Submissions for PRC Round 199 are now closed! Good luck, and be sure to join us again.
This is a reminder, the final date for submissions to "An Ode To the Runners," is March 11th! That's next monday! I'm accepting whatever drivel you're willing to call poetry, the point is to have fun, reminisce, honor or mock, whatever! Doesn't matter how long (your poem could be a title followed by one word, for all I care!), but try and submit! Let's show a little love for our community.
(Following protocol, I'll be using Blippy's first submission. I'll gladly use his second poem next round if he resubmits it)
toll
the bell
a lightening hell
the sound augurs an end
my colds are my best friends
I'm so
unwell
even coughing I can smell
that odor that aroma
of the ugly melanoma
in my soul
weak shells
I cried when Achilles fell
because isn't it much better
to be flawed than to be well
my end
denied
i laugh and know I'm crazy
just rend
my mind
communicated rabies
no julia serano
or postmodern PC theory,
and I'm trapped in giving up
my stupid 'privilege' to be lust
i paid tolls with time and sat on my hands -
slow awakenings and ethereal plans
the whole thing sounds just like a 6-year-old's dream
compulsive; impossible; and yet it seems
to be true
the end is here
the bells the bells
the past is dear
to gain a future
raze a shell
and all we'll do
is burn in hell
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
Staring at me with your toothy grin,
can't get up, chained within. Your eyes gleam. Hiding on my desk.
I stress from mental unrest knowing my legs are pinned between a vice.
highlighter caps.
I'd run from you if I thought you could catch me, but I suppose it's to late for that.
Highlighter......caps.
Now I'd fret trying to find a weekend, can't be polite, tomato fiends in the lights,
the highlights, of your cap, HIGHLIGHTER CAPS, wait,
that's my........snap back.
come back
chain me....
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Official Moderator of The [Gutter]
Think the MtgStaff is just swell? Join today! You too can be involved in an 8 year grudge and delete nearly 9000 of kpaca's posts!
To me mastery is when I the master be
In charge with the master key
Rule with my heart non-dastardly
But ask me to take on the task and see
Just how fast I flee from responsibility
I move quick in retreat with agility
But it's killin me an fillin me
With remorse but of I course I won't shout till I'm horse
Cause even that action would force
Me to move a bit, and while I love
to talk about doing it
The pooch remains unscrewed till I’m screwing it
Every move I make in the right direction
Is subject to subject me to derision
The decision to act is hard to take back
So I hope to lucksack to the right track on my first crack
I'll crawl through the butterflies
killed for the spider
Bury myself in charcoal
and light my own lighter
I'll give up my organs
my freedom and more
run into a padded cell
and let 'em lock the door
I'll walk north and walk south
east or out west
come to the mountainside
and climb without rest
I'll blister and frostbite
chap my lips in the wind
I'll start on this journey
and never hope for the end
I'll stand on the dark side
where the sun doesn't glow
scream down the avalanche
and die in the snow
I'll do all of this babe
just so you know
I'll do all these things
before I ever let you go
It’s been a year,
And if you asked me then,
I would tell you
That by now things would be different,
Things would have changed,
But they didn't.
They stayed the same,
And in all honesty,
Will likely never change.
Listen to the rain fall-
Hear it's solemn screams
The way it careens towards
some unspoken dream of
finer things than gray
skies and patchy clouds
and frigid wind
Listen to the rain fall-
The rhythmic pitter patter
of dancing doomsdays that
deliver us from daydreams
of ever feeling unfurled
of ever widening our wings
and breathing in the beauty
of the beasts that bound
through our miserable minds
like winter winds
through our jagged journeys
along pliant paths of
receeding redemption;
all things thrown astray
from this "Carpe Diem!"
"He's bleeding, beat him
"Then treat him to a toast!"
Because we roam when the rain falls-
Because in this town tomorrow
means a return to rainstarved
coastless, boastless
hopeless Hail Mary's in
pursuit of precious agua,
Because in a world where
water is what cleanses-
Arizona is the archetypal
Sinners cathedral,
All seek redemption
where it cannot be found
But here, safe and sound
in the repetition of no-clouds
and no-doubts
about the way we
fall to our knees
and pray that the gravel
doesn't make us bleed
Just like we pray that
the addiction will simply
flee from us like we flee
from the rest of the world
Like we flee from the curled
up machinations of death's hurled
words; like we stand against
the proclamations of forgiveness
Unwilling to accept the only escape
that we cannot escape from
We are torn between life
and the end of strife
we are torn between
and end to stings
and an end to things;
We are torn between
you and me, and this
is the devils algebra-
You carry the Y
And I'll carry the X
And both of our crosses
will never intersect
so we'll never come
to a conclusion
About the conclusion
of our delusions
about happiness and
we'll never relent
in trying to solve
the problem with no
relation to biblical
allusion
And when we discuss
the big S (and I don't
(mean snakes or sex
(or safety or solutions-
(though it's a solution
(of a sort)-
Listen to the rain fall
Because Zeldy's recent poem reminded me of it, this is actually a song I wrote after reading through Eliot's "Love Song..."
THE QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK
By Lyle Enright [YnysDyn]
Let us go then, you and I,
And take a walk beneath the sky
If you can bother to come down
An set a few things straight with me.
I have my share of questions
Perhaps best answered by your presence,
Though I know you'll likely kill me
For anything I have to say.
Now watch this sink into a senseless argument
of how sovereignty dictates time so ill-spent.
May you prefer to damn my soul or give me cancer,
There's yet an overwhelming question to which I still deserve an answer:
To your tune the greatest come and go;
Was I not written out a long time ago?
I don't care about the fame,
Or about the money, but I blame
You for still telling me that I could
Offer something great someday;
So your gifts I did display,
My audience called it "a disgrace"
And now the cadence of my patience
Ebbs and grows so very thin.
Now is this what you intended here for me?
The best and greatest mediocrity?
From pissing notes into my poems,
Vomiting verses into tomes,
Bound in books so full of bile,
And now you still ask me to pray?
In the room, the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo,
And to your tune, the greatest come and go;
Was I not written out a long time ago?
I grow old, I grow old,
At least I feel so ****ing old;
I'm so damn tired of trying to find
The place prepared for me so well -
So if you still intend to show me,
Then I hope that you can find me
As I make my rounds and whore myself
At cheap midnight hotels.
There may be courage there in telling you I'm sorry,
There may be honor here in telling you I'll wait,
But I fear that from the moment that you told me I could fly
On such feeble wings as these, it was too late.
In the room, the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo,
And to such heights I cannot help but go
Though you wrote me out a long time ago.
And mermaids sing into the cold
Until human voices wake my soul,
And I drown.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a far more vicious motivator." - Sherlock
For three years I had sought
poems. Thinking they would appear
from nothing, I turned, a key,
as if locking away was itself
an act of poetry, a mortifying
submission to patience. But
nothing is still. Poems defy
entropy: I spit into the lock
and the knob turns.
Here I stand
seventeen miles from Wayland
on the eighth month, day seventeen, year 2010.
I see such shapes
such menacing forms
reaching out to me with outstretched, bloody, broken hands.
I find that I cannot run.
I wish to move but my body does refuse.
Surroundings disintegrate from view
and I can't seem to tell false from true.
Nothing escapes their ever-encompassing gaze.
Absolute like a noose swinging in the gentle breeze.
These hands, their eyes, they lock about my form and call - they speak - they scream in me!
In this place
these wicked shadows do displace.
And throughout all the darkness, I cannot find the space.
I feel structure
dissolve into ash
yet I do not care to know of their malicious face.
What is this I feel inside?
Nothingness. Sensations dead, I feel not one.
I would wonder what is next to come
but I feel that my time here is done.
I become of the one, a sheet of black and of none.
A great something that defiles the light of the sun.
I am all, all am I, as with all that has came and is to come, nothing can run from me!
In the summer where the birds cry, it resides
Sitting there, is no words to describe it
Thinking how to not be simply outwit
Treat it fairly well, it will start to whine
You want to do nothing but let it shine
Do not worry, wait for some, do not quit
It only goes forward, for it will fit
Upon your success, he puzzles your mind
Then from there it tests against your free will
All has gone wrong, for your mistake eats away
It only feeds off death and surely thrill
Murder leaves it’s crooked heart to decay
It will gladly bring you to drown in tears
It wants nothing but to expose your fears.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not." - John Lennon
A tender touch
Fell from the clouds
A warm hand
Stroked my brow
I gazed into his eyes
lost in the glory
Love raining forever
Pouring unto me
His light
Granting me sight
To see the things
Beautiful things
Those which he made
For me
with a bag on my head
so nobody can see
the makeup on my body
oh they wish i was dead
necrophiliac dreams
the pretending so shoddy
for one, i breathe
in and out like a sieve
for two, i'm warm
like a blanket's bad touch
for three, i'm at home
no dirt on my throne
i've sterilized everything
rubbers and private things
imagine what you can't have
conceive conception as
more than dark shimmering
more than just plain ****ing
the dark doesn't change the feel
the spark won't ignite when real.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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 gain without pain
no way out without praying
no time I can't stay
appointments already made
a bolt action with blood stains
a dead rapist with no name
to me they're all the same
just a bullet hitting a brain
no I'm not playing
the rules of the game
have just changed
my war will be waged
my cause will be praised
but not for my grace
I'm known in all places
with no hate
but for those who rape
and murder with no statement
their bodies in my basement
lake of fire you can't face it
no cops will be chasing
they can't keep with my pace
I am the justice without chains
So if this is the cross I need to take up
I open my hand
and place in it a gun
I'm so ******ng angry
cause no one is taking
the lives of these criminals
who keep on raping
the system
and turn it around on the victims
of the crimes they comit
and the law won't admit
sacrifices need to be made
to change all this sh*t
so if this is the life
you want for your child
it may take them awhile
to learn how to breathe
when they open their eyes
just to see
that the world you gave them
wasn't ready for me
to become the angel of death
not the first but the best
and I won't sit and rest
till I put away all the rest
of the evil that infests
the streets of my city
this is what happens
when you don't punish the guilty
preachers sheets have gotten so filthy
there's nowhere left to turn
and no more second chances to earn
and the stars in the sky
are just holes in their minds
flashes of light as the first hits 'em high
then five more with their names on the side
fly through the air
like the changing of time
when Ward Weavers in a grave
Miranda and Ashley are safe
in the arms of the savior
I'll get a key from the mayor
and shove it down his throat
for molesting his neighbor
and for all this behavior
they'll come to arrest me
but a light from above will caress me
a voice will address me
saying This is my son
with whom I am well pleased
and those who look on
will fall to their knees
as a third of the world
dusts in the breeze
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Thanks to Xenphire @ Inkfox for the amazing new sig
“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments
are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
You scare me
You are so beautiful
and so radiant
and so divine and how
gracefully you glide across my eyes
You scare me
You are benign,
and like a tumor, sprouting
up in the pleasure center of my
mournful little mind
You scare me
You have terrified Mr.Dance with death,
Mr. dive into the wolfs den,
you have frightened the man
who would be fear
You scare me
In the best of ways
Not like the dark scares a child gone astray
Not like the smoker is scared of the ash tray
Not like the sun frightens the petty little stars
Not like death swallows up and devours/
all our petty little scars
and not like
distance scatters our marks
You scare me
In the best of ways
You scare me like a dream scares the sleeper
Like perfection scares the painter
or Like words scare the poet
You scare me
You wear me down
And tear me to shreds
And terrify me and claw at my head
As you scale my wall and breathe in what I've bled-
But why that makes me happy?
Don't you dare make that clear.
Submissions for PRC Round 201 are now closed! We have reached the limit for submissions in a single round (12), so I'm now opening up submissions for PRC Round 202!
And so my form loomed
At the dark side of the moon
And then: caught in the turbulent rush
By my seventh bell's peal,
The great Water Wheel
Drove me down once again,
Into the hush.
Drop by drop, peace by piece,
Begging for release
As my bones were poured out like water
And I, older than old,
In a deluge of souls,
On the face that would be my new father’s.
Beginning again, the cycle of sin;
I've given more than I can take:
Pleasures all mine
For ten thousand resigned
Yet for all these, I could not escape.
And so this I choose,
And for what better use?
I will simply be born here again.
Women's bodies will please me
And chemicals ease me,
And I'll do it all over again.
My deeds, unaccountable,
My task, insurmountable,
I know I will never be free.
Unapologetic for hedonism tantric,
And perversion means nothing to me.
In time, that great lie, you and I will meet
And a light in your brown eyes I'll see:
"The lovely pariah who escaped Samsara,"
If you want truth, you know where to find me:
Out of tune on the dark side of the moon.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a far more vicious motivator." - Sherlock
Cerebral explosions.
Mortifying illusions.
Thoughtless eviction (and)
Mass confusion
Eyes open, no vision
lids drop, its 20/20
Fingers scratch at the flesh
The demons are home!
They tingle down your spine
But the bloods under your nails
Shrieks begin to cry out
The night will prevail!
Blurry memories, from a life once lost
Recollection of thought
She was six years old when things grew dark
A fungus, a disease
Ever-expanding like mossy tree bark
Growing to the sky only so high
But the roots going deeper
Closer to Hell than to the gates of your keeper
Delivering bruises and marks,
You bred this monster
At such a young age
steadily growing everyday,
but only to be fed by pain
Thirsty for a buzz
The same feels from the womb
-Raised on such powerful substance,
How can she now lose?-
No example of which path to take
Only the experience of yours
Dirty brain and fogged outlook
Will she take her life like you took yours?
She finds you on the couch that day,
After walking eight blocks home ,
Almost hit in traffic, being made fun for her smelly clothes
School is torture, no one understands her
In trouble for filthy language, never doing homework
But to her, it's normal
So why bother changing?
But just maybe because mommy sleeps now
She'll have a chance at greatness
This is a reminder, the final date for submissions to "An Ode To the Runners," is March 11th! That's next monday! I'm accepting whatever drivel you're willing to call poetry, the point is to have fun, reminisce, honor or mock, whatever! Doesn't matter how long (your poem could be a title followed by one word, for all I care!), but try and submit! Let's show a little love for our community.
(Following protocol, I'll be using Blippy's first submission. I'll gladly use his second poem next round if he resubmits it)
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
toll
the bell
a lightening hell
the sound augurs an end
my colds are my best friends
I'm so
unwell
even coughing I can smell
that odor that aroma
of the ugly melanoma
in my soul
weak shells
I cried when Achilles fell
because isn't it much better
to be flawed than to be well
my end
denied
i laugh and know I'm crazy
just rend
my mind
communicated rabies
no julia serano
or postmodern PC theory,
and I'm trapped in giving up
my stupid 'privilege' to be lust
i paid tolls with time and sat on my hands -
slow awakenings and ethereal plans
the whole thing sounds just like a 6-year-old's dream
compulsive; impossible; and yet it seems
to be true
the end is here
the bells the bells
the past is dear
to gain a future
raze a shell
and all we'll do
is burn in hell
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
Staring at me with your toothy grin,
can't get up, chained within. Your eyes gleam. Hiding on my desk.
I stress from mental unrest knowing my legs are pinned between a vice.
highlighter caps.
I'd run from you if I thought you could catch me, but I suppose it's to late for that.
Highlighter......caps.
Now I'd fret trying to find a weekend, can't be polite, tomato fiends in the lights,
the highlights, of your cap, HIGHLIGHTER CAPS, wait,
that's my........snap back.
come back
chain me....
Fortuitous ventures spent asleep.
Watch behind the window pane
as one last drop falls into the deep.
Incredulous creatures left to weep.
Run beyond the hourglass
as one last grain flies beyond its keep.
Impetuous whispers left to reap.
Hide between the paper lines
as one last word puts us all to sleep.
In charge with the master key
Rule with my heart non-dastardly
But ask me to take on the task and see
Just how fast I flee from responsibility
I move quick in retreat with agility
But it's killin me an fillin me
With remorse but of I course I won't shout till I'm horse
Cause even that action would force
Me to move a bit, and while I love
to talk about doing it
The pooch remains unscrewed till I’m screwing it
Every move I make in the right direction
Is subject to subject me to derision
The decision to act is hard to take back
So I hope to lucksack to the right track on my first crack
like pen pencil computer
sometimes prolific
sometimes a neuter
by Amory McKeever (ICM80)
I'll crawl through the butterflies
killed for the spider
Bury myself in charcoal
and light my own lighter
I'll give up my organs
my freedom and more
run into a padded cell
and let 'em lock the door
I'll walk north and walk south
east or out west
come to the mountainside
and climb without rest
I'll blister and frostbite
chap my lips in the wind
I'll start on this journey
and never hope for the end
I'll stand on the dark side
where the sun doesn't glow
scream down the avalanche
and die in the snow
I'll do all of this babe
just so you know
I'll do all these things
before I ever let you go
Thanks to Xenphire @ Inkfox for the amazing new sig
“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments
are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
A map is an empty place
Just paper on the table with lines and names
A textured approximation
Impossible to scale
Yet the map in my head is not empty
There are roads and cobbled streets
Brick houses abandoned buildings
Massive cathedrals that tourists haunt
With their footfalls and travel books
Their language in flux their currency in transition
The map in my head is dissonant
A brightness that pains my ears waiting
As my travel time is wasted at the port
By the long queue held by the guard
Who must stamp my papers verify my picture
I am at the mercy of his announcements his eye
The map in my head is a reminder
A collage a memorabilia a crumpled postcard
A collection of stress points and trauma
Histrionic reactions over misplaced items
About the thing misspoken
an argument about what to do next
But always the map in my head indicates
The new eatery found by accident
The fellow stranger who caught me
Lecherously staring at him and his noisy children
The once beautiful people now tanning at the beach
Self-conscious of crow’s feet on their cheeks
I can taste the time and smell it but never own it
The time is what it is and what it was
Like the clouds whose lights and colors
Made my heart flutter in medias res
This map is an empty place
Just flesh on the ether without lines and names
A digital replication
Mindlessly shared without expense
Yet this map in my head refuses
And winds itself from avenues and lost streets
Circling dark towers and cathedral ruins
Looking for Roland haunting this field
With his footfalls and burning tongue
His language static and his currency of hopeless stories
The map inside his head is a consonant
A misplaced vowel a phoneme a what
Wasted by speech and writing
Waiting at the long queue his mind
Unable to verify its standing to the truth
The reality grafted in his memory
A collage a memorabilia of ifs and possibilities
The collection of stress points and trauma
For what else is language but the thing misspoken
an argument about what to do next
And always this map inside my head indicates
The unknown pending accident
The stranger who will catch my eye
Glaring at Roland and his noisy children
The ugly brats screaming in the streets
Self-conscious of the blood nestled on their cheeks
I can taste the time and smell it but never own it
It is what it is and what it was
Like the clouds whose lights and colors
Made my heart stop so I may know
I am lost and cannot be found
It’s been a year,
And if you asked me then,
I would tell you
That by now things would be different,
Things would have changed,
But they didn't.
They stayed the same,
And in all honesty,
Will likely never change.
My Mafia Stats - My Helpdesk
G Omnath, Locus of Mana U Arcum Dagsson BUG The Mimeoplasm GW Gaddock Teeg X Karn, Silver Golem
Do you remember how to tie your lace?
It felt strange to slap a diamond face
Can you imagine what's wrong in me?
There's so many symptoms I can't ignore
Because I was wrong
I could never feel
Such beauty under my nose
It was never good to me
I am a monster
I refused to see
The delicate patterns of the broken glass
I am a loser
I will never reach
The man I aimed to be.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Hear it's solemn screams
The way it careens towards
some unspoken dream of
finer things than gray
skies and patchy clouds
and frigid wind
Listen to the rain fall-
The rhythmic pitter patter
of dancing doomsdays that
deliver us from daydreams
of ever feeling unfurled
of ever widening our wings
and breathing in the beauty
of the beasts that bound
through our miserable minds
like winter winds
through our jagged journeys
along pliant paths of
receeding redemption;
all things thrown astray
from this "Carpe Diem!"
"He's bleeding, beat him
"Then treat him to a toast!"
Because we roam when the rain falls-
Because in this town tomorrow
means a return to rainstarved
coastless, boastless
hopeless Hail Mary's in
pursuit of precious agua,
Because in a world where
water is what cleanses-
Arizona is the archetypal
Sinners cathedral,
All seek redemption
where it cannot be found
But here, safe and sound
in the repetition of no-clouds
and no-doubts
about the way we
fall to our knees
and pray that the gravel
doesn't make us bleed
Just like we pray that
the addiction will simply
flee from us like we flee
from the rest of the world
Like we flee from the curled
up machinations of death's hurled
words; like we stand against
the proclamations of forgiveness
Unwilling to accept the only escape
that we cannot escape from
We are torn between life
and the end of strife
we are torn between
and end to stings
and an end to things;
We are torn between
you and me, and this
is the devils algebra-
You carry the Y
And I'll carry the X
And both of our crosses
will never intersect
so we'll never come
to a conclusion
About the conclusion
of our delusions
about happiness and
we'll never relent
in trying to solve
the problem with no
relation to biblical
allusion
And when we discuss
the big S (and I don't
(mean snakes or sex
(or safety or solutions-
(though it's a solution
(of a sort)-
Listen to the rain fall
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
THE QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK
By Lyle Enright [YnysDyn]
Let us go then, you and I,
And take a walk beneath the sky
If you can bother to come down
An set a few things straight with me.
I have my share of questions
Perhaps best answered by your presence,
Though I know you'll likely kill me
For anything I have to say.
Now watch this sink into a senseless argument
of how sovereignty dictates time so ill-spent.
May you prefer to damn my soul or give me cancer,
There's yet an overwhelming question to which I still deserve an answer:
To your tune the greatest come and go;
Was I not written out a long time ago?
I don't care about the fame,
Or about the money, but I blame
You for still telling me that I could
Offer something great someday;
So your gifts I did display,
My audience called it "a disgrace"
And now the cadence of my patience
Ebbs and grows so very thin.
Now is this what you intended here for me?
The best and greatest mediocrity?
From pissing notes into my poems,
Vomiting verses into tomes,
Bound in books so full of bile,
And now you still ask me to pray?
In the room, the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo,
And to your tune, the greatest come and go;
Was I not written out a long time ago?
I grow old, I grow old,
At least I feel so ****ing old;
I'm so damn tired of trying to find
The place prepared for me so well -
So if you still intend to show me,
Then I hope that you can find me
As I make my rounds and whore myself
At cheap midnight hotels.
There may be courage there in telling you I'm sorry,
There may be honor here in telling you I'll wait,
But I fear that from the moment that you told me I could fly
On such feeble wings as these, it was too late.
In the room, the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo,
And to such heights I cannot help but go
Though you wrote me out a long time ago.
And mermaids sing into the cold
Until human voices wake my soul,
And I drown.
URW Delversnipe (Modern)
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
I've made mistakes
I could honestly say
And it made my life turn out like this
Snort some drugs
Count some cash
There is no love behind this kiss
I've made mistakes
I'm quite aware
And now I have to constantly question
If she's here
For my love
Or only for my countless possessions
I've made mistakes
Of course I have
There have been misguided romances
I took the chance
I had my fall
But life doesn't give any second chances
My Mafia Stats - My Helpdesk
G Omnath, Locus of Mana U Arcum Dagsson BUG The Mimeoplasm GW Gaddock Teeg X Karn, Silver Golem
poems. Thinking they would appear
from nothing, I turned, a key,
as if locking away was itself
an act of poetry, a mortifying
submission to patience. But
nothing is still. Poems defy
entropy: I spit into the lock
and the knob turns.
Here I stand
seventeen miles from Wayland
on the eighth month, day seventeen, year 2010.
I see such shapes
such menacing forms
reaching out to me with outstretched, bloody, broken hands.
I find that I cannot run.
I wish to move but my body does refuse.
Surroundings disintegrate from view
and I can't seem to tell false from true.
Nothing escapes their ever-encompassing gaze.
Absolute like a noose swinging in the gentle breeze.
These hands, their eyes, they lock about my form and call - they speak - they scream in me!
In this place
these wicked shadows do displace.
And throughout all the darkness, I cannot find the space.
I feel structure
dissolve into ash
yet I do not care to know of their malicious face.
What is this I feel inside?
Nothingness. Sensations dead, I feel not one.
I would wonder what is next to come
but I feel that my time here is done.
I become of the one, a sheet of black and of none.
A great something that defiles the light of the sun.
I am all, all am I, as with all that has came and is to come, nothing can run from me!
In the summer where the birds cry, it resides
Sitting there, is no words to describe it
Thinking how to not be simply outwit
Treat it fairly well, it will start to whine
You want to do nothing but let it shine
Do not worry, wait for some, do not quit
It only goes forward, for it will fit
Upon your success, he puzzles your mind
Then from there it tests against your free will
All has gone wrong, for your mistake eats away
It only feeds off death and surely thrill
Murder leaves it’s crooked heart to decay
It will gladly bring you to drown in tears
It wants nothing but to expose your fears.
Fell from the clouds
A warm hand
Stroked my brow
I gazed into his eyes
lost in the glory
Love raining forever
Pouring unto me
His light
Granting me sight
To see the things
Beautiful things
Those which he made
For me
with a bag on my head
so nobody can see
the makeup on my body
oh they wish i was dead
necrophiliac dreams
the pretending so shoddy
for one, i breathe
in and out like a sieve
for two, i'm warm
like a blanket's bad touch
for three, i'm at home
no dirt on my throne
i've sterilized everything
rubbers and private things
imagine what you can't have
conceive conception as
more than dark shimmering
more than just plain ****ing
the dark doesn't change the feel
the spark won't ignite when real.
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 gain without pain
no way out without praying
no time I can't stay
appointments already made
a bolt action with blood stains
a dead rapist with no name
to me they're all the same
just a bullet hitting a brain
no I'm not playing
the rules of the game
have just changed
my war will be waged
my cause will be praised
but not for my grace
I'm known in all places
with no hate
but for those who rape
and murder with no statement
their bodies in my basement
lake of fire you can't face it
no cops will be chasing
they can't keep with my pace
I am the justice without chains
So if this is the cross I need to take up
I open my hand
and place in it a gun
I'm so ******ng angry
cause no one is taking
the lives of these criminals
who keep on raping
the system
and turn it around on the victims
of the crimes they comit
and the law won't admit
sacrifices need to be made
to change all this sh*t
so if this is the life
you want for your child
it may take them awhile
to learn how to breathe
when they open their eyes
just to see
that the world you gave them
wasn't ready for me
to become the angel of death
not the first but the best
and I won't sit and rest
till I put away all the rest
of the evil that infests
the streets of my city
this is what happens
when you don't punish the guilty
preachers sheets have gotten so filthy
there's nowhere left to turn
and no more second chances to earn
and the stars in the sky
are just holes in their minds
flashes of light as the first hits 'em high
then five more with their names on the side
fly through the air
like the changing of time
when Ward Weavers in a grave
Miranda and Ashley are safe
in the arms of the savior
I'll get a key from the mayor
and shove it down his throat
for molesting his neighbor
and for all this behavior
they'll come to arrest me
but a light from above will caress me
a voice will address me
saying This is my son
with whom I am well pleased
and those who look on
will fall to their knees
as a third of the world
dusts in the breeze
Thanks to Xenphire @ Inkfox for the amazing new sig
“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments
are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Tears flow from my swollen eyes
Carving streams down my face
and into the river
Where my friend is scattered
like pen pencil computer
sometimes prolific
sometimes a neuter
You are so beautiful
and so radiant
and so divine and how
gracefully you glide across my eyes
You scare me
You are benign,
and like a tumor, sprouting
up in the pleasure center of my
mournful little mind
You scare me
You have terrified Mr.Dance with death,
Mr. dive into the wolfs den,
you have frightened the man
who would be fear
You scare me
In the best of ways
Not like the dark scares a child gone astray
Not like the smoker is scared of the ash tray
Not like the sun frightens the petty little stars
Not like death swallows up and devours/
all our petty little scars
and not like
distance scatters our marks
You scare me
In the best of ways
You scare me like a dream scares the sleeper
Like perfection scares the painter
or Like words scare the poet
You scare me
You wear me down
And tear me to shreds
And terrify me and claw at my head
As you scale my wall and breathe in what I've bled-
But why that makes me happy?
Don't you dare make that clear.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
By Lyle Enright [YnysDyn]
And so my form loomed
At the dark side of the moon
And then: caught in the turbulent rush
By my seventh bell's peal,
The great Water Wheel
Drove me down once again,
Into the hush.
Drop by drop, peace by piece,
Begging for release
As my bones were poured out like water
And I, older than old,
In a deluge of souls,
On the face that would be my new father’s.
Beginning again, the cycle of sin;
I've given more than I can take:
Pleasures all mine
For ten thousand resigned
Yet for all these, I could not escape.
And so this I choose,
And for what better use?
I will simply be born here again.
Women's bodies will please me
And chemicals ease me,
And I'll do it all over again.
My deeds, unaccountable,
My task, insurmountable,
I know I will never be free.
Unapologetic for hedonism tantric,
And perversion means nothing to me.
In time, that great lie, you and I will meet
And a light in your brown eyes I'll see:
"The lovely pariah who escaped Samsara,"
If you want truth, you know where to find me:
Out of tune on the dark side of the moon.
URW Delversnipe (Modern)
Cerebral explosions.
Mortifying illusions.
Thoughtless eviction (and)
Mass confusion
Eyes open, no vision
lids drop, its 20/20
Fingers scratch at the flesh
The demons are home!
They tingle down your spine
But the bloods under your nails
Shrieks begin to cry out
The night will prevail!
Blurry memories, from a life once lost
Recollection of thought
She was six years old when things grew dark
A fungus, a disease
Ever-expanding like mossy tree bark
Growing to the sky only so high
But the roots going deeper
Closer to Hell than to the gates of your keeper
Delivering bruises and marks,
You bred this monster
At such a young age
steadily growing everyday,
but only to be fed by pain
Thirsty for a buzz
The same feels from the womb
-Raised on such powerful substance,
How can she now lose?-
No example of which path to take
Only the experience of yours
Dirty brain and fogged outlook
Will she take her life like you took yours?
She finds you on the couch that day,
After walking eight blocks home ,
Almost hit in traffic, being made fun for her smelly clothes
School is torture, no one understands her
In trouble for filthy language, never doing homework
But to her, it's normal
So why bother changing?
But just maybe because mommy sleeps now
She'll have a chance at greatness
A beard and a hoodie,
A lukewarm beer,
Mouths speaking
Of high school years.
A toothless grin,
Speech is slurred,
Reminiscing on how
Good times were.
They shout and scream,
With a little gruff,
Sitting on street corners
Shaking tin cups.
My Mafia Stats - My Helpdesk
G Omnath, Locus of Mana U Arcum Dagsson BUG The Mimeoplasm GW Gaddock Teeg X Karn, Silver Golem