Reincarnation of the poetry thread

[Ishan]

Wow, many websites. Many, many sites.

Anyway, here's a poem I had forgotten I wrote 2½ years ago; and I found it on a dusty old CD ROM. I added the very last line following the dedication because I believe this friend, who is only 26, is on his way to the grave if he keeps it up.

I think I was NOT thinking when I wrote the poem; it's a bit crappy - but you'll get the point.

Fusillade of Life

Not fire, but rain, burns as it is pulled by gravity to my lashes and brow. At once a diatribe emerges from my tongue, straining to curse the heavens for such fury as the downpour crawls upon my skin.

The pecks of water nibble at my sanity as the rage spasms and rests in my heart. And there is neither sanity nor solace in this reaction, neither retreat from the onslaught nor hope for life that is given by these showers of mercy.

Then a recollection moves but like vapor to my consciousness, assembling a mist into a powerful thought. It is a reminder of the day, not so long ago, that the rain was neither felt nor recognized nor known. Never was there a care for the rain or the lack of rain. It was only a state of existence as a non entity, if you will pardon the use of such oxymoron.

Memory gives forward sight, and a new respect to the cloudburst upon my skin. And showers that were momentarily accursed as anathema to a humdrum day are given blessing as well.

- for Alex –

There will be those you love who die. Do not be one of them who leave those of us who love you behind.

[Catch]

That is a beautiful poem. I hope you are trying to do more in poetry.

[Ishan]

Thank you. I write quite frequently. It's the insecurities and my total inability to accept constructive criticism that causes me to shy away from posting too much.

Just kidding ... but really, I do write quite a bit.

[GothicChristian]

Let's see, how should I introduce this poem? I guess I'll begin by saying that I wrote it to school; it is the poem for one of the frustrations on my frustration chart, I chose my brother as the frustration, so I want to share it.

Are you stupid?
Dysfunctional in the brain?
You're not a kid,
You're just a pain.
A nuisance,
A bother,
Just doing what you please.
Walking over people,
Contaminating the air I breathe.
You're messing up your life,
Putting mom through pain.
Putting dad through strife.
You're putting me through hell,
Messing up all my hard work,
I'd like to throw you into a well
You're nothing but a jerk.


I might change it a bit, especially the last two lines.
I think they make me seem like a child. This is the unedited version, so it's a given that I'd make corrections.
Tell me what you think about it, compliments and criticism are appreciated.

[Albert Mond]

I like your brother poem. Mind if I do a poem about your brother? Cool.

Your brother is driving you out of your wits.
His ears don't hear a thing, and his breath smells like shit.
If you don't kill him, I swear you'll go mad.
But, hey! Who am I to judge the fucking fag?
He's ugly, and rotten, he's brought shame on your town.
Even when he's asleep, he's running his mouth.
He's stupid and stubborn and his brain reeks of poo.
He's a big fucking jerk, I'd kill him if I were you.

[GothicChristian]

I actually like that poem.

[Albert Mond]

Originally Posted by GothicChristian

I actually like that poem.

Thanks. I hate your brother just as much as you do. =)

[GothicChristian]

I don't hate him, I just dislike him greatly, and would like nothing more than to kick him in the face repetitively...

[MegearaErotica]

I would like to watch you kick your brother in the face.

[GothicChristian]

Originally Posted by MegearaErotica

I would like to watch you kick your brother in the face.

No, you'd like to join me in kicking my brother in the face.

[MegearaErotica]

Not really, I'm not a very violent person.

[dead_dreams]

I got bored today during class and wrote this:

"We kissed in the fields on the last day on Earth.
The stars have died, we wait.
Our mouths filled with dust, we etched our names into the dying city. Everyone floated along the bottom of the river traveling to the boiling seas. We cried like dogs on this fateful evening.
As the Ferris wheel slowed to a stop, the cries of the unborn echoed through the streets.
We put on our masks and said hello to the end."

Hope you enjoyed it.

[A Simple Poet]

I wrote this awhile back. I think it's a bit of overkill with the alliteration. I'd like to revise that problem, but I don't know what to take out. So I thought I would let you wolves savage it for awhile.


highland tweed (by proxy)

i am glad that i am not
balding slow in a business suit coat,
or breathing the false and shallow air

high amidst the vapid scrapes.
no, my chirping cell phone is
crushed to quietus in my clenched fist.

all spoken exchanges
of truthless banter and ceaseless
commerce are blackly

buried as i hurl the garrulous
gizmo toward the shores of Atlantis.
nevermore will i suffer the sting of the pie chart.

with elation; i’ll celebrate highland tweed (by proxy)
and storms of the plaid piped bags
before I ever yield

captive to cacophonous
hippity hop,
“must see” t.v.,

or that corporate quest
cloaked counterfeit these days in the name of
a mangled, spangled, banner of falling stars.



balding slow in a Scottish sport coat;
i am glad that i am not yet
desperado or morté.


and so...




i linger on in the sunset of America,
pretending witness to ghosts
in the white noises, not here.

[HumanePain]

I like the subtle alliteration, it gives the concrete beehive realism.


Here is one from me:

Staccato harpies
lighting my way
or forcing me
while they bray.

The music moves
my soul, hence
better than the
ennui of silence.

If nothing matters
then I dance along
keep on
keepin' on.

Until...
its gaping maw
our bodies fill
refined or raw.

[tekajo]

The Gaunt

Sleeping days, days come night
the solvents clean from within inside
feasts upon the cooling birthright
the gaunt he shuns the unbroken mirror side.

bleached are the bones sliding 'neath the rotting skin
ever unaware these wounds may never fucking mend

Between the rises she tries to defy
her sense of worth and weight the gravity
pushing and pulling rusted levers in her mind
to seek again and find that one perfect sign...

bleached is the porcelain sliding 'neath fingers' gripped
ever unaware some wounds may never fucking quit
---------------------
it's been awhile.

[GothicChristian]

I don't know why everyone thinks that they're so important that they need their own thread for their crappy poetry.
Here's my crappy poetry, the spawn of my distraught feelings about losing god. I'll be completely off of this subject once this is through, please bear with me. I will repeat for emphasis the following: crappy.

What foolishness did I partake in,
Deceiving myself for far to long.
A God who saves us,
Who loves all the most and all the same?
Who knows everything,
But does nothing.
What manner of being is this?
The one whose Word contradicts
Time and time again.
Sounds human enough to me.

"But not of works, lest any man should boast."
Is trust not a work?
Is trust not an act?
Do we not have to trust in Him?
"Trust in the Lord..."
I thought as much,
You sound human enough to me.

[Ishan]

Originally Posted by HumanePain

Defeat The Worm!
and burn...
to ash.

Even my evil has departed me,
and what was salvation has become betrayal.

So much desperation has taken flight,
and what was needed for hope is lost.

All my death is dead,
and my life is ended.

My tears smite me,
no longer are they relief.

Courage that was sought is become blasphemy!
Fear is no more a companion.

The very fire of Hades has burned away,
and the adversary that was friend is indifferent.

Loreena is no longer so sweet,
and so much abyss is become feedback.

None of my life is decoded,
and no blood stains me truthfully.

The slash's blade is forsaken to the rust,
and now I desire a rest never known.

It is an oblivion,
but somehow there remains a hope.

What is this but duplicity,
or is it dichotomy?

GOD!!!???

None.

Good night, sweetest of devils;
and none shall despair at this departure.

Good night.

[Ishan]

Originally Posted by ~Angel_Of_Darkness~

Dunno how my poetry is going to be looked at here. I'll post one for now anyway.

This is one of my oldest; I wrote it years ago. So it might seem pretty lame.

What is pain?
It is but a feeling
It can be mastered
Locked away
Hidden
Such is anger
Hatred
To burst forth from the dams of time
When threads of patience weaken
Fail
It pours out, oblivious
Aided by beautiful, tormented screams
Then you are………
Reborn.

This is EXACTLY how I feel so much of the time. I tried last night to craft the words, but your description and its prose are ideal!

Thanks.

[Mr. Filth]

The initial departure is where I get on
I ride this road to it's end

The uncomfortable rumble on these tracks becomes familiar
I ride this train to it's end

I see new places, think new thoughts, Feel all things
None of them will be forgotten

Not forgotten, but learned from

I write a new world, I sing a new replacement for prayer
I would thank what I used to but it is no longer there

I give up myself and accept all that is real and is true
and I feel love for life that is tangent and with me

All things reach within me, I reach out to all things
It was for me, and I am thankful, for what the world brings.

[Mr. Filth]

I walk down these streets every day
empty wallet empty palms
stretched out towards the nothing
that rises above
my drunken eyes
to see nothing that I haven't dreamed of


Can't even hope or think
that anything's going to REALLY happen

Don't even cast a line towards
a friendship that I won't call a dead fish


No More Girl
To inject like a heroine
into the vein of a vain life

No More God
To answer a prayer that
There was hope for a wife

Be my savior
Wash away my sins
I want a fresh start
So I can do it all over again

I just sink into a gutter and
curl up on my own affections
that someone years ago said
might mean something worth while

can I get a Hellelujah?
Why not ship me to Fallujah
on your campaign trail of tears
and broken dreams you raised me on?

Military's lookin like a bright side
to a statistical suicide
They used to call me back in
High school when nobody else would.


She was injected into my life in vain
A heroine to show me what I could have been.

I know now what could have been.
I ache for ignorance.

I walk down these streets every day
empty wallet empty palms
stretched out towards the something
I remember and may be again.

This was just a
passing feeling
Time and living
will get me healing.

[ilex89]

Day's end be deep and silent
And tears of glass be sharp and violent
Cuts eyes and cheeks and lips and throat

In wake, she cries
In wake, she dies

And spoils, to the surface float

Bones quiver, wet with silent pain
Boiling in the pouring rain
The soul, it screams unspoken hell

In death, she weeps
In death, she sleeps

Falls silent to the tolling bell

[HumanePain]

Tears for Emily

Treasure buried deep
selfish yet you keep
your Immortality
You but threw away the key.

Why were you so shy?
You wrote truth, never lies.
God's Glory in the fields
yet you hid, and didn't yield.

Pearl within the shell
or was it your Hell?
Why was it you stayed?
And cease to praise or pray?

We're born in the wrong ages
I cherished all your pages
My love across the years
I cast to you
in tears.




I am adding this one again, because it is one of my favorites:

Ode to Allen G

Sparkling hemisphere receiving Heaven's radio
until amplified and modulated shouts down the rats.
Not blind ambition but curing blindness
calling all lambs
to a safe place.

But the blind can hear jazz and hear your Shepherd's call
Moloch gets most
but at least, not all.

The future is too damned quiet.

Who else
can call?

[mindless1]

The sound of a shadow breaking
makes me want to cry
The sound of a shadow breaking
makes me want to cry


I cannot write now, hurts too much to die
No reason left to shed those tears
I wait till bold moon lifts me into her sky
No reason left to shed those tears, to cry

I wish I were a rainbow, but I have been so white
Every color is so shattered I wait until then I let you sing
In me, but you cannot taste the tragedy...such a tragedy
It sings in me, such a tragedy it sings in me

No reason left to breathe
Shadow broken, shadows breaking
You know, I could not help it
No reason left to breathe

No reason left
To
Breathe.

[dre bin laden]

untitled poem:

he's a silent, dormant thing.
a school of sea-robins lurking in the undertow.
they fall victim to my bait time and time again,
but i always throw their tasteless flesh back into the sound.
does he become weaker with every splatter of thin blood?
every hook coming out of his left eye?
or does he build himself up with ever flap of the wing-fin?
but more importantly- who is the victim?

he's waited for me since eleven.
in my closet, indian-style, next to a pint of vodka and a half-empty pill bottle.
he pushed my tears out and wrote the note my mother never found when i mysteriously awoke.
i thought i lost him then but come to think of it-
i was not the one answering those nurses under the fluorescent lights and cameras.
they heard his infernal growl and sent me straight to the psychiatric ward
where he coiled in his ditch and nursed his venom glands.

he's smiling at me now, the driving force behind the pressure.
(my jealousy, my stress, my boyfriend, deadlines, and insanity)
he waits, licking his fur, at the bottom of the spiral.
he's got feathers, bubbles, chicken soup
he says i can fly and never come down.
i try to remember that i must face my burdens in order to heal-
but every time a wound fades he runs and hides inside of me.

[Ravens_Moon]

Fade to Black

I don’t need the whiskey,
and I don’t need the knife,
I could end this mindless existence,
this game called life.

I don’t need the razor,
I welcome the pain,
With just one slice,
the Heavens will rip open,
and down will come the rain.

I don’t need the rope,
that I carry within my hands;
One last moment for hope,
Isn’t there anyone that understands ?

Jesus will come and save me, or so I believe,
Why does this always happen ?
Why do people leave ?


With one shot, I will be dead,
the feel of the cold steel within my hand;
Pull the trigger, let the curtains close,
Everything fades to black.


Rebirth

As midnight darkens,
The leaves have fallen,
Fallen from the tree;
Sing what I have song;
For it happens to those who want it;
Control thy passion,
So thy happiness can begin from within;
Come take a look
In the nook,
For it is thyself to behold.
Let thy children tell
Thy Holy Father, Thy Holy Son, and Thy Holy Spirit
Thy people are sorry;
And thy leaves can grow again.