Poetry with a Noir Sense about it.

Discussion in 'The Artist's Corner' started by shakemytrees, Sep 10, 2007.

  1. laying flat on the earth
    wishing so much for consumption
    viseral death
    a return to mother earth
    for as of dust we are from
    the day will soon come
    that transcendence is reached
    by becoming a life source
    springing forth another pretty flower
    growing unadulturated
    from a well-saturated grave
    The devil may wish to collect our pieces
    and God raps the at the door of our morose resting bed
    for a promised soul
    but not so much a hair is owed to them
    we are hers
    goddesses are to kiss our decayed lips
    and watch as life springs forth
    vibrant colors blushing on petal lips
    deep brown roots erupting through ribs to reach
    the surface and come crawing out
    a spring bleeding through ears
    bubbling up to rocks
    trees spitting forth and climbing high into clearing skies
    (our former world of mechanic expletives and technological coldness longer rusted and forgotten)
    Eden finally returing back to her place on this land
    our bodies becoming one, our spirits singing her song.

    I have the full intentions to crawl
    out of my skin and the fabricated reality
    it's subscribed to
    the glossy magazine lies that comes in the mail
    in it's various shapes and forms
    bleeding holes and stomache spasms yearing to be satisfied
    with corresponding materials
    cotton and food for dripping holes
    tired eyes and weathered head unable to sustain
    a few blows administered from the savage spirit that is me
    I yearn
    clawing on the flow
    and writing in the air
    for sweet, jism-like release
    my spirit the seed.
    and YES
    I AM FED
    four eggshell white beige walls
    insist on keeping me in their rigid confines.
    "I beg to differ," I say
    and I pick up a chair
    that wishes SO earnestly to kiss
    their flat white cheeks
    (call it unhinged violence, I say it's dedicated love. who am I to keep them apart?)
    but then again, just who am I?
    ask mother and she cries, a family potrait clasped in her hands
    with yours truly cut out
    ask father
    and her mutters vaguely about devil worshipping
    a girl gone sour
    and grips selfishly at the chains that are visibly around his downstairs cabinets
    and invisibly around his head and his heart
    Ask God, and he prentiously flips through his book of life
    pointing out quite plainly that I am is missing from the "URA-URE" section
    Ask Jesus and he motions to his hands where below his stigmata scars is my name
    Ask the world and I am indescernable among the colorful masses and myspace profiles
    Ask man and I am breasts and cunt
    ask woman and I am ugly.a bitch.a snob.a know-it-all.

    But ask me and I point to the stars.
    Ask me and I'll sing you a song
    pieced together from all the stories, noises, sounds, and screams
    I have heard in my time here
    Ask me and I'll touch my skin
    my body is a vessle of beauty all my own
    for no else
    Ask me and I'll open my mouth
    the destroyer and ressurector of imaginary times and world
    the painter of a glorious yet incoherent picture.
    Ask me and I'll say anything.
    because to be sure.
    I am no one's defintion.
  2. The first one is really quite good.

    Post more, I know you have a shit load.

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