The Million Dollar Poetry Project

maybe impossible (in spite of trust)

by Wolfgang Nibori

you gotta feel it, revulsion at drinking a bottle of urine
memory of a needle’s sting, you gotta feel it
slide inside of you, to leave some, to take it away today
you gotta see it there, lying on the side of the highway
because no one knows your pain, no one can understand, we can’t relate to the way you hate
a spider scrambling up along your body, you gotta feel it
sick, tired, worn and shaking beneath the tent top
i can hold your hand yet i am never you
and so i never know, i gotta feel it
the last shot before you pass the fuck out
you gotta feel that
if you.. if you…
if you feel me?

This poem for sale: 13 lines = $13.00

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waking down from dreaming

by Wolfgang Nibori

your electric drill saw whining
spearmint tinted breath that always flows
bent the hands of time
into the shape of your cheap brass heart
think backwards just a minute
maybe you know how we got this lost?
try to hop back through the past while looking forward
i heard raccoons will chew their leg off in the trap
that’s a pinch of what i’m going through
yet even when it’s my desire i cannot blame you
some people found me screaming
i thought only i could hear
now i’m on this stump and wondering
are we in case of emergency, yeah?
is this the time to break the glass?
my hair hurts from the pulling as i try to twist
a little sense into my throbbing head
yet i got to keep on pushing
cause no matter what i do, like anyone
i’ll leave my mistakes behind when i’m dead

This poem for sale: $20 for 20 lines

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roar

by Wolfgang Nibori

dive, dive, dive, slice water inslide
thrushing whisper through channels of the ears
penetrating gravity to sink softly under fear
i push away the invisible wall once again
if only to transform liquid into oxygen
so i may breathe. below the sea.
i wish not my eyes a’burn. all sound now inside me.
i’m pawing for something, gazing for meaning
the sea of fetishes overwhelms me
you. you. you. the doll-rubber. you.
power to the smuggler. stolen. fetish.
forced imagery. manipulated thoughts.
always eating pictures. choking on the thoughts
so i can breathe. stolen. under this sea.
i told you to slice. did you do it?
well did you or not? fetish. disassembled plot.
pulsing blink of fish glow. ever swimming neon arrow.
flick the tail. disappear. stolen. buried. far from here.
oh, down, down, down. stolen fetish disassembled
down, down, down betwix the glowing gape of ichthine jaws
bite and tear. bite and tear. stolen fetish angel.
all is eating. endless digestion. no sense focus on the product in a world of coprophiliacs.
your sex ratio equation. x y algebraic madness.
equate all to fetishes like your parents micromanaged.
this is why all must die. this why all falls down.
this is the senseless end of heirarchal misauthority.
back to the surface, i leave you for the sea.
you know a strange man promised that you’d never follow me.

This poem for sale: $28.00 for 28 lines

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me or the cat?

by Wolfgang Nibori

listen to the baby cry under dark blue sky
spiked through with star light
dash of streetlamp glow thrown across the grass
lanky, sleeking tomcat; you breathe wrong he is gone
moments as a pile of dust, sneeze and all is blown
high thrown as a kite string slash, beg mercy of the wind
off they roll as tumbleweeds, in motion yet in death
only serve to plant the seeds, what they used to be
higher and higher beyond glass placed over another’s world
inside it’s all the tumbling dice machines fail to predict
shaking hands, hand me down, pitch another bet
shaking hands, hold me down, best if we forget
forget and cut your eyes lest you start to empathize
let realization come condense
there but for the grace of choice go I
still not any hero for standing right across the line

This poem for sale - 16 lines = $16.00

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Serpentine Conversationsss

by Wolfgang Nibori

aye, says the Old One with a wink, you my child have figured me out
it’s what you grow for to make these connections
to take my place you’ll gradually become me
you’ll shed your youth like a snake’s old skin
be a brand new bright shiny adult, slithering towards maturity
you’ll hunt for what you need to eat and i don’t mean food
what i mean is a constant means by which to expand yourself
you swallow difficult things and stew on their properties
you’ll disassemble what you’ve been fed and shed
whatever you find worthless and unwholesome
and throughout the years you’ll grow if you want to
until you yourself are that sparkling-eyed snake
crafty enough to charm a new generation into
becoming what you will be and I am already

This poem for sale:14 lines = $14.00

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all part of the process

by Wolfgang Nibori

after the flash, in deathly cool of unlit dawn
in scratching soil resonate, crawling with black-shell beetles
eaters of the dead, cycling all back to life again
triumphing as a whole over circumstance, making way for birth
rolling suns around the earth, pushing clouds along
clicking along as a miniature army, flagless yet triumph-bound

This poem for sale: 6 lines = $6.00

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