On to new things...

So National Poetry Writing month has finished for the year now, boo! But onto new things.

Bad Language will now be taking part in somethingeveryday which is a website that Max Wallis originally set up to challenge himself to write something new everyday. For 2011 he has decided to 'lease' the site to various writers, poets, small presses for them to write something new everyday.

You can follow our progress via the website and feel free to comment on it and let us know what you think!

Also just to finish, here is a video of other editor of Bad Language, Daniel Carpenter, from his performance at This is May Day last night.

Napo wrimo final day!

The End

That feeling you get in the pit of your stomach,
That taste in the back of your throat.
The sting in your eye,
The thickness in your nose
You know its about to end.

That sickness dancing deep inside,
The tingles in your throat.
The inward breath
The heavy sigh
You know its about to end.

The stiffness of your tongue,
The static in your mind.
The lasting image
The last unfinished word
You know its about to end.

Napo wrimo day 29

You sat,
In the corners of my mind.

Waiting,
Until time had moved.

Watching,
For when I least expected.

And then,
You came when I didn't want.

NaPo WriMo: Day 28

Near the end now, only a few days left. Here's today's poem which is taken from a short story I'm actually trying to write at the same time. 

The Cracks

Today I saw the cracks appear

The small wrinkles of the earth

They started small like maggots

Then grew longer into worms

Today I saw the cracks appear

Like lace around my feet

They sliced into the earth’s skin

Then split open like a pear

Today I saw the cracks appear

As though traced with marker pen

I stepped over them one by one

Then erased them with my feet

NaPo WriMo: Day 27

Boxes half full you carried half my things down the stairs

Whilst I stayed in the sweaty heat and tried to finish packing

Flattened cardboard around me with no celetape left

And with each lift of the box we spoke of times

That could be and forgot of the reasons why I was leaving

And loading up the van I stood in circles of

Items that didn’t look like mine anymore

Shirts sticking to our back and the taste of salt in my mouth

We ran out of words to say but only because there was too much

The engine purred on the large van as we pulled

Away without a thought of what we were leaving behind

Accept the keys that we needed to find a home for

And the new place that we didn’t quite have

The road was long and icy but luckily

No traffic blocked our roots

And as the radio hummed it’s low song

I thought of you and only you,

Nothing about the things left behind of the things I was driving to.

NaPo WriMo: Day 26

This one is about a time when I got stuck in the middle of an extreme storm in New Zealand. We foolishly parked beneath a tree below a mountain and the thunder rocketed off the edge of the mountain and felt like it was consuming our van.

The Storm

1.

Bruised sky above

Our little yellow van

Your breath soothes me to sleep

2.

The sky’s angry roar

As it echo’s around the mountain

Heart hard in my chest

3.

Motion Picture

Lighting up my view

Flashing on then off

NaPo WriMo: Day 25

That Day

Two eyes, Closed, On white face,

Not just white but pale

Rich pale

As though all soul that could bring colour has left

Two lips, Parted, As if in thirst

Or midway between saying the last word

One body, Alone, In a single bed

Soiled sheets and clothes

No last wishes or commands

Us, left beside, to misguide the truth

From his unknowing wife