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Disorder: your feelings of regret and missed opportunity come through very clearly.
Cyberbat: Interesting perspective of an artist! MollyMac: A spellbinding journey, and I liked the part about the freckles! :D I am so glad people are keeping this thread alive. Now I need to get up off my posterior and post some too! |
Alright, I've been doing a great deal of introspection since my last posting. There has been so much trauma and delight to pepper my life that I wonder whether I am really the cook or merely a lackey in the kitchen.
> I have not read anything here ... I'm just posting feelings at the moment ... let's see ... I know that I possess a great deal of vitriol ... violent thoughts to mask the horrifying emotions at work underneath the mask of civility. There is little to explain the abstractions that emerge from any individual, though they be intellectual manifestations of all the emotions any one person may feel. We do not feel just one emotion at a time; we only comprehend the single emotion because that is all we can articulate. Many minds race to catch up with the feelings clouding the judgement of any individual. So we become frightened for lack of security or ego satisfaction or because of lonelineness, and our aspirations - those wonderful dreams that can exist for no motive other than espousing beauty - are smashed upon the cold reality that so frequently defines our world. Those beautiful dreams turn to horrible nightmares. The horrible nightmares are unrealized dreams and the fear the dreams were never real at the outset. They were real. But consider this: None of us existed before we arrived ... none of us will exist after we leave. OUCH! |
do you see the blaze down on suicide avenue
we lost another one to pain the preacher’s screaming about hell to me an’ you but their still dropping like flies your fucking god won’t help you now to knives and needles, to ropes and flame, gunshots and gutting blades, they’re taking their lives will the world be at loss without them is that what they wanna find is their life like the dirt in my gown’s hem, they want to be always on ours minds there is no hope in the mind of a suicidle beast |
'The Fall of Dominion'
The people fought back when the guilty went free, And clashed with the mighty, the powers that be: The underground worked as a perfect machine; The uprise was brewing against king and queen! Like a rock sitting strongly in fissure or crack, It would know in its soul that it wouldn't go back: Like a rock on a hill, pushed hard to go down, And fall in a lake with naught choice but to drown. The walls were destroyed, and the swarm flooded in, The king tried to fool them, to hide his chagrin; The paupers saw through the clever man's scheme, And they thusly closed in to end his regime! There was no escape for the last of his kind, The land was now free, and forever unblind; With nothing to hold the populace in fear They went to rebuild and control their frontier! It's sort of a more modern day tribute to 'The Destruction of Sennacherib' by Lord Byron. |
Whoa, Maggot! That was AWESOME!
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why go home
uncomfortable silences are miles out of my way and I have other places to be the miles back longer than those away buys time for False Springs better scenarios home free nothing there no one i want to be home and dread of the reality the only thing that changed was me no one believes no one would if I spoke no suspension of disbelief. no shared architecture empty |
MollyMac: you have written the individual evolution and eventual separation from the others in a deep way. Almost a declaration of independence. Cool.
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Cool stuff, Maggot ... feels weird callling someone "Maggot" ... :o
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It is easy to die, and painful to live.
Those who survive have much to give. Of their good life they shall share naught. Their amok rage is all they've got. But spare their friends and foes alike if in that sharing they spare a life. - A 19 year old son of a friend committed suicide last night ... I did not know him well ... but I know exactly how he felt when the trigger was pulled. |
Thankies, guys! :)
Ishan, that poem is krieg. Mind if a give a small amount of critique on it, though? There's just one small thing. I mean, I know it's an emotional poem, so you may not want it. That's fine with me. ^_^ |
Wow. Maggot is amazing. I feel inferior; again. My poems never rhyme. This one I wrote for class. I recently moved into this really preppy district, so I've been drawing on all my really 'disturbing' past experiences for all my assignments.
Dear lost one, they laughed at her, it’s was as if she had no ears, her ears were just like everyone else's, she could hear just as well as they, their words cut like the knife into her skin, she kept walking through the crowd, laughing at something a friend said, pretending not to notice their pathetic goading, we heard her dropping hints, we saw as well as they, her scars should have told us something, but they were just brushed of like rain off her coffin, she had so much to live for, we should have seen it coming, we saw it and did nothing, she’s is gone now, her hurt was known only to a few, they called her emo, goth, untouchable, so much for friends, she said so little mattered, she laughed off her pain, we ignored her, now she is dead, never again will we ignore, no more laughing at the silent screams, we lost her and will not stand to lose another, we promised ourselves we would not be like her, yet I seem to be taking her worn and boody path dedicated to the bestfriend who never got her drivers license |
Quote:
"Please come visit. People get upset, write poetry about it, and post it here." And besides, people learn too. Not everyone who posts here has a degree in Literature. One must begin somewhere. In your case I would suggest you write prose. You seem to have a flair for telling a story rather than flowery rhymes. I am the same way. Keep writing, and best of luck to you. |
thanks; ever thought of being a motivational speaker? I have the flu so I've been at home writing all week. It's nice to know that being delerious is not always a bad thing.
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Critique - uh okay
Quote:
Yeah criticism is alright ... my last couple of posts haven't been real poems though ... one was a protracted diatribe featuring a wealth of pain, and another was about a kid who just killed himself. What are your thoughts on them? and ... I'm about to post a new thing shortly, so critique that, too! |
Ah, well have fun with it.
This blessed nuptial, the wedding knell sonorous voice signaling the last phrase, “I do,” murmured the dove festooned in lace. Wedding over, the illusion never fell. Flounced creature, beast of white, crying one, with your kohl ridden tears and racking sobs, you are the blemish that otherwise robs the honeyed aura of your new union. Never fear, never fret, you don’t show yet. Under the veil so pure, no one knows; a tiny spark of life within you grows. Embrace their ignorance without regret. However; curiosity forever wins; and cruel gossip always grows under supposed sins. |
Hopelessly lost in this world of fake bliss
Everyone must feel like this They think I’m happy but I deny it So many people they don’t understand The arrogance of their plan For me, I feel such everlasting pain The tears, how they fall- They fall like rain Alone there’s no one here that understands me. When shall I be free- In an accepting community? Around, all around this world-the angels all gather. My dread grows as the headman’s axe falls upon my heart. It mutilates me, and darkly My blood drips like rain upon the thirsty earth, filled with fusion. I flee as death, (O sweet DEATH!) hovers to the surface. All alone, my love falls upon blind, bright eyes. This is my salvation. Upon his arrival to eternal salvation and justice- The man to whom we shall only speak of here- felt the plea for love. In the garden surrounded by death fining angels lay her grave. His lust, so darkly enchanted it was. Ye wanted to be near her grave. Death, how sweet it was yet he did not feel it. He wanted to be not only near her grave but with her. So many years, he felt this way and so many years no longer he stood. With him, he kept a blade. Yes a blade. ‘my love,’ he spoke ever so softly. ‘My darling’. The disembowelment stroke him ever so peacefully, as his blood soaked into the dead grass. Cold, uncaring eyes stared upon the blood from above. The angels deceived him, and he burnt with the rest. He was not with his wife, he wished so much. Yet lust was forbidden in this external hell. |
rain drenches parched earth
laptop eminates soft glow damn, there goes wifi |
Uhh, was that a poem? All three lines or just the first two?
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Eternity began when it ended, and in that same moment the darkness was banished by the light. The paradox is there can be no light without darkness; the black gives birth to the light, and the light banishes the blackness.
Our dark natures as humans are much the same. In the perfect shell of our evolved bodies do we find a beast. It is frightening to know that we can slip so easily into the role of the carnivorous savage. This makes the emergence of a genteel creature so gratifying. Few among us will achieve the perfection of eminent spirit that knows no hostility and suffers neither a boastful air nor condescension. For the remainder of us, a great struggle is at hand. We may either disguise completely that horrid animal that lives within or we may permit the savage and the cultured natures to coexist. It makes many tremble, for the verity of such a life is difficult to reconcile. I pity those who can not find their way to live this way ... for the rest of us ... we call this place Il Terra Gotico - The Gothic World. Welcome. |
my works
all my beatifull works
ID RATHER BE ASLEEP Id rather be asleep at there the dreams are sweet id sleep all day id sleep all night but unfortanitly theres reality this world I wake in my grim reality the truth I dont want to see id rather be asleep at least there the dreams are sweet-me RAZORS EDGE Weve all walked a Razors edge that slim line between love and hate Weve all fallen from time to time to feel love or to feel hate Weve all been cut by this Razors edge to hate and love weve fallen this Razors spilled our blood just who will fall first Its made us feel hate made us hate our friends and despise our enemy's Its made us feel love love for those who hate us and for those we hate its made us see another side a side we dont want to see o' Razors edge please let us be-ME UNTITLED SONG(A WORK IN PROGRESS) /I've senn the world fall down around me twice before/ And it's all for you. its all for you/ And I dont know what to say but its all okay ,its all okay/ and daer god I dont know what to do, but run away. /And now we're face to face, you macthed me pace for pace/ caught me in your grip agian. This time I cant run away/ It's still okay I wont run away, this time i'll stay/ you shot me down turned me around, and now your making me decide/ I cant run away,its not okay, dear god what do I do?/ I dont want to hurt anyone, I dont want hurt. nows one of those times I need a second oppinion./I need a vioce of guidence/ Who to turn to, to ask what to do? I can't run away, it's not okay, dear god god it's not okay, what to say, I have to stay/ make it right, not to night, maybe later, I'll fix it then/ Then never comes I need to fix it now/ fix it here, fix it now , I just need to fix it/ BLOOD ON THE WALL Your life is a joke you power hungry maniac you think cause we just sit and take it were weak Ill show you weak is your blood on the wall weak your bleeding there whos weak now your bloods on the wall(2) whos weak now with your blood on the wall your bloods on the wall can't you see it you little bitch those stains are yours those marks will go away but what about these, these wont go away but I bet you do your bloods on the wall(2) whos weak now with your blood on the wall your bloods on the wall The crimson carpet a bitter reminder of who stepped up Im the one who made you bleed I put your blood on the wall Its all my fault your bloods on the wall dont forget who put your blood on the wall I put your blood on the wall.-ME VOICES THAT DONT STOP I hear the vioces There not in my head theyre to loud for that I can see them now Please make them stop No! No! Get away! Get away! Theres silence now I dont now what to do help me again Tell me they aint dead NO, theyre just drowned out. This new noise is vioces quit vioces Why dont they speak!!! END THIS SILENCE I CANT TAKE IT ANY MORE! No! Not like that quite it! end this cycle and now im dead i hear nothing ever again-ME FEAR ITSELF I've seen her face a thousand times I've slept with her on a hollow night I've heard her voice inside my head she stole my life she made me run because of her i can not sleep she has made me as jumpy as a man on springs she has me peering around corners and looking over my shoulder she has woke me up in cold sweat she has made wary of others she has effected my every move and haunted my every thought she is a demon i can never escape I nightmare i cant wake from she is fear itself, and she has me -ME |
Those of us who feel great passion also feel great pain.
We who know tremendous love know, too, tremendous rage. I, to invoke civility, feel first some savagery! And when the fear of lost hope overcomes my common sense Will there become an act of class to contain the smite I rent? Strike! Strike, man! Feel release and the letting of blood. Race to all places good and dank and rage like on a drug! Feelings that gnash upon the souls and hearts of self and friend At last be known and absolved when rage is fully spent. Quiet soon I be, and we may rest a moment then. |
the wind is like my thoughts
blowing wispy, then disappearing the sea is like my indecision going one way, the rushing back the wind is like my sadness always felt, but never seen the sea is like my temper changing with the tide |
Tis! the scriptor dies!
(aka: The Writer's Requiem) Tis! the scriptor dies! cut off by hate but not his faith Accomplished is his sacrifice For his written work is done The pen laid in him alone The black ink had spilled and flowed The waxing moon is risen on and his revenging days now roam. The days of Death and mourn is set and all may live through him set free his fiends lost their mortal pow'r Tis destroyed by infamy. A Writer's Hope My hope is built on nothing less than my own blood and my own pen I dare not trust my unknown fame but Inspired me by love and pain. Through you o Endless love I bow and other ones have broken vow and other ones have broken vow When midnight veils its lovely face like my love with unchanging grace through my own pen and paper lies and life's written by fate and time Through you o Endless love I bow and other ones have broken vow and other ones have broken vow |
I'm sorry I'm not posting a poem, but I am actually aiming to cure me of my writer's block. I didn't feel like starting a separate thread for this, but I just cannot seem to get any good ideas, or if I do, cannot get them onto paper. Any advice guys? I just need inspiration! :(
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just put down sentance fragments until you think you have something.
Throughout a bleak and woeful city the prossesi to park looms weary a twilight romp through dusty allys hardly justifies disgruntled cabbys bones show through gripping hands each meter is one of many last stands silver clinks against green steel when you return late despair you shall feel to pay a towman for fees unneeded driving home you've been defeated |
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