I have to find my escape from this game of reasoning.
Venom drips.
It's in my head now. Am I poisoned? Will I be that way? I can't let it be in my blood... Temporary.
Those thoughts flee, I'm me. Safe again, winding down. Chills rush over me, I wonder why I even began writing.
Forget. Forgive.
Forget? Impossible. I'm angry again. Forgive? I can do that. Calm now. Resent not, move forward. I see regret, it's not mine though. I don't own any of that. I never will.
I am better.
Colors fly, flashes boom. Confusion leaves, and I can see the finish line. The finish line is... you.
I have no idea
who I am and why I am
this changes nothing
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
All that I have are my hands in his pockets
In desperation measuring the ribs
Touching the bottom in search for good
I decide what is dust and what is food
A playful gourmet covered in many layers of cream
Don't let your eyes trick you lest your mind be lost in the stream
Six packs of meat ready for the surgeon
The candles are lit for no special reason
Fixing the handle that was broken in a vision
By clapping hands in a magic stance
I came early just to watch the fair
Coveting the ribbons that skillfully float in the air
By the lust of my eyes everything they gaze becomes ash
If you can hear the sound of cotton you should understand
By helping your mother to peel vegetables for dinner
You can hear a tale or two
Just fallen feathers from the birds in the sky
I saw a mirror down by the street
I never understood what the reflection meant
I asked for wisdom but it silently stared
Never to bring an answer again.
8:23 PM says the viewfinder.
I blink three times and scratch my face.
Why cant this job be just a little kinder?
I'm beginning to think today's payroll is a waste.
8:25 PM now, that last line took far too long.
Times a spiral and I'm spinning, winning, my fat mouth is grinning.
My vision is tinting, hinting that my mental state is hindering.
Buzzing like a dremel: tick tock,
Time on the clock and a gremlin appears.
"Which road would you take?" he laughs.
I'm baffled and dare not answer this riddle of a raffle.
"What's my prize?"
"Well, silly boy, you get to keep your eyes."
The knife has a shine.
I don't drink, but am wishing I had a glass of wine.
My grin leaves as his grin comes.
Oh, how I want to be where he once was.
I wouldn't have imagined,
My body melting into the sofa, and I
No longer had eyes but I still see,
No longer had a mind but I still think,
No longer had a body but I still feel.
See myself turn to sand and ocean waves
And my mind wasn't frightened, but scared.
And I see beauty in this transformation
As the waves subside and the sand erodes,
I feel my heart beat in a cold ice cube,
I feel needles in my skull, but I don't have a skull,
I feel the sorrows of my days
And the liquor in my blood
And I can't quite grasp what I am
Anymore.
But the pain vanishes as the waves recede,
And the sand returns to myself,
And my eyes, and my mind, and my body return
And the waves turn to gray
And the sand turns to gray
And solidify into a shape I recognize,
A shape like a sofa, a sofa!
My bones return, and my muscles too,
And I tried to move but I couldn't.
Cold sweat on my skin as I became myself
Again.
i wonder how people say that they know things
i know i don't
all i know is how to question myself
but when i question myself people tell me that I'm wrong
that I don't know what I'm talking about.
I don't ask questions because I want you to tell me what I am
i ask questions because i want you to tell me what to do
Or i want you to cement my ideas my speculations
i want you to confirm my suspicions
i don't need you to tell me that you never knew
and i don't need you to tell me that it's hidden
that i am paradoxes within paradoxes,
that i am wrong,
that i am crazy,
that i am somehow violating
i don't need you But it'd be nice
But i wish i could talk about everything on my mind to somebody But i would have them hug me and talk to me But we would empty our heads into each other so we would be light as feathers But we would float above the flotsam of the world
who am i and why am i here
who are we and why are we here
are we here to be here
we are who our brains tell us we are
we are we not who we seem
nobody who seems is we
i am a lie and a fraud and a fake
i am a hidden chalice in a lake
pulsing with energy below the surface But being dredged
i am a rainbow in the sky and a pattern in cornfields painted to be seen by anyone who comes near
i am changing myself and my brain is changing along with it to fit better
to fit myself better and what do I want to be But who will I connect with when I become it
why do I ask questions that there are no answers to
i sit up at night agonizing
a spider's web with myself at the center and my heart in pieces
my body bound in spidersilk hidden and alone and the skin not showing through
so I can be perfect in invisibility
let me stare at everything I want to
even if it's rude
because i need to stare to see
and i'm blind in this strange and blossoming multiplicity But i am trying to see and i somehow grew an eye
"in the world of the blind the one-eyed man is king"
but the one-eyed man is so frail i heard that he traded his eye for a rock and was pleased with the exchange.
i would trade my eye for rocks:
a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. and i know why the caged bird shouldn't sing;
because singing brings attention to it
and if it stays quiet it can eke out more short years in its cage
before its captors turn homicidal
and make it jump off a bridge
i would give everything i have
to be able to express what i feel
to other people
and have some sort of connection
or:
a thought a wish denied the dream
and let it fade into the scene
as ghosts we file into roles
our waiting lives, our endless cold
why be warm when you can wish
for endless life and anguish?
to switch, or to be warm again
or maybe warmth was illusion
all I wanted connection
all I had a bad complexion.
let me be what I will be
and trade my life for endless dreams;
I'll be eternally grateful
and relive life from grave to cradle,
rewrite things as they occurred
and wait to die for debt incurred.
and when I've lost my life -
or traded it for something nice,
i'll sit and watch the similes -
be free and float like homilies -
and hope for endless jubilees
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Nine, ten, eleven shots pop off.
I look for cover, too much blood has been lost.
The world becomes gray, losing all color she once had.
Wiped clean by this taking of a man.
Black and white were how things used to be.
As society, we just colored our planet as we pleased.
Tossing in purple, blue, green, reds and yellow.
All it took to unpaint the picture was the killing of a fellow.
Liquid pours from my face, tears? I'm not sure.
The only thing clear to me is I don't want to live anymore.
The piece in my hand turns toward myself;
weeping, I begin to squeeze.
It's too bad I'm saved and won't see Johnny in Hell.
life
is like
a box of
chocolates
as long as the
candies are black
and the blood filling
siphoned from my veins
drips quiet onto the ground
with frenzied streams of bile -
and if I could get myself to throw
up any more I would stick my fingers
into my throat wholeheartedly
panic with familiar anxiety
everybody is so angry
they all need to calm
down and relax like
we used to at the
old summer house
watching tides
recede
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
The pieces, the pieces, the pieces of love,
Scattered so perfectly for our hands to create
Something so wonderful and beautiful that
Only the depths of our hearts can fathom.
We built it, we built it, we built our love
High like the marvelous pyramids of Egypt
That stand as pinnacles, the pinnacles
Of our love so great for each other.
We fixed it, we fixed it, we fixed our love
So that it will not crack or falter.
We reinforced it with mighty Roman
Pillars that are our heartstrings.
I built you, I built you, I built you, my love,
And put you high upon your pedestal for
You to gaze down upon me. Upon us, as if
You were an empress and I were your subject,
And my love for you was far greater than yours for me,
For with my bare hands, calloused by time and passion,
I built our love upon my back, upon my soul for you
To enjoy the view, while I stood lowly, lifting you up
While the crowds cheered for us, but were truly cheering
For you. While they praised our creation, our love, my work,
But they only praised you, they only saw you, unknowing
Of the true creator, the creator of our delusional love.
I built you, I built you, I built you, my love.
And time is your worst enemy, as it is mine.
For when you, my love, my creation, begin
To crumble and fall, I will be too weary
To fix what has fallen, to repair your love,
Your Roman pillars, your mighty pyramid,
For when you crumble and fall you will realize that
I built you, I built you, I built you, my love.
so sweet the sticky sickly
remnants of dispossessed candy
the left pieces of what we loved
and the end of love
gorge until the limit breaks
eerie, peering nomenclature
sick of stomach, bowed of stature
stronger when the sugar's fake
a slip a slur a roman cur
worn collars bent with torture
a crown of thorns, a parting horn,
too much beauty to be duty
I put my mouth into
the gummies and chewed until full
and then beyond - the pearly gates
rotted out from the inside
but I tasted it all
and it was so
deliciously
worth it
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
This is just a reminder, but be sure to submit your nominations for the Best Writer forum award! Don't let those roleplaying jocks hog all the spots in the poll; try and get one or two of the regulars from the writing forum in on the writing award!
I feel like I'm the only one trying.
Oh cruel being, you have such terrible timing.
Digging deep inside my thoughts with a pickax, you're mining.
I look to the gods and have to question if I'm dying.
Lips starting to move
With a gentle breathing
that conceals motives;
Eyes staring blankly
at the sky, with a moon at noon
The stars and the glare of the night
Charms trees to stand silent
as no voice of wind was heard
Under the spell of sun, moon and stars
I swing back and forth, afraid of death
Under pressure, a gentle confusion
Whispers to my heart something to believe in
Many eyes lurks in the shadows
But the bridge is the real danger;
Moss and a thin layer of mist
Covers the path
You can't see it but you can cross it.
And the old man sitting in a stump
Sells mushrooms.
Atlas, walking lonely with low shoulders
Drifting across a rusty landscape-
Living beneath a pyrite night sky
Dreaming of it's kiss but knowing the lie
behind its bliss
Footsteps in the dust;
Rifts in the crust of an aging world
The end of a distant home- maybe he'll
Odysseus his way back some day.
Or maybe he'll stay nowhere
Or maybe he'll stay golden.
Or maybe he'll grow old with
the help of a long lost-dream
of a long-lost winning team
First time for everything;
But you resist the time to first leave.
So go ahead Mr. Wayward;
Drift to the earth's edge
Maybe you'll meet Galileo at the end;
See the curve and then learn that the journey never ends.
Everything returns to the start.
So you maybe start to think,
Understand where you're going.
Head to a birthplace you've never even seen-
Remember a recurring dream you've never even dreamed
Walk the wrong way on the right path.
Break your watch, Mr. Right Time.
Roll your shoulders; Atlas.
Break your old home-
And return to the original.
And understand that knowledge of your
ignorance is bliss.
i've a blossom in me that nobody knows
an expectant flower waits as the sun glows
though hidden down under cover of darkness
with ignorant hopes that the blossom will die
if it feeds on nothing but salt when I cry
hope it withers and stagnates as a dead cyst
but i hope the blossom grows parasitically
sucks the bloom from my body the blood from my lips
sucks the life from my flesh and the lunar eclipse
just let me lie forever dead and alone
in the bottom of someone's deserted tomb
i'll excavate my own place to inhabit
and all of you can stay away from me
why emerge and destroy the illusion of self
all paths lead to death all paths lead to death
my heart expands growing surely inwards
within the safe cocoon
the heart's vessels become crazy figures
so I'll live suited up in an ant farm in stealth
and initially i move my forelegs excitedly
as i explore and learn within the group without care
recklessness accompanies newness - 'i might be'
and just for a second some peace is here
until i lose myself in the mass of bodies
become everyone else, complaining, ornery
but the carapace stays and the blossom's not gone
as long as I live I will keep to the shadows
to strangle its growth and pretend to be facile
but the carapace stays and the blossom's not gone
trapped in shadows in shadows lengthening lengthening like a summer sunset slickening slickening
a winter front moving in like a bad dream
meld together endlessly there is no identity
here we are everything, nothing, whatever we
want; as long as we can maintain the scream
it's lucky to be in an ant farm isn't it
and we are
all!
the!
same!
and we!
are!
one!
as long as we have our carapaces
chrysalis
i hope the blossom grows parasitically
sucks the bloom from my body the blood from my lips
the life from my flesh and the lunar eclipse
let me be dead and alone
at the bottom of a deserted tomb
i'll excavate my own place to inhabit
and all of you can be away from
me
why open a growth, why try to expand?
all paths lead to death, all paths lead to death
If I grow inwards i see my heart expand
surely within the safe cocoon
i can watch the trees grow tilted left
within the dome I'll cultivate an ant farm
i pick a favorite among the ants
her name is alice
and she moves her forelegs excitedly
as she explores and learns within the group
that recklessness that accompanies nouveau
until i lose her
where is she/where am i/what am i
trapped in shadows in shadows lengthening lengthening like a summer sunset slickening
a winter front moving in
they meld together endlessly
there is no identity
in an ant farm it's lucky isn't it
and they are
all!
the!
same!
we!
are!
one!
as long as we have our carapaces
in passing
we were not what we were
turned from killers to mousers
gave my head a lobotomy
my breasts up to bouncers
make the passing the real
or imagined a fetish
slavish rose-tinted flowers
their pollen embellished
we are growing and writhing
we are spanning the globe
we are enveloped darkness
we will never grow old
we are stupid on purpose
we are blind with four eyes
we are lovely and dying
we are dead in disguise
coven
the coven a hovel desensitized
predictable
undone by its caring defanged
irresistible
the crowd lit crosses inflamed
harangued
the witches grabbed buckets to save
enslaved
denial a vial and drama ensorcelled but rightness is brightness and guilt is a strategy
leave passion to horses and rightness to sheep - being different's a curse being righteous's blind
but the happy are feckless, reckless, denial
the sad are at least cognizant of burials
and as it all burned down at least they knew
their god would not save them
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Long noses, short noses. Different eyebrows and many poses.
Man of Satan? Friend of Moses?
John Mayer to Bob Barker, bushes burn in many twisted manners.
Who's our supreme judge today? Somebody has to pound the gavel.
Synapses fire but no thoughts are processed.
We all ask one another, "have we lost it?"
Built from dust, born from a womb, it doesn't matter.
We all bury ourselves as King's in a Tomb.
No man higher than another? "That's a lie!",
None of you hold back when grading a neighbor.
"What's his job, for whom does he labor?"
"I make this much more, I did this much better!"
God's ruler will lay down the law, so go ahead
measure yourself now as the tallest stick in the mud.
Congratulations, you're built from crud.
Let us all be cast aside
And taste the gloom on this summers night
That buzzing sensation
This delirium razing
Every thought I've ever had.
Every dream I lost in vain
Every moment of suffering
For relief is brief
Sweet
And cruel
Only to drown in the realm
Where thoughts pool.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
:symch::symu::symb:"“There is only one god and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: “Not today.” :symb::symu::symch:
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Venom drips.
It's in my head now. Am I poisoned? Will I be that way? I can't let it be in my blood... Temporary.
Those thoughts flee, I'm me. Safe again, winding down. Chills rush over me, I wonder why I even began writing.
Forget. Forgive.
Forget? Impossible. I'm angry again. Forgive? I can do that. Calm now. Resent not, move forward. I see regret, it's not mine though. I don't own any of that. I never will.
I am better.
Colors fly, flashes boom. Confusion leaves, and I can see the finish line. The finish line is... you.
But time doesn’t die
The clock still tics
And life passes by
My life is hollow
But still goes on
Worthy of nothing
Everything – gone
Closing my eyes
And drifting away
The scarlet ground
I will not stay
I stopped my time
But only mine
Nothing is left
It is just fine
Decks I play:
-Friedrich Nietzsche
I have no idea
who I am and why I am
this changes nothing
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
All that I have are my hands in his pockets
In desperation measuring the ribs
Touching the bottom in search for good
I decide what is dust and what is food
A playful gourmet covered in many layers of cream
Don't let your eyes trick you lest your mind be lost in the stream
Six packs of meat ready for the surgeon
The candles are lit for no special reason
Fixing the handle that was broken in a vision
By clapping hands in a magic stance
I came early just to watch the fair
Coveting the ribbons that skillfully float in the air
By the lust of my eyes everything they gaze becomes ash
If you can hear the sound of cotton you should understand
By helping your mother to peel vegetables for dinner
You can hear a tale or two
Just fallen feathers from the birds in the sky
I saw a mirror down by the street
I never understood what the reflection meant
I asked for wisdom but it silently stared
Never to bring an answer again.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
I blink three times and scratch my face.
Why cant this job be just a little kinder?
I'm beginning to think today's payroll is a waste.
8:25 PM now, that last line took far too long.
Times a spiral and I'm spinning, winning, my fat mouth is grinning.
My vision is tinting, hinting that my mental state is hindering.
Buzzing like a dremel: tick tock,
Time on the clock and a gremlin appears.
"Which road would you take?" he laughs.
I'm baffled and dare not answer this riddle of a raffle.
"What's my prize?"
"Well, silly boy, you get to keep your eyes."
The knife has a shine.
I don't drink, but am wishing I had a glass of wine.
My grin leaves as his grin comes.
Oh, how I want to be where he once was.
I wouldn't have imagined,
My body melting into the sofa, and I
No longer had eyes but I still see,
No longer had a mind but I still think,
No longer had a body but I still feel.
See myself turn to sand and ocean waves
And my mind wasn't frightened, but scared.
And I see beauty in this transformation
As the waves subside and the sand erodes,
I feel my heart beat in a cold ice cube,
I feel needles in my skull, but I don't have a skull,
I feel the sorrows of my days
And the liquor in my blood
And I can't quite grasp what I am
Anymore.
But the pain vanishes as the waves recede,
And the sand returns to myself,
And my eyes, and my mind, and my body return
And the waves turn to gray
And the sand turns to gray
And solidify into a shape I recognize,
A shape like a sofa, a sofa!
My bones return, and my muscles too,
And I tried to move but I couldn't.
Cold sweat on my skin as I became myself
Again.
i wonder how people say that they know things
i know i don't
all i know is how to question myself
but when i question myself people tell me that I'm wrong
that I don't know what I'm talking about.
I don't ask questions because I want you to tell me what I am
i ask questions because i want you to tell me what to do
Or i want you to cement my ideas my speculations
i want you to confirm my suspicions
i don't need you to tell me that you never knew
and i don't need you to tell me that it's hidden
that i am paradoxes within paradoxes,
that i am wrong,
that i am crazy,
that i am somehow violating
i don't need you But it'd be nice
But i wish i could talk about everything on my mind to somebody But i would have them hug me and talk to me But we would empty our heads into each other so we would be light as feathers But we would float above the flotsam of the world
who am i and why am i here
who are we and why are we here
are we here to be here
we are who our brains tell us we are
we are we not who we seem
nobody who seems is we
i am a lie and a fraud and a fake
i am a hidden chalice in a lake
pulsing with energy below the surface But being dredged
i am a rainbow in the sky and a pattern in cornfields painted to be seen by anyone who comes near
i am changing myself and my brain is changing along with it to fit better
to fit myself better and what do I want to be But who will I connect with when I become it
why do I ask questions that there are no answers to
i sit up at night agonizing
a spider's web with myself at the center and my heart in pieces
my body bound in spidersilk hidden and alone and the skin not showing through
so I can be perfect in invisibility
let me stare at everything I want to
even if it's rude
because i need to stare to see
and i'm blind in this strange and blossoming multiplicity But i am trying to see and i somehow grew an eye
"in the world of the blind the one-eyed man is king"
but the one-eyed man is so frail i heard that he traded his eye for a rock and was pleased with the exchange.
i would trade my eye for rocks:
a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. and i know why the caged bird shouldn't sing;
because singing brings attention to it
and if it stays quiet it can eke out more short years in its cage
before its captors turn homicidal
and make it jump off a bridge
i would give everything i have
to be able to express what i feel
to other people
and have some sort of connection
or:
a thought a wish denied the dream
and let it fade into the scene
as ghosts we file into roles
our waiting lives, our endless cold
why be warm when you can wish
for endless life and anguish?
to switch, or to be warm again
or maybe warmth was illusion
all I wanted connection
all I had a bad complexion.
let me be what I will be
and trade my life for endless dreams;
I'll be eternally grateful
and relive life from grave to cradle,
rewrite things as they occurred
and wait to die for debt incurred.
and when I've lost my life -
or traded it for something nice,
i'll sit and watch the similes -
be free and float like homilies -
and hope for endless jubilees
until you act you cannot see
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
I look for cover, too much blood has been lost.
The world becomes gray, losing all color she once had.
Wiped clean by this taking of a man.
Black and white were how things used to be.
As society, we just colored our planet as we pleased.
Tossing in purple, blue, green, reds and yellow.
All it took to unpaint the picture was the killing of a fellow.
Liquid pours from my face, tears? I'm not sure.
The only thing clear to me is I don't want to live anymore.
The piece in my hand turns toward myself;
weeping, I begin to squeeze.
It's too bad I'm saved and won't see Johnny in Hell.
Oh well.
is like
a box of
chocolates
as long as the
candies are black
and the blood filling
siphoned from my veins
drips quiet onto the ground
with frenzied streams of bile -
and if I could get myself to throw
up any more I would stick my fingers
into my throat wholeheartedly
panic with familiar anxiety
everybody is so angry
they all need to calm
down and relax like
we used to at the
old summer house
watching tides
recede
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Listen to your pain
Enjoy your inevitable rout
Your efforts are in vain
Crushed by my hand
Drowning in despair
Welcome to my land
Nothing here is fair
Enter your eternal sleep
Suffer in that dream
I will never weep
But my eyes will gleam
Decks I play:
-Friedrich Nietzsche
The pieces, the pieces, the pieces of love,
Scattered so perfectly for our hands to create
Something so wonderful and beautiful that
Only the depths of our hearts can fathom.
We built it, we built it, we built our love
High like the marvelous pyramids of Egypt
That stand as pinnacles, the pinnacles
Of our love so great for each other.
We fixed it, we fixed it, we fixed our love
So that it will not crack or falter.
We reinforced it with mighty Roman
Pillars that are our heartstrings.
I built you, I built you, I built you, my love,
And put you high upon your pedestal for
You to gaze down upon me. Upon us, as if
You were an empress and I were your subject,
And my love for you was far greater than yours for me,
For with my bare hands, calloused by time and passion,
I built our love upon my back, upon my soul for you
To enjoy the view, while I stood lowly, lifting you up
While the crowds cheered for us, but were truly cheering
For you. While they praised our creation, our love, my work,
But they only praised you, they only saw you, unknowing
Of the true creator, the creator of our delusional love.
I built you, I built you, I built you, my love.
And time is your worst enemy, as it is mine.
For when you, my love, my creation, begin
To crumble and fall, I will be too weary
To fix what has fallen, to repair your love,
Your Roman pillars, your mighty pyramid,
For when you crumble and fall you will realize that
I built you, I built you, I built you, my love.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
so sweet the sticky sickly
remnants of dispossessed candy
the left pieces of what we loved
and the end of love
gorge until the limit breaks
eerie, peering nomenclature
sick of stomach, bowed of stature
stronger when the sugar's fake
a slip a slur a roman cur
worn collars bent with torture
a crown of thorns, a parting horn,
too much beauty to be duty
I put my mouth into
the gummies and chewed until full
and then beyond - the pearly gates
rotted out from the inside
but I tasted it all
and it was so
deliciously
worth it
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
The world we see
Hollow
What we will be
Doubt
I see in thee
Death
Decks I play:
-Friedrich Nietzsche
I feel like I'm the only one trying.
Oh cruel being, you have such terrible timing.
Digging deep inside my thoughts with a pickax, you're mining.
I look to the gods and have to question if I'm dying.
With a gentle breathing
that conceals motives;
Eyes staring blankly
at the sky, with a moon at noon
The stars and the glare of the night
Charms trees to stand silent
as no voice of wind was heard
Under the spell of sun, moon and stars
I swing back and forth, afraid of death
Under pressure, a gentle confusion
Whispers to my heart something to believe in
Many eyes lurks in the shadows
But the bridge is the real danger;
Moss and a thin layer of mist
Covers the path
You can't see it but you can cross it.
And the old man sitting in a stump
Sells mushrooms.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Atlas, walking lonely with low shoulders
Drifting across a rusty landscape-
Living beneath a pyrite night sky
Dreaming of it's kiss but knowing the lie
behind its bliss
Footsteps in the dust;
Rifts in the crust of an aging world
The end of a distant home- maybe he'll
Odysseus his way back some day.
Or maybe he'll stay nowhere
Or maybe he'll stay golden.
Or maybe he'll grow old with
the help of a long lost-dream
of a long-lost winning team
First time for everything;
But you resist the time to first leave.
So go ahead Mr. Wayward;
Drift to the earth's edge
Maybe you'll meet Galileo at the end;
See the curve and then learn that the journey never ends.
Everything returns to the start.
So you maybe start to think,
Understand where you're going.
Head to a birthplace you've never even seen-
Remember a recurring dream you've never even dreamed
Walk the wrong way on the right path.
Break your watch, Mr. Right Time.
Roll your shoulders; Atlas.
Break your old home-
And return to the original.
And understand that knowledge of your
ignorance is bliss.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
You pledge allegiance to the flag
Of the United States of America
And you scrutinize every word
Memorize every line
You even claim to give sight to the blind
Maybe you need to open your own eyes and see
See the world through the eyes of those who can see
Reality and morality, through people like me
And you may not be kissin' ass crack
Because your head is stuck in your own ass
Kissin' the one on your own back
Now, Mr. Eminem, you call yourself a leader?
And if you think you can run this country
Boy, how would you lead her?
You speak of rebellion and fighting the system
But you wouldn't be rapping and flapping
Your fat mouth without them.
"No more blood for oil," how could you say that?
I'm sure you don't go driving around
In a solar powered Cadillac.
And soldiers, they were made to follow orders
Of course they don't see Red, White, and Blue
They see all the horrors
And have you ever carried a gun?
Aside from shooting on the run
Or gunning down another man's son?
Have you ever seen a flag carried to a door?
Or watch a mother on her knees
Crying on the kitchen floor?
Remember this, Mr. Eminem,
America is not a weapon, it's a nation
It's irrational rebellion that causes devastation
Who is the coward now? Go on, ask yourself,
People like you have no patriotic wealth.
Original Lyrics to MOSH: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/eminem/mosh.html
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
i've a blossom in me that nobody knows
an expectant flower waits as the sun glows
though hidden down under cover of darkness
with ignorant hopes that the blossom will die
if it feeds on nothing but salt when I cry
hope it withers and stagnates as a dead cyst
but i hope the blossom grows parasitically
sucks the bloom from my body the blood from my lips
sucks the life from my flesh and the lunar eclipse
just let me lie forever dead and alone
in the bottom of someone's deserted tomb
i'll excavate my own place to inhabit
and all of you can stay away from me
why emerge and destroy the illusion of self
all paths lead to death all paths lead to death
my heart expands growing surely inwards
within the safe cocoon
the heart's vessels become crazy figures
so I'll live suited up in an ant farm in stealth
and initially i move my forelegs excitedly
as i explore and learn within the group without care
recklessness accompanies newness - 'i might be'
and just for a second some peace is here
until i lose myself in the mass of bodies
become everyone else, complaining, ornery
but the carapace stays and the blossom's not gone
as long as I live I will keep to the shadows
to strangle its growth and pretend to be facile
but the carapace stays and the blossom's not gone
trapped in shadows in shadows lengthening lengthening like a summer sunset slickening slickening
a winter front moving in like a bad dream
meld together endlessly there is no identity
here we are everything, nothing, whatever we
want; as long as we can maintain the scream
it's lucky to be in an ant farm isn't it
and we are
all!
the!
same!
and we!
are!
one!
as long as we have our carapaces
chrysalis
i hope the blossom grows parasitically
sucks the bloom from my body the blood from my lips
the life from my flesh and the lunar eclipse
let me be dead and alone
at the bottom of a deserted tomb
i'll excavate my own place to inhabit
and all of you can be away from
me
why open a growth, why try to expand?
all paths lead to death, all paths lead to death
If I grow inwards i see my heart expand
surely within the safe cocoon
i can watch the trees grow tilted left
within the dome I'll cultivate an ant farm
i pick a favorite among the ants
her name is alice
and she moves her forelegs excitedly
as she explores and learns within the group
that recklessness that accompanies nouveau
until i lose her
where is she/where am i/what am i
trapped in shadows in shadows lengthening lengthening like a summer sunset slickening
a winter front moving in
they meld together endlessly
there is no identity
in an ant farm it's lucky isn't it
and they are
all!
the!
same!
we!
are!
one!
as long as we have our carapaces
in passing
we were not what we were
turned from killers to mousers
gave my head a lobotomy
my breasts up to bouncers
make the passing the real
or imagined a fetish
slavish rose-tinted flowers
their pollen embellished
we are growing and writhing
we are spanning the globe
we are enveloped darkness
we will never grow old
we are stupid on purpose
we are blind with four eyes
we are lovely and dying
we are dead in disguise
coven
the coven a hovel desensitized
predictable
undone by its caring defanged
irresistible
the crowd lit crosses inflamed
harangued
the witches grabbed buckets to save
enslaved
denial a vial and drama ensorcelled but rightness is brightness and guilt is a strategy
leave passion to horses and rightness to sheep - being different's a curse being righteous's blind
but the happy are feckless, reckless, denial
the sad are at least cognizant of burials
and as it all burned down at least they knew
their god would not save them
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Man of Satan? Friend of Moses?
John Mayer to Bob Barker, bushes burn in many twisted manners.
Who's our supreme judge today? Somebody has to pound the gavel.
Synapses fire but no thoughts are processed.
We all ask one another, "have we lost it?"
Built from dust, born from a womb, it doesn't matter.
We all bury ourselves as King's in a Tomb.
No man higher than another? "That's a lie!",
None of you hold back when grading a neighbor.
"What's his job, for whom does he labor?"
"I make this much more, I did this much better!"
God's ruler will lay down the law, so go ahead
measure yourself now as the tallest stick in the mud.
Congratulations, you're built from crud.
And taste the gloom on this summers night
That buzzing sensation
This delirium razing
Every thought I've ever had.
Every dream I lost in vain
Every moment of suffering
For relief is brief
Sweet
And cruel
Only to drown in the realm
Where thoughts pool.