Because I'm a Poet - A Poetry Thread

Divine plan





We were told we would be like gods
and we were. The price of wisdom
was high however. Too high for poor
little man to pay. So God almighty
high up in the skies devised a plan.
He would beget a son to die for us.
A son, a man just like you and me
and also God himself in the flesh.
A final sacrifice of God to God.
And of course he didn't stay dead.
He came back and then returned
to himself in heaven. It all makes
perfect.....

i like it as is...i am liking all of your work. thank you for taking some time to put it out there. i want to comment on every single piece of writing as they all seem to deserve it. excellent, my friend in poetry. anonymity connecting to reality in recycled icon bins. sweet shall your dreams become. seriously, peace and love and all that happy jazz.

ENCORE!
ENCORE!
ENCORE!

@Lole Ibn Plutoon

I'm honored

*About the Whitechapel Murders


~The Skank and the Butcher
------------------------------
There was this girl I knew,
The thinnest skank I knew.
She with all the bang tails,
Making with their flatback sales.
You could catch her at the corner soak,
Having at it till the bloke was broke.
You could hear her in the alley.
Unholy whore second hand sally.
Harlot and the streetlamp swagger;
The night her sheath found its dagger;
On the prowl for fresh stock,
The big hand all the way round the clock,
His liston gleaming in the moon.
They'll find her bedside all too soon.
"Scuse me miss, fancy a knob?
Clean me up, feel my broomstick throb."
In his hands were the grapes of wrath,
Laudanum soaking, in quite the bath.
She takes a few, and begins to dance.
Reeling in the red romance.
Off the cobbles, and around the bend,
Her mind peaks, and descends.
He'll have her proper, this dozy dolly
The hands of god cut away her folly.
Shes out cold, and hits the stones,
He begins procedure where there are no bones.
A small incision and he pries in deep,
His daring intrusion in her uterine keep.
He removes majora, with a cold steel kiss
A Flick and cut, another piece she will not miss.
The floozy finished, now become a work of art.
The last thing left her angelic voice to part.
He takes one long look into her silver eyes
She sputters bloody, begs and dies.
The work of god is done tonight,
On her throat, from left to right.
A crimson pool, grows outstretched.
Courtesan once, now a bloodstained wretch.
There was this thin skank I knew.
I still have a piece of her coozy too.
------------------------------------------------

Wow, but dark

Cold beauty

Her body is in front of me,
naked and infinitely beautiful.
Tiny, blonde hairs on her skin
gleam in the dim morning light.
Her beauty persists despite
skin that's adopted a grayish tone.
She is colder than ever before,
motionless and eternally unchanging.
Eyes open wide stare at the ceiling,
without seeing anything of this world.
I caress her blonde hair one last time
and shut her eyes.

Never broken





Metallic taste of blood
in your mouth.
Silenced and subdued
but not broken.
Crimson trails from chin,
to throat, to breasts.
You endure more violence,
yet you keep silent.
Never broken.
Dead but never ever
broken.

Twilight kingdom





I am weary of life.
I shall go to the
twilight kingdom
of the setting sun.
In the pleasant
gloom of the west
forever I shall rest.

Its not always dark, though i find i write better when i'm pained.. as often many a muse could tell you. I've tried to move on from that style though, Seriously i have 100's spanning decades... Styles change, the lexicon changes, you know writing is complicated hahah.. I am rather proud of my Jack the ripper poem though..
The next one though is kind of an opus though. Its long and sprawling in 3 parts.. (inspired by T.S. Elliot, depression, sleep deprivation, multiple ex-gf's, Louis Bunuel, Thomas Covenanat Chronicles, Dore, and Arabian nights..)


~The Canto of December 1st
--------------------------------------------------
i.

The wind of December
Lulls and pacifies
Through the window;
Time moves so much slower.

Torn from a hibernation so cold.
In frosted air the clock ticks;
I sit on my hands; Your heart lock clicks;
And with tender lips I'll kiss the blood from
your gorgeous powdered wrists.

Eyes affixed to stars immobile.
The collapse and desolating weight of reality.
Like a tarpit, I, a fossil in total;
Strung along golden thread from yesterday,
As if I, among the living, gained implacement,
Uncomplicated fade, derailed from the grave.
To footing loosed, a rockslide away.
Snowblind in torrid blankets, white.
That root, which bindeth, and yet holds firm.


ii.


Gladly fallen again, Angel, you.
Where I deign, a noted stop, down.
For I reign in gray soot.
December black, alive in terma.
Resistant to the push of climes to come;
Amongst only us.
The Word to make it real.
The world is made to feel.
Pulled out of crystal, with lacewings aloft;
In the cavern of Light, the true King is born.

Frozen, twisting, rising, periphial;
My Kingdom 50 seasons, a million and one.
The Seven Thousand reasons it has begun.

Tied together, wings in sun's splendor;
Glass cages shatter, lips that meet;

In binding, indeed, under linen so fine;
The razor to find it hidden;

Among so many scars, and a life inside cars;
We'll still find the sentence to say it in.



iii.


Every goddamned time.
(saw this in a shooting star 2 days before)
Knew from that look you give me.
(uninterrupted)

(continues)
And the band played on.
And our friends kept eachother busy.
As always, divine moments, seconds, minutes even.
Smiles and laughter*

(she said it first)
and i kept going
and i wanted to keep going but*
and we believe everything we say.
Now you're right next to me.
Now your hand is in mine.
Now vulnerable grace.. Its True:
We're safe.
In arms.
Embracing. I can't focus on anything (pupils dilate, our presence is ebbing)
Buoyed.
Subtle.
Inticing.
It's the right thing.

(lights flicker) "I want for you, this."
*gestures everywhere*
**arms flying, fingers as tightly pointed as the beak of hummingbird**
"AND THE WHOLE WORLD."
And every sentence that says that kind of thing.
That's written. Ever.
All the words that we could ever humbly feel, in our combined selves, as close as two could feel enjoined..>>>

(Time stops; Geranium/Venus/Jupiter/a heartbeat/*, Owls*, Snow*, Ocean waves crash on shore*, her smile in campfire light*,.,))


(Time remains stopped, but keeps going for the sake of adversity)

So she kissed me.>>>>
And so a billion lights.
And mountains made of life, and ancient lakes and seas.>

<(Their winged courtiers soaring with majesty over reflections, the sounds of exotic birds echoeing the vastness of forever)>

<And so a billion kindnesses, and forgivenesses..
A billion tiny reminders, a thousand beautiful torches, alight on every single moment of my being.
I remember everything, and you overflow with scalding, loving magma. Bursting and we sway awash;
~IN BURNING TIDES OF LOVE AND TRUST..~

And that was it, nothing else ever happened ever.

THE FUCKING BEAUTIFUL END. FOREVER <3

I remember reading in a Heinlein novel about a poem in the future composed entirely of Punctuation..

Just made this up on the spot:

Dressed in colours oh so mellow
My mask is such a blinding yellow
A mere tube is all I breathe from
To find some peace, brand new freedom

Descending down the great blue sky
To this brand new world I do fly
The force begins to hurt my ears
I pinch my nose and breathe out fierce

A forest is before me, of rock, of weed
The grandest of designers must plant the seed
The beings of this world flee from my light
For so often are they abducted when they fail to fright

Why! Next to me such abduction is happening
My kind cast forth rods for their fattening
Rays of light in the water glisten
And the voice inside me says to listen

I open my heart and reach out my hand
I tug on their lines and hide in the sand
They reel in their "catch", finding nothing
I'm nearly given away as I float away laughing

It should be quite obvious now what I am then
I'm not grey and slimy yet I'm still an alien
Yes! It shouldn't take you hours upon hours of deciding
To now figure out I was only ever diving!

???...
!!!???
,,,!,?

"!!!!",
"????".
!?!?!?!
!!!,?,!

"???,!,."
..."!!??"
,,,???!!!
???.!...!

e. e. cummings. Read his work. And then you'll see someone that understands language so well that he can then play with it until it falls from your eyelids and dances on your desk.

George Harrison, Someplace Else
Plays, crying like a violin
In the background as she sleeps.

When I grew up I would think about her a lot –
Afraid of her lack of tact –
And now thinking of her the dream dilutes
Within the solution of Harrison’s utter demands of the macabre.

Why is it that I can be surrounded by the best of everything
Yet there is this “other” where I’d rather be?

I’ll always strive to land my Muse.

Feeling the cold, black steel envelop me
As a cartoon weapon, filled with anxiety,
Flat as flat against the cool, brutish morn.

I sit cross-legged as a Buddha
Leaned against the wall’s plane
& perpendicular with Time.

Faster fusion finds me feeling
Fettered.
In that state of loving criminality.

I can stand alone,
We can build this world,
One loving brick each & every moment.

license
to carry






wal-mart has hi-
red mercenaries.

their business is
expanding

into
canada.

they shoot
the birds

in the Ra-
fters from

the gleam-
ing, polish-

ed aisles.
they

make good
money.

everybody
knows

that birds are
insanitary.

hurrah hurrah! more, more! (neo paul reveres' riiiiiide!)

I love these poems, people. Wow.

love it! contact improvisational art. hope to hear more from you.

glimpses

i get glimpses
of a faded button down shirt
soft from wear and comfortably rounded
around the casual hanging fit
edges having frayed just a bit
seems an even softer white one sits
just underneath next to the skin
that begins to show itself
in hues of light pink and gold
and truthful tan where the sun has come
and touched and done what it can
to liven the life within
i sense in glimpses, too
the familiar new calling
and the wondering when
i'll be falling all over again
all over myself trying to find the clarity
in the teeny tiny glimpses
all the while feeling him
in ways that do not seem just now fit
to write in symbols poetic.

Thank you. Thank you very much!:Smiley:

Very nice!

smile. bowing to you with eye contact.

...the airs become cleaner
indulgence has grown leaner
tenseness eases its demeanor
return stifled rot to greener......

..........

i'm not kidding

they come to me, one by one
the little ones
the children
you can hardly imagine the fun
they share
crumpled in their chairs
with stares too big for a child
it's mild from a far
but up close it is atrocious
who would believe it
if not from their very souls
the bloody battles they've witnessed
mama screaming
and daddy's got the whip
shut the fuck up kid
or you'll get it again
and those bruises
well we can see those
while a thousand violent memories
go flashing beyond the lids
i'm not kidding
no i am not
babies abandoned until their cries run cold
sour milk long gone
while mama's in the kitchen
cooking it up and shooting it up
and forgetting the kids so tough luck
unless someone finds them
and takes them in
tries to remind them
that they were born human
and still
as nice and as loving as we all might be
these babies these children
have experiences we don't want to see
because we don't even know what to do
with all the bullshit abuses
that ring true in these houses in every town
and the big brown eyed boy tells me
i run fast but my dad runs faster
and he always catches me
and he hurts
and the abuse court says he's a liar
and so am i
and so is his mother
and dad says mess with me again kid
we'll see how this ends
so we go on cringing
saying no f'ing way is this true
but the girl with the huge blue eyes tells me it too
she says i'm a girl but not really
and he has a boy part that pees all over me
oh he's gone now
fled to the woods
no one cared anyhow
parents said that he could sleep in her baby room
and not soon enough someone wakes up
and brings the broken ones to me
seriously
i'm not kidding
day after day they bring them my way
until i am half sunk in a sea wailing
better wail says i then sail
the sea of the silent dying
so i say live little one
let's build us a place where we can be safe
where no one can come right in and hurt you.
and oh if such a place were true
all the world could be soon well.
and i could stop riding these true tragedy swells.

nice "tenseness eases its demeanor"
that sounds really good to me.
yes. a nice deep green clean breath.....

......if i could find a way to redress this shattering distress.....

AC 37797515 ...thank you... heart.