Poetry Thread

[Dorkandproudofit]

Unleash your inner bard here.

Here is one of mine from EvAv:

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

Searching...

The dog pushes its snout against the door slit,
sniffing and snorting
for the cat.

I watch in amusement and self-reflection
I am the dog,
and IT is the cat.

[Dorkandproudofit]

No one? Really? Come ON, it couldn't have been THAT bad... :(

[pomeroy]

No one? Really? Come ON, it couldn't have been THAT bad... :(

Awww...it wasn't that bad dork. I just usually stay out of the poetry threads because I am not a great poet.

A couple of my friends are amazing slam poets, though.

I might post one of their poems.

[DangerousDaze]

patience, a virtue
why kill spontaneity?
life blood of a thread!

[Dorkandproudofit]

patience, a virtue
why kill spontaneity?
life blood of a thread!

I could not care less,
my poem needed to be
seen and heard, so there! :D

[Zabyx]

All I wanna do
Is post Bob Dylan lyrics
Yeah I got nothin'.

[astranoir]

Something I wrote awhile ago (gah, embarrassing...):

Sometimes I dream while wide awake, do you?
I dream of things to come.
Sometimes I even look backward
At things long forgotten
Long denied.

I feel the warm breeze
Of summer rustling through the grass
And watch
The flickering fireflies flash and frolic
Some silhouetted before the setting sun.

One lands on my shoulder to ask me
The time of day
Have you ever looked a firefly
Full in the face?
They're ugly, you know?

Sometimes things are better viewed
From far away. An angel sings
And when approached turns out to be
Nothing more than a pile of rags
Rags and Coke bottles shimmering in the setting sun.

The wind whistles
Over my heap of hunks of junk
My angel in the ghetto
Rotting
Fermenting in the sunlight.

Why does it all turn cynical and
Sour? Grapes even ferment
In my mouth when I try to eat them.
Maybe dreaming isn't as beautiful as it
Seems after all.

[Dorkandproudofit]

All I wanna do
Is post Bob Dylan lyrics
Yeah I got nothin'.

Why not Queen music?
They are very good, I think.
They are Legendary, too!

[Zabyx]

Why not Queen music?
They are very good, I think.
They are Legendary, too!

Freddy man? No way.
Dylan, he's the modern Bard.
With nice hair, to boot.

[DangerousDaze]

Something I wrote awhile ago (gah, embarrassing...):
Actually that's pretty good (though bleak!). Not sure about the word frolic, though. ;)

[Dorkandproudofit]

Freddy man? No way.
Dylan, he's the modern Bard.
With nice hair, too boot.

Hey man, just fuck you. :D
I will sing Queen anyway.
Listen to these words:



Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy,

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality!

[pomeroy]

This is by my friend Dan.

Poet

I am the blood from a boxer’s first cut.
The page is Antarctica’s unpopped cherry.

My mother hangs in my head like a peach that will never fall,
the sun carves out the image of my father
as he wipes dirt from his hands and sweat from his brow.
My brother feels our pulse like the opening of an attic door.
Feeling your heartbeat while across the ocean from your family
is equivalent to an Alzheimer’s patient remembering their wedding dance.

I tell myself that poetry will take a lifetime,
that there is no rush, that there are no mistakes,
that poems are cars in a junkyard and we are patient mechanics.

I tell myself to place the quarter of my youth
in the gum ball machine of good books
and that when my grandmother’s eyes
have become smooth stones,
when my parents are staring off into God’s secret,
I will be presented with a flock of pages worthy of release.

At readings I will grin
while two lonely watchmen pace in my eyes.
I will convince myself that the applause
is worth all of the idealism and bitching,
is worth every muddied toe or bloody stanza,
that when you dropped into my arms
your ink would be worth its weight in years.

I will pretend that each poem did not cost me a girl
or a chance to ask my father about his first love
or to discover that my mother is the earth
covering an ancient garden of tulips
and my questions are the Spring arriving.

I will tell a lovely interviewer
that I wish I could do it all again,
that we all wanted to be lofts in a barn full of hay
and a busty gal with thighs soft as milk
and the taste of Nebraska in her throat,
that we wanted to get closer to God than any other priest or poet,
that we all wanted to meet a Shaman or find the best café in Paris.

I would say that I had done it all.

But, I would never pull back the curtain
to reveal the years that snuck away from my mother,
the nights I considered the pen over the last breath,
how I always plucked a poem from deathbeds,
how when love knocked I answered only once,
then watched as she left, vowing never to answer again.

I would not tell that my hands had gone numb,
that I still had the hook on which my father hung his long days.

I would not mention those things,
because writing makes you awfully good
at loving yourself, at forgetting
that you spent the years leaving someone else’s light on,
that you left a field of lighthouses burning on the shore,
begging you to look back and turn your ship around.

(c) Dan Leamen 2008

He has a great performance here (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZ_Reg0G38w)., as well as some other videos performing if you search his name.

[Zabyx]

Hey man, just fuck you. :D
I will sing Queen anyway.
Listen to these words:



Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy,

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality!

This is greatest
discussion through poetry
I have ever had.

Thank you, Dork.

Also: Easy come, easy go!

[shunoshi]

Why not Queen music?
They are very good, I think.
They are Legendary, too!

Your haiku is fail
Needs to be five, seven, five
Third line is seven

[DangerousDaze]

Your haiku is fail
Needs to be five, seven, five
Third line is seven

poetic strictures
great bards know when to break them
and when they shouldn't ;)

[quidmonkey]

my dick is thick &
big, i think i took too much
viagra again

[shunoshi]

poetic strictures
great bards know when to break them
and when they shouldn't ;)

Poetic license
The rule that allows you to
Break all of the rules

[Thanasimos]

Cotton boxers chafe
They tent me up all damn day
I need silk boxers



I post that in every poetry thread at least once.

[OldeWolf]

Old Cowgirl Soul Haiku

You give me a touch
Of green grass and of free skies
From sweet Montana!

All among valleys
Surrounded by free mountains;
Here the mustangs roam!

Fiery open sky,
Where in boundless grace birds fly
So warmly and free!

The life of the land,
Those wild and free flowing streams,
Nature's peerless gleam!

Silent tranquil day,
Never-ending love from two,
You and summer’s noon,

And you are worth all
Stars on a Montana night.
Nature’s love enthralls!

Such beautiful sway
From a true homebred cowgirl,
That old country soul!

[OldeWolf]

The Painter's Masterpiece

I give myself a stroll here
On this warm summer day,
Ladies walking by me, their poise so sincere
And the land all around lays in array of bouquet

Right there, in full Victorian tone
Standing there, on the porch, my Marie
So full of colors that outshone
The house by the sea

I continue to stroll towards her eyes
And the sky dances with the clouds,
There in the window, a golden brown pie
Such a sight all surround, so endowed

Walking slowly towards the hand rails
Forming all the running trims
And slowly carving all the spandrels
As I slowly walk upon the porch’s rim

Standing there before me, oh my Marie
How her blush dawns the day
With her smiles dispelling the shade from the Elm tree
Her skin, how it plays my eyes like the sister, the crystalline ocean bay

In a light touch, of a land coming into portray,
The eyes of my Marie in a slow dance becomes the bourgeoisie
That holds the whole limn in sway;
The finishing touch of my masterpiece, my Marie.

[OldeWolf]

Old Photograph's Haiku

Yellow photograph
A moment held in your palm
Such never to change...

Held in aged posture
This cowboy stands, awaiting
On old passé sand...

señora walking,
A portrait of still toiling
With olden basket...

Shaded still in yellow,
The buildings of the old town
Contains moments gone...

Photo in your hands
No longer done, this life time
Time to let it go...

[H.Bogard]

What's the worse that can happen? I wrote this after about a year long block. Bleh... :

Immortal Summer -

I have known but only one season
in this monotonic oil painting.
Its winds sing of the future
with past echoes slowly waning.

And Rains that hammer my stalk and leaves
Masking my childish weeping
Trickle and mingle they unite;
Blood, water and tears seeping.

I have known but only one season
It is what I treasure, my nick and dime
Only savings from my memory bank
of a month long lifetime.

[Dorkandproudofit]

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.






...I wrote that. Seriously. :D

[OldeWolf]

Battle Poem

I softly walk down the forest plain
Mountain breeze in my golden hair
With hint of coming fallen rains
All swimming across clouded air

My armors, faithful as can be,
Shines dimly in this hazed filled night,
Many an unknown eyes upon me I see
Here alone, in this haze of an evening twilight

Rustle of sounds unseen
Slight grin crinkles my eyes
Around, such silent forest, or so it seems
“Come out!” I shout, “Come out from where you hide!”

Evil laugher besieges the forest
I lift up my trust-worthy ax
Just as there came a crashing noise
And out came an enemy from my past

Grinning in a sure smile
I beckon to him, the evil great warrior
“What has taken you so long a while?
Looks like you got yourself cornered.”

He snarled and jumped onto me
I blocked his sword in a loud ringing Clash!
Then I jumped away free
His huge dragon sword came down into a empty crash

I turn my face to him and grin
He quickly looked up at me
And he says, “your not gonna win!
“I will make sure to set your head free!”

Coldly he started to sneer
Venom spittle in his decaying eyes
The forest around trembles in fear
With lighting striking across the fading sky

Ominous the silent became
The wild of the forest, in that moment tamed
And closer, a walking death, he came
To continue the deadly game

Suddenly with a flash
Onward he flew onto me
Hacking a wild slash
I block with my shield and jump away free

Quickly I turn, let flying my ax
Downward it flew, black death in air
It landed on his shield in resounding blast
Hastily I ducked, his sword getting only my hairs

I jump up, slamming my shield in his face
He flew back in faltering pace
Not waiting a moment to breath, onward I came
Forgetting his unearthly evil fame

Suddenly he gulped down something white
He laughed like a dead man alive
So fast he attacked and hit no longer light
Hard he pounded onto me, into the air I dived

Pain flows in my body
I glance at him in disgust
“You had to use dirty white! Coward king of nobody!”
But he continues to laugh like I was a creature living in dust

Onward we fought
And more I faltered
Often on to the ground I was brought
His eyes gleamed as if bolstered

I stood up in my final defiant
“Your going down, Old king Thoran!”
I lifted up my hands both facing its palm ends
A strange surging power, onward in my body it ran

What’s left of nights light
Dimmed into a dark haze
My hands begins to shine like a starlight
As Thoran’s eyes glistened in frightened amaze

With the stars surging in my vain, I yelled
Suddenly in a blink, I attacked
Landing my ax, crushed went his chest, and he fell
The evil light in his eyes, slowly dimmed and went black

I stood over his dead body in the evening dark
I pondered his place in the fair land of Xenimus
For I know he was simply someone’s nark
Someone that wont be so easily missed

And so in that haze of star filled night
The mysterious warrior known only as Wolfe walks free
To go greet the morning twilight
And the morning dewed breeze…

[H.Bogard]

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.






...I wrote that. Seriously. :D

Pleased to have you on our forums, Mr. Carroll. :p

[Lint of Death]

It's... It's a limerick?

There once was a small juicy orange,
Hanging from a soggy old door hinge,
I told her my fantasy
But she just don't want to see
Just what I can do with a torque wrench.

[01010s]

We are the distance between two points
Relative only to ourselves
In a place where nothing else exists

From there to here
Is a measurement
That only our thoughts can read

No distance lies between
You rest here
Your home

[Thanasimos]

This is one that's been dripping from my pen in little bursts and spurts. It's almost -- but not quite -- about a sort of grandfather figure of mine. This is just the first stanza, the most polished, because it's been around long enough that I've had more time to tweak it. I'm still concerned that it's too wordy, and I might add a more concrete focus, but that would take, I think, many, many more words.

"Left behind, little abandoned big man
in a world too small for his great needs.
The expanse of emptiness weighs on his vast loneliness
that a stronger man would bear, if on his knees
But he drained his pain into a cup
and drank 'til it was all gone. Drank
Enough to kill the weight away twice,
with enough left to douse a burning bridge's flames higher."

[Generation ABXY]

Most of the time, I only use poetry to get spare ideas out of my head, and I usually end up cannibalizing it anyway. So far, I've only written one poem I really like, and it is also the only thing I've ever had published.

In fact, I never even liked reading other people's poetry. It always seemed so wrong - anybody else feel like that, like you were peering into someplace you shouldn't? I suppose it isn't all like that, but the poems they used to highlight in school certainly were.

[pomeroy]

In fact, I never even liked reading other people's poetry. It always seemed so wrong - anybody else feel like that, like you were peering into someplace you shouldn't? I suppose it isn't all like that, but the poems they used to highlight in school certainly were.

Slam poetry. If you can see a good slam poet, you won't feel like you're peering into something you shouldn't be.

[Dorkandproudofit]

This is one that's been dripping from my pen in little bursts and spurts.

When that happens, it's usually best to call a doctor. :p

[Thanasimos]

When that happens, it's usually best to call a doctor. :p
That's what the doctor said when I went to see him. He said, "You need to lay off the ladies to alleviate these symptoms." I said, "Fuuuuck."

[Generation ABXY]

Slam poetry. If you can see a good slam poet, you won't feel like you're peering into something you shouldn't be.

I have no idea what that is, but I'll look into it.

[samcity83]

Only savings from my memory bank
of a month long lifetime.

that last line FTW. Srsly.

[samcity83]

Who are your favorite poets, and who are the poets you take inspiration from (those are not always the same thing) ?

I love Emily Dickinson, she is a little 18th century goth girl. That being said my writing is much more reminiscent of Sylvia Plath, or e.e. cummings. Though I mus say my work is a very pale imitation of either of them. I also take cues from Pablo Naruda and Billy Collins (who I love LOVE). And while I read Bukowski, i do not have the ca hones to even attempt his level of consciousness.

My favorite poem of ALL TIME is 'somewhere i have never traveled' by e.e. cummings.

[OldeWolf]

Mine's more of Edgar Allen Poe and one of my nick name is Poe. For some reasons I can write like he writes. And all my poems are my own words since I hate reading other people's poems and open myself to indirectly copying it. Besides, a lot of contemporary poets aren't that good as the old days when Emily Dickinson, Cummings, Poe, Walt Whitman, etc were alive and writing. Even my contemporary college English teacher believes that contemporary rigid piece of crap poetry style is the way to go for the future. Screw him, I'll stay with words that flows like a fluid picture instead of jarring word placements and label it a poem.

[Dorkandproudofit]

The Apple

Sweet, supple, round and red
Its juices flow through my teeth
Its meat dances on my tongue
But I spit out the seeds.

The seeds, small, fine and fragile,
They lie in the apple's womb
waiting for another
and as they lie on the ground
they look up
and see their future towering above them.

The tree, tall, old and wise,
bears the future
that will one day find its way back to me.

[5y1v4r]

Mine's more of Edgar Allen Poe and one of my nick name is Poe. For some reasons I can write like he writes. And all my poems are my own words since I hate reading other people's poems and open myself to indirectly copying it. Besides, a lot of contemporary poets aren't that good as the old days when Emily Dickinson, Cummings, Poe, Walt Whitman, etc were alive and writing. Even my contemporary college English teacher believes that contemporary rigid piece of crap poetry style is the way to go for the future. Screw him, I'll stay with words that flows like a fluid picture instead of jarring word placements and label it a poem.
I like your poetry, you have a very good sense of imagery and I like the old-timeyness of them, particularly the cowboy one.

[5y1v4r]

mmm, well here's one of mine, there doesn't seem to be a lot of commenting on individual poems here so it's probably safe to post and not get critiqued ^_^

Sodden

Towering precipices of two-point perspective
vault above your head
in the rain

Cold in your skin
in the silhouette of autum branches against the grey cloud sky
reflected city lights...
cold like melancholy leeches into your bones and leaves you
sodden

With shoes that squeek down empty corridors
and make silence feel vaguely silly
presumptuous

Cold rain needing damp crows to sit on
autumn branches silhouetted against grey cloud cover
with rumpled feathers
and ill portent
sodden

Walk slow down paths with jumbled golden leaves kicked into puddles
all color leached
all meaning
lost becoming part of a somber whole
light refracts across paving stones
making splatters of gold brighter
than tired autumn leaves

Wash the world lonely

Wash the world cold

and black

and gold

Empty of meaning with no wind of omen
to tease ancient fears to awaken
no huddled raven croaking madness
to the storm-tossed night
just
formless grey feathers washed
into gutters
sodden

Slow drip running down your eyes
sodden

Walking empty in the rain
with the tap-tap time making
weary music on
the branches autumn black against the
grey
cloud
sky

sodden

[Thanasimos]

Revival!

I spent about an hour and a half the other night writing a real epic. But since it's 1000 words long and I only took an hour and a half to do it, it could also use some polishing up. And once it's properly edited, I plan on expanding and making it even more epic. Until then:

Well, we all know people that make bad decisions.
I've made some, you've made some
Every man and woman down to the last one
Has screwed up. At least once.
Now, I have for you a story today about a man I know
His tuxedos are oil and his hair is snow
He made some mistakes once, big and bold
So here’s a story ‘bout him and flying gold

If you go back long enough, nearbouts 1947
He was a young man, and a brave'un
And he had hisself a master plan:
Yes, man with a plan
He was gonna go out into the world and learn hisself some history
And air it out for all else so they could see
But all that changed, yeah, July o' '47
Roswell -- Roswell happened

Now, we've all heard the story of Roswell before, I think
But I want to get us on the same page so you're --
You're gonna have to listen just one more time
Just dustin' off your memory and givin' it a shine
Something crashed in a field back then, maybe it was alien
People said it was, go'ment said t'wern't and then
Whole issue kinda flared up, was covered up, smothered up
Officials were buttered up and deals were cut

So silence kept and no one now alive knows what then happened
But one man livin now did know, way back then
Kinda. He thought about it, and figured it all out:
Aliens really did crash, evidence lent no doubt
But the coverup was where everything he knew went wrong
If we'd taken a ship apart for science, why lie for so long?
What's wrong with saying, "We's got some alien technology"
If the world knows we've got big guns, they won't mess with us, see?

The core of it, he decided, was nothing so pure
No thinking 'bout preventing hysteria and fear
They done something worse, they done something cold
Uncle Sam done sold his science for his gold.
Yeah, that flying saucer was something special
'Cause the only saucers like that were saucers royal -- gold
Gold, pure as any, more carats than a rabbit hole
Like the plates in king's halls in the days of old

Now in 'Merica, when people don't trust the gov'ment
One or the other's gotta go, and the people won't hear it
And the gov'ment knew just what people would think
If they knew the Prez took science and ran it down the sink
So when they did it they made sure that nobody knew
So they spread lies and stories about weather balloons
Because they made damn sure that nobody could tell
That they'd sliced and diced that space ship, to market, to sell

So our man, he picked hisself up a new task
Wherein he'd make some money, if he had to mow grass
'Cause the only way he would ever find out 'bout them aliens
Was to collect up all the gold and put it together again
Now he knew he wouldn’t know right off
Whether gold was the gold he wanted or not,
So he figured, he’d some get gold first to figure it out
Yeah, he’d get some and see what this alien gold was all about

Now, at first he was responsible in his acquisition method
He worked his dayjob and hoarded what he could
Bought a little gold here and a little more there
And took it into a lab and scienced it to bare
The secrets that it held, but there were none the gold revealed
So in the end he concluded his “alien gold” weren’t real
Apparently, some strange gold was just that – strange
And a lot less of it was alien; weird was too broad a range

And thinking on those lines he then thought “what if?”
“What if I can’t tell alien gold from real right quick?”
So he knew then to know he’d have to collect it all
Yes, all the gold in the government, at his beck and call
He could look it over later, run hundreds of tests
To see his alien gold stand out from the rest
So with that conclusion he again cracked the books
To learn to earn money – how to live like a crook

No, not a crook like breaking into homes – too slow –
Or ft. knox – too risky, you know –
But a crook no less that rips good folks off
Separates them from their money without second thought
And if there’s one way to make money, this hero could tell
It was oil – that black gold dug from the depths of hell
Now remember, this man was an archaeologist of sorts
So he took a shovel and dug for his wet ore

A little knowhow and a lot of luck brought him his well:
What he wanted, oil to sell
And he did.
He sold and sold some more and exchanged and such
Pimped machines, and made machines to men, whores
Men want to drive, so cars want his gas more
To work and back to pay his prices
To keep working and living while he lived parasite

Now he did this for years and years on end
Weathered market crashes and lost all his friends
But he got a lot of gold, and what good did it do him?
None, ‘til he figured out which was alien.
But he still couldn’t. Was just too much it seems
For one man, with gold, to live out his dreams.
So he got more gold, and he’d try again later
But later came and still no paydirt

Now since then, you’ve probably seen him on TV and such
Very rich man, so if you haven’t you’re out of touch
But that’s not the point of this story, not for a second:
The ham-handed moral is that you should keep sight of your goals
‘Cause you go blind like this old fool did and you’ll lose out
And lose sight of your goal and what your life was about
And then you’re just rich, rich and soulless,
When you coulda lived flawless

But morals aside, here’s one thing to take home:
He was wrong. Dead wrong. Probably.
So next time you have a dumb fucking idea,
Like golden flying saucers
Shoot yourself now and save us the trouble
Of living under your thumb in the future.

Please.

[Zabyx]

This thread: made of win.
You guys are gnarly poets.
Is gnarly spelled right?

[Karak]

Random When I was 13

I feel like a leaf fallen from the tree and waiting to die
I feel like the words that were spoken to shape a lie
So what if I am free? I am still forsaken
For my heartless inspiration
Forever, stained by things I cannot change
Still, forever hope to rearrange
I live a dream to one day wake up and be
The leaf that has not fallen, but is still on the tree
I will shake with the wind and rustle in the sun
Be a part of something larger and not just the one
Then when I fall, when I hear the end call
I will never curse summer for the coming of fall

A couple random Warhammer quotes I wrote. A couple were published.

He was like fire, that fury that he had.
And when his enemies came they feared.
Because he wanted their deaths so badly.
That he tore his own heart from his chest.
And fed them the poison inside.

There are people, the lucky ones, who never experience tragedy. Never feel the pain of loss, remorse or love lost. Then there are others, unlucky ones whose lives are so replete, so filled with tragedy, that they know nothing else...that they can feel nothing else.
It is from this second lot that the gods choose heroes.


Vengeance beyond the grave.
Give to me my weapon.
And take my breath cold from the dead.
Alight it with fire from my soul.
And burn those who dared my dread.

[Lint of Death]

Applesauce.

[Dorkandproudofit]

Thread resurrection!

Magic

For what is gained, something is lost.
A man stands on the moon.
A man loses love for earth.
A man makes a machine.
A man forgets fantasy.
A man sees science.
A man abandons magic.
Where has the magic gone?

A man wished it away.

[Hawkzombie]

You brought this on yourselves!

Furious Heavens crack against my walls
Splintering the shelter I've made for myself
God's words mean nothing in the vacuum
The only comprehension is that of blood and flesh

Break open my cavity
Pull out my heart
Burn it down and watch it explode
I fight on; Undying with the fury of the heavens
Unmatched am I in my rage
In my task

Fighting against all odds, breaking the walls back
Finding the cracks and throwing them open
Wounds made not in vain but with purpose
Free myself to see myself
Give that to those doubters
Feed that to the unbelievers

I was something
I was someone
I was a name, I was a life

I Made a choice
You made a mistake

God forgives the sins he cannot see
I forgive only those I'm forced to witness

Broken sons of Chaos; split from the moment of conception
Legacy of splintered fate and twisted destiny
Choking the air that they breathe
Poisoning the food that they taste

Sharpen the axe to cut the cord
Release of the darkest point
Gemini in life and death; chaos and serenity

Twin brothers of the same body
Twin minds of the same soul
Dichotomy of Duty and Law

One bleeds to feed the other
The other bleeds to save itself
Watch the pool gather at their feet

Watch the world burn at their hands

Darkness peeking out from within my sheen
Wanting breaths of freedom from the walls within
Beating loudly against my heart;
Smashing forceibly against my soul

It comes forth, wanting to dominate
I give it what it wants, disappear from myself
Only to find it is more myself than I let on
Fear overcomes that which does not want to listen

Running a lifetime away from the truths herein
Only to find I ran right for them instead
Left with no choice, no resitute
I stand ready now...blade in hand

I will no longer be prisioner to that which is myself
Will no longer be held fast by the bonds I shackled
Darkness meets it's match in pure, blinding rage
Tear myself asunder...to free the truth

The funny part is I hate poetry, and yet I've got almost 100 of these.

[Dorkandproudofit]

The funny part is I hate poetry, and yet I've got almost 100 of these.

My mom used to force me to write poems, and I hated it. My inspiration pretty much is spontaneous and unexpected, so forcing it just results in very bad poetry. Most all of the poems I write are right off the top of my head. Improvised, so to speak. If it worked for Pollock...

[OldeWolf]

A Sonnet of Love Lost

I watched you pull out the dusty dirt road
Not looking back to the love you just lost.
How could you, within our hearts, sadness sowed
And upon my face, your palm print embossed?
How drugs have changed you in this summer's June,
Where you imposed malice upon your brow
Putting fright in our child's happy tunes
Wondering where mommy's love once avowed.
I tried to show you with my love and pleas
That my heart and love understands your plights,
But I fell upon the ground to my knees
Holding close our child that shivered in fright.
And yonder down the mile you took a turn
And drove on, as if love for us you spurned...

http://photos-e.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs178.snc1/6692_214882590102_728690102_7931468_6590688_n.jpg

[OldeWolf]

We need more people in this thread :p

Poetry cant be THAT boring...

[Dorkandproudofit]

We need more people in this thread :p

Poetry cant be THAT boring...

Well YOU were the one who helped continue Ultima's thread even after I pointed out that he should have posted in this thread! :(

[Thanasimos]

Some people I know, uh, seriously let me down. For whatever reason, that is to say, two people I was friends with for whatever reason cut off all personal contact with no warning, etc. One I coblogged with, and since then all my entries into the blog have been deleted. That was a week ago tomorrow morning, and I'm feeling enough better about it to talk about it openly. Hell, I'm going to fire off a polite email and ask why* (I'm curious, if nothing else!) tonight.

The day it happened, though, I was enraged -- I should add this is a relative term -- so in order to vent and keep myself under control, during a few slow moments at work I wrote this, which is designed as a song. (And it only took me four more days to put the music together! Gah.) It's not very good; I've never been a good songwriter and sadness wears poorly on me anyhow.

--------------------------------------
How ya doing?It's been so long since you've
Spoken with me, but that ain't my fault, you see
I like to think I have some friends, and yeah you were one

Well it had to happen sometime that a
Friend would betray me
But I'm surprised it was you --
What the fuck is wrong with you?

I never learn when I get burned -- I keep on walking through the flames
When I emerge the other side I am never purged clean

I'm like a moth
We're all like moths
Our wings beat a cacophony
We are all moths
With burning wings
Imitation butterflies, with orange wings we take to the skies
So hey, how ya doing?
I'll see you on the other side
Remember, friends you lose this way
Stay lost all your life
It's wear and tear and you're the
One who put me on

I am a moth reborn a butterfly my wings they burn so bright
And if I know the pain of living once it's just the same twice

I am a moth
We are all moths
We'll light our wings
As butterflies
Sometimes it's to much
To ask the wind to keep you grounded
You blew me to the fire
We are all moths

------------------------
*If you wonder why I think this will work, well, one of those two friends is an asshole whom I never trusted him properly (really, I'm only angry at the other friend; this guy is par for the course) and I know for a fact that he won't miss the opportunity to gloat (which I am going to extend him with this email, of course! ;)), as evidenced by his keeping his facebook alt on my friend's list, probably to see how sad I was -- and even mockingly posting once, when I did express some small distress about it a few days back.

[Thanasimos]

Strung another one together. Completely untitled. It was inspired by the wildfires in SoCal right now.
------------------------------------------------------
It hasn't snowed there since the mountains burned down
Summer's end, ash lay in drifts upon the ground
Dry rivers ran with dust and snow

Feels like yesterday I might have burned there too
With just a moment in the sun...


Well I was born there and I lived there and I learned to love there
While I climbed every damn rock from the bottom to the top
Of the buttes, which ran from my door to the mountains and the North.
And if I ever come back, even if in my old age, I'll live for ever
Because there's no way in hell I'm gonna die there
And no one I know is gonna die there
And I don't want to die alone


It hasn't rained there since the mountains were set down
Water from the crests of waves once played upon our ground
The desert ran with salt and mud

Seems like yesterday I might have settled there too
With just a day or two to go
But instead today it snowed.
--------------------------------------------------

[Thanasimos]

I feel like I'm the only person left! Wrote this one for my cousin who wasn't really my cousin, but there's no other convenient term for my Mexican relatives my age. Anyhow, the real moral to this story is to always wear a helmet. Anyhow, this song is about my cousin, and about determinism, or maybe it's discussing one through the other or something. It, uh, is untitled.
-------------------------------------------------------
Well you were a product of your generation
So you skated all your life
And there is no telling who killed you
We just know how you died
And when you did you were having the time of your life

As a product of your generation
You skated all your life
And I just hope you were smiling
When you died
And if you wore the only smile that day I guess that it's all right

And as a product of my generation
I didn't know you well enough
And I wish I knew you better
Before you died
But some things can't be fixed and I can't feel guilty all my life

And if we're all one generation
Will I skate to end my life?
Can I at least go as happy
As you did?
And if I can I want to know how I'm going to die

Well as a product of your generation
You skated all your life
And there is no telling who killed you
We just know how you died
And when you did you were having the time of your life

So goddammit Nate I miss you
I couldn't even go to our Thanksgivings
Or see the empty place at the table
So I'm glad I'm not around
And I feel sorry for your sisters
and your mother and our aunt
And everyone that ever knew you
We're all stuck without for now
Oh,
But should I wish you had survived if when you died
You were having the time of your life?

We're all products of our generation
We'll live with that for all our lives
We're all products of our generation
We'll live with that for all our lives
We're all products of our generation, for the rest of our lives
--------------------------------------------------------
I think I'll start naming songs like some old school poetry -- y'know, type, number, and the first clause. This one would be "Folk #4: Well You Were a Product of Your Generation"

That's some mad classy shit, that.

Edit: I should mention, feel free to tear the shit out of these. Like, really, just ruin the damned things. Either I'll blow you off as not understanding me, or learn from the critiques -- in neither of these ways am I hurt, so do your worst.

[OldeWolf]

You're not alone in the poetry thread. I've been doing all my poetry over at www.allpoetry.com since there's more feedbacks and people interested in poetry.

Since I'm half asleep, I will not comment on your poem/song as I wont do it justice with a sleepy mind. With that, I'm sorry for your loss. Like your edit said, we all learn from our mistakes.

[Thanasimos]

Thanks, Mr. Wolf, sir. I don't figure I should show my face at that website you linked, though, considering that technically these are not poems but songs. The poetry thread did, however, seem as good a place as any. Still, on occasions I write songs with choruses, and, well, that makes it obvious, doesn't it? :D

[OldeWolf]

Thanks, Mr. Wolf, sir. I don't figure I should show my face at that website you linked, though, considering that technically these are not poems but songs. The poetry thread did, however, seem as good a place as any. Still, on occasions I write songs with choruses, and, well, that makes it obvious, doesn't it? :D

*Just-woke-up-yawn*
Quite the contrary, they take all forms of poetic works including songs and stories. If nothing else, sign up for your little piece of the Allpoetry site and take a look around. It's 100% free so no need to read the lovely book by it's cover for this website. I've been a member since ohhhh 2002? Many wonderful people with many willingly audience ready to read people's thousands of poetry/songs/rambling of thoughts.

I am OldePoet on that website if you wish to look me up. :)

[Dorkandproudofit]

This one is dedicated to every asshole who ever abused me in grade school.

They called me mental
They called me nerd
They called me dork
They called me turd
I got scratched and I got hit
Because I wasn't like them
Because I wasn't normal
I'll never be like them
I'll never be normal
And guess what?

I don't give a shit.

[H.Bogard]

Oh... kayy.... 8-|

[Dorkandproudofit]

Oh... kayy.... 8-|

I was kind of pissed off when I wrote that. Can you tell? :D

[Hawkzombie]

My style is bitter, angry, and full of emotion. I write my poetry in an incredibly raw and exposed fashion. I don't follow any standard conventions and one could argue that's a convention in and of itself.

One minute to glory
All the time in the world
One Moment to victory
Not a moment too late
One action to immortality
It speaks of thousands of words
One Life to a give
One soul to spend

Let that which is mine turn into something
Let that which was mine turn into another's
Give me some reason to pause
Give me some reason to think

Stop me from this last path
Stop me from this last choice
Give me that one Minute
One Moment
One Action
One Life

Give me time to think

Burn as hot as you can for as long as you can
Fuel the fires with the words of the mind
Burn that edge until the charred remains give way to a shining spark
Brighter and higher the flames grow

Consume all in your path until none is left
No fuel for the fire it turns on itself
Now you'll see the light

The glorious light of a burning soul, a burning passion
Ignite your destiny to see the brilliant colors
To feel the searing heat
Know only my mind can produce such a blaze

My dreams were the last piece for the fire
My soul the last match
Burning hotter and brighter still
It consumes all I can feel and touch and see

When will it consume me?

Be the key to the rest of the torrent of gushing flow
Open the door to the outlet, giving reason to chaos
Build a foundation with brick and bone

Blood crashes against the dam testing the strength of words
Giving pause to evaluate the lessons of a life less
Knowing there's reason to fulfill fate's call
Instead crashing endlessly against the edge of the mind

Pool your resources, giving yourself a fighting chance
Futility is the weapon and Hope the ammunition
Fire blindly, emptying the clip into the soul
Absorb the impacts readily, giving yourself nothing

Taking everything, if only for a scant moment
Losing focus and sinking; quickly
Too quickly

Seep to the surface, feelings of old
Make me feel that which I forgot; time
Pull at the edges, pull them tight
Tear the fabric if you must

Ignore the feelings
Hide the truth within the surface
Hollow out that which beats
Numb yourself with the old beliefs


Madness is a doorway into the next level
How we perceive the end result determines the strength of the entrance
Give them something to walk through
And I'll give you something to shut it with

Nonsense and rambles, tossed among the shambles
Likened to some thrown away thought of yesteryear
But found to have true merit in the here and now
Give it the chance to fulfill it's purpose; find the destiny within

Choice is given, and there can be only one outcome
Pain is only the tool in the forge
Patience the true fire
Let me see what happens when I fold the soul yet one more time

[OldeWolf]

Here's a new one:

A Sonnet of a Ladybug (http://allpoetry.com/poem/5676583)

The woes of the night scattered with debris
Among all the sunrise's morning ray's stroll
With the winds announcing the sun's decree
That demands an awaking of life for toll,
Where the stars seeks the sun's atoning throne
Avowing upon sun's demands to essay
The beautifying of flowers' cologne
Upon the decay of the night's display,
Whereas theater of the dawn sends it's crusade
Upon the scattering of the night's veil
Giving the morn another maiden maid
Prolonging across sky this sanguine tale.
There at the dawn of the morning's own king
A ladybug took quietly to wings

[Dorkandproudofit]

Good on you, Oldewolf.
Do not let this thread go dark,
This world needs poems.

:D

[rein]

roses are red
violets are blue
this thread is dumb
and so am I


Wait! That wasn't the ending I was going for...

[OldeWolf]

Good on you, Oldewolf.
Do not let this thread go dark,
This world needs poems.

:D

I try. Just a little discouraging overall if no one contributes nor analyzes another person's work except to say a superficial "oh nice" in a general tone.

That's why I tend to frequent www.allpoetry.com for more like-minded people. Plus it's free.

[Dorkandproudofit]

I try. Just a little discouraging overall if no one contributes nor analyzes another person's work except to say a superficial "oh nice" in a general tone.

Oh, my bad. :p

I really liked your poem, by the way, especially the sounds in the second line. Nice.

[Dorkandproudofit]

This one just popped into my head less than a minute ago:

Leaves

All the leaves on this tree are gone;
They've fallen to the ground.
The flowers wilt, the air is cold,
soon naught but death will be found.

But in the end, a spring will come,
A glorious Rebirth;

And as I ponder human worth,
Our families and friends,
Our origins and future ends,
Our lives, our time, our blood and sweat
Are nothing to the Earth.