A Thread of Poetry ( Only Post Poetry HERE!! )

[Underwater Ophelia]

I usually don't write about suicide, but here this is.
Bathtub Dweller

Flesh so clammy
The water's been cold for hours
The hair flows around open eyes
Eyes that can't look anymore
They stare, but at nothing
And they never will again
Flesh stained pink
This water's been red for hours
Everything is moist
Everything is chilled
After falling to the tile in a sob
A heart breaks
It beats, but for nothing
And it never will again

And another one.
Eulogy

Your only friend was Satan
A miserable child grew bitter with age
You'd do anything for a cheap thrill
For a long time it worked
But when loose women
And drug cocktails lost their effect
You worsened
There were nights I spent with you
Nights when your eyes looked more like Faust's than ever
That I just fell to my knees and wept
Your bloodshot eyes would well up with rage
But you never hit me
Though you whipped me with your tongue so as
To scar me thoroughly
You could only cry
You weren't good
You weren't honest
And you would steal a rock from a man because he had it
But you were human
Honestly, unmistakably, and unbelievably human
So you should be forgiven

And lastly...my French creation. I think some of the grammar is slightly off and I didn't put in accents, but you get the idea.
J'ai Oublie

Tu etais beau
Un chose je sais
Je pense je t'aime
Je pense...mais

Quel tu as dit
J'ai oublie
Quel tu as pense
Je pense je sais

Quand tu etais seul
J'ai embrasse tes mains
J'ai cherche pour toi
Mais mon coeur a faim

Quel tu as dit
J'ai oublie
Quel tu as pense
Je ne peux pas sais

Cela soir tu as eu les yeux triste
Bien que tu est dormi
J'ai su tu as ete alle
Donc je suis parti

Quel tu as dit
J'ai oublie
Quel tu as pense
Je ne sais jamais


So those are a few of my poems. Tell me what you think.

[cannibalnuns]

I wish I could write poetry like all of you do. I might try something later, more serious. But I like it.

[Empty_Purple_Stars]

Originally Posted by Santarea

This is the alcohol talkin'
because my lips are shut
and no one is around
to hear my words,
so I hear Jack's.

I picked up a second hand halo
and wiped it off on my old jeans
Tried to clean it with a red bandanna.
Their sins rubbed off on me

My hands were stained
with unknown deeds
and wouldn't clean.
the sins spread like my legs
but without the consolation
of lips on my neck
or number in my pocket

And a resounding; FUCK YEAH for that bit o' prose..

Very nice Beautiful..

You have a Staccato Rhythm I really fucking dig..

Makes me long for the days I still posted my Prosey bits here..

I think there is still some of my older stuff lurking in the beginning pages of the thread, if anyone is ever that drunk or that bored..

And now for something completely different..

Along

Wistfully she gazes on toward another sealed window
in desperate attempts to look away down upon
this tumultuous unforgiving road along
destiny's eternally shadowed path alone.

silken mists slowly rise from a darkened forest's floor
flowing past her sleeping form in currents of solitude
enveloping desirous dreams, caressing, restraining
death's covetous hands, crimson and lace mingle among
crystalline droplets of a sorrow now so alone

(and a distant forgotten storm draws near)

Thunder invades the tears falling silently to the earth
memories she hides behind closed eyes once again awakens
to the fragile reality of a conscience irrevocable,
behind her winds the obscured road in which until now-
until now she's been forcibly dragged along.

a myriad of living stars from the shadows gaze on
tracing each tear that silently slips away into eternity,
the delicate songs of life are no longer heard among
the secret whispers only two Souls of One can hear
silence now as this forest forever sleeps and the heavens-

(they weep)

along her path she stoically treads on toward a perpetual Life
hidden painfully no more to her ever dreaming eyes
listlessly the void from within at last melts away
(on her way she runs)
through the wind along descending mists she once refrained
(fluttering eyes still closed, she runs)
predestined tears far behind her gaze eternally fixed upon
(the window in which i forever peer through).

-------------
Forum posting kills the formatting, but oh well, you get the idea.

[sensuous0mar]

I once lived life with an addictive personality. I was a cutter. A crazy, angsty, teenage cutter baby. I have recently relapsed, for no apparent reason.

A look into the life of a cutter

Everyone knows
That in life there are many drugs
To slow you down
Speed you up
Take the edge off.

What about the addiction
That is easy to hide
Easy to start
Cheap...
Dirt cheap
And can kill you just as easily,
Just as quickly
as any drug you buy off the street



Am I crazy?
Maybe a little.
Stressed out?
Most definitely.
But isn't everyone?

What runs through the head of a young
talented
wide eyed
woman
making her feel that she has
nothing to live for but pain?

What makes her say
'cold steel
razor edge
torn skin
thick, dripping blood
is the answer'?

What can make a person, so smart
and so ready to take on the world
into such a cowering
cold
sobbing
bleeding
fraction of a human being?

You can.

All of you.

What you say,
She hears it.
She feels it and it becomes a virus.
It eats away at her light
until her entire soul becomes nothing but a cave of
darkness and death.

The worthlessness of her life
explodes into anger
anger in herself
in everyone who's let her down
in everything she should already be
but isn't

She doesn't want to
but something inside drives her.
Tears streaming down her face,
hands as steady as a surgeon
she makes her first incision
and all of her pains melt away.

Nothing in life has ever made so much sense
or hurt so many other people.
Maybe that's why she does it.

You've turned her into a crying,
quaking,
ghost of her former self.
You hurt her
and now she's going to hurt you back
in ways you will never forgive yourself for.

The twisted mind of a cutter,
layed open on the table
for your eyes to see.
But you don't.
You still don't see.




Sorry if that was a little weird, guys but I thought I'd throw it out there. I know people have posted things about cutting before. A lot of people don't understand it and this is the best way I could describe how it feels. I'm not looking for sympathy, so don't give it. I'm far beyond that point. It's been a long time since I did it and something just triggered it again recently and I wasn't sure why. I'm pretty sure I'm done though. Such a goofy thing to do, eh?

[sensuous0mar]

I'm fine, dear. Really I am. But I feel the love.

[Metatron]

You burn like fragments of the sun -

and leave me here, I say, because the light's too bright.

I want to follow you, and I'm caught between the sensible and the unimaginable, the 'right' and the unreal. I don't want to lose this.

I don't want to lose the stars when they were just in my grasp.

If I fall, it's not like you can catch me. There isn't even anywhere to land.

If I fall, I might just fly.

[sensuous0mar]

I promise I'm done. Done being crazy. For your sanity and mine!

[cannibalnuns]

Originally Posted by Empty_Purple_Stars

And a resounding; FUCK YEAH for that bit o' prose..

Very nice Beautiful..

You have a Staccato Rhythm I really fucking dig..

Makes me long for the days I still posted my Prosey bits here..

I think there is still some of my older stuff lurking in the beginning pages of the thread, if anyone is ever that drunk or that bored..

And now for something completely different..

I could not agree more with what you said!

"And now for something completely different" is also a GREAT dvd.

[cannibalnuns]

I gave you my heart
While it was in bloom.
I gave you my soul,
That anger has consumed.
I gave you soft words,
When life was your bane.
I shared in your comforts,
And even your pain.

I gave to you my secrets,
My precious private life.
I told you that I loved you.
Throughout our toils and strife.
I gave you my smile,
And with it my laugh.
I gave my best parts,
All I got was your wrath.


But oh my dear
And my "true" love.
You're not kind as
Nor pure like the dove
Would you wish to know?
There is something to hear
As now I will speak,
About a love so drear.


You gave me your lies,
That seemed so true.
You gave me your malice,
Inside my own grew.
You gave me sweet nothings,
And sweet –nothings- is true.
I dwell on them still,
And the pain becomes new.

You gave me sweet slanders,
When I made mistakes
You found romance in other places
Which put love at stake.
You helped me grow wiser.
You have made me smarter,
But for your love
I will not be your Martyr.

There is no title for this one currently as i just sat down and wrote what came to me. But I figured I would try to give poetry a shot, it has been a while since I tried. Also I do not really write poetry. Enjoy.

[cannibalnuns]

-- Thank you for the compliment, Santarea.

These are not my own poems but I found them meaningful and worth a debate or atleast a discussion. If anyone wishes to send me a message or would like to start a thread on either of these (in the proper place of course), please let me know. I am interested in the way these are interpreted by the community.

I admire Langston Hughes and Ezra Pound. Their poems are a true asset to American Literature.

"We younger Negro artists now intend to express our individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame. If white people are pleased we are glad. If they aren't, it doesn't matter. We know we are beautiful. And ugly too... If colored people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, their displeasure doesn't matter either. We build our temples for tomorrow, as strong as we know how and we stand on the top of the mountain, free within ourselves." - Langston Hughes

"Good art however "immoral" is wholly a thing of virtue. Good art can NOT be immoral. By good art I mean art that bears true witness, I mean the art that is most precise. - Ezra Pound

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

Suicide's Note

The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a Kiss.

- Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough

- Ezra Pound (1885-1972)

[fallenAngel]

I never really understood and don't think i ever will..
Love can only harm you..
You will not see.
Blinded by words and actions,these lies.
And understand, nor will you.

[Mr E Nigma]

Bloodlust 1/18/2006

The thin liquid so red
Pouring slowly out
As it swishes around the cup.

The thirst I crave
Has never been this bad
Wanting something so sweet, so bitter.

The glass drowned in red,
Brought to my lips
Caressing every molecule with my tongue.

That taste, that sweet taste
Flowing over my tastebuds
Quenching the thirst I craved so dearly.

It empties, but I'm not done
I still crave it, I still lust for it
I want more, I need more.



hehe, tis not really a bloodlust it's about kool-aid... <3 that fruit punch kool-aid

[Mr E Nigma]

I wrote this for a girl I once knew...... a day over a year ago

What a Wonderous Silhouette 1/17/2005

A sinless silhouette of a lost girl
A feint figurine of a somber face
A mistifying mystery, one unsolved.
Is this girl real, or just drops in the rain?

[sensuous0mar]

I found a new light around which to live
you shine even in the darkest night
but my tears, like a moth to a flame
fall soft around your light.

You walk into the trap set by the man who
tread before you, instead of following your heart
You've become a slave of duty to
a man you owe nothing to. Be smart.

That light used to be brighter
before you had to chauffer a drunken maniac
every other day to and from his loser,
no good, life over classes just so he could get on track

I almost fell in love with you today
Because you almost called
but for some reason you didn't
and neither did I.

[cannibalnuns]

I dig the poetry.

[sensuous0mar]

you dig what poetry?

[Rasputin]

Death

shades of black,
roaming around,
holding a rotten hibiscus in his palm.

flying away,
holding an hourglass of fate,
and murmering in the spirits of pain.

his wine tastes like blood,
and his beef tastes like human flesh,
what else could he get?

last time i see him,
and play a game of chess,
and i won,
and he lost,
and i say:
what price would you pay?

[cannibalnuns]

.:.Down at the Bottom.:.

Down at the bottom
The reality hits.


Down at the bottom
There seems to be no hope.

Down at the bottom
Where the warm glow dwindles.

Down at the bottom
We think and regret, always wondering.

Down at the bottom
Swishes remains of what little joy is left.

Down at the bottom
A transparent pool bringing you back to reality.

Down at the bottom
There is no return for the lost soul strayed.

Down at the bottom
There lingers one last kiss, one soft word.

Down at the bottom
A shallow grave, a beggers last plea.

Down at the bottom
Come sit down and stay for a while.

Down at the bottom
Watch the sun rise with us.

Down at the bottom
Everyone are equals now.



Down at the bottom
Where reality hits...........

Down at the bottom, Cannibalnuns, has a disconnected albeit reflected interjected resonance, which I found very appealing. I digs it.

[cannibalnuns]

Thank you mate. I was not all there when i wrote it however.

Down at the bottom
Everyone -"is equal"- now.

[Ikaros]

Okay, I'll bite. This is a little ditty I banged out on a dare, a bit of fun and shivers with a nice cadence for fireside reading. I'll save the more personal stuff for another time. I need dinner and a movie before getting naked ;-)


Oh dear, oh dear.
Hungry winds are turning.
Oh dear, oh dear.
left the candles burning.
Now the night will win
the light is getting thin
and something's scratching at the door
trying to get in
Child, watch the windows
Child, lock the doors
because the fog's come in
rolling off the moor.

Oh dear, oh dear
the candle's almost gone.
Oh dear, oh dear,
the shadow's getting long.
hinges start to creak
the frame is growing weak
and when the candle's burning ends
the child cannot speak.
Talons scratch the windows
Talons scratch the door
and they sound so sharp
clicking on the floor.

Oh dear, oh dear.
There's something very wrong.
Oh dear, oh dear,
All's quiet with the dawn.
But where the door stood
There's only splintered wood
And the whip-por-wills are singing
louder than they should.
Childs father shaking
Childs mother wept
because a bed lies cold
where a child slept.

[Wise Child]

Ooh, I likey, Ikaros. I hope you'll wheel out the personal stuff soon; we promise to hold you when it's over. ;-)

Nice. Reminded me of a gothic fairytale nursery rhyme. I can't really do blank verse, so I like rhyming poems.

[Disfunction]

Dark waltz

Faded shadows on the midday walls
Songs echoed from the streets below,
Monotonous pallour on their faces.
Twenty seconds in the morning,
Twenty seconds for midday,
Twenty seconds in the evening,
No time to spare for setting sun;
The waltz is over, the dancers done.

It's times like this, after reading such a perfect poem...it just feels good to be alive.

Thanks, Dis. I humbly bow to you, good sir.