I thought I would open a new thread so that the few people on this board that enjoy posting or would like to start posting their writings regularly, can make it all happen in here... If yall dont think its a good idea or if you think it could work out in a good way (and prefer the old way) please respond. always just an idea to be contracted...
this is our block now.
[use bright colors if needed].
i think we're great now.
bless.
Fantastic idea mr wither, bitchin' infact! I'd rather have words put where people can discuss and/or demolish as required rather than be isolated. So how we doing this?
-
nice job shade. another on-spot:
Spurned and arpeggiated
I'm wafting through these frequencies
As only I can
And what I see and what I feel decussate in slo-mo
It burns like pictures of Allah
When will I get all this right?
I'm blinking with one eye in the mirror
Just to see someone winking at me
And I'm thinking of Bambi
It's just a sad story about venison
And John Frusciante is just a junkie with soul
damn good occi-p - as per normal
"And what I see and what I feel decussate in slo-mo
It burns like pictures of Allah"
is this the way to go with this thread by the way?
'3D Screensavers!'
Aggh
My eyes.
Sawdust around their peripheries.
And my house.
My house smells just like hers.
Just like hers -
After a drunken night.
Like any other.
Any other -
After we've shared the dark.
Like any other.
Any other -
After we've pulled gray down.
Well I've done it again...
Done it again!
Reply #961
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Apr 24, 2008, 10:16 PM
is this the way to go with this thread by the way?
yeah i guess so! im really glad this idea has been set off!
doing awesome work guys!
ill be back soon i have class..
keep up
bless.
i like the "freestyle" this thread has assumed.
i just got out of sociology and philosophy so im feelin kinda inspired,
here's my go ahead...
to the full squander of a barely driven pursuit
delicate withdrawl -a sub-solemn surrender,
waging nothing to a barter of "all",
worth passed away from choking the trick,
bet the pass will keep your conscience dry -though captively clean.
Ebb the visual casualties of falling notice,
delighted revolt the absent away -barrading unto the polar direction,
with a glamorous escape draped in vivacious white banner,
-cursed the colors a bland.
matte fuss,
vibrant hollers,
bellowed screams,
-bludgeoning the trees down to simple seeds,
and burning the ocean to organic ash...
wounding the air,
gaping lacerations,
fucking "all" time and space,
-a throbbing phallic rage of war and envy.
Quote from: occipudding on Apr 24, 2008, 07:59 PM
It burns like pictures of Allah
And John Frusciante is just a junkie with soul
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Apr 24, 2008, 07:10 PM
Paper hurts
When you don't get empiricism
Words cut
Efficacious dune
Professions collapse
When I'm this illiterate
fucking madd love for this!
bless you both.
you have made this board that much more.
and i feel just like that...
more
Quote from: wither-I on Apr 25, 2008, 05:16 PM
i like the "freestyle" this thread has assumed.
i just got out of sociology and philosophy so im feelin kinda inspired,
here's my go ahead...
to the full squander of a barely driven pursuit
delicate withdrawl -a sub-solemn surrender,
waging nothing to a barter of "all",
worth passed away from choking the trick,
bet the pass will keep your conscience dry -though captively clean.
Ebb the visual casualties of falling notice,
delighted revolt the absent away -barrading unto the polar direction,
with a glamorous escape draped in vivacious white banner,
-cursed the colors a bland.
matte fuss,
vibrant hollers,
bellowed screams,
-bludgeoning the trees down to simple seeds,
and burning the ocean to organic ash...
wounding the air,
gaping lacerations,
fucking "all" time and space,
-a throbbing phallic rage of war and envy.
this is awesome. no lie. love the flow and choice of words. gives me a feeling of angst mixed with helplessness, which is what i feel most of the time. thanks for posting.
and thanks to you both shade and wither for el praises. maybe ill post something else after work tonight.
robert smith should come to this thread and steal from you guys, so that he finishes the new cure cd.
Quote from: Deftones-argentina on Apr 26, 2008, 07:21 PM
robert smith should come to this thread and steal from you guys, so that he finishes the new cure cd.
i dont know if this is a compliment or a blast.
either way, thanks for stopping by.
and bless.
p.s. all of my stuff becomes copyrighted with the quickness. my unkle is an art broker and just starting lately, everytime i write something i email it to him and he stamps it dry... right now im actually working on compiling a hoard of poems for publish (just need to touch up a few) and also a novel in the works. maybe even a prose epic poem in the near future.
thanks and praises guys :)
-
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Apr 27, 2008, 11:03 AM
Good shit guys!
I'm starting to experiment with prose a little now. Tell me what you think of this excerpt:
Here's where the neurosis takes over. Where the fuck's the discipline?
"And all this before Bush leaves office?" -
- I hear the TV weep.
You could say this Thursday night was just the advancement/middle/closing-chapters of a long narrative that started somewhere in that dire adolescence, probably earlier. The stumbling over papers and clothes in a near drunken room-walk. "A state that doesn't look like Swiss-cheese" he says.
There's a seminar I must attend tomorrow morning. That stipulates a 6:00am rise. It's 1 o'clock already. Aw, poor him. Rockaway. Okay, its not the end of the world, but from this end the prospect of a lush escapist slumber being cut short for some shitty, difficult, tough-textured focus group of these sick little received-pronouciation sub-bland scene kids does not quite fill me with gall.
Just trying to develop some kind of style. Comments bad or good appreciated. I trust your judgments (US) judgements (UK) - or is it the other way around???
i like. very interesting, i got a little Hunter s. t.. vibe and also Anthony Burgess in there. are you from the UK?
I am indeed from good ole Blighty.
Hunter S. Thompson is a major influence, it would be a major compliment if there's any stand of his style in what I write at all! Ever since I read Fear and Loathing I've wanted to do an article gonzo-style or something! Drug-fuelled bender!
Thanks man!
always delighted to hear your stuff. and yes fear and loathing was actually the first book i ever read (by choice, like went out and bought it to read during my free time haha). his work is such a major influence on me. its really just majestic... time will martyr him i guarantee, he was before his time you know....
bless this "block".
ticket to Zion
Writer's Blockage
the Tyrant's clocked in
minor squabbles while pyros spark piff
riots rockin, fighters flock towards higher conscience
I might've lost sense widda whole heep of Uriah's false shit
head kinda soar, the type to startle a tribe who slaughters rhinosaurs
for nicer garments, nihilists waltzin empires of horror
enticed on provin how life is sordid. Inspired Macabre
smile with the odd ones straight style of psycotics, nice if they'd all come
late night in gibraltar, pace lightin the chron up
speak kindly on each found seen around since dazed minds'll dissolve
when fate's slightly evolved your face time with the monster
:-X
Wow, good shit. Like the last line in particular. And welcome to the thread yo.
yeah that was really cool.
and yess bring more and welcome!
bless!
-
-
so are we posting all our poetry here or just on-the-spot shit? whatever, i started this last night, just finished it. it's about my friend's daughter. don't have a title yet.
At spat longevity
Shrewd acrobatics
A day, a word, eyes lash-batted
In a moment, you solidified
Wake up to the fuse, then metastasize
I wanna know what you'd be like
I wanna know how you like life
When you're cognition and a time card
I hope the hood don't eat you alive
I hope you learn and grow
And laugh and thrive
I hope the world is kind
To you and your's
I hope God don't sickle the cells
You still have yet to learn to breathe
And don't forget to pull as much as release
I'm sorry for the roaches, I'm sorry for the mice
For all the coming days and all the coming nights
Of frustration
Of disappointment
We've all been there
And we just sat around
We ached like a beggar's back
Then we died at the cliff
I hope you're better then
I hope you're smarter then
I hope you touch a satellite
Life
is autonomic recoil
Somatic elopement
But don't be too scared
You can make it with a flimsy plan
I'm liking that occi. As always it's straight into it, with no filler blandness - 'At spat longevity' - just pertenance. A good riff to it.
If you click on that gruesome link in the post above, the poem you see is also somewhat untitled.
cool shit. what's the point of filler blandness? some shit english professors can dissect when there's no real meaning to any of it anyway, just a buncha pretty words strung together. boo.
Exactly, that's what I'm into - minimalism. And also the esthetic of the word on the page/screen (or in the ear for that matter...)
Thanks, glad to join.
yo shadeisatool...I like what you have in your blog, that "make radio a terrorist" line is classic...it should be worked into designs on shirts or something.
Oh n that verse I dropped was improvised sittin here typing, seeing the works you all left made me get into a lil cypher mode....I'll def drop something later on tho.
Thanks grandulon. Just kinda set that up spontaneously.
This is great, it's what it should all be about - feeding off each other's word energy-chi-thing.
i trust that you all will be honest and tell me how much this sucks...
what good is a day if you can't see the sun
what good is a life if you only got one
what good is a man if he has none
who is to say what good means at all
by now, there is no more left hanging on the wall
they say that someone went and burned down it all
But what they really mean, is not what they wanna say
when you reach out to point, your pointing both ways
and if i can't figure this out, if i cant find the light
take mercy on me lord, cause i already tried
let me lay back and listen to the whole world breathe
for the final slumber this body must seek
That doesn't suck at all! Anything is valid if it is coming from the soul I say. Personally, I envy your ability to rhyme - I struggle to do it!
Thanks for post.
-
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Apr 28, 2008, 08:43 PM
it's what it should all be about - feeding off each other's word energy-chi-thing.
Anything is valid if it is coming from the soul I say.
most love.
bless our block.
i wrote a song last night on the ole string box...
"Re-"
I will not, to hear your voice
in the echo of a song, long since sung
coming back, reverberating off some unseen bound
at the back of the void!
I will not, to see your face
in the stain of a painting, long since faded and worn
rising up, emitting from some paled undertone
long since cured!
The further drawn out from you i become
-I become! more of my own
Yet without being sincerely gone,
you draw nearer, -valid as etchings in stone
reeling unwashed, -as the time which tried to forfeit the grain!
as accomplice to the ages, im only sore when i cycle out
relapse of the tired rubber, on a wheel going on and on and on!
I've won before,
I've never missed a pass,
I've won before,
I've won before Ghost!
-and I tell you Im not afraid!
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Apr 30, 2008, 12:36 PM
Anybody heard of that gspoetry.com thing? I just went past it on the net while searching...
i signed up and posted a good portion of the poems ive posted here. http://www.gspoetry.com/member-occipudding-31324
Quote from: wither-I on Apr 30, 2008, 03:56 PM
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Apr 28, 2008, 08:43 PM
it's what it should all be about - feeding off each other's word energy-chi-thing.
Anything is valid if it is coming from the soul I say.
most love.
bless our block.
i wrote a song last night on the ole string box...
"Re-"
I will not, to hear your voice
in the echo of a song, long since sung
coming back, reverberating off some unseen bound
at the back of the void!
I will not, to see your face
in the stain of a painting, long since faded and worn
rising up, emitting from some paled undertone
long since cured!
The further drawn out from you i become
-I become! more of my own
Yet without being sincerely gone,
you draw nearer, -valid as etchings in stone
reeling unwashed, -as the time which tried to forfeit the grain!
as accomplice to the ages, im only sore when i cycle out
relapse of the tired rubber, on a wheel going on and on and on!
I've won before,
I've never missed a pass,
I've won before,
I've won before Ghost!
-and I tell you Im not afraid!
Loving this one w-i. really like the structure/stanzas, good shit!
Not that there's the option to add, apparently... hehe
Quote from: wither-I on Apr 30, 2008, 03:56 PM
"Re-"
I will not, to hear your voice
in the echo of a song, long since sung
coming back, reverberating off some unseen bound
at the back of the void!
I will not, to see your face
in the stain of a painting, long since faded and worn
rising up, emitting from some paled undertone
long since cured!
The further drawn out from you i become
-I become! more of my own
Yet without being sincerely gone,
you draw nearer, -valid as etchings in stone
reeling unwashed, -as the time which tried to forfeit the grain!
as accomplice to the ages, im only sore when i cycle out
relapse of the tired rubber, on a wheel going on and on and on!
I've won before,
I've never missed a pass,
I've won before,
I've won before Ghost!
-and I tell you Im not afraid!
nice choice of words.
another on-spot:
And I'm pulled back to a dream
My wet mind drenches back
Dreams of the same girl
With a different face every time
Her black face slipping through a mall past gunfire and hidden enemies
Her green eyes hanging by telephone wire in the storm
Her pink lips tell me I can't escape
Her back pressed against a wooden door that changes its shape
Now she's from India and her brown fingers beckon me through the dead sea past a swarm of shark-lions
Towards her and the ship
To escape
To freedom
To coming awake
Once she was made of light
And she taught me how not to fall through space
How to build my own epicenter
How to create my own matter
How to be my own god
But I forgot
I woke up and I forgot it all
To visit her without slipping away
But motivation
Motivation's a bitch
Oh my gawd, brilliant as per usual. Cheers for the comments dude btw!
-
well...
i have a blog, where i write in portuguese. I had one or another "text" in english.
I have this one called:
love boat rats
devil was my only way back home
I just broke too many hearts
and there´s nothing to betray
watch the red turn to black
in your mer
I just fail you
drinking your summer rain
Quote from: occipudding on Apr 30, 2008, 07:39 PM
My wet mind drenches back
Dreams of the same girl
lol sorry. im a loser and i notice stupid shit like that. anyways, i posted another on gs so imma post it hurr. cause you all know how much i love praise. it's called "al green"
Clouds fell on earth
Cheap lighter and sweet things
And protocol is biting at my knees
Menthol and fiberglass, dragging like the days
Neurons fire
Synapse close, synapse close
And I'm thinking about every single time I've fucked up in these 22 years
And how I wish I knew Love and Happiness like I know the words
I'm talkin' bout
How she can make it right, yeah
The stars don't even know
Spoil every day
Tugging at the yarns of this copout of a cop costume
Three-dollar stethoscope
And I'm best at a skill I'll never use
My voice over radio channels, five-by-five
Future me...
Peace be with you
Soulless, all the best
p.s. on a sidenote, sometimes life really sucks.
Quote from: White Wrist on Apr 30, 2008, 09:07 PM
well...
i have a blog, where i write in portuguese. I had one or another "text" in english.
I have this one called:
love boat rats
devil was my only way back home
I just broke too many hearts
and there´s nothing to betray
watch the red turn to black
in your mer
I just fail you
drinking your summer rain
good shit. love the last line.
Quote from: occipudding on May 01, 2008, 04:55 AM
Quote from: White Wrist on Apr 30, 2008, 09:07 PM
well...
i have a blog, where i write in portuguese. I had one or another "text" in english.
I have this one called:
love boat rats
devil was my only way back home
I just broke too many hearts
and there´s nothing to betray
watch the red turn to black
in your mer
I just fail you
drinking your summer rain
good shit. love the last line.
yeah thats what i thought the last line is simple but oh so great! very classical sounding for some reason to me
Quote from: occipudding on May 01, 2008, 04:54 AM
Quote from: occipudding on Apr 30, 2008, 07:39 PM
My wet mind drenches back
Dreams of the same girl
lol sorry. im a loser and i notice stupid shit like that. anyways, i posted another on gs so imma post it hurr. cause you all know how much i love praise. it's called "al green"
Clouds fell on earth
Cheap lighter and sweet things
And protocol is biting at my knees
Menthol and fiberglass, dragging like the days
Neurons fire
Synapse close, synapse close
And I'm thinking about every single time I've fucked up in these 22 years
And how I wish I knew Love and Happiness like I know the words
I'm talkin' bout
How she can make it right, yeah
The stars don't even know
Spoil every day
Tugging at the yarns of this copout of a cop costume
Three-dollar stethoscope
And I'm best at a skill I'll never use
My voice over radio channels, five-by-five
Future me...
Peace be with you
Soulless, all the best
p.s. on a sidenote, sometimes life really sucks.
really cool! i like how you and theshade change things so abruptly and it works so well. another great one!!
by the way, my name is Kyle so yall dont have to call me wither-i anymore lol!
bless.
TENDER
There, that exceptional permeability! There, that unwonted passiveness in the flesh! There in reaches of the scope and the adherence of the longing in plain view. Susceptible to the weather moreover with each new racking breath. Youth will stumble to retrieve step, and in each fell day will gain anew. Though, this is told to consist pervasively on, endearing forth when we lose step and forget that peaceful moment with new regret. We revert to a pale purple black when the "all else" fails. The external will expose us it seems no matter of maturation. Grief seems all but unbiased to age in exposure considering the telling eyes which trail the flogged lumber of a crippled jaunt to a newly stricken soldier parading the torch to flaming fertility of life. Uninstalled and reclusive, full of muss and abasement, the weary are evident and nearly obtrusive to view on spot. Our dues will debt us. Our retirement will elude our lips as our teeth will scrabble to nurse the skin of heaven. There, the grip in our maw. The lapse in our wheezing groans to recover lung once bat in our chest. All the tastes and salutary sights, the harmonious rages, to the fetid smell of an always open chest open like a fiery cauldron spewing ghastly honesties forthright to public view and debatable perception. We exceptional exposed, at our dearest lows and our most valued heights; they clear as any day shown- luminous the both greater and the good must be just equally divine. The fear and the love are both delectably splendid, transposed irreparably in grandeur. To feel the slightest nuzzle of impending loss and the mountainous barrage, a regular deluge to the valley, of what "will never be again, or the same" in plain scope. The loss, to the scratch for gain, the wafting promise, the rebuttal, to the return, the relapse, the wavering restraint, The old and the new, to lucidity, -all in the wretch of loss (in matters of grief). We are flowing, we are throbbing, we are voluptuous, we are red and we are green, we are the greater shades of chaos, we are tender to touch and tender to reveal, and like meat we will bake in the sun and devour ourselves the same, like a mask confronting death!
glad you like my little "piece" in english
Quote from: wither-I on May 02, 2008, 12:13 AM
TENDER
There, that exceptional permeability! There, that unwonted passiveness in the flesh! There in reaches of the scope and the adherence of the longing in plain view. Susceptible to the weather moreover with each new racking breath. Youth will stumble to retrieve step, and in each fell day will gain anew. Though, this is told to consist pervasively on, endearing forth when we lose step and forget that peaceful moment with new regret. We revert to a pale purple black when the "all else" fails. The external will expose us it seems no matter of maturation. Grief seems all but unbiased to age in exposure considering the telling eyes which trail the flogged lumber of a crippled jaunt to a newly stricken soldier parading the torch to flaming fertility of life. Uninstalled and reclusive, full of muss and abasement, the weary are evident and nearly obtrusive to view on spot. Our dues will debt us. Our retirement will elude our lips as our teeth will scrabble to nurse the skin of heaven. There, the grip in our maw. The lapse in our wheezing groans to recover lung once bat in our chest. All the tastes and salutary sights, the harmonious rages, to the fetid smell of an always open chest open like a fiery cauldron spewing ghastly honesties forthright to public view and debatable perception. We exceptional exposed, at our dearest lows and our most valued heights; they clear as any day shown- luminous the both greater and the good must be just equally divine. The fear and the love are both delectably splendid, transposed irreparably in grandeur. To feel the slightest nuzzle of impending loss and the mountainous barrage, a regular deluge to the valley, of what "will never be again, or the same" in plain scope. The loss, to the scratch for gain, the wafting promise, the rebuttal, to the return, the relapse, the wavering restraint, The old and the new, to lucidity, -all in the wretch of loss (in matters of grief). We are flowing, we are throbbing, we are voluptuous, we are red and we are green, we are the greater shades of chaos, we are tender to touch and tender to reveal, and like meat we will bake in the sun and devour ourselves the same, like a mask confronting death!
were you tripping on shrooms when you wrote this? i mean its cool, i like it... a lot actually, but it seems drug-induced and im curious.
A Timeline
There comes a time in every man's life
When he must Fight
For what
he
believes
in
This is not one of those times
Stagnant stare
I believe the herb should be freed back to the earth
And I believe that dead children should be freed from the dirt
I believe people should be treated with dignity
BY EACH OTHER
except the crazies and crackheads
Bellvue and Jesus for the heathens!
I believe in issuing licenses to procreate
Pending IQ test results
And that's about all the bitch wrote
So where to dig the blade?
Where to break the tip?
Then She came and She gone
And Her slapped me a bully, a pest
And whoever dies with the most toys wins
Meanwhile, choked by concrete, tranquilized by theatrics
My heart pumps spent blood
My will isn't weak
But the flesh isn't there
I follow myself
Outside my body
Traipsing through air
This is just for the taxing, aching
Gnawing at my back
Splitting my hairs and unwinding my threads
This is me
Getting my shit straight
Punching the clock
Hungry
Learning to whistle while I wait
This is me
A cough in the nude
A perversion of swimming
Spun bitter black back to the fucking beginning
Clueless
Uninformed
Lethargic and lost
This is me
This is me now
This,
from the throat
Urbanized and slumber in muck
I wanna kill the fear of rising debt and mutilate the carcass
I wanna taste the incriminating freedom drenched in blood
That,
That was me then
Rainwater with every meal
Oblivious the same
Me in the end
Quote from: occipudding on May 02, 2008, 06:57 AM
Quote from: wither-I on May 02, 2008, 12:13 AM
TENDER
There, that exceptional permeability! There, that unwonted passiveness in the flesh! There in reaches of the scope and the adherence of the longing in plain view. Susceptible to the weather moreover with each new racking breath. Youth will stumble to retrieve step, and in each fell day will gain anew. Though, this is told to consist pervasively on, endearing forth when we lose step and forget that peaceful moment with new regret. We revert to a pale purple black when the “all else” fails. The external will expose us it seems no matter of maturation. Grief seems all but unbiased to age in exposure considering the telling eyes which trail the flogged lumber of a crippled jaunt to a newly stricken soldier parading the torch to flaming fertility of life. Uninstalled and reclusive, full of muss and abasement, the weary are evident and nearly obtrusive to view on spot. Our dues will debt us. Our retirement will elude our lips as our teeth will scrabble to nurse the skin of heaven. There, the grip in our maw. The lapse in our wheezing groans to recover lung once bat in our chest. All the tastes and salutary sights, the harmonious rages, to the fetid smell of an always open chest open like a fiery cauldron spewing ghastly honesties forthright to public view and debatable perception. We exceptional exposed, at our dearest lows and our most valued heights; they clear as any day shown- luminous the both greater and the good must be just equally divine. The fear and the love are both delectably splendid, transposed irreparably in grandeur. To feel the slightest nuzzle of impending loss and the mountainous barrage, a regular deluge to the valley, of what “will never be again, or the same” in plain scope. The loss, to the scratch for gain, the wafting promise, the rebuttal, to the return, the relapse, the wavering restraint, The old and the new, to lucidity, -all in the wretch of loss (in matters of grief). We are flowing, we are throbbing, we are voluptuous, we are red and we are green, we are the greater shades of chaos, we are tender to touch and tender to reveal, and like meat we will bake in the sun and devour ourselves the same, like a mask confronting death!
were you tripping on shrooms when you wrote this? i mean its cool, i like it... a lot actually, but it seems drug-induced and im curious.
na. honestly i dont do anything except smoke pot every once in awhile... i havent even drank in over four years...
this is actually the beginning of my epic poem, im working on... although this is all it is as of now lol.
im glad you like it.
ill type in some of my more "surrealist" writings soon...
Hahaoverblownlament
My estranged lover.
My blessèd enemy.
I cry over my time.
Cry over these times.
Oh these troubled times.
Mothers day, insurgencies.
Midnight revolutions.
Christmas eve and Valentines.
Mad! Mad! Fat Man,
staring awry at blank'er stares
than his tummy towards the carcass of a cake.
Mad! Mad! Fat Man,
wasting oh so readily the breath
meaning to filtrate gasps further against gulps
downing double cups.
Mad! Mad! Fat man,
onry at his awkward disposition
his loose gut drenching over his britches
his back collapsing over the rinsed rungs
of the collateral spine + spirit
relation under question (?)
Mad! Mad! Fat Man,
sat on a wall...
ummm yeah. dont worry about what i put here before its a long story
same.
eh? hehe. mental poem, absolutely brilliant by the way
Quote from: theshadeisatool on May 15, 2008, 03:58 PM
eh? hehe. mental poem, absolutely brilliant by the way
haha true avant garde.
last night while typing my final for my sociology globalization course a fucking huge storm hit with hail and i had to abruptly save my written document to this board. just in time tho... turned it in and im done now... really, a longer story but i wont bother lol
^^ That was a bit bloody lucky then! Essays and tests and the like are destroying me currently.
Natural sElection
It only represents a work in progress:
My whole life only represents a work in progress!
Star cleaner!
Stuff taker!
Well we don't know this knowledge.
And do not even want it.
I'm on detox now if you say it again.
Finality is something we can never have.
Closure is just a dream.
It's on a campaign manifesto.
But it won't happen.
Roulade in the ether.
Foregoer!
King maker!
This candidate's being mobbed.
And I don't like it.
Attention away.
We've gone full circle again.
Policy matters.
Ideology sounds.
Quote from: theshadeisatool on May 27, 2008, 01:12 PM
^^ That was a bit bloody lucky then! Essays and tests and the like are destroying me currently.
Natural sElection
It only represents a work in progress:
My whole life only represents a work in progress!
Star cleaner!
Stuff taker!
Well we don't know this knowledge.
And do not even want it.
I'm on detox now if you say it again.
Finality is something we can never have.
Closure is just a dream.
It's on a campaign manifesto.
But it won't happen.
Roulade in the ether.
Foregoer!
King maker!
This candidate's being mobbed.
And I don't like it.
Attention away.
We've gone full circle again.
Policy matters.
Ideology sounds.
Bravo! i like this one.
questioning reason.
good studies.
like "we dont want this knowledge"
i feel "knowledge" breaks with "appreciation" and "education"
education looks to install knowledge for the instant, to test, and to artificially examine throughstatistical measures. plain fucking memorization.
whereas appreciating knowledge is the key to proclaiming it and utilizing it, honing it, and applying it.
"Wisdom- is the appreciation of knowledge, unlearned"
wisdom is the singularity. the philosophy of "one".
the spool under the coiled aesthetics.
most of all wisdom is simple.
haha kinda went on a rant.
bless.
Quote..when the escape emerged
i watched you drown
in shallow seas reversed,
the seas that stole You.
i used this in my and my friends' song, called '34°21′29″S -18°28′19″E',
it just came from rambling, without no intention of being created.
just a silly short piece.
No no, it's good shit.
-
^ i didnt even see this before its cool man!
here;
"Believe" you are "winning"
and you shall dine on the hearts and inerds of your brother,
tangled in saccharine curtains,
full of muss,
stricken by an "-ism",
held within faith and follie,
of only dying breaths.
(aloud)
made huge,
by the siege of starving ego,
you will only see the night,
as bitter reason,
to further fear what cannot be seen,
and to lust more feverished,
what fails to touch you,
at the height of day.
rest on prayers of fervent desires,
and what worries you most honestly,
and you will be answered,
in a deluge mirage,
of only your own pompous prophecy,
hugging with combed arms,
"moral interpretation of phenomenon"
masturbate your soul
Quote from: samson simpson on Jun 16, 2008, 04:59 AM
masturbate your soul
through aesthetic self improvement.
render your blessings.
like a fish with lips and a cripple with unmovable hips
back off from the pot
and actually accept what you sought
you aint the boss of me
thats shits really cool man. do you ever exceed to "break/slam poetry"?
what annoys me most, is that I write really very very much, but I always write in Lithuanian, that is why I cannot share it with you guys, even trying to translate it to english would destroy one third of the meaning.
Quote from: wither-I on Jun 16, 2008, 04:56 AM
^ i didnt even see this before its cool man!
here;
"Believe" you are "winning"
and you shall dine on the hearts and inerds of your brother,
tangled in saccharine curtains,
full of muss,
stricken by an "-ism",
held within faith and follie,
of only dying breaths.
(aloud)
made huge,
by the siege of starving ego,
you will only see the night,
as bitter reason,
to further fear what cannot be seen,
and to lust more feverished,
what fails to touch you,
at the height of day.
rest on prayers of fervent desires,
and what worries you most honestly,
and you will be answered,
in a deluge mirage,
of only your own pompous prophecy,
hugging with combed arms,
"moral interpretation of phenomenon"
Merci beaucoup and good writings as always!
Quote from: bored on Jun 21, 2008, 09:08 AM
what annoys me most, is that I write really very very much, but I always write in Lithuanian, that is why I cannot share it with you guys, even trying to translate it to english would destroy one third of the meaning.
I wouldn't mind seeing something written in Lithuanian! If it looks/sounds aesthetically good in Lithuanian then that's as good as poetry written in English, I think.
Okay, I'll try. This is going to be one long post..
I do not actually know if you will see the Lithuanian symbols..
something I've written few years ago, during my 'hate the war' times.
Quote1988
kaip Nojaus laivas į dunksančią tylą
plaukiu aš į tamsą;
sušaudytom rankom siekiu aš krantus
ir ieškau - paskendusių jūroj.
dienom ir naktim ieškosiu aš tako
per šviesą - į žvaigždę,
o brėkštant aušrai dainuosim dainas
išvargę po karo.
matysim šviesas kur jų net nebuvę,
girdėsim balsus iš anapus.
plauksim tarp kūnų į upę
- kol išvysiu krantus.
pakelsim taures už matančius naktį,
kad rastume kelią namo.
po karo, neliekant,
išvydus namus.
i more usually write prose.. something in Lithuanian, again. I really hope someone will understand what is written down here. otherwise i'm just flooding! this is quite long..
Quote2007.11.29 20:05:33
taškų debesys nukloja mano krūtinės ląstos vidinę pusę,
raudoną ir įkaitusią, laukiančią kažko magiško ir fantastiško.
atlošiu galvą, paleidžiu akis bėgioti po lubas, išmargintas zebru.
drambliai. eilė dramblių, susikabinusių uodegomis ir straubliais,
amžinai disku einančių dykuma. dykuma, kurioje saulė reiškia mirtį,
o lašas vandens yra absurdiško gyvenimo raktas.
kiekvienas dramblių ant nugaros neša po piramidę..
tobulą, matematiškai ir simboliškai nugludintą, aukso piramidę.
kiekvienoje iš piramidžių gyvena tūkstančiai visatų.. pasaulių..
sistemų.. saulių.. planetų.. tūkstančiai esybių, panašių į mane.
gyvenančių panašius gyvenimus, besisukančių aplink jų saules,
jų pastatus ir metalo gabalus.. o aš sėdžiu čia ir žiūriu į lubas.
tai panašu į letargo miegą, išties. lyg kažkas laikytų tave išjungtą.
sapnuoji atmerktomis akimis, vargiai suprasdamas, kas vyksta.
manai pabudęs, o tai - tik dar vieno sapno pradžia. kažkokio..
tai panašu ir į dramblių kelionę dykuma. lyg skęstum smėlyje.
mirties saulės šviesoje matytum iliuzijas ir vizijas.. miražus..
tačiau nei vieno iš jų nepaliestum.. nes jie kažkur pernelyg toli.
drambliai, besileidžiant saulei, transformuojasi į tylias gyvates.
į vieną ilgą gyvatę, neturinčią pradžios ar pabaigos, galvos ar uodegos.
ribą, tarp šios jos pusės, ir kitos, net jei tai neturi prasmės..
tyliai iškvėpiu. jaučiu dykumos būgnų ritmą savo širdyje, smegenyse;
mano akys jau senai užmerktos.. kai kurių dalykų juk nematyti atsimerkus.
dangus temsta; viskas, kas lieka realu - besileidžiančios saulės raudonis.
gyvatė, saulei pasiekus absurdiškai žemą tašką, tapo riba.. riba,
tarp juodo ir smėlio spalvos fonų. čia ir ten, nesuprasta ir suprasta,
pažįstama ir nepažįstama, čia ir ten, čia ir ten, čia - ir - ten.
mano akys susilieja į vieną, aukštesnę, įstrigusią kaktoje, viduryje,
nebelieka kambario, manęs, lubų. lieka tik vienas taškas tarp juodo -
ir smėlio spalvos fonų. vienas taškas, nepriklausantis jokiai pusei.
kurį laiką taškas tik kybo dvimatėje erdvėje tarp čia ir ten;
vėliau taškas ima keisti formą, jis plastiškai juda, ieškodamas -
ieškodamas tinkamos formos, kol pagaliau išsirenka piramidę.
juoda ir smėlio, dabar jau tapusio aukso dulkėmis, spalvos pakyla,
užlieja piramidę, kol ši tampa išbaigta - kybanti virš dramblio,
-dramblio, esančio viduryje dykumos;
--dykumos, esančios viduryje planetos;
---planetos, esančios viduryje sistemos;
----sistemos, esančios viduryje visatos;
-----ir visatos, esančios viduryje piramidės;
------piramidės, esančios ant dramblio nugaros;
to pačio, kuris jau kažkurį kartą žengia mano vizija.
ir taip be pabaigos,
54°55' - 23°59'.
sukantis ratais pagal ašį gali perlaužti bet ką. netgi laiką.
gali sugrįžti kiek tik nori atgal. kiek reikia. kiek trokšti.
bet tik galvoje.. tik galvoje. el cielo, akyse, galvoje, lunatizme.
oh well. here goes the flood.. :)
i wish i could understand. you have always seemed like a very creative, and talented fellow..
it looks beautiful though!
well I decided not to translate those two, here - just something I wrote not long ago, prose, again.
Quote
every fifty-one seconds a bright light flashes above my head.
..every fifty-one seconds something inverts my world for a moment, switches the warm silence on and obliterates the foreign radiance. every light behind the window vanishes for that one little moment, like the stars hidden beneath the clouds.. leaving that blank black hole above.. it sometimes gives me my dreams, but only those nights when I am unable to see the black light, reappearing every fifty-one seconds.
in that exact moment of the Opaque, the trees always cast shadows on rampant grass - the same grass under which our own flesh and blood is hidden, and where our silent enemies lie forgotten and decayed - unable to experience those things, happening every fifty-one seconds. when the black light flashes, you can see the bodies walking backwards and forwards - you will never see them in the blank daylight; - only when this one little second reoccurs you may witness their soft outline and everchanging shape.
those are the images of the blind; - the blind namely every fifty-one seconds open their eyes and see deserts, clouds, oceans and forests; everything they've heard so much about, every sky, piece of earth or existence in general - only theirs, the blind. - - - and I am one of the blind.
and I know, that every moment I could open my eyes and see the whole picture, every layer of it, so intense and complete. experience the Everything, but I chose not to see, I chose to experience the Completeness only every fifty-one seconds. this way that one moment becomes alive, fulfilled and meaningful in this long blank night.
every fifty-one seconds a light crosses my mind, like a message sent from an inverted lighthouse, which spreads that message to anyone who is waiting at the bottom of their oceans, waiting for something more to happen, every fifty-one seconds. i know - i counted.
..and yet, every fifty-one seconds a light disappears from my ceiling completely, I then focus on the horizon and wait for all of the things that will happen to me in those forthcoming sleepless nights. again, again, and again.
wow, it's translates brilliantly to English, it's impressive and poetic in English and looks good in Lithuanian as well *gets out Lithuanian pronounciation guide*
very dense and prosy, I like it
dude, you are accomplished, my admiration.
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Jun 23, 2008, 11:01 AM
wow, it's translates brilliantly to English, it's impressive and poetic in English and looks good in Lithuanian as well *gets out Lithuanian pronounciation guide*
very dense and prosy, I like it
dude, you are accomplished, my admiration.
thank you very much for your compliments :)
i will try to translate even more of my writings here. i've been writing for, I guess, about 5-6 years now (usually writing something every day). Most usually prose, only, like, 9-10 poems. When it gets to writing poems, in my own opinion I rhyme pretty good, I know the structure, but when I start to write it, usually it's some sort of struggle to put everything into the scheme. I'm prose kind of guy.
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Jun 23, 2008, 11:01 AM
wow, it's translates brilliantly to English, it's impressive and poetic in English and looks good in Lithuanian as well *gets out Lithuanian pronounciation guide*
very dense and prosy, I like it
dude, you are accomplished, my admiration.
this.
-
NONESUCH
I am capricious
an aberration
unexpectable
impossible to determine
the exception
a loophole
I climb with no guideline
willing to fall for freedom
unchained my ankles, wrists
connected to no wall
burdened by no yoke
a stone
Though i press on
dawn taunts
beckoning from curved planes
signal sent through atomic collisions
origination indeterminate
details withheld
Anywhere is always better than here
until im there
before its then
when it was
now its done
and next is coming
something of less importance
Quote
..and everything is shaking, and all the objects growing from the split ground are trembling.
the sound is so intense and yet that fragile -- you can feel the vibrant air, a fluid mass of warm noise. it pierces you, shaking every element inside of you, reconstructing you apart.
..you close your eyes and imagine thousands of stars, shining above you, in that darkest sky we all approach. all those stars, still airing the past, a dense and rhythmic layer of light that is still piercing our eyelids. billions of outbursts in the deep sky, coincidences, that brought this empty space to becoming filled with light and warmth.. otherwise I would still be stuck in a blank black night.
I imagine my sleep should be pictured just like this endless music, filled with thousands of worlds and repetitions in those worlds, a perpetual deja vu; an endless spiral, my map of travelling. a blank space which contains everything my eyes would invent.
reminiscent..
thick and solid layer of reverbant sound.. a wall of noise; in my head.
i havent been here in a while. hi everybody. how's the carpal tunnel?
Quote from: occipudding on Jul 03, 2008, 05:48 AM
i havent been here in a while. hi everybody. how's the carpal tunnel?
Hey dude! Come back and post some!
The syndrome is ever present.
-
-
-
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Jul 06, 2008, 07:38 PM
Quote from: occipudding on Jul 03, 2008, 05:48 AM
i havent been here in a while. hi everybody. how's the carpal tunnel?
Hey dude! Come back and post some!
The syndrome is ever present.
ill post when i can. dont have much time these days what with work and what little social life i have. is 'Get Fraiche At The Weekend' about aborting yourself by travelling back in time?
couldn't sleep last night. here's something i wrote:
Sweet dreams to all things
But I don't somnambulate somehow
All melatonin to show
Soft jazz on the stereo
Fissures to this wavelength can be crossed
Through palbebral movement
Slowly
And my binary is fucked up again
Root
Thru deserts and sandswarms of Bedouin
Kuala Lumpur
Places I've never been
Root thru garbage
Promote a picture that envelopes the hours
Into a split second
Or an entire lifetime
No little white pill to save the day
No little white pill make my eyelid sway
Between meeting and dying
Sleep, you're only a mile away
nice one, occi
Quote from: occipudding on Jul 11, 2008, 01:55 PM
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Jul 06, 2008, 07:38 PM
Quote from: occipudding on Jul 03, 2008, 05:48 AM
i havent been here in a while. hi everybody. how's the carpal tunnel?
Hey dude! Come back and post some!
The syndrome is ever present.
ill post when i can. dont have much time these days what with work and what little social life i have. is 'Get Fraiche At The Weekend' about aborting yourself by travelling back in time?
Now you mention it, yes, it should be even if that wasn't the original premise. A reflection of a few bad trippy hours.
Quote from: occipudding on Jul 11, 2008, 01:55 PM
Sweet dreams to all things
But I don't somnambulate somehow
All melatonin to show
Soft jazz on the stereo
Fissures to this wavelength can be crossed
Through palbebral movement
Slowly
And my binary is fucked up again
Root
Thru deserts and sandswarms of Bedouin
Kuala Lumpur
Places I've never been
Root thru garbage
Promote a picture that envelopes the hours
Into a split second
Or an entire lifetime
No little white pill to save the day
No little white pill make my eyelid sway
Between meeting and dying
Sleep, you're only a mile away
Brilliant! Great riff/rhythm to it.
And one more of mine, not impressive, but it was cathartic:
'Gabber'
We throw out impertenance like it was fossil
All the loose lips now common currency
But you couldn't have got a nicer boy than me...
I couldn't have said much to garner such a decree!
Surely?
Memories recalled now sting cringe
The red descent on the virulent visage
But the doubt, full scratchings stay with.
The doubtful bangings of a mightnight vacuum.
Who me?
once again, some prose.
Quotea low and insignificant star, floating just by the ground, silently traveling among the dark silhouettes of the trees in the horizon, painted dark red and blue.
focus on the horizon..
that what's inside of the star still believes it is invisible, imperceptable.. -- yet I watch it, moving closer and farther away from me in the blank blue sky. just like a melody, repeated for the thousandth time; over and over again, like the dark cloud within my chest, racing back and forth through my lungs, in between, again and again. and I still remember the star, I still remember the moment, the emotion which came with the recognition of -- a low star.. that star.. my star. relapse, relapse, relapse, and with every star I ask myself whether or not this is a dream -- maybe I am able to fly, maybe I am able to breathe under the shady water, maybe I can change the faces of all the people around me, to find myself in the other place, or other time?
then scarcely could I call this picture, framed in my memory, a relapse, coincidence, or godsend. swivel round six times, and I am back remembered at the blank tree within the space of lights. each and every time, swivel round six times, and I am back where my mind led me, where my desires led me, where my vice demons led me. each and every night do I dream the faces of the people -- surround me, each and every night I wake up in cold sweat, finding myself in the room with heated air, - heated by those electric lights -- so I would find myself, again and once, with the question: do you still have space in this, in my picture? do you still have space in my relapsing melody?
maybe you still are my star.. the low star within, tragically falling down, each time poised a bit higher over the horizon, focused, so that I would find you.. no this is not a game anymore, not the puzzle; it's the relapsing memory, a sad little picture which came from the future to tell me stories before everything happening once again. I cannot stop asking questions.. and so I will never let anyone look inside my wintry heart.
yeah, something I made out of the prose written last night, dry..
Quote..ants digging up the ground
and down them do I slowly frown.
swivel round six times,
and I'll lie open in the glance -
a star low and barely known
floating by the skyline,
painted red and blue -
inside my twisted spine vine.
yet I watched the star
like a melody so sweet - to repeat - for a thousandth time,
relapse, relapse, relapse -
I watched.
whether or not is this a dream,
swivel back six times
and I am back remembered
at the driest grounds.
each and every rhyme,
swivel round six times
ants hidden down the glass
the star has then escaped.
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Jul 10, 2008, 12:19 AM
[this is untitled]
I'm aware of what it is!
Navel-gaze neurosis on a plinth.
Procrastinate platter for life's detriment.
Nauseating company for any friend.
I'm aware of how it kills.
And tried to shake such by the gills.
Comes back around every Tuesday.
To no avail, prevailing ill.
Estoy cansado.
i was just reading through these ol' pages and read this and i must say it's really good. if you were a chick, i would think it's about being pregnant. you weren't pregnant at the time of writing this, were you?
haven't been here in a while. life. you know. but ill contribute while im here. maybe they'll make this thread into a book one day. i wrote this a couple weeks ago and don't think i posted it here. i don't think i need to explain anything. it's called "Morphine."
On tasting the rainbow
Colours glistening in milligram doses
The world is a friendlier place
And I observe thru opiate eyes
All my fibers and threads are awash in buckets of warm milk
And I feel my letting go surge thru my holding on
I adorn the drug
Like a winter shawl of steel and velvet
I'm walking thru a fairy tale, chasing white rabbits
And realness seems more real now than realness ever did
Down ache
Down worry
Down baroception
Down juice and pills
I just wanna get high
been posting on this poetry forum. wondering if anybody from here is on it. if not you should join. after you register, if you're interested, my poems are here: http://poetsanctuary.proboards47.com/index.cgi?board=PoetsFiles&action=display&thread=107550
there's like 1 or 2 so far i havent posted here yet. where's everybody at? this bitch is deader'n dead.
Quote from: occipudding on Sep 24, 2008, 04:59 AM
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Jul 10, 2008, 12:19 AM
[this is untitled]
I'm aware of what it is!
Navel-gaze neurosis on a plinth.
Procrastinate platter for life's detriment.
Nauseating company for any friend.
I'm aware of how it kills.
And tried to shake such by the gills.
Comes back around every Tuesday.
To no avail, prevailing ill.
Estoy cansado.
i was just reading through these ol' pages and read this and i must say it's really good. if you were a chick, i would think it's about being pregnant. you weren't pregnant at the time of writing this, were you?
haven't been here in a while. life. you know. but ill contribute while im here. maybe they'll make this thread into a book one day. i wrote this a couple weeks ago and don't think i posted it here. i don't think i need to explain anything. it's called "Morphine."
On tasting the rainbow
Colours glistening in milligram doses
The world is a friendlier place
And I observe thru opiate eyes
All my fibers and threads are awash in buckets of warm milk
And I feel my letting go surge thru my holding on
I adorn the drug
Like a winter shawl of steel and velvet
I'm walking thru a fairy tale, chasing white rabbits
And realness seems more real now than realness ever did
Down ache
Down worry
Down baroception
Down juice and pills
I just wanna get high
Thank you and I'm lovin' Morphine. I didn't have a bun in oven, no. Haha. Like the interpretation though!
Quote from: occipudding on Oct 06, 2008, 04:53 AM
been posting on this poetry forum. wondering if anybody from here is on it. if not you should join. after you register, if you're interested, my poems are here: http://poetsanctuary.proboards47.com/index.cgi?board=PoetsFiles&action=display&thread=107550 (http://poetsanctuary.proboards47.com/index.cgi?board=PoetsFiles&action=display&thread=107550)
there's like 1 or 2 so far i havent posted here yet. where's everybody at? this bitch is deader'n dead.
Joining now!
i was reading through that last one and im thinking to myself "oh thank god! a poem by theshadeisatool that doesn't make me think about childbirth" but then i read line 11, "While you present sanitary to public." and your whole shit just dropped bloody clumps on on my pre-frontal gyrus. you're a weird bastard. if you register on that site, read celibataire by me and leave a comment. it's like one of the most heartfelt poems ive ever written. anyways im sick of seeing untitleds from you. you should retitle this one "dirty mouth? clean it with orbitz"
something new, again, prose
obsolete
you may stand up, oh.. yes, you can,;yet you still will lie here, listening! how the music pixelates, how each and every noise stretches leaving the strange static in the background.. you can fall asleep, oh, yes you should.. yet you still will lie here, watching how the walls acquire depth, and how nobody's novelized heroes in your picture starts moving slowly, revolving, dancing with this digital waltz..
a silent slow dance, that slow so you actually will not see the dancers moving, but you know, that they suspend one another in embrace, they feel each other's body warmth, the humidity of skin. all of this is incredibly absolute, though again obsolete, cause I have watched for five hundred forty five frames this movie, this dance, which is tearing me apart, bothering me more..
a small step to the left, down the well, but they're still dancing, interlaced, like two long reeds in the field of weeds. if they suspend each other more, they'll bleed, if they try to move away, they'll bleed with the other reeds.. reeds in the field of weeds. ecstacy in the pain, ecstacy in the non being, ecstacy in searching, ecstacy, ecstacy, ecstacy, oh - the oil my insides are smeared with, the oil that should smear the slow dance in between, which is more and more disgusting; the oil that should wash the faces of all the world, to fasten the movement, overall, Adderall.
you can get back to the timeline, but will still wait for the end of the pause, the two second pause between the noises the instruments cause.. to hear the first sound of the new melody, of the new sunrise, of the new wine. oh.. where is it, where is the first sound? I can't seem to find it, I can't seem to find it! - and, oh, the dancing, the dancing and the legs and the hands and the faces, and the kissing, oh, the kissing, the reeds in the weeds, the weeds that are cutting my ankles, bending my knees. oh, the dance, please let me down, please let me come down, the dance, where is the dance, where - is - the dance?
I fall down.. still counting the seconds. The sound haven't come. The sound is yet not there.. the dance is over.. my slow infinite dance with my soul is over.
prose, new
misconversation! was their fundamental problem while they were licking each other's thighs.. while this viper was just crawling around.. with this innocent glare watching this sweaty process. misconversation fundamentally.. incapacity of communicating through identical ideas and notions, which (in the end, and the end, of course, was tragic and burning and falling down like a jet plane shot down by soviet fighters.. falling down to a burnt wood, with thousands of men dressed like bears and wolves waiting for you), oh, they were different from the early beginning..
..what a huge mistake communication is, what huge mistakes differences are! smiled viper silently.
it went further down to avoid the cataclysms of this sticky event. yet, in the beginning somebody actually thought this would work - the ideas and notions would stay identical - we would be able to talk in settlement.. though in time:: new languages formed, unknown and unheard - and this very moment was the proof: Me and You, or how you would say through your language You and I, and all the problems of the world pressed against my chest - and then - a moment of light - light through the burnt wood
tables turn, turning tables - tables turn. just after the destructive misconversations they follow, the constructive trill, the creative settlement.. settlement - what a way to describe this! it's a plan, and noone has to know, it's a plan which will have the Outcome - ha ha ha - which we thought of later. and now, as the notions and ideas of the others are spilt into my brain pot I see the problem is not in me. I did not change the language. I did not cause this.
..smiling I recede from this tempting (yes.. the last days of magic*) snaky convulsive body.. I do not despise it anymore.. though I know pity it - like a plan failed, like an unfulfilled hidden agenda - a small meaningless detail which will fade out soon. I stand up and leave.. the viper smiles while watching me, considering my train of thought impressive. misconversation!.. misconversation is the fundamental problem. or at least it was one.
i typed this into my phones notepad this morning while watching various youtube videos
i don't write, but i've had nothing else to do lately so i might from now on
I've seen your eyes swallow the lie
oh how i despise
the figure by your side
faded memories become jaded memories
while your face rearranges
the totalitarian insomniac resurfaces
and i can't wait
after all, you won't see the look on my face
Swallow it Down
I'm scratching at some graffiti with a stub of chalk
When you walk up behind me and whisper
'Art is dead, you know,'
Sending chills up my spine and distracting me from the
Four jagged lines of
Accidental rhyme I was trying to leave on the wall
Amid a battlefield of
Profanity and
Phone-numbers.
I turn to face you and
Take a deep breath
Filling my lungs with a rush of hot air and
The spark of the match that you're lighting with one hand and
The thin spiral of smoke that has started to drift
From the cigarette you're holding
Between your fingers.
Embers and ash float down in the breeze
As you flick your wrist and push up your sleeves
And I feel words I've never tasted
At the back of my throat
Dissolving into the memory of every pretty thing I
Ever wrote then
Pressing my lips to yours
I let a strange new poem crawl inside you
And it blooms like a morning glory
Heavy
On your tongue
You make a low noise and go limp and let your
Life-line drop into the dust
Touching my lower back and
Leaning against the rough wall
As we smear the sentence
I was trying to choke out in shaky script
When you walked up behind me and whispered
'Art is dead, you know...'
And I have a feeling
You'll think that I'm out of my mind
The kind of girl who stumbles
Into the arms of the first stranger she can find and
Wakes up in the middle of the night from a dream about
Kissing him
As though her life
Depended on it
But I know what I'm doing
And pulling away
My eyelashes graze your cheek for the last time
Then I'm down the road and
Half-way across town when you finally realize
I was only giving you
Mouth-to-mouth
^^ pretty good.
She's spilling everywhere! -A deep pail overflowing it's chore onto my lap.
The bed has become a cannope for her ecstatic rain,
and the candied cinders from her burning heights, -above all wind and salt, in the echelons of cloying saccharine spaces!
Regardless, she is done for! -A lifetime of recovery from seizure, and the stress of falling to pieces, over and over and over again!
A statued peak, flurrying out to a naked, and unused loaf of rubble,
-the confetti of siege and celebration, and return...
The last of her admirer's will sweep the floor by the bed, and under the rug, for remnant of her being, (and heat), and keepsake trophy,
-as maids of the bereft -who will still dream in these spaces day and nightly,
Your's truly! -wearied and "done for" in a star-lit coma!
"eternal recurrence in portent of downpoor"
"It still moves!"
-just some spectacle map,
made by the hands of some man.
how will it matter where i reign from?
or where i have been?
I still have most of my teeth
and the luxury of free limbs,
and im still filling up what sinks in me,
every solitary vesicle,
to every self-willing cell,
-to enterprise! to network!
every gear and valve flooding,
drowned in an awe lost to mechanical conscious and feeling.
I exist only in the eyes of my oppressor,
seen only in the entrail dividends of a surmounted foe,
-biased and pestiferous to life,light,and movement
-see me now still somehow glow!
structures mending structures,
fathered on pillars,
like fingers,
like twigs,
cupping dizzying intricate nests,
formidable fortresses barring the unknowledgeable and foreign,
where wonted weeds still grow through apparent wounds,
weathered by the inconsistencies in a purpose built on ambition,
a secret to be expounded once unwritten laws heed way!
Nice to see this still a&k and excellent work - as above ^
Long time no post.
Lets put this to couch
With hired refrains
Making same mistake
To procure maximum gains
These your own
Darling
Wonderful
Empirical pains
Ritual rubbish
Is your rational choice
Bound to repeat fools
And fill vulgar void
Like epochs prior
Renaissance
And catharsis
Make equivocal aims
Whaaa? Off topic, but I'm sure I had more posts than that....
"Words and stenches keep a close eye.
At least of the one when you told me no.
I might be more interested in anything you say
If I had two of my own.
I could probably believe it, or roll along with nothing
If I had left you alone.
I'd be content with ceasing, if she was the bus that killed me
Over all we've kept goodness alive
Despite the way you told me no."
-----------
Note to myself:
"Only Four of us, Wild Card.
No rope or cold.
If he brought us back, I'd find out why I left...
Now select, and hope she's lucky."
i've actually been writing this December...first time in almost 2 months.
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Dec 05, 2009, 05:12 PM
Nice to see this still a&k and excellent work - as above ^
Long time no post.
Lets put this to couch
With hired refrains
Making same mistake
To procure maximum gains
These your own
Darling
Wonderful
Empirical pains
Ritual rubbish
Is your rational choice
Bound to repeat fools
And fill vulgar void
Like epochs prior
Renaissance
And catharsis
Make equivocal aims
dude this is killer! the best stuff ive read in a while period...
:)
did a lil freestyling in the chit chat topic -plan a fuck...
"hoe on a rope"
put them hoes on a schedule ya dig
do that chore like cinderella ya dig
im all about balls and banquets ya dig
but the callender says we got a curfew ya dig
best be out that door once the deed be done ya dig
no hangin around snuggle bug in the rug ya dig
cuz after you gone i got another appointment ya dig
dont get hurt hoe on the way to see the doctor ya dig
this is a profession all about knockin ya dig
i keep straight prescribin' ya dig
cuz hoe's got ailments like people too ya dig
and stressful schedules and bills too ya dig
but im gone get mine ya dig
so ya best be on time ya dig
merry solstice,
you private gems,
you pagans of a ruling earth,
you masters of the whimsical,
you tinkerers of love...
this is your song,
sung upon the obscure and discordant patterns,
the wavering refrains,
the screaming of open spaces,
the starry conglomerations of a luminous afterbirth,
in the vaccum of an existential lung!
it bites from the bottom of our hearts,
to pass in revolt and dance,
no oppressor greater than gravity,
with no worldly demand for a decorated martyr!
Quote from: wither-I on Dec 21, 2009, 11:34 PM
merry solstice,
you private gems,
you pagans of a ruling earth,
you masters of the whimsical,
you tinkerers of love...
this is your song,
sung upon the obscure and discordant patterns,
the wavering refrains,
the screaming of open spaces,
the starry conglomerations of a luminous afterbirth,
in the vaccum of an existential lung!
it bites from the bottom of our hearts,
to pass in revolt and dance,
no oppressor greater than gravity,
with no worldly demand for a decorated martyr!
This one is a gem, love it! 'starry conglomerations of a luminous afterbirth' - absolutely brilliant, an antidote for my vacuous post-christmas
Quote from: wither-I on Dec 06, 2009, 12:57 AM
Quote from: theshadeisatool on Dec 05, 2009, 05:12 PM
Nice to see this still a&k and excellent work - as above ^
Long time no post.
Lets put this to couch
With hired refrains
Making same mistake
To procure maximum gains
These your own
Darling
Wonderful
Empirical pains
Ritual rubbish
Is your rational choice
Bound to repeat fools
And fill vulgar void
Like epochs prior
Renaissance
And catharsis
Make equivocal aims
dude this is killer! the best stuff ive read in a while period...
:)
Far too kind dude!
No friend in dread
Or companion in doom
You wanted to offset
Not for fear to loom
Fragile in situ
No aesthete glory to present
Procrastinate a picture
While the performance you resent
a bridge coming together in a fall.
a marriage in carnage, docked.
a leap to the origin from a vantage aloft,
where birds can be seen grazing on their feet,
small shards of the sky in their beaks,
like worms plucked from other moons...
holistic gatherings to put eyes all around,
and ears to the ground,
a vibrant begging resounds,
fall,
fall,
fall...
I often understand that my personal poetry is way too limited and way too simple when I compare it with yours all.
i love your writings man
...at a time of respiring,
trust was turned out in such great hopes,
that the vacuum overcame the exploder,
a sinus shared,
with all who bleed of mess we cannot measure.
for a tremble dense of earthen bases,
blazing,
rises and annihilates the senses,
heed for way of soft tissue emotions,
and rash callous responses...