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 Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 7:53 pm
Shooting for Pluto
Another girl swallows a mouthful of pills
While another young man rests cold steel against his head
Before pulling the trigger
I understand the want for release
But I don’t think I could ever do it
I wish that I could save all those poor souls
And I won’t deny sometimes it’s driven by selfishness
But I’ve felt selfish before
And I don’t think anyone can say in good conscience
That they haven’t too
Sometimes I wish for nothing more
Than to take every ounce of pain
Of hurt, loneliness, and anger
And bear those peoples burdens
And give a chance for them to be happy
Sometimes I feel like one of the downtrodden
Like there’s nothing in life for me
That everyone has turned their back to me
Despite my best effort
All I can do is let rational thought tell me otherwise
Everyone has a shadow chasing them
Struggling to keep up
And some people are consumed by them
By the monsters that even the brightest light
Cannot be rid of
And so I want to do something with my life
That will leave a lasting impression
And if nothing else give others a reason to keep living
I don’t want recognition or fame
I just want the world to be a happier place when I’m gone
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Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 11:24 pm
I really enjoyed "Pillage." It wasn't quite what I was expecting from the title. The allusions to a ship were well used. Really good. "I Think It's Fall Again" was pretty good, but "The Lights are on, but nobody's home" seems like it's a saying that is too well known to be used as an opening line, especially in such a short poem. Mosqui It seems to get harder to write a new poem every night without repeating subject matter over and over again. I also seem to be lacking sources for inspiration aside from the drained and lonely feeling I've been having frequently. Not exactly the fuel for great poetry. Repitition of subject matter shouldn't be a problem as long as you are expressing it in a new way, or from a different view. Any feeling, even if it is "drained and lonely," can be turned to good use as inspiration. Especially if you don't mind probing personal feelings and posting them for anybody to read... xd After all, it's easiest to write what you know. At least that's what they say (not sure who "they" is, but someone said it before me) and that's usually how I write best.
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2007 9:37 pm
Kinetic Forces
Sweating out my pain
Muscles straining against my own body weight
As the ground moves close and then far away
Suddenly I’m on my back staring at the ceiling
As it gets nearer
Then swings back at a distance again
Now I’m moving forward
I can hear panting
And see steam rising in front of me
My chest heaving
And the background bobbing up and down
Now the world is stationary
But my arms strain against a heavy force
That wills them towards the ground
With every action my head seems to clear a bit
I can think again
And I feel better about myself
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2007 9:47 pm
Kali Eyad I really enjoyed "Pillage." It wasn't quite what I was expecting from the title. The allusions to a ship were well used. Really good. "I Think It's Fall Again" was pretty good, but "The Lights are on, but nobody's home" seems like it's a saying that is too well known to be used as an opening line, especially in such a short poem. Mosqui It seems to get harder to write a new poem every night without repeating subject matter over and over again. I also seem to be lacking sources for inspiration aside from the drained and lonely feeling I've been having frequently. Not exactly the fuel for great poetry. Repitition of subject matter shouldn't be a problem as long as you are expressing it in a new way, or from a different view. Any feeling, even if it is "drained and lonely," can be turned to good use as inspiration. Especially if you don't mind probing personal feelings and posting them for anybody to read... xd After all, it's easiest to write what you know. At least that's what they say (not sure who "they" is, but someone said it before me) and that's usually how I write best. Thanks for your comments. I'm glad that you enjoy some of my stuff. I know that expressing the same items in new ways can make for decent poetry, the thing is that, while that may be the case, I don't want to keep writing the same things over and over again. I'd like to come up with novel and original. Something that can set me fourth as a leader and not a follwer. Now I'm not saying that I want to write something that's going to make me famous and earn me beaucoup bucks. I just want to write something that's really going to make people think, and maybe even inspire them. I don't think I can do that when I'm rewriting the same material
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Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2007 7:25 pm
Kicking About
Two feet walk down the sidewalk
The ground crunching with every step
Its coarse surface riddled with cracks
Past the buildings trying to grab fistfuls of sky
And the wafting smell of hotdog vendors carts
And the manicured lawns of business fronts
Under the overpass’ rumbling music
Of wheels, radios, and breaks
And past the hidden byways
Across the run down bridge
That rattles with the passing of every car across it
And pleads for repair
Then finally into the small park
With the trees stretching shade and chirping birds
And onto the worn and friendly bench
To rest from weary travels
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Posted: Wed Aug 22, 2007 7:02 pm
I honestly have no idea what this poem is about or why I chose the title, but it didn't turn out nearly as bad as I thought it might. Enjoy.
Lost SAnitY
Breathing in
And it’s the only thing I have
That’s still familiar
Taking comfort
In sweet familiarity
As the world drifts by hazily
Darkness flickers on the edge of my vision
And the rest of the world is hard to focus on
And every limb feels too heavy to move
But the slow rhythmic breath
Still flows ever so coolly
Into my lungs
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Posted: Thu Aug 23, 2007 9:35 pm
Postscript
“Dearest friend”
The scrawled text read
On its yellowed crumpled parchment
“I’m writing to you”
“To let you know”
“That you may never see me again”
The reader, taken aback
Paused and reread the sentence
Which stayed the same
“Know how much you’ve meant to me”
“And how much I appreciate”
“Everything you’ve done”
Recognition flitted across the readers face
She knew the purpose of this letter
This suicide note
“In my haste to end my pain”
“I’ve not had time for legal recourse”
“To allot my possessions to those I wish”
Her eyes were wet now
A tear fell and soaked into the paper
Smearing the greeting
“So I have left you”
“Something dear to my heart”
“But I’ve had need to hide it”
Her hands trembled
As she traced the next line with her fingers
Hoping it was all a jest
“I don’t wish the item to be in the possession”
“Of anyone but the person”
“Who I loved most in this world”
She gasped softly
Upon reading the words
And wondered if it was true
“You may never have known”
“But I always longed to be with you”
“But never had the courage to tell you”
Her tears flowed more freely now
And she struggled
To continue reading what had been written
“I only now have the courage”
“And only to write it”
“I still can’t seem to manage to say the words”
Soft choking noises
Escaped her lips
Her face wet with tears
“You know where I’ve hidden the item”
“All I’ve left to write”
“Is I love you…”
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Posted: Sat Aug 25, 2007 12:20 am
Harmony of Light and Dark
Breezeways and parkways
Highways and driveways
Modern world’s music
Alleyways and hallways
Forever and always
People’s spoken words ring forth
The world keeps on turning
And fear and death keep burning
But take this lesson and keep it well
People keep on trying
Children keep on laughing
And hope brings light to those in shade
The world can’t be crueler
And the world can’t be kinder
And the scales keep a steady weight
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Posted: Sat Aug 25, 2007 5:17 pm
Reach Inside
I can feel the strength grow
And I’m improving
Slowly but surely
It gives me confidence
Recognizing improvement
And yet knowing how to improve more
And I can sense in myself
A slow growing aplomb
And I can stand a little straighter
I feel a better person now
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Posted: Sun Aug 26, 2007 9:20 pm
I think I like this one. Feel free to let me know if you feel likewise.
Gifts of Clay
Boughs of a tree sway gently in the wind
In time with the dispersing dandelion fluff
And a deer slowly raises its head and looks around
As it chews a mouthful of sweet-grass
Yet we all seem to take for granted
The gifts given when we’re born into this world
And we spread hate and destruction
Like a disease
The wolf howls and grows hungry
And it searches for its prey
Not in hate or resentment
But simply out of the will to survive
But somehow we can’t seem to see
What’s going on all around us
And we stagger blindly through our lives
Not seeming to care
And the orangutans and tree dwelling apes
Sleep peacefully with their limbs hanging from branches
As we sleep in fear
In our jungle of high-rises and neon lights
We can’t seem to cope with what was given
And there’s nothing wrong with what we make
But we need to take a look around to cherish what we’re born to
Before it becomes too late
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Posted: Mon Aug 27, 2007 8:24 pm
Tug-O-War
High noon rolls around
And the sun scorches the earth
The dry ground cracks
And dust is kicked into the air
By a gust of wind
Slowly night creeps in
First creating lengthening shadows
And finally consuming everything
In an inky darkness
That stretches as far as the eye
Ra glares at Luna
As the sun breaks over the horizon
And Luna taunts Ra
As the crescent moon appears
A friendly rivalry betwixt two opposing forces
Night is to day as day is to night
One precedes the other
As the other cedes to the first
A relentless cycle
Of two siblings chasing each others tails
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Posted: Tue Aug 28, 2007 3:46 pm
The Final Frontier
Black parchment
Splotched by bits of white
And red and golden orbs
With satellites of silver and gray
Vortexes of darkness
And rocks aflame
Particles burning
With orange and yellow
The most famous piece of art
And not enough really look
All you have to do is glance up
For it hangs in the sky
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Posted: Wed Aug 29, 2007 6:57 pm
Writers Block
The quill falls from the loose grip
Splattering parchment with angry black dots
As the well gets knocked over by a twitching hand
And ink forms a river across the table
Glazed eyes stare at unwritten words
And a light breeze scatters the scrolls
Bouncing and rolling crazily
Across the hewn stone floor
Three last breaths
Then, aside from rustling paper
Silence reigns
As a wispy old man walks away with his son
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Posted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 8:59 pm
A Million Words
Choose the medium
Canvas, paper, or clay
And a utensil
Pencil, marker, paint, or hands
Close your eyes now
And see what there is to see
Let your utensil caress the paper
And make it as an extension of yourself
A beautiful work
Or an ugly one
What matters not is appearance
But effort and feeling
And so let the creation
Be a reflection of yourself
And share yourself
With those around
A piece of mind
That no longer need trouble you
But instead allow
Peaceful reflection
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Posted: Fri Aug 31, 2007 8:16 pm
Death in Place and Name
A robed figure stands alone
Face hidden in shadows by hood
Thin pale fingers grasp a long knobby staff
And the man leans upon it with both arms
A beam of moonlight plays on the mans eyes
Sparkling with both mirth and sadness
He walks to a shoddy wooden door
And listens to a family sobbing over their father
The man pushes the door softly open
And enters unbidden and unseen
He walks to the moaning mans bed-side
And slides his eyes slowly shut
And then the two are departing together
The old man in the robe with his arm around the other
They walk together in silence
The dirt path, moonlight, and trees sliding into darkness
When they emerge from the dark they are elsewhere
Somewhere alien
But somewhere not wholly unpleasant
The robed man releases the other and faces him
The robed man pushes back his hood
And a sad smile creeps upon his lips
“I am one who has taken you from the mortal world”
“And we must now part, for your trip is not over”
Without another word
The robed man ran his fingers across his companion’s eyes
Then reaching for his hand
Pressed an obolus into his hand
Unprompted the man nodded thanks
Then turned and walked a few short feet
To a man waiting by a boat and wearing a cowl
“Charon”
The robed man walked back the way he had come
As the other man passed his coin to Charon
And was granted passage across the river of woe
Acheron
To his new eternal home
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