instead of embracing you with hope

you will not find me here again
you will not be able to open me with a key anymore
watch me as I dive again
far away from you

Musical Suggestions: Yakuza - Of Seismic Consequence

Yakuza - Of Seismic Consequence

My poems: everyday cruelty

everyday cruelty

how much more cruel can you be
how much more insane
in the one-dimensional brain
that exhales nothing but rage
for your humankind

while you hang on to everything you possess
even though it’s only a fallible monetary value
your life chews away at you
as if toying with the hypothesis of an afterlife

and the psychosis that’s been your home
the place where you belong
and suffer
will never wither
as long as you keep staying faithful to your death wish

never mind the self-destruction appeal
whatever you might feel
or whomever you might call
will not be trustworthy enough
to make you comfortable in your own skin

all your thoughts are barred
now that you find yourself
lost
with no reproach

more alone than you have ever been
and more prone to error than everybody else

but you are no accuser
your end is not taking place
you place your hand on your face
you are now a believer
that the truth will come
buried in someone else’s dream
just a word away

The things you tell yourself to make yourself believe you are not good enough

Source: http://www.nowpublic.com/health/72finalposternotgood11x17

Poem of the day: Introduction to the World

Matthea Harvey

Introduction to the World

For the time being
call me Home.

All the ingénues do.

Units are the engines
I understand best.

One betrayal, two.
Merrily, merrily, merrily.

Define hope. Machine.
Define machine. Nope.

Like thoughts,
the geniuses race through.

If you're lucky

after a number of
revolutions, you'll

feel something catch.