Poem: Words Forbidden in Poetry

Until recently I had lost touch with my hatred of poetry. 

Words to never use in a poem. 

God - capitalized or lowercase. Especially not lowercase. 

Goddess - unless it is preceded directly by green and then only if you are describing salad dressing. 

Soul - just never. I mean get a thesaurus already. That is unless you are expounding on styles of music. And then only if that leads you to jazz. 

Spirit - not unless referring to liquor. 

Woman or Man - in the context meaning all women or all men. Generalizations hurt because individuals exist on a spectrum and name calling is never helpful. 

Maidenhead or fountainhead - never for any reason. 

Anger - especially not as white or hot. 

Do not describe skies as blue or grey. Flesh as quivering. Leaves as dappled.  Blood as red, burning, pounding, or otherwise. 

And goddammit listen to me when I say this, never use the word love in any sense or connotation. You sound like a hormone dribbling simpleton. 

These words are forbidden to you. 

Poem: Blooming out of Place

In the garage you smoke a cigar
Outside there are several inches of snow
You look at the lemon tree that you stubbornly keep alive through the winter
By installing grow lights and a heater in the garage
Lemon trees do not grow here but neither have you
You've planned to move back to where you call home
But things and events conspire to keep you here
Like the tree, you resist putting down permanent roots
You see the beginnings of flowers, little buds of white
The tree has found a way to bloom out of place
But you have not.

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Short Fiction: Luther's Long Locks

A fun challenge. Write a short using all of the words from (hover mouse for definitions):
Illustrations Of Unusual And Rarely Spoken Words


Walking slowly by a penny arcade gazing at the machines yonderly, Luther's neck was hurting, and he felt in a zugzwang. As an acersecomic his burden had become great, and was afraid that it would be his hamartia. He was trying to suppress scripturient feelings, but as he walked the ostentiferious clouds seemed to darken with each step. Even though he often regarded such machines as ultracrepidarian, on a whim he approached a fortunetelling machine and supplied it with a penny. In a glass container, the upper torso of a crone in the posture of issuing a jettatura, spit out a small slip of paper into a dispenser. With reservations, Luther retrieved the message and read, "Hair binds you. Cut it and be free." The words were a recumbentibus to his very way of life. Upon recovery, he rubbed his smooth chin and decided to take the advice and to take up pogonotrophy instead.

Poem: Binary Poem

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Poem: The Torture of Less-Than

No one celebrates Salieri, the tragic hero of the less-than.
The man who wants more than he was given by definition,
who wants more than he can have through his own creation.
No manner of teaching or torture can gifts be gained or affinities acquired.
The genius of the naive is adored, and the work of the less-than ignored.

A cobble under the carriage of the mollycoddled, the ground wishes to be pure sky.
Those conveyed by gift's glory never know the jealousy of clay or the weight of air.
Just good enough to know that he's not good enough-
No one celebrates Salieri.

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Haiku: On Extinction - I

Giants walk the earth.
Slow thoughts process blinding light.
Futures become dearth.

The red sky, it churns.
Food and breath are hard to catch.
Ow, extinction burns.

Scaly and hungry,
Earth has lived another life.
The product? Oily.

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