To have your poems,short stories, streams of thought,dreams,nightmares and creative sublimations posted, email them to....

butterflyscar@hotmail.com

SUNDAY, Nov. 21st

This page is all about transformation, so send me some of your thoughts and poetry to post here!

Feb, 2003

"Magnetic Inspirations"
Interpret, want revolution, take charge and ask who
would wiggle away most money on house and garden
use seeds from our body
I am less like you
Look out through your will and do all.
Can I rock the hot skin over lifes' quiet fruit,
like light seen through blue water?
Dream me a sultry ritual oh black fated bird.
Discover sanctuary, laugh, tickle, give good emotion
drink wine, have vegetables, think full.
Sit there little angel, be as loud as rain fall.
Read on and tell their story.
One earth but no joke said he.
Picture invisible night against bright gold walls of certainty.
Live electric chameleon woman, scream, say "monkey flutter".
Smoke poetry beneath sleep, between forever and the moon.

By Pete & Erin Scarnato

Friday, December 3rd

(Erin, Your poem wrote a poem)...
I, The Page Blanking
Let me remind
Let fingers remind stories
Of fingers told aloud
Let lips form with air and muscle
Enhanced purse
The reminded story
Yet to be written
Told from my eyes forth
The fingers unfold the motion
Without removal
I am reminded of removal
Let me remind
Let the hands hold only the collusion
Hands of moving fingers
Held to lips by stories of lips touching
Use the word "my"
Use it over and over
I love your lips
As they form that word
To me
It reminds me of you
Let me remind
Let me remove my fingers from
Remembering your lips as you
Recollect
Muscle remember without reminding
And hands tighten fingers
To never forget
What reminds me of you.

(I'm not sure why I wrote it but it sure as shit felt good.)

BOB SALUP (Published poet, and host of The Poetry Slam @ The Urban Word Cafe in Trenton)

Saturday,
December 4th

"Every time a child says
'I don't believe in fairies'
A fairy falls down and dies."
~ Peter Pan ~

Saturday, December 4th

I became a citizen today
Maybe you don't care?
It's big for me
Means I can leave
Stay away for more than a year
If I care?
Don't seem so fond of grand America
They were marching on her today
Accross the road, condemning
BOMB THE WORLD policy.

America drawing the line on decency?
Stamping out ethnic cleansing.
Doesn't that happen in Amerika?
Blacks die at alarming rates
Unequal to whites
Sure, their own kill their own
like the Yugoslavians
But what do you expect?
From the imprisoned poverties.
Ghetto dwellers
Stuck in an economic cellar
With the worst teachers
and Gung Ho cops
Read to hang and haraung
Where the most ambituous do the deal on a street corner
Like a Kennedy humping whiskey
Wouldn't you?
That's America.

Nigel Medhurst

Sunday, December 5th

CUT AND PASTE

She deplored her inability
to express
the frozeness
of the disengaged air
the labyrinths where once streams flowed
through organs of vitality
Somewhere in the middle of her
was a cruel wound
sinking to the bottom
The Gut was no easier
to describe than the Head
and there was a curious similitude
The head so hard
to comprehend in its valiant chase
and floating posture
the gut juggling a sword on its chin
inside the head wriggling and leaping
beautiful thoughts
once well tailored with strong seams
now unraveling
The future sprayed like graffiti
on the walls and stairway which leads to heart closed up
in an ivory shell
eluding salvation
heavenly rays
shining through
disharmony among the trolls toiling
sliding down to the gut pit
hard as leather
and useless as a stiff paintbrush
Her legs try to climb out
but it's like sliding and climbing
on an oiled steep roof
so she'll need to be extracted
from the bowels of this cavity.

Nancy Annabel

Sunday, December 5th

LOVE in no mans land with a water pistol
destine to fall
to fail
to hurt
been there done that wore his t shirt
next in line
waiting
forever isnt he?
patience equals love or desparation
hurt
with his icy grip around my soul
cloud 7
going up
like and iron clad butterfly
10/21/98 by erin tomaszewski

I'm Full
with that special kind of food,
enough to feed a small village
with ice cream and toothless smiles of my old self
so small
naive
still beliveing in cookie jars
and mommy
here
i am beliving in me not them
12/3/98 by erin tomaszewski

UNTITLED

maybe ill dye my hair and maybe you wont like it but maybe i will today, maybe i will hate you tomorrow. maybe ill just sit here and drown in my own dissapointment while you step up rise up fuck up you life. cause maybe i was better than you thought. on your white horse knocking me off my broomstick hiding it from me. like a paper weight, 2 tons sitting on my chest. yeah the same one you like, sucked, fucked, well maybe it wasnt good. maybe it was. every sigh moan scream was another replica of i love you all internal of course. my cape tied and tight and gone. dance ballerina dance. fly away with that hurt me might have caused.
4/7/99 erin tomaszewski

UNTITLED

you gave up on it and blamed me for insufuciancies. i'd rewind and press play over and over again fo you no matter how hard my brain hurt. together we'd dance the same dance out of step out of time. your explosion, my illusion, culminating in a one big one sided nothing. you ask that question and i lie that lie. always protecting you, loving you, fucking you. for you, by you, about you, fuck you, im done.. you can roll over and go to sleep.
4/7/99 by erin tomaszewski

Erin Tomaszewski (...aka:"the other Erin", my friend and ex-co worker from the nursing home)

Tuesday, Feb.8th 2000

Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,
smooth, earthly, small, trasparent, round;
you have moon-lines, apple-pathways;
naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.
Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba;
you have vines and stars in your hair;
naked, you are spacious and yellow
as summer in a golden church.

Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails-
curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
and you withdraw to the underground world,

as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores;
your clear light dims, gets dressed-drops its leaves-
and becomes a naked hand again

J.KREW

Friday, March 24th 2000

SEARCHING FOR THE SOUL

The pain of life has taken a toll
Robbed of potential wealth and happiness
But through self-pity I will only gain emptiness
The spirit needs nourishment, hungers for love,
Craves happiness but cries out for direction and meaning
Which way to turn?
Must avoid the bottomless black hole which seeks to
Swallow up my soul,
Cautious baby steps…tip toeing along
Which way to step? Which way to turn?

Friday, March 24th 2000

Untitled

The heart aches as sadness overwhelms
Blackened…hardened like charcoal
Eyes so sad like pools of lost hopes and desires
Tears cascade into streams
carving a path with no direction
Despair as deep as a bottomless chasm
Loneliness lingers, hopes fade
the soul rumbles like a distant thunder storm
becoming an eery calm
suddenly in the horizon appears a vivid rainbow
and at last, a brilliant butterfly
wings fluttering with such fervor
casting such peace, soothing the soul
a smile overcomes, joy burst loose
despair turns to radiance
the butterfly brings new hope

Thursday,June 29th

Hi, I absolutely love your site, I am infatuated with butterflies and your first poem blew me away,"Butterfly Dust "you captured the innocence of this beautiful creature. You are truly talented! Normally I don't write to people from the various sites I visit but yours.....is one of my favorites probably because most people would agree I have an unhealthy attachment to butterflies lol. I am including in this letter a poem i thought you might like, one butterfly lover to another, most of my poems about butterflies are metaphoric, such as this one =) Thankyou for sharing your talent

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