JACK, we love you.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
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JACK, we love you.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
Hey, thanks.
Groovy!
J
I watched my father die,
Sing, hey now, sing.
I saw him tell a lie,
Sing, go on and sing.
When I saw my father die,
I saw everything.
Watch me as I lie.
Sing, go on and sing.
Only Shadows
I await his voice
but it never comes
only the silence
and shadows.
I despise my words,
the fact that I love
the melancholy,
a feeling that becomes
addiction.
I am in love with the pain,
a facade I wear on the inside,
there are passing moments
when it comes like a knife
in the night, sincerely.
But I latch on,
feeding from myself
draining it for everything
that it is worth.
I am a fraud to myself
because my laments
make me dance in the rain
in ecstatic delight.
But it is something
which I covet,
I do not flaunt
in self-pitying need
seeking attention.
Rather I prefer to appear
as iron clad,
but to believe I have suffered
some tragedy which I keep
as a secret agony
defines me.
Joy Division
Look, he said, and he liked his eyes,
As much as he liked those lullabies,
And when he fell, he fell hard,
He had no time for life.
I felt sorry for him once.
I don't anymore.
(RIP to Ian and other young suicides)
Oh God that last one is awful I just noticed.
Now I forgot what I wanted to write.
But, as I said it is make them up as you go, no editing, no nothing, your true idea, your true you. That's how I do it anyway, except for typos, you can fix those.
Johnny was a rambler, seven bits of a gambler,
He tried, and so he did. I'm not sure how.
He was wasted in the woods. He tried.
He was a bit of a soldier, and a bit of you and me.
We don't cry for Johnny now. He was nobody anyhow.
He got over it all too soon. He was friend to the sun and moon.
He was our brother, so he was.
He died, just because.
slumber crumble
nothing feels rougher
then crude being grumbled
stone age advances
warning evasive
shatters against
rock fall devises
This is unbearably ripe with potential.Quote:
Originally Posted by jajdude
J
lay your head down
let the light fall on it like a sword
let the truth disperse
raindrops on a pool of water
the light and the blood
drifiting
on ether's lightning
Snow in the sun
Blinding and beautiful
Pick it up and you only have
Wet hands.
how it snows
in Julys
no one really
knows,
how it shines
in the rain
no one really fares,
how it warms
and melt in
frost
is beauty
real in its core.
The Metaphysics of Dead Meat
Some say my spirit's brainy meat
Quite tasty for white worms to eat
Who'll chew each neuron till it's gone.
When they're not looking, I'll move on.
Morning Show
Walking on the park's damp path,
Releasing fear, dissolving wrath,
Those trees stay quiet as I go
While they as well enjoy the show.
I was walking down the street
I saw some children playing there
Some men were talking about defeat
And smoke-filled gossip filled the air
An old woman gave a smile
Her eyes were heavy but her spirit warm
I thought she'd save me for a while
But my sorrow found a different form
The cars were crowded in a row
And the noise polluted a peaceful day
My thoughts were shrouded in shadow
As I strolled along my usual way
The heaviness which binds us now
Comes and goes like moods that pass
You turn a switch and then somehow
The old dissolves like aired out gas
All these things that fade away
Return again in another coat
The old bird sings at the break of day
And takes its time to fill each note.
My Mental Box
This mental box is like a coffin.
It keeps the good stuff out.
The stuff within will soon go rotten
If it don't move about.
Ever since you grew out your hair,
You seem to get it everywhere.
On my clothes, and on the chair,
In my meals, and silverware.
Prayer
What he needs is someone kind and generous and wise,
a girl who will at least attempt to synthesise affection,
can appreciate him for the skills he has
and not try to bend him to her will.
Was such a woman ever born,
who wouldn't treat her man with scorn?
Damn you early morning, you've done it again with your alarms and work and pissing people off. Why do you operate this way, world? Nobody likes it.
In a Japanese restaurant there were talking fish
A cloud was involved in harmonies
The trees danced, they did,
A strange peace hovered
Zap, had to get up.
At least 20 minutes to know what day it is.
Exhausted again, need that dream back, but it's gone.
It's a strange thing, we all have to do things we dislike,
Seems like we could change this, but for inertia and the old ways,
Why, 7 AM isn't really early is it?
Yes, it is early, you're damn right, it's too early.
Sunshine
The good, the bad enjoy the sun.
It shines its best on anyone
Who gets a chance and doesn't hide
While sunny daytime's on one's side.
The ones you hate, the ones you love
All get the pure light from above
And should we whine that it's not fair
The sun still shines and doesn't care.
*lol* Love this.Quote:
Originally Posted by YesNo
Thanks, BookBeauty! I enjoyed yours about the hair getting all over the place as well. I like reading all of poems in this thread actually.
I have to admit, it is one of the best threads I ever started.
Enjoyed your writing too YesNo.
Like this.Quote:
Originally Posted by Charles Darnay
Secret Lover
Your secret breath
I watch while you are sleeping
you're never alone.
Unhappy with himself he pours another drink
Unhappy with his past, with what he will always feel and think and be he fears
His troubles there up on the shelf, his anger there flowing down the sink,
His ever after and his never was, his futility and his just because
Give like a word
Your presence,
Into this stillness
Swing like a sword.
Break like a stone
The distance,
Into this silence
Wing like a bird.
Take like a cup
This body:
Here is existence.
Drink.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I find that a bit scary, actually, but it's perfect as a caption for an Edvard Munch painting that almost gives me nightmares!
:yikes:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Micky Fudge
Hehe it is meant to be a little scary. Actually if I recall correctly the original name of the painting as 'The Lover"
Shadow Self
You formerly
my shadow self,
leave me broken
over the stones,
skinned alive,
so you can steal
away into the night.
While once I believed
we were chained
by eternity,
now I am left
with this void
of blackness
because you
who were half of me
betrayed the sacred trust.
I know will get through this
for I always do
but it wrenches, wrenches
at my soul,
let me cry despair
into the night
before again I must
harden myself
there is no stillness
in the torrent of chaos
so I go into the tempest
in search of the eye of the storm,
where I shall feel
the wrath of the winds
just outside myself
and draw power
from the source
yet still feeling
the calm within myself
and than I will emerge
reborn through
darkness and destruction.
There must be some leeway granted there in leeway heaven where stars of redundancy shine and all your faults are mine.
In a place where forgetfulness reigns and no one dwells long upon old pains there must be such a thing.
The travel is hard and the ways are scarred by all that you carry.
Still Time
Alive, there still is time to grow
A heart that lets one's spirit show.
simple is a life
that culminate in rights
gentle is the breeze
that comes and goes in ease
joyful is the day
that promises a play
in meaningful delights
braver is the sun
that warms our
coldest ways
youthfull is the rain
that nourishes
our faith
and
eternal is the beat
that raise ourselves
to be
Sad as I was I reckoned it was just because the philosophies of life got me down and put a frown on me
Later I found I frowned because the chemicals in the brain said hello misery.
Now I'm confused.
Every time I think I can breathe....
Your eyes held the look of bitter almonds
for which knew there was no escape,
but there were moments when I tried.
Like a grave you are enshrouded
within the aroma of decaying
winter blossoms, and I was lost
the regret of memories.
Your voice was the sound of a good-bye kiss
and I knew in a moment that all was lost,
there are always phantoms seeking
claims upon my soul.
The intentions are of little consequence,
the result is the same, the moment
you awaken to another they become
a sleeper cell always with the potential
to infiltrate.
May I speak of unspeakable things
unknowing of what I mean to say
but only knowing there is something
there.
It goes without saying that I
become aphonic, and the irony
is scarcely loss, for there are few
lines I would not cross.
The writings of dark muse go like this,
I'm sad and need a kiss,
but the writings of the dude go,
hey, and they're all for show.
Walking on a Trail
Dark and green and blue and white:
All that's seen is calm and bright.