please limit posting in this thread to the one poem you wish to enter. it is probable you will be edited otherwise.
keep it clean, so all other questions/praise/pure excitment to the first thread, snälla
this thread will be open for submissions until may 5th.
__________________ What do you expect after this? Applause? Your name on stone?
You will have nothing but me and in a worse way than before -
Dissolving and reforming so quickly I seem only to flicker.
Last edited by SadSummerSea; 04-27-2005 at 10:40 AM..
Location: the house with the red door... now red was your colour
A world without repulse
fetch a design, a floral pattern
to quench the thirst these dry eyes seek
stroke my face with knowledge of beauty and what is beautiful
you care, you caress, so considerately
I feel comfort from my chair, my height
I’ll call on you to bring me beauty
the boy turned and stared, his eyes undeniably ignoring my riches
a fear imprinted on him – it disgusts – I flicker with rage
the maid is in her place, the walls, the chairs, the table, they agree
the window gives way to tamed gardens, fields and valleys
a kingdom conquered, a kingdom pronounced
derelict homes and families a necessary obstacle;
to keep the lands picturesque in nature
the beauty rare, divine and to be admired
an archaic and articulated Arcadia
gives rise to time, to song, to history to sing its praise
to give a polite word to one who passes by
a faux pas – trivial – but to acknowledge and address existence
and what a fine art it has become
I stand dispassionately – in thought and embedded concentration – drinking in the sights
Homer watches from afar, perhaps only I can see – or sense – him
drawing back from the image in front of me;
a painting, a picture, a landscape, a woman
vulnerable to my strength, my polite objectivity
I may trace my fingers across such a surface, heightening the pleasure
and the boy stares, lingers on what must be a tableau of beauty
delicate, the picture, the imagery encompassed in satisfaction
the only denial, a power only Faust could imagine
breaking images in my wake - the boy lingers - when everything is in its place
Oh, great delight to see a beauty here
__________________ When the movie is over...
... and the movie goers have left en masse, the only sound you hear is the bang of chairs returning to their upright position .
Last edited by MrMcPheezy; 04-27-2005 at 07:48 PM..
Can you feel the wrapping of this agonizing essence all around you?
In ravenous open mouths, the taste of the air is so dense and sour,
Come together in one static and depraved blind entity,
All kings, all vampires, all worms hungering in this void, harass one to each other, eagerly expecting.
Anticipate the taste of your victim’s salted sweat, uselessly,
Experience the past fears and loves of all those who participated in the ancestry of your fragile lover, tediously.
After a long horizontal war, murder is the necessary thing to call,
Engage me, so I order, I am a tired matter, shining and unbroken,
Engage me at once, for I desire the shroud of peace,
But there is no hope for this wish to ever come true.
There is no ending, no Ouroboros that breaks to let me out,
There is no answer to be given, the questions faded away, escaping.
Blue spawned in every eye, every atom prophesying a stillness of abdication,
We, the forsaken rain drops eternalized in the empty air, the perpetual kisses drying out blood rivers.
The injustice of cities and books and songs and gold, all turning into this melancholic dust,
As we remain banished from any change, from any exit, any ending.
And like always and everywhere, there was one that could not handle it anymore,
A glass knife he took, and a geometrical rune all over his body he carved,
Like a banishing ritual, he cut and bled, but always knowing the impossibility it was,
And as my tortured being passed besides him, I heard him whisper a chant of misery:
“A couple of bleeding wounds don’t make a death
Just like a couple of great words don’t make a great poem
I pray thee, death, come upon us minions, come and have your dominion!”
And immortals still wait for the death of their lives...
I forgot the metaphor,
the poetic trickery that makes me seem
more important than I really am.
I stumbled from the paths I'd laid,
finding nothing in this banality
to drive pleasure from.
Childish mind, body and soul,
seeing through eyes as vacant as
the void between the stars,
bleeding dreams to repetitious dust,
to launch my failures from.
My core is breached.
I do not need to be this anymore.
That which I've chosen to retain
will always take itself away,
back to the deep and narrow
from whence it initially came.
If I could un-open this hole,
I'd bathe in the devouring blaze
to consume the hate I've saved for you
so you might finally see
that at the level molecular
I'm still dying for your dreams.
Stop telling me what you want me to be.
__________________ "I DON'T. Buy the tomatoes with. The stems. On them.
They don't. Degrade. They go. Down the sink. And
into the WATER. Then. They get lodged in the
throats of little. OTTERS."
- Christopher Walken
They scream, "The end is near. The end is near,"
But I will show no fear.
Wars and riots and murders are plenty,
But I won't shed a tear.
They search for riches to fill up their souls,
But I will just sit and watch it unfold.
Money is the answer to all their fears,
But I won't be trapped like all of my peers.
If only they knew of love eternal,
We wouldn't be in this mess infernal.
If only they could see reality,
Life would be much better for you and me.
But instead the world is afraid to die.
Not me though, no not I.
Vanity will increase, consuming all,
I won't fear; I'll stand tall.
If only we could all live without fear.
Perhaps eternity would be so near.
O what a world, a world without a fear.
Talking shit about a pretty sunset
Blanketing opinions that i'll probably reget soon
I've changed my mind so much I cant even trust it
My mind changed me so much I cant even trust myself
its the moment that calls me, always welcoming, openly beckoning
you say that it will set me free, to catch this once in an eternity oportunity
so if boredom be my demon and time becomes my medium
then you know surely this idea isn't earthly.
fork of silver in my road show me where to go
my heart yerns for the truth, my greed though wants its own.
show me how to flock the masses starving for a leading
searching for a meaning..shall I read these words
or twist them to return healthy wealthy, and unwise
and they'd look up with suprise
would I of all tell lies?
would I of all disguise?
and though a power I'd behold, I'd have killed so many souls
but now if truth be told
Im struggling where to go..
I know that Im a sinner but are we not all beginners?
so am I the one to guide-or to hide behind
the white and black seas and give into the fiend?
as you drop down to your knees?
here I am in question why I'm even here now
and as I turn at night I feel the battle deep inside
woke up drenched in sweat.
Im aware of my threat. I cannot pacify the battle that lay inside
I'd rather die than turn others beliefs
I am not the one who will bring hate from faith
so I suppose we both win..Rid of you, but of me too.
the streets still black, clouds near and white, with this step forward, for peace of mind.
My sky is blue today
Like the eyes of my beloved children
Those lovable figures, who laugh and dance
On the graves of the last war of human kind
There will be no rematch
There will be no more tragedy
There will be peace
There will be no enemy
The justice has always followed the sword of the winner
So it does now
With these hands washed in virgin blood I pet my children
My dears and only ones left
And fearfully we wait
For our Master to come, Apocalypse
See her painfully red lips-
Watching her mood come to grips-
Her eyes and their strength,
In her moon washed restraint,
Painted pictures of purpose
Rising from depths, to the surface;
Of these pools intentions drown in.
Feel the diseased dying days-
Enveloped in chains of maliase
Her words and their wounds,
Bitter sweet and in tune
With the setting sunlight rapture,
A solemn blood sky bringing capture-
To welcoming the means to an end.
I’m stuck in the same routine.
Nothing new. Nothing changes.
I’m riding a track, and
________craving to try the course with
______________________ a “WARNING” sign
______________________________ above it.
“Take chance at own risk—
______And with uncertain death.”
Worried, I consciously “miss”
__________________ it again.
Continue on my way of security,
_______________wrapped up tightly
_______________in my baby blanket.
Around and around I go
_________on my life as a merry-go-round.
Same scenery. Same feelings. Same risk.
______Same lingering emptiness.
Yearning for a change, something more,
_______________not wanting to pass up the break away again,
____I guide myself off the comfort rail.
Maybe death was an exaggeration.
__________________ Do you serve a purpose? or purposely serve?
+1 Eoafa. end thread/ -Kelly
Last edited by MrMcPheezy; 05-04-2005 at 09:33 AM..