The teardrops of love and pain--both salty, the same.
The taste that they gave to his tongue stung evermore.
He cried 'cause he had not a friend left to blame
For all of the joy he destroyed moments before.
And with eyes red
He saw the words he'd said
Of hate and despair
That stripped his soul completely bare.
He prowled through the night wondering where his strides would lead
For he had no longer a sanctum to call "home."
And knowing the wrath of his deed would soon be freed
To confiscate the souls of this night's roam,
He paced with haste
Fearing time not yet faced
When life would excise
The meager hope left within his eyes.
As the clouds that night shed frozen rain,
He fell upon his knees and there did pray
That in some unknown way he might obtain
Forgiveness of his blasphemies that day.
His pleas were lost
Within the frost
But stronger still
Became his will.
And in the wasting dark,
His pulse no longer stark,
He burned away his sin
And started his life new, again.
Mammon emptied out a coffer. Gold in hand, he brought an offer To the feet of Chiron’s ward, While Pan seduced six healthy whores.
‘Can you raise a star so fallen?’ Asked the demon, to the healer.
‘Let me taste the gold you carry,’ Said the god, his voice a whisper.
Confident the coins were real, The serpent said he’d make a deal.
Next they bickered, Mammon bitter At the price the task required.
Light and Dark had soon conspired, Pulled the fool free of the fires. Mammon took his prize and vanished, Leaving Pan to quickly finish— Smile at the mess and play A song for poor Asclepius.
Drawn by music in the skies, Zeus awakened from his slumber, Spying with his eagle eyes The lesser god with greater plunder. ‘Did you find this by surprise?’ He asked the healer, struck with wonder. ‘Yes I did!’ Asclepius lied, His quick reprisal much a blunder. Zeus let out a stormy sigh And filled his fist with bristling thunder. ‘I have come to recognize The veil that you are hiding under.’ ‘How?’ the god of healing cried, Letting out a vicious shudder. Zeus replied by letting fly His bolt, which tore the snake asunder.
I'd like to make a withdrawal she said
so I asked her why the revoking of her finances
when she said there was a deprecation in value
I thought it odd as her investor
that she would want to retract away such equity
when months of emotional investment were spent
and all my capital were used to gain
a profitable return for her
the sum that I invested could not equate
to the amount that she had to offer
but when she collected her dues
and was reimbursed for her share
my assets were left behind in bankruptcy
Observation
I was watching the movement of people outside my window
and there were a thousand streams of it slowly drifting across,
none in any hurry, even those who wanted to be.
The movement slows and the world gets dark, momentarily, as I close my eyes,
trying to lull myself to a scant few minutes of stolen sleep before the rattling of the bus's windows wakes me up,
when my thoughts disappear, then coalesce:
the old ironsides rip the master's flesh.
I watch.
Private Mod Note
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my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
There's no time for such absurdities
Bear prayers to chimaeras
Fruits of satirical appearances, appliances
Devised to deviate
And when it comes about Death - this ominous Panther
No reason to be bound, at all.
Take your pieces off the board;
Heavens have already won this round
And if I find my umbrella in this Lost-and-Found
I'll make sure everybody will know
Before someone digs my last bones:
The hand that caresses is the same that stones.
(the mouth that kisses is the same that spits)
For those lacking in faith;
(stone that vile hand that caresses you
spit into that mouth that is kissing you)
New dreams impart'd to fresh blood rise,
Bright brims of sight filled 'neath his eyes.
A godless priest to youth does preach,
How blithe the joy of those who teach!
To start a view black clouds obscure,
Per aim made sure can fog then clear.
From art these guides do live and shape,
The greatest good of earth create.
But sing a song last bittersweet,
As year by year their deeds repeat,
Dull words with grief both light and deep,
Through mask of pride their soul does weep.
Of seeds they sow great trees arise,
Their gaze assur'd look to the skies.
For those they touch must destin'd grow.
Beyond the reach of mentor's glow.
here I found you sleeping, dreaming like a saint,
verily you said to me; resting's what you ain't.
and here's to fortune and to fools; those with little bread,
tell me dear is there a place, where I can cut me head?
and let the pieces fall on out, and run onto the floor,
i'll pick them up and stir them round and set them out the door.
and in the countryside they'll run, and finally be free,
anything to let them loose and on away from me.
here I found you sinking, swimming like a rock,
verily you said to me; drowning is a mock.
and here's to people and to death; life and charity,
tell me dear is there a song, you'll kindly sing to me?
and let the rhythm cool the reins, and lay the Horsemen down,
those Five with foaming, groaning mouths, stomping on the ground.
and in the dark they'll settle still, and run no more amok,
anything to stop the noise, I think I'll try my luck.
Private Mod Note
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My at-a-glance 'isms': (in no particular order)
1. Secular Humanism
2. Secular Millenarianism
a. Singularitarianism
b.Transhumanism
c. secular altruism
O naked soul of mine, shimmering like the still waters of summer's end, reflect the dying gaze of the sun in echo to the world; scream 'til they are pacified and the day's trite encounters hold for them no ruth. Your wasting moment is but a beggar's chant beseeching that the masses hear you and take hold of your somber laden words.
O trembling heart of mine, the beating war drum of an ancient field's battle, sound the charge of our communal rage! Keep pace to our valiant strides as we crash upon the woeful foes of the earth. You deliver through our veins the lust for wrath that keeps our devotion upon the smiting of this wicked fiend in our lives.
O lucid eyes of mine, tips of the iceberg thoughts that float through my mind, with every icy gaze you take, a moment is frozen. A cold storage you keep on all life's endeavors. Look not with scathing disapproval on this hour's deeds, but keep placid and soaked with hope for tomorrow's coming chance.
O feeble hands of mine, makeshift cages desperate to trap the fading days, learn to let go of this tormenting mirage. A lure to those you beloved will be to them only a taunt and will hold no promise of their return; instead, make of yourselves a sanctuary whose only offer is joy and fortitude from troubled lands beyond.
O beaten body of mine, this you are! Take notice of your integral self, and never doubt your striving cause.
The daily commute
I'm pissing syrup
and ☺☺☺☺ting crimson
my body rejects me
like a red headed step child
and I am frequently
beaten into submission
by morning
Yesterday is telling me
to beware of Tomorrow
and the night that it will bring
Bloodshot and stumbling
The interval of time dilation is true time
I see the world as a flip book of now
but i'm skipping pages
and teleporting home like usual
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
By maple leaves and orchid hills,
through vanilla skies and scents of the past
finding Sierra Crest has never been so hard.
Nor this painful,
for she was by the corner
where tall trees danced with the gentle breeze,
flittering their majestic leaves.
And I,
just having landed from an eccentric sky
in all my fears and hopes
felt mostly insecure.
But Sierra,
oh how she was there for me
with good food and warmth,
with a bolstered roof to shoulder the rain,
She would be my first
if passion be personified.
To this day,
how I still hold her in such esteem
I can't forget her clear, pristine
features for they quarantined
any thoughts of despair and doubt.
So perhaps it's safe to say,
Sierra Crest found me
and for that I pray
I will see her once again.
Greed fuels your intentions
Open Declaration of War
Find someone else to hate
Under oath and overwhelmed
Compose a symphony of lies
Kicking and screaming, you'll never get your way
Yearn for the validation of your deceit
Only to find failure at every turn
Underneath the bravado lies a coward
Reality has caught up with you
Six feet under, fate has run it's course
Even the crows are absent
Long live your soul in limbo
For hell has denied you entry.
Look at the card. Now back to Jace. Now back to that card, now back to Jace! Sadly, it isn't Jace, but if it stopped being a junk rare and became relevant, it could act like it's Jace. Crack some Worldwake. What do you have? You have a Jace, the card you wish this card could be like. Look again. THE CARD IS NOW A $75 BILL. Anything possible when you play Magic with Jace and not junk rares. This is probably spam.
I see beauty in the night's canvas
Generations of men came and left
But the night scape never faded away...
Graffiti on the skies -
Who drew the lines
Of world's edge?
There's Graffiti on the stars
As if they were pouring down
Because they're magic, not tragic.
We see Graffiti on the Moon
the Great Smile, Eternal lover
Smiles at every love song
And when the night's mouth
Swallows it all and darkness comes
The quiet that follows doesn't last long
And when the night gems shines once more
We ask ourselves
Who drew the graffiti on the skies?
A/N: This is less cohesive than a sixteen-part poem but more cohesive than sixteen poems.
1.
I love you
and my tears bleed mud.
2.
And it was something even if you
can't say it in public. With difficulty
admit to yourself that I am sharp
as pine cones, and the world becomes greener.
3.
Now they're telling us we're all beautiful, so
agonizingly beautiful --
I might just die. If it's true for me, it's twice
as true for you.
My other better half wants to jump in the orange
sea: join her, leaving me with the semblance of "I am! I am!"
4.
We've determined three things. One,
I am a half in love and three-quarters
mad. Two, there is nothing more
difficult than keeping edges colorful. Three,
my better halves are all female so
naturally, I am nothing.
5.
To Claire: we mustn't be too quick. Yours
is the medium between beauty
and birds, and only it I trust
to sing the invalidating birdsong that half
moves men to tears and half keeps leaves
alive. Nightingales, envious and becoming,
wonder if they, too, can break a spirit
whose unity is only a product of words
(not even) sung by you and two year old
masking tape. No, I've never kissed you nor
have I ever written a poem for you until now
although I swear! it feels like I have! I can't
help it. The clock didn't choose to be round
but here! I've written you a sonnet.
6.
I enjoy breaking
things. Fall
O' hateful Mother!
The floor is soft
again.
7.
And if I could die for you, please
let me. Even if in a dream casually
shelved between trophies and occasionally
dusted, the sky will be fair ground
for twice-kissed memories to take the shape
of snakes and devour each other once more.
8.
Mandi, one day we can sit
and write poems together
they don't have to be beautiful
like we will be or like you
are (and I mean it!) but
they'll be happy like my
poems alone can never be.
I did say I liked your poems but what I didn't say
was how much they made me smile after looking back
at them, they breathed.
9.
Dust on the chairs, tears
in my second aortic arch!
Finally! I am free!
10.
The collection of breaths drawn
with a felt-tipped pen run circles
around us until someone falls down, breaking
a rhythm that only lasted for a day.
Two years and the ocean is silent
Two months and hearts hide behind cheap windows
Two weeks and I am quietly become eternity
11.
Allison dear I told you once I'd love
you always and forever and I wasn't
lying. I haven't changed one bit,
love has. Now instead of being stuck
in the throat it rolls off the tongue
and shatters on the floor, perfect
for use in those really ambitious
expressionist paintings.
12.
I asked you once
"Who are you?"
and you were silent. I asked
"What are you?"
and you smiled. Finally I asked
"Are you?" and in the sugarless
cacophony of everything, everything
said "maybe."
13.
One day I took a knife
to a telephone. It screamed.
It drives one off houses,
especially if he (or she)
watches from below.
14.
My biggest problem
is that I'll never
be able to fully
lose my mind
in front of you.
15.
Melody, it has come
to this! I am writing poems
and poems all confused
and most of them aren't even that good
this one especially seems
jumbled. I mean, what is that metaphor
comparing you to water even
doing here? Water can't be
beautiful. It's only water.
16.
End with a smile, you
silly little everything, you.
you died strong
brave and proud
crucified
on that fence away from town
the barbwire spear in your side
a reminder of why you were fighting
and who you were dying for
and where you were born
under
that glorious, glorious
Soweto sun
that throbs and draws
pearls of sweat on your forehead
and rubies of blood on your chest
falling now, heading home
soaking
that poor, poor
Soweto earth
cracked and parched and red
seared onto your living heart
even as it ebbs away
slowly
in a whisper
to silence
Half of my submissions are songs. That's the medium in which I write most of my poetry. This is the first I'm submitting with a chorus.
Jack-O-Lantern
Carved shards of flesh torn away--a ghastly display!
They forsake the day when we harbored such hope.
Where once we were held in each others' arms,
Now residue of disenchanting harms
Ravages through the weakened sinew
This body claims.
I waited for you. But when I peered through your eyes, I saw
A melting wax heart whose candlelight for me flickered small.
Haunted both by the same frights, we burned through the nights,
Strange satellites with reflections alone we recognized.
Both simply disguised like ghosts with no names.
I waited for you. But when I peered through your eyes, I saw
A melting wax heart whose candlelight for me flickered small.
Tricked by the way silence ensued,
I writhed throughout life as I waited for you.
I treated each plight as merely a bruise
Of impassioned nights. Lost in Summer's ruse,
Were you festering too?
I waited for you. But when I peered through your eyes, I saw
A melting wax heart whose candlelight for me flickered small.
Beneath the pearl of precious Nemi, There I splash along the shore. Aricia, my perfect city, Tucked within my watchful grove. Bathing in the lake, I wonder, Will they find me? Are they trying? The ghost of Midas stands beside me, Shedding tears in golden droves. Above the haunted shipwreck cairns, I let the water hold me close. Asclepius, why did you spare me? Serpent Holder, let him go! Set me in his casket, One more cobra to the basket, Set in stars across the axis Of the tilted Ophiuchus.
marvelous sun-fused apes
we are all primates with a pen
and twenty-five billion years later
our fists have turned limp
we were the paintings of our forefathers
and they in turn were the engraved murals of savages
manhandling untamed beasts with their thick clubs
and newly discovered warmth
they were all brutes unrefined
but within due time
ensured a hereditary cause
of lineage and survival
somewhere through that was the concept of thought
which promoted what is today called knowledge
and not long after faith was given birth
with entities and tall-tale glories
philosophies for death
was and still is a scary concept
now molded by the virtues of progression
so when we stare at family portraits
and look upon the canvas of our final days
will we not contemplate the very same things
from the very same earth eons ago?
A/N: this is about gayness. Not literally, I'm not coming out with this poem [:P!!!], but it's an imaginative exercise.
It's not the kind of thing you'd tell a friend,
standing on tiptoes at the bus stop to hear over the roar of the passing cars nearby
while the kid sitting on the bench
[with his chewing gum snapping loudly]
plays music out of his headphones at a level so loud that the profanity-laden lyrics are audible even from your vantage point,
and the old man leaning against the glass has his eyes closed contemplatively and his head tilted back just that little bit hinting how exhausted he is,
but it's the kind of thing that you hide within yourself deep inside until that time when the response,
filled with a wordless complacency as these things are, escapes from your mouth unwittingly,
but it's better this way, without any accidental proclamations.
Better that you are all in your respective rituals, secure.
Better that, at least, than you admit that deep down inside you feel that ____________.
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
The Little Train of the Country Folk (café com pão, café com pão)
*clickety-clack*
*chuga chuga*
*chuga chuga*...
Don't give up yet
Hello Mr. Machinist
More gas in this train!
*chuga chuga*
*chuga chuga*
*chuga chuga*
More strength
more gas in this train
passing cattle
passing people
passing branches
of guava trees
Crossing bridges
rivers and plains ahead
ducks and geese
Run away, run away!
*Choo choo*
I need
Much strength, more gas
I am almost
passing out
*Cho choo*
Bringing news
and food
and lovers
and stuff
Hurry up
I'm departing
At full speed
Chuga chuga chuga chuga chuga chuga....
The teardrops of love and pain--both salty, the same.
The taste that they gave to his tongue stung evermore.
He cried 'cause he had not a friend left to blame
For all of the joy he destroyed moments before.
And with eyes red
He saw the words he'd said
Of hate and despair
That stripped his soul completely bare.
He prowled through the night wondering where his strides would lead
For he had no longer a sanctum to call "home."
And knowing the wrath of his deed would soon be freed
To confiscate the souls of this night's roam,
He paced with haste
Fearing time not yet faced
When life would excise
The meager hope left within his eyes.
As the clouds that night shed frozen rain,
He fell upon his knees and there did pray
That in some unknown way he might obtain
Forgiveness of his blasphemies that day.
His pleas were lost
Within the frost
But stronger still
Became his will.
And in the wasting dark,
His pulse no longer stark,
He burned away his sin
And started his life new, again.
Mammon emptied out a coffer.
Gold in hand, he brought an offer
To the feet of Chiron’s ward,
While Pan seduced six healthy whores.
‘Can you raise a star so fallen?’
Asked the demon, to the healer.
‘Let me taste the gold you carry,’
Said the god, his voice a whisper.
Confident the coins were real,
The serpent said he’d make a deal.
Next they bickered, Mammon bitter
At the price the task required.
Light and Dark had soon conspired,
Pulled the fool free of the fires.
Mammon took his prize and vanished,
Leaving Pan to quickly finish—
Smile at the mess and play
A song for poor Asclepius.
Drawn by music in the skies,
Zeus awakened from his slumber,
Spying with his eagle eyes
The lesser god with greater plunder.
‘Did you find this by surprise?’
He asked the healer, struck with wonder.
‘Yes I did!’ Asclepius lied,
His quick reprisal much a blunder.
Zeus let out a stormy sigh
And filled his fist with bristling thunder.
‘I have come to recognize
The veil that you are hiding under.’
‘How?’ the god of healing cried,
Letting out a vicious shudder.
Zeus replied by letting fly
His bolt, which tore the snake asunder.
Emotional Investment
I'd like to make a withdrawal she said
so I asked her why the revoking of her finances
when she said there was a deprecation in value
I thought it odd as her investor
that she would want to retract away such equity
when months of emotional investment were spent
and all my capital were used to gain
a profitable return for her
the sum that I invested could not equate
to the amount that she had to offer
but when she collected her dues
and was reimbursed for her share
my assets were left behind in bankruptcy
I was watching the movement of people outside my window
and there were a thousand streams of it slowly drifting across,
none in any hurry, even those who wanted to be.
The movement slows and the world gets dark, momentarily, as I close my eyes,
trying to lull myself to a scant few minutes of stolen sleep before the rattling of the bus's windows wakes me up,
when my thoughts disappear, then coalesce:
the old ironsides rip the master's flesh.
I watch.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Faith, less, ness.
There's no time for such absurdities
Bear prayers to chimaeras
Fruits of satirical appearances, appliances
Devised to deviate
And when it comes about Death - this ominous Panther
No reason to be bound, at all.
Take your pieces off the board;
Heavens have already won this round
And if I find my umbrella in this Lost-and-Found
I'll make sure everybody will know
Before someone digs my last bones:
The hand that caresses is the same that stones.
(the mouth that kisses is the same that spits)
For those lacking in faith;
(stone that vile hand that caresses you
spit into that mouth that is kissing you)
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
New dreams impart'd to fresh blood rise,
Bright brims of sight filled 'neath his eyes.
A godless priest to youth does preach,
How blithe the joy of those who teach!
To start a view black clouds obscure,
Per aim made sure can fog then clear.
From art these guides do live and shape,
The greatest good of earth create.
But sing a song last bittersweet,
As year by year their deeds repeat,
Dull words with grief both light and deep,
Through mask of pride their soul does weep.
Of seeds they sow great trees arise,
Their gaze assur'd look to the skies.
For those they touch must destin'd grow.
Beyond the reach of mentor's glow.
My Custom Set: Solescurio
here I found you sleeping, dreaming like a saint,
verily you said to me; resting's what you ain't.
and here's to fortune and to fools; those with little bread,
tell me dear is there a place, where I can cut me head?
and let the pieces fall on out, and run onto the floor,
i'll pick them up and stir them round and set them out the door.
and in the countryside they'll run, and finally be free,
anything to let them loose and on away from me.
here I found you sinking, swimming like a rock,
verily you said to me; drowning is a mock.
and here's to people and to death; life and charity,
tell me dear is there a song, you'll kindly sing to me?
and let the rhythm cool the reins, and lay the Horsemen down,
those Five with foaming, groaning mouths, stomping on the ground.
and in the dark they'll settle still, and run no more amok,
anything to stop the noise, I think I'll try my luck.
1. Secular Humanism
2. Secular Millenarianism
b.Transhumanism
c. secular altruism
4. Existentialism
5. Intellectualism
6. Atheism
7. Realism
b. philosophic
c. contructive
9. Egalitarianism
b. feminism
11. Liberal conservatism
12. Anti-consumerism
13. Reductionism
I lit myself on fire and it hurt.
put on the flameproof suit,
drenched it in gasoline,
and lit the match.
Now, I'm in the hospital,
3rd degree burns cover more than
95% of my body.
moving hurts.
Millionaires, I hear it's good Music (Disclaimer: lyrics not PG-13) Thanks, CC
Round 85 will be up until March 31st, first and second entries being Aspirinetzche and Niv's,
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
O naked soul of mine, shimmering like the still waters of summer's end, reflect the dying gaze of the sun in echo to the world; scream 'til they are pacified and the day's trite encounters hold for them no ruth. Your wasting moment is but a beggar's chant beseeching that the masses hear you and take hold of your somber laden words.
O trembling heart of mine, the beating war drum of an ancient field's battle, sound the charge of our communal rage! Keep pace to our valiant strides as we crash upon the woeful foes of the earth. You deliver through our veins the lust for wrath that keeps our devotion upon the smiting of this wicked fiend in our lives.
O lucid eyes of mine, tips of the iceberg thoughts that float through my mind, with every icy gaze you take, a moment is frozen. A cold storage you keep on all life's endeavors. Look not with scathing disapproval on this hour's deeds, but keep placid and soaked with hope for tomorrow's coming chance.
O feeble hands of mine, makeshift cages desperate to trap the fading days, learn to let go of this tormenting mirage. A lure to those you beloved will be to them only a taunt and will hold no promise of their return; instead, make of yourselves a sanctuary whose only offer is joy and fortitude from troubled lands beyond.
O beaten body of mine, this you are! Take notice of your integral self, and never doubt your striving cause.
I'm pissing syrup
and ☺☺☺☺ting crimson
my body rejects me
like a red headed step child
and I am frequently
beaten into submission
by morning
Yesterday is telling me
to beware of Tomorrow
and the night that it will bring
Bloodshot and stumbling
The interval of time dilation is true time
I see the world as a flip book of now
but i'm skipping pages
and teleporting home like usual
give me hell, not the jailor's cell.
Look at me! Decrepit.
☺☺☺☺ing dying and no-no-tice or care
We know.
one foot in the grave and
---
six feet
and will anybody please just touch me my withered hands/lips + tell me things I like
to hear
cradle my decaying face and call me 'dear'
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Finding Sierra Crest
By maple leaves and orchid hills,
through vanilla skies and scents of the past
finding Sierra Crest has never been so hard.
Nor this painful,
for she was by the corner
where tall trees danced with the gentle breeze,
flittering their majestic leaves.
And I,
just having landed from an eccentric sky
in all my fears and hopes
felt mostly insecure.
But Sierra,
oh how she was there for me
with good food and warmth,
with a bolstered roof to shoulder the rain,
She would be my first
if passion be personified.
To this day,
how I still hold her in such esteem
I can't forget her clear, pristine
features for they quarantined
any thoughts of despair and doubt.
So perhaps it's safe to say,
Sierra Crest found me
and for that I pray
I will see her once again.
Greed fuels your intentions
Open Declaration of War
Find someone else to hate
Under oath and overwhelmed
Compose a symphony of lies
Kicking and screaming, you'll never get your way
Yearn for the validation of your deceit
Only to find failure at every turn
Underneath the bravado lies a coward
Reality has caught up with you
Six feet under, fate has run it's course
Even the crows are absent
Long live your soul in limbo
For hell has denied you entry.
There's an Easter egg in there
URURxUR
UWUWxUW
I see beauty in the night's canvas
Generations of men came and left
But the night scape never faded away...
Graffiti on the skies -
Who drew the lines
Of world's edge?
There's Graffiti on the stars
As if they were pouring down
Because they're magic, not tragic.
We see Graffiti on the Moon
the Great Smile, Eternal lover
Smiles at every love song
And when the night's mouth
Swallows it all and darkness comes
The quiet that follows doesn't last long
And when the night gems shines once more
We ask ourselves
Who drew the graffiti on the skies?
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
My pancakes deserve
Syrup so she pours honey
Squeezed from her sweat shop
Her attire– Versace,
Her leash– Gucci, and her hair–
Like fettuccine
She twirls it beneath
Her iron crown, and warms her–
self with coat of arms
She hands me rosaries
As symbols of chastity
But I told her that
I’m not religious,
So my conquest for lust could
Be more prestigious
Lady of Milan,
Let me take you home before
We get lost in Rome
1.
I love you
and my tears bleed mud.
2.
And it was something even if you
can't say it in public. With difficulty
admit to yourself that I am sharp
as pine cones, and the world becomes greener.
3.
Now they're telling us we're all beautiful, so
agonizingly beautiful --
I might just die. If it's true for me, it's twice
as true for you.
My other better half wants to jump in the orange
sea: join her, leaving me with the semblance of "I am! I am!"
4.
We've determined three things. One,
I am a half in love and three-quarters
mad. Two, there is nothing more
difficult than keeping edges colorful. Three,
my better halves are all female so
naturally, I am nothing.
5.
To Claire: we mustn't be too quick. Yours
is the medium between beauty
and birds, and only it I trust
to sing the invalidating birdsong that half
moves men to tears and half keeps leaves
alive. Nightingales, envious and becoming,
wonder if they, too, can break a spirit
whose unity is only a product of words
(not even) sung by you and two year old
masking tape. No, I've never kissed you nor
have I ever written a poem for you until now
although I swear! it feels like I have! I can't
help it. The clock didn't choose to be round
but here! I've written you a sonnet.
6.
I enjoy breaking
things. Fall
O' hateful Mother!
The floor is soft
again.
7.
And if I could die for you, please
let me. Even if in a dream casually
shelved between trophies and occasionally
dusted, the sky will be fair ground
for twice-kissed memories to take the shape
of snakes and devour each other once more.
8.
Mandi, one day we can sit
and write poems together
they don't have to be beautiful
like we will be or like you
are (and I mean it!) but
they'll be happy like my
poems alone can never be.
I did say I liked your poems but what I didn't say
was how much they made me smile after looking back
at them, they breathed.
9.
Dust on the chairs, tears
in my second aortic arch!
Finally! I am free!
10.
The collection of breaths drawn
with a felt-tipped pen run circles
around us until someone falls down, breaking
a rhythm that only lasted for a day.
Two years and the ocean is silent
Two months and hearts hide behind cheap windows
Two weeks and I am quietly become eternity
11.
Allison dear I told you once I'd love
you always and forever and I wasn't
lying. I haven't changed one bit,
love has. Now instead of being stuck
in the throat it rolls off the tongue
and shatters on the floor, perfect
for use in those really ambitious
expressionist paintings.
12.
I asked you once
"Who are you?"
and you were silent. I asked
"What are you?"
and you smiled. Finally I asked
"Are you?" and in the sugarless
cacophony of everything, everything
said "maybe."
13.
One day I took a knife
to a telephone. It screamed.
It drives one off houses,
especially if he (or she)
watches from below.
14.
My biggest problem
is that I'll never
be able to fully
lose my mind
in front of you.
15.
Melody, it has come
to this! I am writing poems
and poems all confused
and most of them aren't even that good
this one especially seems
jumbled. I mean, what is that metaphor
comparing you to water even
doing here? Water can't be
beautiful. It's only water.
16.
End with a smile, you
silly little everything, you.
you died strong
brave and proud
crucified
on that fence away from town
the barbwire spear in your side
a reminder of why you were fighting
and who you were dying for
and where you were born
under
that glorious, glorious
Soweto sun
that throbs and draws
pearls of sweat on your forehead
and rubies of blood on your chest
falling now, heading home
soaking
that poor, poor
Soweto earth
cracked and parched and red
seared onto your living heart
even as it ebbs away
slowly
in a whisper
to silence
Round 86 will be up until April 6th or until 10 poems, first entries being Minion, Madmanquali and Motley Fool's .
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Jack-O-Lantern
Carved shards of flesh torn away--a ghastly display!
They forsake the day when we harbored such hope.
Where once we were held in each others' arms,
Now residue of disenchanting harms
Ravages through the weakened sinew
This body claims.
I waited for you. But when I peered through your eyes, I saw
A melting wax heart whose candlelight for me flickered small.
Haunted both by the same frights, we burned through the nights,
Strange satellites with reflections alone we recognized.
Both simply disguised like ghosts with no names.
I waited for you. But when I peered through your eyes, I saw
A melting wax heart whose candlelight for me flickered small.
Tricked by the way silence ensued,
I writhed throughout life as I waited for you.
I treated each plight as merely a bruise
Of impassioned nights. Lost in Summer's ruse,
Were you festering too?
I waited for you. But when I peered through your eyes, I saw
A melting wax heart whose candlelight for me flickered small.
Beneath the pearl of precious Nemi,
There I splash along the shore.
Aricia, my perfect city,
Tucked within my watchful grove.
Bathing in the lake, I wonder,
Will they find me?
Are they trying?
The ghost of Midas stands beside me,
Shedding tears in golden droves.
Above the haunted shipwreck cairns,
I let the water hold me close.
Asclepius, why did you spare me?
Serpent Holder, let him go!
Set me in his casket,
One more cobra to the basket,
Set in stars across the axis
Of the tilted Ophiuchus.
marvelous sun-fused apes
we are all primates with a pen
and twenty-five billion years later
our fists have turned limp
we were the paintings of our forefathers
and they in turn were the engraved murals of savages
manhandling untamed beasts with their thick clubs
and newly discovered warmth
they were all brutes unrefined
but within due time
ensured a hereditary cause
of lineage and survival
somewhere through that was the concept of thought
which promoted what is today called knowledge
and not long after faith was given birth
with entities and tall-tale glories
philosophies for death
was and still is a scary concept
now molded by the virtues of progression
so when we stare at family portraits
and look upon the canvas of our final days
will we not contemplate the very same things
from the very same earth eons ago?
A/N: this is about gayness. Not literally, I'm not coming out with this poem [:P!!!], but it's an imaginative exercise.
It's not the kind of thing you'd tell a friend,
standing on tiptoes at the bus stop to hear over the roar of the passing cars nearby
while the kid sitting on the bench
[with his chewing gum snapping loudly]
plays music out of his headphones at a level so loud that the profanity-laden lyrics are audible even from your vantage point,
and the old man leaning against the glass has his eyes closed contemplatively and his head tilted back just that little bit hinting how exhausted he is,
but it's the kind of thing that you hide within yourself deep inside until that time when the response,
filled with a wordless complacency as these things are, escapes from your mouth unwittingly,
but it's better this way, without any accidental proclamations.
Better that you are all in your respective rituals, secure.
Better that, at least, than you admit that deep down inside you feel that ____________.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
If she loves you or she doesn't,
If she makes you smile you mustn't,
Ever let her feel less beautiful than anything,
And every night she cries herself to sleep,
In my dreams, beauty didn't weep,
If she's wonderful then tell her,
Through her perfection let her,
Make your world so ever better,
And convert your tears into her smile,
For she will learn to love you all the while.
This is kinda written in song form, but I guess it passes as poetry.
Temporarily retired from the game
Thanks a bunch to Rivenor from Miraculous Recovery Signatures for the awesome sigpic!
Rage quit reason of the moment:
The Little Train of the Country Folk (café com pão, café com pão)
*clickety-clack*
*chuga chuga*
*chuga chuga*...
Don't give up yet
Hello Mr. Machinist
More gas in this train!
*chuga chuga*
*chuga chuga*
*chuga chuga*
More strength
more gas in this train
passing cattle
passing people
passing branches
of guava trees
Crossing bridges
rivers and plains ahead
ducks and geese
Run away, run away!
*Choo choo*
I need
Much strength, more gas
I am almost
passing out
*Cho choo*
Bringing news
and food
and lovers
and stuff
Hurry up
I'm departing
At full speed
Chuga chuga chuga chuga chuga chuga....
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?