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Offlinejunkyardgod
A psychedelic mess.
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Last seen: 1 year, 10 months
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: CidneyIndole]
    #14013301 - 02/23/11 12:38 PM (12 years, 11 months ago)

CidneyIndole, you inspired this one with your use of the word 'sepulchre' - hail!
It doesn't have a name yet...

when i sleep,
dripping forth deadly dreams
of primordial pagan lust,
my archaic insanity ascends the tomb,
the sepulchre of the moon

when i deteriorate,
corrode and bloodily inflate
towards the ashen atmosphere,
my ancient insanity ascends the stars,
the throne of mighty mars

when i die,
swallowed by the midnight sky,
embraced by transient nighttime,
my aching insanity ascends the sun,
the heart of my beloved one


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InvisibleCidneyIndole
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Registered: 05/16/05
Posts: 4,761
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: junkyardgod]
    #14014609 - 02/23/11 03:47 PM (12 years, 11 months ago)

That was inspired by reading something I wrote?

I'm flattered.

Espeically since that's dark and dripping with imagery. :grin::thumbup: haha

BTW there was recently a "poetry" thread in the pub if you missed it. Mainly meant to be "post poems you like by other poets" kind of deal, but OP welcomed our submissions, so being an a-hole a bunch of my stuff ended up in that thread. (Though in fairness I posted 3 works of others haha)

IDK, might put up some stuff later. I hate feeling like an attentionwhore, though, and I have enough of this stuff lying around to choke people. :shrug:

haha


--------------------
------------------------
I am me. We are You.


Edited by CidneyIndole (02/23/11 03:48 PM)


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Offlinedageo18
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Re: Hothouse blooms [Re: circastes]
    #14017377 - 02/23/11 11:46 PM (12 years, 11 months ago)

Quote:

circastes said:
Quote:

junkyardgod said:
Quote:

circastes said:
I was having a bit of fun the other night:

Quickly now, the night grew with filling foxholes, filling with the enemy of darkness, and piercing green eyes. Stronger, it flexed its muscles – behold, light's bane – the decay of the sun! Rotting in the solar system beyond sight, while the creatures of the night take heed to the cool black blanket. It is time for the reign of the supernal, of the beings of dusk and darkness. The sky has descended to Earth. The toothless wanderers; the spider-kind, the moth, the beetle – their jaws are clawed, hideous beings they are... and yet so perfect in their hideousness. From whence do they come? From the fountain of nature, which cares not for the subjects in its great dream. Merely springing forth the victims and the victors into a fray formed of day's decay. Mingling, matching, and some unmatched. Such a powerful disgrace. But alas, can't you see it is just my human eye contorting the picture? These creatures, spinning their webs, scurrying to and fro, ultimately are so sublime – almost impossible. Nature, the mother of the impossible plays with its figurines. And this night a tear drop falls from the edge of a leaf, to stream down the cheek of a precipice. How Nature loves to keep its subjects on edge! This play, this terrible, evil play, will spill over into a mammalian day, but these words are so human! The forest has its own language. It speaks in something far exquisite to the human tongue, and all in all, it has its fun. What can I say? I pray on my porch for the cry of day, but here I miss the sleeping beauty. What really happens out there? It's not mine to be sure, but it is of my essence, man is made but from clay. Slither me this! A bite of preposterous pain, all in vain, shrieks the cell in my vein. Wreaking havoc, reeking of bacterial pestilence, oh my, can't you see, I am divided the matter of Nature, it is such a mess, my guess, really, but what say THEE?




That's fucking beautiful man. Delicious writing!



Thanks dude! I love it when I get good feedback like that. :grin:

Sometimes I think I could do better if I went back over it and fixed the structure up, but it feels fradulent then, like there's no flow or life to correcting mistakes as there is to writing the whole thing at once.




Well your getting more of that feedback u like. That was a trip to me, beginning to end. It all went together so seamlessly and it just painted such a vivid picture, keep up your vision.


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OfflineJukon
blood on the canvas
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Registered: 02/18/11
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Loc: tx
Last seen: 12 years, 10 months
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: dageo18]
    #14017464 - 02/24/11 12:00 AM (12 years, 11 months ago)

I dig this thread.

Time Lapse--

3 days, 72 hours, 4,320 minutes
and I'm going for seconds, but I'm
restless, several binges later my eyes
manage to escape from their sockets,
sunken into the depths of the hatred I have, for myself.
The uppers used to be enough to keep me
from drowning myself with liquor, smokey lungs
and slight self destruction. Am I alive?
Smoke made figurines lead the way,
inticed by the shine of her cherry red heels.
Capsule like body, hips of a different species,
and the way she seeps into my skin, making my sweat
repel, run, plan a secret rendezvous
with the hairs that use to stand up tall
closely surrounded by the goosebumps.



I've never been afraid of heights, but right now
I'm afraid of falling, crashing, sinking
into the ocean that swallowed my salty tears.
The ghosts that hide in the back of my mind
come at me like a tidal wave, breaking her greetings.
She rests at my feet, untying my shoes and as I
break free, and begin to run. There she is,
tears like fountains, and screams like a horror film.
Am I alive? We never expected to be torn apart
by the thing that brought us so close,
sewn together by common denominators and
factors that made us unique, our love solving
the root of every problem we faced.
Divine teachings, I took you, under the wings
I earned by guiding you through, the light.


And here we are, right back to the beginning
another sleepless night, a complete 180.
I'm tired of talking mathematics when it comes to
something more. Am I alive? If I was, I wouldn't be
letting you walk away, though you're stumbling.
Drunk from soaking away the sweat that you
came to love so much. Drunk from the tears
that you kissed away, on rainy nights.
The windows continue to play tricks, taunt me
with the memory of your shadow lurking,
behind the bushes I always neglected to trim.
I would get to those tomorrow, or the day after.
I know we both took the easy route, running
from the ones who would guide us the right way.
but, you have to say..it was a good ride while it lasted.


Although, you'll forever remain imprinted on me,
physically, the scars. Emotionally, the memories and
broken heart. I wouldn't change that for anything
because it's better to have loved and lost, than
to never have loved at all. And goddamn, I love
the monster. I...
love you.

(I am on many different rap battle sites, so yes this is MY original work. my names are jukon, kon, konquerer, kanvas, and/or konfluence)


Edited by Jukon (02/24/11 12:51 AM)


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Offlinecircastes
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: junkyardgod]
    #14021288 - 02/24/11 05:41 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Quote:

junkyardgod said:
CidneyIndole, you inspired this one with your use of the word 'sepulchre' - hail!
It doesn't have a name yet...

when i sleep,
dripping forth deadly dreams
of primordial pagan lust,
my archaic insanity ascends the tomb,
the sepulchre of the moon

when i deteriorate,
corrode and bloodily inflate
towards the ashen atmosphere,
my ancient insanity ascends the stars,
the throne of mighty mars

when i die,
swallowed by the midnight sky,
embraced by transient nighttime,
my aching insanity ascends the sun,
the heart of my beloved one



Good stuffs.



I typed up this really intense stuff that sort of expands on what I did in that last poem, but it's on a laptop that I don't think is in the house at the moment. When I get it back, I'll touch 'em up and share them.


--------------------
My solitude...
My shield...
My armour...

TESTED
WITH
FULL
FORCE


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Offlinedageo18
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: circastes]
    #14023619 - 02/25/11 01:05 AM (12 years, 10 months ago)

I am sane insanity. Anything less would be an insult.  I wonder why I pull myself back in, but I know the answer. That's what I want, I need. I try to reach up, fight to get it back, but it's not sane at all. What I find when I reach up is a fraud, I only thought it to be real.  For so long I've reached up, and touched fog, it's easier. With the real comes the pain, but the fraud hurts too.  So which one do I choose?  Being indecisive doesn't help.  And getting excited at every sane insanity embarrasses it away. Then comes back pain, cause I see I cant meet that day. Even if, well future just looks worse. And if I have to start over, how can I live up to my first birth without the same worth, without a knowledgeable answer to my questions, without environments that hope. Then comes the question where's the end of the rope.  Would scissors help. No one to answer but me, because that's a burden not for another. Answer is always no, but now I'm stepping on my own feet, no belt, pants fell, of course I'm tripping. Embarrassed again.


Edited by dageo18 (02/25/11 01:09 AM)


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Offlinecircastes
Big Questions Small Head
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: circastes]
    #14023680 - 02/25/11 01:21 AM (12 years, 10 months ago)

II

Rearrange the hearty spoon, face it broth-ward, leave alone the mystical tunes. Down goes the dial next to the table, in your ears rings a new fable. The waiter's eyes are from the future, deep inside some drug in her has sutured, wound of unlit modern days and finding pint in due deluge. Figure the spectrum like some unscientific instrument, bleed the frequency through your veins, let the spill mop up the fantastic skyward march to Heavenmore, make it chore and never bore. Hell's reach comes with the icy grip of depression, saluting the slipped pride from your jaw. Speak no more. Candle-lits and beauty-winds face the darkness like it was your past attempting to rendezvous with the present, seeing your headlights, and running off into the growing night. Big is he now! Ten feet tall, a man of mysterious hair length and dark boots unable to really control his terror at being Blackness. But there he goes with your foes and laughs drunkenly to day's death throes.

III

Free-seeking frog legs compartment the stellar huts on High Hill Way, sending shivers down the spine of Death and rusting its scythe to mere dust blown in Death's eyes, but He does not scream. Wasteful words seep down the megalith in the dusty sun and leave auxiliary light sources to behold the monument, one dedicated to planet Birth. The mind's eye grasps a gallery so lost within the psyche that beggars follow the thinker out, and coin drops from your mouth to speak them away. Consciousness is not key, but lock. The key is unknown, formless, somewhere lost in an estate behind a gnarling gate, locked again once by rust, twice by wind. The key melts in the presence of delusion, and drips away into the sewers of mind – the true culprit, the mutiny tool. The evil You can grasp with its deformed paws at the sewer's cover but never will delusion not send the key into the wretch.

V

Forcibly night came spinning down the spider's web, and in a flash she said, “Oh not the kingdom come of my kill be done, seven as it is eight my curse.” For she had not spun the criss-cross pattern of silky pearls, one by one strung around the flies hunting dung. It was not her fault she walked the Earth, only it seemed she has gleamed her loaf of bitter bites to unearth the stormy mankind. Nay, it is impossible to leave innocent, but on her cloak stains see the day and blood lay on the hay. Guilty, of a crime of consciousness-cremation. Desolation of the inward mouth swallowing her uncertain thrill, choking. Find me this: a kiss not conceivable, a dress not worth its weight in mould, and two dozen angles of the Rapture never before seen by human oculars, then begins and ends your frivolous play of running away. Welcome back, to a world of flesh-walking decay!

---

The numbers that are missing are just the ones I left out because they weren't really that good I thought.

Either you'll see some magic or you'll see a bunch of jibberish. Up to you.

I'm kind of experimenting with a new way of writing I guess, I love packing in as many images and ideas into a sentence as possible. Hope it's worked...


--------------------
My solitude...
My shield...
My armour...

TESTED
WITH
FULL
FORCE


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OfflineJukon
blood on the canvas
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Registered: 02/18/11
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Loc: tx
Last seen: 12 years, 10 months
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: circastes]
    #14031176 - 02/26/11 04:09 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Get out of Me--

Im tired of twisting sideways, bending parallel
with my emotions, I'm crooked. Dissecting
in a perpendicular fashion.
Her hands, perched on high shoulders- in a perpetual
motion, triangular movements have me
breathing heavily. Internal bruises masked by my tough
skin, have been breached by a magicians hands.
She turns, offering me a glance of that juicy ass,
like magnets, my hands gravitate, orbit around
her solar systemic phat booty.
"No, not yet, not here" her motions speak,
'for her mouth is shut, but I get the message..

The oils fall, drip and hide inside my pores, running
around. Excavating the aches, and pains
left behind by my frigid..'other half'
Hands, fingers, her nails, scraping away my insecurities.
uncovering me for who I really am.
Scared, alone, just tired as fuck.
Her body, shaped to be beneath mine,
she jerks my back, knots unravel, she's exposing
my most vulnerable assets.
A broken heart, beginning to pound beneath those
heavenly healing hands, except I pictured those
hands, gripping my cock late at night, gettin' freaky.
Though the appointment is over, I continue to feel
her nails digging in back, get out of me.

It's a risk, but her number appears on
a small piece of paper, she slides it in my back pocket,
and she tried to hide the fact that she
gripped the shit out of my ass.
Maybe it was a love tap.
She worked my body, in a way I can't explain.
My moves were slow but sure, she's in my hands now.
Oh how the tables have turned- just a heads up.
I'm pretty fucked up, a degree can't fix me.
Though I'll gladly let you fuck me, so you feel
that you're "healing the pain"
I am just an object, to justify your greedy wants.
they can easily be turned into professional needs.
Baby, I see the sparkle you hide, deep beneath
those baby blue eyes. A shine that I will
protrude and rip to shreds. Broken pieces will
forever serve as a souvenir to your charity work.
The fucked, will always be fucked.

----------------------------------------

like i said in previous post, i post on a lot of poetry/ rap battle sites so this is 100% my work. enjoy


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Jukon]
    #14043339 - 02/28/11 04:33 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

faded reprobate
jaded exorcist
swift reversal
depose reposal
pros that rose fall
wine gnostic, ectopic edict call
fickle kitch melevolence memisis appall
lucuna rune hoyle stall


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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Offlinedageo18
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14057426 - 03/02/11 10:24 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

From the outside looking in there is an objective sense.
But from inside the diamond glass reflects many dimensions.
Hide the past.
Help along the bankrupt mistress with a check.
Time to laugh as you got away with everything
and day turns upside down, around guilt you'd never witness.
Acknowledgment of privilege is far away from here.
Astonishment of reality carves out the fear,
morality is near but you'd never make that illogical choice.
Decisions decisions, lay morbid or have a voice.

A bloke said to me once.. never mind what he said,
I just used the word bloke, I think the English invaded my head.
I declare independence, but it's tricky to debate with someone that doesn’t exist.
Despair was that mistress, she's a b!tch, we breaked.
But the smell's still pungent floating out that abyss.

Now there's so many things in life, that scare the hell outta me.
But nope I didn’t say that right.
They scare the hell into me.
Hindering my power of belief, stencil please.

I'm coloring in the doubts I usually reroute by censoring
out the negative and toggling optimistic goggles.
I missed a fossil, no brainer.
Was digging with a painful hobbling peg leg and a sick cougher
to rob the grave and put my name at stake.
Fake talker.

Yeah right, the doctor botched. Dropped his copper watch in the patient
and after time forget he lost the clock and its different faces.
And now the blood streams poisoned forever.
It seems annoying.
Too clever I am to toy with, well except I'm man the boy kid.
But hey, who always plays with torch lit, forfeiting control?
Pyrotechnic soul, fortune told.


Edited by dageo18 (03/04/11 02:24 AM)


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OfflineJukon
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: dageo18]
    #14068340 - 03/04/11 09:17 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

this was for a 15 line challenge

How can I, physically go into one place, expecting to just
love it within seconds, when my feet are still
stuck between another door frame.
Hugging me, suffocating me, into somewhere I desperately
want to get out of, but I love it so..
The comforts of all the times ive spent in those arms,
Like the home cooked meals that greeted me, food that was
from your heart, and held a spot in my soul. But I'd starve to feel at home
once again.
This new embrace, it's like you've been replaced
with a mannequin. Warmed by a cold glare, your heart
rests against my shoulder.
My cotton t shirt, the perfect vacation home for your tears,
I was your rock, but as I chip away, floating off into the next room,
pieces of me will always be with you.


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Offlinedageo18
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Jukon]
    #14075953 - 03/06/11 02:48 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Hi how ya doin? my names driftwood,
chopped me up to make a frame now I house a face in this hood.
A little rotted from nature but the polish saved its good looks
thought that's what you paid for but a shake shows you it could shook.
An earthquake shows it stood hooked on some vibrate known as no foot
without base its easy to put down torso
and ten thousand plates break glass around the tortured,
stand under door frame, but wait its made of driftwood
not as stable as you thought the floor your on just fissured.


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Invisiblethoughts
imagining.
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: dageo18]
    #14104623 - 03/11/11 03:52 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Swirling and dancing in the vibrant distance
The horizon becomes an immaculate image.
Leaves from Fall trees group together in laughter
Where a pile of dead smiles will be resting there after.
And there isn't a song that the wind cannot sing
To fill ears with the sound of benevolent Spring.
A new way to dance erupts out from the fire
And engulfs sleeping hills with the cold sun's desires.


--------------------
I need Jesus.


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InvisibleTranscendingLife
I Don't Need a Life to Live
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: thoughts]
    #14104645 - 03/11/11 03:57 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

iwasaclone...read Lord Byron to learn about rhyming couplets...he's the man on them...


--------------------
AMU: We Quickly Answer Questions Here
"One must accept the probability of failure to experience the elation of success." - TranscendingLife
“A man of genius makes no mistakes; his errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.” - James Joyce
:sporedrop::sporedrop::mushroomgrow::sporedrop::sporedrop::wow:How I Do EVERYTHING:wow::sporedrop::sporedrop::mushroomgrow::sporedrop::sporedrop:
"Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart…. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes."- Carl Jung
"Anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means."- William S. Burroughs
"You are as dead now as you will ever be" - Seth


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Invisiblethoughts
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: TranscendingLife]
    #14104740 - 03/11/11 04:19 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Thanks.:thumbup:
But are you saying i need to learn how to rhyme?:rolleyes:


--------------------
I need Jesus.


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InvisibleTranscendingLife
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: thoughts]
    #14104798 - 03/11/11 04:32 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

No, I'm saying if you want to learn how to use rhyming couplets you should study Byron. He's the best @ it. Anyone can rhyme...hell using the same word in a poem is considered rhyming. It's called a "perfect" rhyme...

Couplets are really hard to do well, because it's the first rhyme scheme we learn as children. It's extremely simplistic. However, when done with a great deal of knowledge, it's amazing...e.g. Byron...


--------------------
AMU: We Quickly Answer Questions Here
"One must accept the probability of failure to experience the elation of success." - TranscendingLife
“A man of genius makes no mistakes; his errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.” - James Joyce
:sporedrop::sporedrop::mushroomgrow::sporedrop::sporedrop::wow:How I Do EVERYTHING:wow::sporedrop::sporedrop::mushroomgrow::sporedrop::sporedrop:
"Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart…. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes."- Carl Jung
"Anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means."- William S. Burroughs
"You are as dead now as you will ever be" - Seth


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Offlinetimelapses
Life in free form
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: aghorrorag]
    #14110879 - 03/12/11 07:39 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

A hidden time,
a brick wall.
People in rooms,
lights on,
what do they see?
I want freedom,
not control.
Fight for something real,
something meaningful.
Give some meaning to this otherwise useless existence of mine.
I don't want acceptance, I want change.


--------------------


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OfflineNoxNoctum
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: timelapses]
    #14117171 - 03/13/11 11:20 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Not sure if it's "finished" but here's a little poem I wrote: (I'm obsessed with John Donne so that's why I kinda wrote it "Old skool" style)

Daddy
Hear my cry. Watch me with your eternal eye.
For Disease wafts into my mind
And Confusion whispers softly

They betray with their vile lies
Still. I believe in my demise

For I am in a room darkly lit; a cell, full of spit.
Yet I see outside, and joyous, dark eyed and bright it is.

I call, I scream, I gaze, yet they do not, can not hear.
For my soul is envenomed, and the serpent's eyes near.
His eyes darkened too, but filled with malice and hatred sheer.

Not that soft fleetness, fiery beauty that challenges, bends
Playful words, but my lips are caged till thee for me do fend
I can but see thy work; not taste, laugh, rest with her till then

But this be but one of your beauties.

I look, and see thy fireball which from Icarus aflame fell
A torrid messenger, a mere shadow of you does tell.

They be both ravishing, thy glory to them do ye lend
What but by thy hand can such things ever be brought to end?

I pray then, hear my plea.
Allow me to please thee.

These three remain, faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these eludes me

Do not allow thy son to be soulless evermore
Allow me to lie on the edge of thy passion's shore
And taste and share what the infinite holds.

For art thou not a burning, consuming fire?
Art thou not also the author of desire?

I call upon you, to raise, lift me up
I Vow this: I will fill many a cup.

And if my word shouldst ever turn to dust and ashes
May it be so with me.


Edited by NoxNoctum (03/13/11 11:54 PM)


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Offlineshadowman-x
Useless hippy.
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: NoxNoctum]
    #14125098 - 03/15/11 02:04 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Glue holding you, a porcelain vase, truth be told it was late to the glaze
late to the shine that reflects all the pain, to protect the heart you ran to the brain

time now caught, the box infront, worn world's turned rough, death mocks to confront
and opened lid, to share what you found, or kept snakes inside where the heart would be bound, poison and sickness to flow wide and free, no cage for the rage, hurt and disease, it spilled through your eyes, the beauty unclear, the trees are alive but they're shaded with fear, cars buildings and cats, guns fearful of fact, eye to mistrust, so never turn your back.

Never turn your back.


Rough ride to cracked veins, age touching on the name, Pandora, the young womans ashes spell out the blame, the story of tired humans wearing their shame, the badge of their pride on the left arm, the same, the red band of jealousy murder and hate, whose blood drips down fingers that cannot relate, that choke through the throats of those much the same, perhaps different clothes, skin-color or race, religion or family, bi straight or gay, intolerance released on that fateful day, when the box did yet shine, and the eyes did yet play, for the youthful child had now knowledge of today, and when she opened that box the world learned of dismay, yet 'twas but for her eyes did the world change in that place, a split second to make a full about face.

And years, and dust, have dulled through the shine, the glowing young woman remains trapped inside, a star, a sun, so wise and so kind, humble, with love, for others and life, for cats and her husband, and the DMT pipe, the lessons to share and the laughter and light.

through the storm and the flame it's here that we find, with a grin most insane, trapped deep in the mind,
what she thought she had lost at the end of her rope:

the last thing in the box that she opened was hope.


--------------------
knock me down
i'll just come back runnin'
knock you down
it won't be long now




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Offlinecircastes
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: shadowman-x]
    #14127837 - 03/15/11 10:30 PM (12 years, 10 months ago)

I'm just sorting through some stuff I typed and never finished. Here's some...

Where will you find peace of mind? Seekers beware: it's in you, right next to the darkest pit of despair. Get off the treadmill, this mental cardio has exhausted you through. Wanting nothing is not the end of the line, but it is contained in the answer, do this and feel fine. There's nothing in it for you, this running towards your mind.

All your objects of lust are nothing but your own creation, thrown into the darkness with a fine string attached, and you observe under your hood in the candlelight a viciously frayed end; hunger. That's all you find out there. You look ahead to barely make out a sign: Do Not Feed the Human. A clone of you drools in front, looks up at you, hisses and flees out into the night. The mirror shatters and leaves a winding path behind it leading to a pool.


--------------------
My solitude...
My shield...
My armour...

TESTED
WITH
FULL
FORCE


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