Spider Mirror @spidermirror-blog - Tumblr Blog

Had the pleasure of discussing #thicketoftrash with @lydiareneearmstrong

https://www.spidermirror.com/blog/thicket-of-trash

https://www.spidermirror.com/blog/spoken-word-kstanshine

#spokenword #poetry

paperstorm

Australian comedian Jim Jefferies points out the ridiculousness of American pro-gun arguments. x x

redhead4eyes

Welp

https://www.spidermirror.com/blog/spoken-word-silva-dunbar

#poetry #spokenword

Get introduced to The Sonnetarium with Kristin Garth, a new weekly poetry feature.

The first installment of The Sonnetarium with Kristin Garth hits the internet this evening!

#poetry #thesonnetarium

https://www.spidermirror.com/blog/spoken-word-kristin-garth

#poetry #spokenword

Start your day off right with a few poems from @rustbeltjessie ... Part of a complete breakfast. https://www.spidermirror.com/blog/poetry-jessie-lynn-mcmains

#poetry

malloryroweauthor

my new book is FREE until Monday!

https://goo.gl/nSDt6V

#free #freedownload #haiku #senryu #3lines #words #author #spilledwords #spilledthoughts #spilledink #micropoem #micropoetry #instapoetry #instawriter #instapoet #instapost #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writer #writers #writersofig #poet #poetry #poem #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram

spidermirror-blog

Get yourself some FREE poetry

Come listen to three new pieces from Gina Marie Bernard.

#poetry #spoken word

boneandinkpress

I will now be releasing each volume of Bone & Ink as actual digital magazines. Volumes 1-3 are available now: Vol. 1 // Vol. 2 // Vol. 3.

wordrummager

“Windblown”

My fourth collection of poetry has just been published on Amazon/Kindle and is available both in paperback and electronically.

You can visit wordrummager.com to order signed copies of my books or prints of my photos.

———

Thanks so much to the artists who support me and interact with me and inspire me! These books are a nice way for me to collect some of my better works and I am proud of how I am growing each year. That is in part due to my sharing, getting feedback, and reading other works here on tumblr. Salut!

spidermirror-blog

Spoken Word: 3 Poems by Jessie Janeshek

Palm Springs/Bombshell Falls Apart

Messages heaving blood-lipped or blonde-lipped a Hollywood presence a dark drink in the desert and real pain for the sham friends treating me worse than ex-husbands or box-office poison.

Raise your hand if your mind slips more than lye you say you’re a dog too tired to think jingle to jangle no more wanderlust.

What’s my totem or Tarot messages heaving all my hair falling out?

There’s truth hanging, too the pre-emphasis circuit too dense to depend.

In The Saturday Night Kid I spoke not a word insinuating beads and microwave frequencies and the filter was blue.

You kept carving songs of collapse as if you knew so much of the underworld.

Live to Tell

Put your money in the dollhouse it will say whom you’ll marry put your money on the axe blade and no one will care or put your money in a dead duck and hand it to a cop in your rush to be eccentric an erotic blonde gong.

I cannot rush but I want that cult following or I want to watch trash with the devil in the bathroom urging me toward the trails the electric planchette.

I lock the rooms with a stone when you’re not home the boy with bad eyes and a limp takes my ticket shit out or shut out or the boy rings my orange lipstick. Put your money in his mouth and he’ll sew a ruffled blood blouse or a bone daydream or the fact is there’s really worse things to have than fingerplay long and strong than praying to pay for it.

So much hunger at the murder house abandoned clay pigs I rearrange the alphabet blocks ask if this town is all slaughter desperate for bread and physical comedy hang on the answer a deader grandmother haunting the trees in my flapper beads or it’s a ghost cow since every once in a while the cows want to moo at the moon and every once in a while I think you’ll kill me to drape my middy blouse on a scarecrow.

Autumn Kiss/Meat Lust

screwball-long walks apologies for your gender smearing pesticides on my lips in the haze kids climbing the tree not turned blood enough still I thought we had something lying down side by side in hay on the traintracks. I’d braided my skeleton planned a new planet quick money lips and tips matched like a floozy touched up my moody cinnasnap roots. We said we could predict each other’s death day the antique phonestand fallout the foldout bar in the car my sex-antic slant or the noose in the room but all the human noises were in someone else’s yard.

His truck bed was full of muddy duck decoys and booze and what demons when I rip out this bloody heartland in my deep-blue nightie in my half-off cape. You say I get lucky that I can’t sustain narrative master and slave so I drive to the river past the man with the shotgun I drive in the corn so kiss me bye-bye I’ll rise once a year since this town is mad for blonde carcasses dressed up like scarecrows.

spidermirror-blog

Go to

https://www.spidermirror.com/blog/spoken-word-3-poems-by-jessie-janeshek

to hear Jessie Janeshek read these pieces

Spoken Word: 3 Poems by Jessie Janeshek

Palm Springs/Bombshell Falls Apart

Messages heaving blood-lipped or blonde-lipped a Hollywood presence a dark drink in the desert and real pain for the sham friends treating me worse than ex-husbands or box-office poison.

Raise your hand if your mind slips more than lye you say you’re a dog too tired to think jingle to jangle no more wanderlust.

What’s my totem or Tarot messages heaving all my hair falling out?

There’s truth hanging, too the pre-emphasis circuit too dense to depend.

In The Saturday Night Kid I spoke not a word insinuating beads and microwave frequencies and the filter was blue.

You kept carving songs of collapse as if you knew so much of the underworld.

Live to Tell

Put your money in the dollhouse it will say whom you’ll marry put your money on the axe blade and no one will care or put your money in a dead duck and hand it to a cop in your rush to be eccentric an erotic blonde gong.

I cannot rush but I want that cult following or I want to watch trash with the devil in the bathroom urging me toward the trails the electric planchette.

I lock the rooms with a stone when you’re not home the boy with bad eyes and a limp takes my ticket shit out or shut out or the boy rings my orange lipstick. Put your money in his mouth and he’ll sew a ruffled blood blouse or a bone daydream or the fact is there’s really worse things to have than fingerplay long and strong than praying to pay for it.

So much hunger at the murder house abandoned clay pigs I rearrange the alphabet blocks ask if this town is all slaughter desperate for bread and physical comedy hang on the answer a deader grandmother haunting the trees in my flapper beads or it’s a ghost cow since every once in a while the cows want to moo at the moon and every once in a while I think you’ll kill me to drape my middy blouse on a scarecrow.

Autumn Kiss/Meat Lust

screwball-long walks apologies for your gender smearing pesticides on my lips in the haze kids climbing the tree not turned blood enough still I thought we had something lying down side by side in hay on the traintracks. I’d braided my skeleton planned a new planet quick money lips and tips matched like a floozy touched up my moody cinnasnap roots. We said we could predict each other’s death day the antique phonestand fallout the foldout bar in the car my sex-antic slant or the noose in the room but all the human noises were in someone else’s yard.

His truck bed was full of muddy duck decoys and booze and what demons when I rip out this bloody heartland in my deep-blue nightie in my half-off cape. You say I get lucky that I can’t sustain narrative master and slave so I drive to the river past the man with the shotgun I drive in the corn so kiss me bye-bye I’ll rise once a year since this town is mad for blonde carcasses dressed up like scarecrows.

#poetry #spoken word

ashleybuttons

So I just had the shit creeped out of me.

I’m not someone who believes in ghosts, but I was sitting in my room, alone and in the dark, and I heard the strings of my violin being softly plucked.

My violin is hanging on the wall several feet away.

So I gathered my courage, grabbed my phone, and used the camera light to investigate.

And found this.

A goddamn spider was playing my violin. Not even joking. The little shit.

rae-rose

I think I’d have preferred a ghost….

cosplay-in-the-usa-deactivated2

So anyway…. *tiny incoherent cough exhumes from spider* Here’s Wonderwall.

enscenic

bwa ha ha ha

lily-ackerman

jenniferrpovey

I hesitated before posting, but I bet I know what’s going on here. The plucking was pretty rhythmic, right?

Male spiders pluck the webs of female spiders in a pattern to determine if the female is interested.

That spider was trying to mate with your violin…

helen007900

Ahh so it’s a boy(I just assume every insect I see is a girl) that’s such a cute mating ritual!

He just wants love!

jenniferrpovey

The behavior would indicate that it is a male. Only females weave webs. Male spiders have to be careful not to be mistaken for prey and eaten, so they pluck the web. Poor thing didn’t exactly get any this time!