You could have had anything and yet this is what you chose? Combatwords July 15-18

Balance does not mean order. It means a chaos antidote for chaos. Examples:

Angus: "it was hard to tell exactly being that he had boobs like some porn deva 30 years in retirement.The only articulating male factor apparent was the summer beard he displayed in patches."

Rtoady/Seann McCollum:
"I carry my shopping bags straight to the second hand shop.
I shit out my food the moment I’ve gobbled it up.
Even better, the stove sits beside the rubbish bin.
I’m bailing this ocean as fast as it’s trickling in."

Khakjaan Wessington (Me): "A ripe gourd fell at my feet and detonated, launching a thousand insects upon impact. Above us, I could see the bloatwood tree teetering, its branches full of parasite-filled fruit that trembled as rockets escaped."

There's still time to play Combatwords. Dare ye join in?

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/07/combatwords-july-15-2011-balance.html

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Silk Knight Swoons [Combatwords Poem, April 23, 2011]

Silk Knight Swoons [Combatwords Poem, April 23, 2011]
From http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/04/combatwords-april-22-2011-declared-and.html

Knight of granite squares, night of business casual wear;
Fights by chessboard bets—I swear, Ruy Lopez has the night sweats
Underneath tobacco palms and gritty nails and Lasker psalms.

Even though I wore a suit, I paused and watched the two galoots
Murder pawns and trade a pair of dollar bills for several prawns
Fried and battered—basket case: they fed while chessmen scattered.

Low and you'll become the queen.
Slow and knives become serene.
Laugh alone to laugh like hell;
Crazies knew I shared their smell.

"Glasses ain't afraid of anything."
"Watch that tie; he wants to fight."
Silk cocoon and pace of concrete moon—
A silver goon, a briefcase croon;
A stroke, a grand mal swoon:
A check and mated loon.



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Tales From The CombatWords Arena. 26.75 More Hours of Combat Left!

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/04/combatwords-april-1-2011-nostalgia.html

If you've been avoiding CombatWords because you are threatened by the idea of competitive writing, maybe you should be. I want you to note the timestamps for this combat after you admire the quality of the offered samples. If you can't take the heat, that's cool, but consider being an anonymous chicken and critiquing the comps. I mean, you might bring up valid points, but trust me, nobody is going to feel threatened by someone too scared to step into the arena him or herself.

Onyxsupersonics (April 1, 2011 4:52 PM PST http://onyxsupersonics.blogspot.com/):
"my first trip to philadelphia, my first trip to new york, when i saw guernica at moma, my first flight to london ... i always thought i could do it again and it would be even better ... sometimes i did it again and it was, sometimes i did it again and it wasn't, but usually i couldn't and i'll never know whether it would've been or wouldn't have been ... "

Valerie Valdes (April 1, 2011 5:32 PM PST http://candleinsunshine.com/asthemoonclimbs/):
""In Cuba, it wasn't like this"
was the common joke
when something bad happened
in America."

Amalia Dillin (April 1, 2011 6:42 PM PST http://blog.amaliadillin.com/):
"My cousins and I jockeyed for the center seat, crawling over one another, climbing, twisting. The hammock twisted and one of them was hanging upside down on the outside, clinging like a monkey. We helped him back in, pulling him up like a sailors dragging a drowned man from the sea. "

Steven Marty Grant (April 1, 2011 7:30 PM PST http://roomspimp.blogspot.com/):
"Of course I know
I fought with her too
but those battlefields
are green and over grown;
Appomattox, Utah beach,
Hue City. "

Seann McCollum (April 2, 2011 11:34 AM PST http://carrioncall.blogspot.com/):
"In all the years since the weekend you
“didn’t sleep with” that fellow
you met at GothFest at the Trocadero"

I can't sit this one out--looks too fun. It's an extra good combat this week which is why you should try it out. I respect anyone willing to fall flat on his or her face in public, even if not for the quality of composition.

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The Second Bell [Combatwords Poem Repost, From Jan 1, 2011]

The Second Bell [Combatwords Poem Repost, From Jan 1, 2011]
From http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/12/combatwords-december-31-2010-new-year.html

Leave your gonads at home,
We'll ride on the trolly
Switch the ding for a bomb.
For now we'll make do
Walking the first minutes
Of a year we don't need.
Brace all your nonsenses
For the streetcar will come.
Take vitamins, subways;
Take kisses on Market—
Cute strangers might cure you,
Could give you their herpes.
You could wander and want,
You might listen for lore
When the armpits of crowds
Have a radium glow.

They roar
On streetcars—new
Because the year is new—
And sip their brandy laughing, packed.
They stink of cigarettes, of coke and weed
And semen, pussy goo or danker smells—like shit.
Your friend can smell like that sometimes—he's only twenty two.
His mother called you up to say another friend of his just died.
That's two this year; the first one shot inside the park at night while deejays spun.
You saw the poster walking home: it said 'Reward' and showed a smile you met one time,
While juxtaposed beside that pic, a smiley face with neutral mouth and three eyes looking blank.
The second one got flu and stayed at home, too broke to call the hospital, too scared
To call his friends to ask for loans. I heard he slept instead and only when
He missed his pool-hall league event did someone send the cops to check
His pulse, to check his bottles, check his dog and see what makes
It possible—at forty one—to die amidst
Such wealth and liquify for several days
With Daily Show, Colbert Report.
It's time to hear the bell,
The second bell:
Ding Dong.



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The Last CombatWords For 2010 Is Also The First CombatWords For 2011

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/12/combatwords-december-31-2010-new-year.html



Buy the Q1/Q2 2010 Report right now:

You can get it as an E-Book at Amazon as well http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004AYDHXY
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CombatWords for December 24, 2010: Holiday!

CombatWords for December 24, 2010: Holiday!

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/12/combatwords-december-24-2010-holiday.html



Buy the Q1/Q2 2010 Report right now:

You can get it as an E-Book at Amazon as well http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004AYDHXY
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CombatWords, November 19, 2010: The Future!

CombatWords, November 19, 2010: The Future!

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/11/combatwords-november-19-2010-future.html

Buy the Q1/Q2 2010 Report right now:

You can get it as an E-Book at Amazon as well http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004AYDHXY
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Freestyle Time at CombatWords! November 5, 2010

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/11/combatwords-november-5-2010-freestyle.html

BTW, the dude's totally not freestyling. He's looking up his notes.

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State of the Union [CombatWords Story Repost, October 30, 2010]

State of the Union [CombatWords, October 30, 2010]

Once upon a time, criminals controlled America. And America? She was dying. And instead of renewing herself with a culture of life, she became increasingly obsessed with the culture of death. The death of honest work. The death of the American Dream... death of the Constitution—death of the very way of life and culture that had once made America so great. Life was expendable in those dark times and theft was the rule, not the exception. Honest people lived in terror, while murderers, thieves, propagandists and rapists dominated the courts, streets, media and even the presidency.

America was tired. It was tired and it had gotten lazy. The culture of death made criminals into heroes and honest, hard working citizens seem like fools. Young people learned to idolize the worst elements society had to offer. And then, on September Eleventh, two thousand and one, everything changed. Three million Americans perished in a single cloud of flame, when terrorists did the unthinkable and detonated a nuclear bomb in New York City.

But New York City survived. America rebuilt an exact replica her crown jewel. All save the World Trade Towers, as a symbol to ensure Americans never forgot that tragic day. Their loss is the permanent scar from a wound that will never close. Yet the pain from that scar reminded America that it was still alive! Real Americans took their country back.

Not surprisingly, the culture of death perished and a culture of life was revitalized. And now, America is optimistic again, working under a common vision. We took socialists at their word and put them to work in our factories, farms, and brothels for service men. Terrorist races were executed under the tragic, but necessary suspension of habeas corpus. America destroyed her enemies before her enemies destroyed her from the inside out.

Although much of the world still rallies against humanity's last, greatest hope, America has outlasted many terrorist civilizations and terrorist ideologies. And we're not alone in our quest to defend freedom. Our friends are stronger than ever; London, Greater Israel, and Australia have joined the coalition of the willing. We have liberated Canada, the former Latin American nations, and Europa—including The Fatherland—and laid ruin to Peking Man and the Mohammadan hordes. Americans live longer than ever and that's no surprise since we're the world's biggest importer of human organs. And we work harder than ever. What's in the secret sauce Uncle Sam? It's freedom my friends, freedom.

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/10/combatwords-october-29-2010-farce-and.html

http://www.boingboing.net/2010/10/29/machine-of-death-ama.html

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CombatWords: October 29-31, 2010: Tragedy & Farce

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/10/combatwords-october-29-2010-farce-and.html



The Rules: http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/07/official-rules-for-combatwords-updated.html

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Jesse Noe Mendez is Probably a Pedophile [Bonus Poem, Re: CombatWords Spammer, Oct 22, 2010]

Jesse Noe Mendez is Probably a Pedophile [Bonus Poem, Re: CombatWords Spammer, Oct 22, 2010]
Alexa shows he has no rank:
It's wrong, his page is ripe with skank;
But Jess prefers a whiff of fart
And rolls in turds he calls his art.
His many fans are spammers too;
They're circle jerks: a smegma crew.

http://highartat1968.blogspot.com
http://theartofjesseiiflowers.blogspot.com
http://theartofjesse.blogspot.com

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The Gun is Good! The Penis is Evil! CombatWords for October 22, 2010

"The safety of life is this, to examine everything all through, what it is itself, what is its material, what the formal part; with all thy soul do justice and to say the truth. What remains except to enjoy life by joining one good thing to another so as not to leave even the smallest intervals between."


Your rebuttal Zardoz?



http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/10/combatwords-october-22-2010-vice-virtue.html

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Steppenmancer [CombatWords Story, October 15, 2010: Satire] Revised

Steppenmancer [CombatWords Story, October 15, 2010: Satire] Revised Oct 16, 2010

A bundle of haywire nerves twitching, Ant flicked his his AR (short for Augmented Reality) shades off his face and surveyed the howling neon street. It looked just like that Macy's Thanksgiving Parade with all that rainbow colored trash blowing in the 'roid rage wind. The last time he had seen a rainbow was in two thousand and three, but that didn't bother Ant. To him, the world had looked dead for a long time.

He was going to be late. Ant pumped his legs past a nodding red doorman with plastic eyes. A parked corvette told Ant to "BACK OFF! THIS CAR IS PROTECTED BY VENOM!" A clean-shaven Caucasian with an erection touched Ant's forearm and directed his attention to The Golden Phallus. For these occasions, Ant carried an aerosol spray can filled with LSD: a pressurized jet blinded the man. Ant ran across the street as the light changed. The sidewalk wobbled and Ant almost lost his footing, but over the years he had developed a tolerance for the drug.

While sprinting across Union Square, Ant put his AR mirror-shades back on: it was almost time. He emptied his spray can into the crowd while his AR shades commented on the scene. The drug dealer doing handstands on his Segway (Calvert Jackson: Age 22; last known address...); a crystal prostitute with abcesses on her arms (Monika Spektor, Age 19; Amber alert in 2007...), he walked next to the podium and smiled at The Candidate's ex-Spec Ops bodyguard. As Ant's thumb depressed the detonator, he thought of all the heroes to come. After the revolution, they will dismantle the bombs. Just think: if one man can kill The Candidate, imagine what will happen when the whole world goes Anarchist.

Go to http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/10/combatwords-october-15-2010-satire.html to play or just to read & maybe critique.

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Short Story Sighting on CombatWords

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/10/combatwords-october-15-2010-satire.html

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Oooh Yeah Mama! It's Time For CombatWords! 10/15/2010: Satire

Go forth & mock.



http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/10/combatwords-october-15-2010-satire.html

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In Search of the Night Jew [CombatWords, September 17, 2010]

In Search of the Night Jew [CombatWords, September 17, 2010]
http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/09/combatwords-for-september-17-2010.html

“Someday the Jew will be known as a sandwich,”
Graveyards await the messiah, my friend.
Maybe he came, but nobody could greet him.
Even more likely, they caught him and jailed
Prince of the peace everlasting. “Extinction's
Fine,” you had told me, “first, let me die.” You were
Always precocious: arrested and murdered
Ages ago, while my Jewish remains
Thrust near the limit, through starlight—I'm searching,
Always at night, for survivors, Minyan's
Not at all possible. Noah the Night Jew
Rides through the cosmos as well, I am sure
Someday we'll meet and confess what we've witnessed:
Nuclear explosions and atheist sorrow.

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Chess Machine [CombatWords Poem, September 10, 2010]

Chess Machine [CombatWords, September 10, 2010]
http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/09/combatwords-september-10-2010.html

Sensei twitches: brainstem itches.
Scores of insect lords infect
Boards of wooden brains, he's lain
Bones on benches. Crones and wenches
Feed the dusk their seed on husks.
Peeling clothing, feeling loathing,
Lain his stilts, he's slain with guilt.
Chess board master; stress-disaster
Sleepy screamer, creepy dreamer;
Knight of weed, he's slight in deed:
Diving boards through thriving gourds—
Swimming pools are trimming fools
Playing toys like praying boys,
Frisco-banned lout, schizo handout:
Corrective gears, reflexive tears.

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Pandemonium Rising [CombatWords, September 4, 2010]

Pandemonium Rising [CombatWords, September 4, 2010]
http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/09/combatwords-september-3-2010-delusion.html

Each time a devil obtains its own pitchfork
An angel is learning to die.
Now populations of seraphim plummet
While newer and stronger gods rise.
No evil germinates without a fertile
Black soil, so the roots might unfurl
Out from the inky and smothering blackness—
From mineral, up to the top.
Rage grasps their hope. Pandemonium rises:
Huge. Modern and filled with the hope
That lives in avarice, laughter and throttles—
Yes, murder and paranoid hate.

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Raskolnikov's Breakfast With Caesar and the Emperor Qin [CombatWords August 27, 2010]

Raskolnikov's Breakfast With Caesar and the Emperor Qin [CombatWords August 27, 2010]
http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/08/combatwords-august-27-2010-hypocrisy.html

Smile and the office awaits you.
Grin and you'll ride to the steeple of glass.
A bow-tie suggests that you're honest,
While glasses imply that you read when you can.
So help them to cover their asses.
They'll pay you with passcodes, permissions to transfer
what's hidden in cubicles; breathing through
fax machines; hissing in copiers, blazing
through halogens. You'll conquer the windows and walls
with a taxi that's speeding the emperor home
to his chariot: wings over smog.
They call you a thief, or Raskolnikov
yet there's a house by the beach on an island,
awaiting its Bonaparte, dressed in a bow;
to breakfast with Caesar, the Emperor Qin,
and talk about the fairness of confidence.

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Don't forget that #CombatWords for 9/10/2010 starts at 3pm PST

http://combatwords.blogspot.com

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