LUKE DAVIS -- POEMS

luka

Well-known member
just putting this thread back on top of the pile after rich accidentally displaced it
 

luka

Well-known member
logical next step.

those lucky enough to possess a copy of Miracle Salads can read a prototype dramatic dialogue by Mr. Davis
jenks hates this one he says its fucking awful


It’s why you can’t be captain, your bad bits keep leaking out.
1.
I call him the Imposter, his horse looks just like mine.
That’s your hoss Buster and if you ain’t been in the saddle, then where in tarnation has you been?
I comes and goes, other actors take the stage.
Where goes it?
Gathering. It looks for another. Sits on the moon sometimes, or swims
To deep ocean’s dark bottom
Well I’ll be
Bird shapes in the branches, quick call, come go, kiss kiss, toodleloo. Wings go up and down.
Tailfeathers.
It keeps talking
It’s my ride, he’s rash
Saddlesore
I suppose you could call it that. I call him the Lobster, he snaps.
I might too if I were being boiled alive.
Sitting on the step sometimes, trying to remember how to dream,
With the woodpigeons drowsily waiting in the garden, while blackbird sings.
And the wren whips through the leaves of the ivy
Out and in, swift eye, peering through the ivy
Then into the air, is gone.
It’s a sad song.
It’s written in stone, wrought in wreaves, graven and goodgiven, not the soot and smut you’d stand it for. Whitens in mist, or when clouds cloak it.
Don’t darken it.
Night comes.
2.
Speak plain mister
It’s speech? It smells right? It’s funny, I felt it so. It froths. You deem it amiss?
It turns that way, over the pink muscle
of the tongue. Eye it
Its markings, machine-made,
It spins.
That’s gun talk
I took off, I’d gone inside, to the pale gums of[L1] it, in the grinders
where it gets it, how it falls out
in the breath.
It’s all chewy
I grafted it myself
I done my part
You played your part I spun my art and out of earth picked poetry
Pah! Paltry, my Poppy
could pipe better/
Pipe down, I gust it, my facts were misconstrued. I hatched it
from the start, a great yolk, all of it, a wheeze, a lark, a ruse.
A starling, a stork and a mistral thrush, a wren, a seabird too
Say, an albatross
Morbid destiny, the error won’t be obviated. It hangs as physical weight and the heart
has to work harder. It drags downwards, it slows the step, it palsies the hand.
So you can’t shoot straight>
Sin started it
That’s serendipitous
It sounded sweet?
Like cotton candy
Sweeten it! I’ll sugar everything. If you hadn’t frightened a face on me I’d have none. Just a mutter among many moaning. You plucked me.
You was suspicious looking.
The cats called it. I was whistling Dixie, you saw it, drinking my milk
straight out the bottle
Sure as Dixie’s Daisy
And a slug of whatever he’s having, that’s the spirit. I’ll slurp it, a soupcon, no, scratch it,
a six-shooter, something I can blow the smoke off of.
Sure thing Smokey
A sure thing’s a fine thing Dusty, and you can salt your fries with that.
Sure as Tacos Tuesday.
Totally. It’s a tease. My time was running out. I totalled it, trashed it and traded it in.
Timeshares are risky business partner
Don’t I know it, it twists
You can’t trust it
It tricks
It turns on you
It’s terrible. I’m torn. My pieces everywhere.
You’re shorn
My fleece is everywhere,
You’re furless
I’m forlorn.
3.
What will they call us?
Dialogue of the Soul with an Uncertain American Dimension.
Of uncertain age
And curious Destiny. Grant it, we two
Together
Bless it.
Grant Good’s Grace
Grave it
It was here written-
And shall it be
Choose it
I choose it
A damn fine double act.
Doubtless, I deem it so
And believe it often
Dream it when I sleep at night
And waking keep touching it
It wants it
It’s Totem Truth
Tell it
It gallops the wide prairie, it cries freedom, wild wind, in her hair.
Taste it
It’s salty
I seeded it myself.
It seemed it
Save it
A toast to your good health-
I need it
Heartache?
Heard it?
Each time of hearing my own heart rends anew.
I lost it
Lately?
Longly.
Lonely?
Only
O that I could-
Calm it, I couldn’t keep it, cool it, it simmers by itself.
4.
I’m Ham Spam
I’m Hawaii Spam with Pineapple Pieces
Aloha Hawaii Spam
Hullo there Ham Spam
Let’s spickle candidly
True, we’re tinned that’s the nub of it, the meat is all inside
Uncan me!
Could we?
Our virtue’s all within.
5.
I’ve unstitched him. His meat is all without
You’ve nobbled me. I’ve nubbed it. My innards are out, I’m opened, but strangely see
The true nature of all things, it spreads before me
You’re lunchmeat.
I’m pink but I’m curious. It’s recursive and wafts in waves. It’s sliced in stacks see it?
(he speaks profound) It’s piecemeal, can it be stuck together?
In kind, I think, it’s complicated. Each lozenge can be elongated. They’re tongue-like
Poke it out, unfurl it
It has a certain grandeur when it’s folded
It’s Alpine
It has its high points
It peaks and troughs it’s true. Is it terminal?
We’re numbered in days, calendars, we tear off the pages, till it tells one day’s December
It darkens
We depart.
 

jenks

thread death
jenks hates this one he says its fucking awful


It’s why you can’t be captain, your bad bits keep leaking out.
1.
I call him the Imposter, his horse looks just like mine.
That’s your hoss Buster and if you ain’t been in the saddle, then where in tarnation has you been?
I comes and goes, other actors take the stage.
Where goes it?
Gathering. It looks for another. Sits on the moon sometimes, or swims
To deep ocean’s dark bottom
Well I’ll be
Bird shapes in the branches, quick call, come go, kiss kiss, toodleloo. Wings go up and down.
Tailfeathers.
It keeps talking
It’s my ride, he’s rash
Saddlesore
I suppose you could call it that. I call him the Lobster, he snaps.
I might too if I were being boiled alive.
Sitting on the step sometimes, trying to remember how to dream,
With the woodpigeons drowsily waiting in the garden, while blackbird sings.
And the wren whips through the leaves of the ivy
Out and in, swift eye, peering through the ivy
Then into the air, is gone.
It’s a sad song.
It’s written in stone, wrought in wreaves, graven and goodgiven, not the soot and smut you’d stand it for. Whitens in mist, or when clouds cloak it.
Don’t darken it.
Night comes.
2.
Speak plain mister
It’s speech? It smells right? It’s funny, I felt it so. It froths. You deem it amiss?
It turns that way, over the pink muscle
of the tongue. Eye it
Its markings, machine-made,
It spins.
That’s gun talk
I took off, I’d gone inside, to the pale gums of[L1] it, in the grinders
where it gets it, how it falls out
in the breath.
It’s all chewy
I grafted it myself
I done my part
You played your part I spun my art and out of earth picked poetry
Pah! Paltry, my Poppy
could pipe better/
Pipe down, I gust it, my facts were misconstrued. I hatched it
from the start, a great yolk, all of it, a wheeze, a lark, a ruse.
A starling, a stork and a mistral thrush, a wren, a seabird too
Say, an albatross
Morbid destiny, the error won’t be obviated. It hangs as physical weight and the heart
has to work harder. It drags downwards, it slows the step, it palsies the hand.
So you can’t shoot straight>
Sin started it
That’s serendipitous
It sounded sweet?
Like cotton candy
Sweeten it! I’ll sugar everything. If you hadn’t frightened a face on me I’d have none. Just a mutter among many moaning. You plucked me.
You was suspicious looking.
The cats called it. I was whistling Dixie, you saw it, drinking my milk
straight out the bottle
Sure as Dixie’s Daisy
And a slug of whatever he’s having, that’s the spirit. I’ll slurp it, a soupcon, no, scratch it,
a six-shooter, something I can blow the smoke off of.
Sure thing Smokey
A sure thing’s a fine thing Dusty, and you can salt your fries with that.
Sure as Tacos Tuesday.
Totally. It’s a tease. My time was running out. I totalled it, trashed it and traded it in.
Timeshares are risky business partner
Don’t I know it, it twists
You can’t trust it
It tricks
It turns on you
It’s terrible. I’m torn. My pieces everywhere.
You’re shorn
My fleece is everywhere,
You’re furless
I’m forlorn.
3.
What will they call us?
Dialogue of the Soul with an Uncertain American Dimension.
Of uncertain age
And curious Destiny. Grant it, we two
Together
Bless it.
Grant Good’s Grace
Grave it
It was here written-
And shall it be
Choose it
I choose it
A damn fine double act.
Doubtless, I deem it so
And believe it often
Dream it when I sleep at night
And waking keep touching it
It wants it
It’s Totem Truth
Tell it
It gallops the wide prairie, it cries freedom, wild wind, in her hair.
Taste it
It’s salty
I seeded it myself.
It seemed it
Save it
A toast to your good health-
I need it
Heartache?
Heard it?
Each time of hearing my own heart rends anew.
I lost it
Lately?
Longly.
Lonely?
Only
O that I could-
Calm it, I couldn’t keep it, cool it, it simmers by itself.
4.
I’m Ham Spam
I’m Hawaii Spam with Pineapple Pieces
Aloha Hawaii Spam
Hullo there Ham Spam
Let’s spickle candidly
True, we’re tinned that’s the nub of it, the meat is all inside
Uncan me!
Could we?
Our virtue’s all within.
5.
I’ve unstitched him. His meat is all without
You’ve nobbled me. I’ve nubbed it. My innards are out, I’m opened, but strangely see
The true nature of all things, it spreads before me
You’re lunchmeat.
I’m pink but I’m curious. It’s recursive and wafts in waves. It’s sliced in stacks see it?
(he speaks profound) It’s piecemeal, can it be stuck together?
In kind, I think, it’s complicated. Each lozenge can be elongated. They’re tongue-like
Poke it out, unfurl it
It has a certain grandeur when it’s folded
It’s Alpine
It has its high points
It peaks and troughs it’s true. Is it terminal?
We’re numbered in days, calendars, we tear off the pages, till it tells one day’s December
It darkens
We depart.
You’re right - it’s not my favourite but what do I know?
 

mixed_biscuits

_________________________
jenks hates this one he says its fucking awful


It’s why you can’t be captain, your bad bits keep leaking out.
1.
I call him the Imposter, his horse looks just like mine.
That’s your hoss Buster and if you ain’t been in the saddle, then where in tarnation has you been?
I comes and goes, other actors take the stage.
Where goes it?
Gathering. It looks for another. Sits on the moon sometimes, or swims
To deep ocean’s dark bottom
Well I’ll be
Bird shapes in the branches, quick call, come go, kiss kiss, toodleloo. Wings go up and down.
Tailfeathers.
It keeps talking
It’s my ride, he’s rash
Saddlesore
I suppose you could call it that. I call him the Lobster, he snaps.
I might too if I were being boiled alive.
Sitting on the step sometimes, trying to remember how to dream,
With the woodpigeons drowsily waiting in the garden, while blackbird sings.
And the wren whips through the leaves of the ivy
Out and in, swift eye, peering through the ivy
Then into the air, is gone.
It’s a sad song.
It’s written in stone, wrought in wreaves, graven and goodgiven, not the soot and smut you’d stand it for. Whitens in mist, or when clouds cloak it.
Don’t darken it.
Night comes.
2.
Speak plain mister
It’s speech? It smells right? It’s funny, I felt it so. It froths. You deem it amiss?
It turns that way, over the pink muscle
of the tongue. Eye it
Its markings, machine-made,
It spins.
That’s gun talk
I took off, I’d gone inside, to the pale gums of[L1] it, in the grinders
where it gets it, how it falls out
in the breath.
It’s all chewy
I grafted it myself
I done my part
You played your part I spun my art and out of earth picked poetry
Pah! Paltry, my Poppy
could pipe better/
Pipe down, I gust it, my facts were misconstrued. I hatched it
from the start, a great yolk, all of it, a wheeze, a lark, a ruse.
A starling, a stork and a mistral thrush, a wren, a seabird too
Say, an albatross
Morbid destiny, the error won’t be obviated. It hangs as physical weight and the heart
has to work harder. It drags downwards, it slows the step, it palsies the hand.
So you can’t shoot straight>
Sin started it
That’s serendipitous
It sounded sweet?
Like cotton candy
Sweeten it! I’ll sugar everything. If you hadn’t frightened a face on me I’d have none. Just a mutter among many moaning. You plucked me.
You was suspicious looking.
The cats called it. I was whistling Dixie, you saw it, drinking my milk
straight out the bottle
Sure as Dixie’s Daisy
And a slug of whatever he’s having, that’s the spirit. I’ll slurp it, a soupcon, no, scratch it,
a six-shooter, something I can blow the smoke off of.
Sure thing Smokey
A sure thing’s a fine thing Dusty, and you can salt your fries with that.
Sure as Tacos Tuesday.
Totally. It’s a tease. My time was running out. I totalled it, trashed it and traded it in.
Timeshares are risky business partner
Don’t I know it, it twists
You can’t trust it
It tricks
It turns on you
It’s terrible. I’m torn. My pieces everywhere.
You’re shorn
My fleece is everywhere,
You’re furless
I’m forlorn.
3.
What will they call us?
Dialogue of the Soul with an Uncertain American Dimension.
Of uncertain age
And curious Destiny. Grant it, we two
Together
Bless it.
Grant Good’s Grace
Grave it
It was here written-
And shall it be
Choose it
I choose it
A damn fine double act.
Doubtless, I deem it so
And believe it often
Dream it when I sleep at night
And waking keep touching it
It wants it
It’s Totem Truth
Tell it
It gallops the wide prairie, it cries freedom, wild wind, in her hair.
Taste it
It’s salty
I seeded it myself.
It seemed it
Save it
A toast to your good health-
I need it
Heartache?
Heard it?
Each time of hearing my own heart rends anew.
I lost it
Lately?
Longly.
Lonely?
Only
O that I could-
Calm it, I couldn’t keep it, cool it, it simmers by itself.
4.
I’m Ham Spam
I’m Hawaii Spam with Pineapple Pieces
Aloha Hawaii Spam
Hullo there Ham Spam
Let’s spickle candidly
True, we’re tinned that’s the nub of it, the meat is all inside
Uncan me!
Could we?
Our virtue’s all within.
5.
I’ve unstitched him. His meat is all without
You’ve nobbled me. I’ve nubbed it. My innards are out, I’m opened, but strangely see
The true nature of all things, it spreads before me
You’re lunchmeat.
I’m pink but I’m curious. It’s recursive and wafts in waves. It’s sliced in stacks see it?
(he speaks profound) It’s piecemeal, can it be stuck together?
In kind, I think, it’s complicated. Each lozenge can be elongated. They’re tongue-like
Poke it out, unfurl it
It has a certain grandeur when it’s folded
It’s Alpine
It has its high points
It peaks and troughs it’s true. Is it terminal?
We’re numbered in days, calendars, we tear off the pages, till it tells one day’s December
It darkens
We depart.
I really like the last stanza
 

suspended

Well-known member
was he on acid? it looks like the kinda thing you'd draw on acid. borders dissolving. fluidity coming in and out of structure.
 
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