The unknown poet, himself as well. Tried his hand at lyrics, and thought it swell. Mayhap he tried a bit too hard. and should stick to mowing yards...
I thought I could never have you, I thought I could never get high then I watched the video of H and in totally blew my mind there they were so lessened of hate he sat reposed and gently hiding away from the only place where he was welcomed to be It should strike a chord then that not all is lost but gained despite the visages of loss and vanity there was something else printed on this tapestry of lost love and fashionably late dates that when you guess the time I'd arrive there'd be nothing left To show that I really cared about you after all at anyways street I'd give you all my private information, the key to my heart and then the only thing left would be for the mates to mate only I heard from a teacher once that you can never wright that They Lived Happily Ever After but when I guess I really thought about it thats all I wanted to wright.
i'll collect myself. like the shattered glass scattered on my floor, i am in pieces. unlike broken glass, however - i will reassemble. i dissemble unhappiness under vivid shades of contentment which aren't so much false as lacking truth. laying in bed i reminisce on where the years went; tracking youth. but passing by the details that i lost to lack of proof. i'm gonna continue this later. it's not done - but i've gotta head out for a little while.
such heat. such anger such as the moment called for The Flame erupts! quickening of pace furrowing of brow iron grows hot, white even The Flame, it burns us. a clenching of teeth. The Flame grows hotter the only visible color is red. sweat would be more appropriate being labeled molten rock the gears grinding, those melting gears. traction, friction, and anxiety, all building. The Flame burns hotter even. sultry, the day was. dry, the day is and yet it gets blistering. feverish and aggravating it remains The Flame and frustrations rise still. until this moment reaches critical mass lightning, proverbially, strikes! the expulsion of millions of sons as the atom breaks, all barriers are broken all fronts have fallen at that release of energy. the creating of a world, a personal universe The Flame is dying. empty, that combustion has no more fuel. the iron cools and a breeze relieves a tired face The Flame is but an ember. the red softens to a cool yellow. this being, once in a desert, is now in a cool autumn morning inhaling the fresh, awakening air. The Flame is dead.
Just a poem I jotted down while waiting for my friend to get out of work. When the Past is Done. The bark is never gone. Hard walls, grown through time. Grow through life, Mere tree's in a forest. Break away my soul. From the cage of my own cruel design. Free me, from the bark. That grows in response to hurt, tooth of a shark. You guys like it? Should I change the ending to rend solid mark. OR did you think it was good as is?
Ready to live and ready to live, but I could give it all away. There wasn't much time for a turn, and so I did just what I did. Now I can't remember everything, and I may forget it all one day. But a few questions put me on end, I gave my honest answer and turned it in.
Sorry, I'm feelin' it, I just want more. My mind has used this town to explore, its a part of me, the universal clause of destiny pulling you up like gravity. The wolf is loose, this is no mistake, this is no treachery, a grand thousand years in the future and the same wolf will be paging harmony. Times change, but the games always the same, if you ain't playin' you makin' choices, if ever you wanted to feel rest easy. After all the test was never really a test, but lets be guests, use what we see and forget the rest happened.
One more, I just gotta get high, its been about Mary Jane the whole time. I can't get this thing out of my mind, ***** jew, jew bear, whateva. Hold on mother talkin to my friend whose showin aces and holes. I just took a toke, this is the best that life has to offer. I'm sick of writing and drawing and napricating on the sofa. I just want to turn down the lights get easy and reveal the cheesy. Yeah its always been there what was it just well whats it gonna be. That thing we already said that I can't seem to say.
About a rave. We are feeling brave, we go to a rave. Drunk vision refracts psychedelic light. Outside lit up bright, incandescent night. We huddle to safe anarchy indoors. We dance to music someone prerecords. The girls free, no whores, neither are they bores. Maybe we are fools, better fool than tool. We don't care for rules. Me? I have fun but still want to scoop them all up and drop them the woods with a match. Their lives, fantasy, just a lie to me. The wild calls to me, hear it when I feed, hear it when I bleed. Still I was there too it's the thing to do. We all have a life or two. We have fun, life has just begun. Time to leave at three, girl gives ride to me. Cannot fall asleep in fourteen-fifteen.
My mind's racing, Leaving my mental space, empty, Without reason, I have no point to being, Without you, my heart's left sinking, Thinking: Was I blind; Incapable of seeing? http://audacity.ukstudentdigs.com/post/2010/03/31/Away-from-myself.aspx#comment
Crazy Lady Blues: Shes got those crazy lady blues, she's got the tears in her eyes, She's got the scars on her arms to match the scars in her mind. Shes got the hope for the hopeless and the love for the lost, She's got no money in her pocket but her heart for any cost. She's got the dirty tattered clothes to cover mistakes she knows she's made, She's gotten hurt, she's fallen down, and damn has she been laid. She reeks of roses I suppose, to match the dirty cigarette smell. Shes learned to listen, learned to fight, but learned to cheat herself as well. Shes got a smile on her face despite what she's been thrown, Shes had a lot of time to change, yet shes got nothing left to show. She's got no'one here to guide her, no signs to lead the way, No one to hug or hold her, or to tell her it's okay. But she's got two things that nobody else can ever take. Shes got a heart that's made of gold, and a smile that will not break.
LIFE SENTENCE These walls are my prison, Although they say I am free, There is nothing outside that interest me, These walls are my prison, With the shelter they provide, They lure me in and shut off my mind. DARKNESS I open my eyes and all I see, Are all the faces ready to embrace me, But they are so many, And the light is so bright, That I close my eyes, and I close them tight, Welcoming the darkness, With no end in sight. These are pretty old and fall around the peak of my depression, but I think they were some of my more emotional and insightful pieces.
I think poetry is very difficult. It's very emotional... and most of the time, it's very personal. I don't get the urge to write poems because it hurts to write a poem. To write a poem, I have to have feelings, and to get the feelings, I need to do something, and I usually resort to hurting myself. I don't mean physically of course... but mentally. I generate so much emotion in my brain, that it hurts. And I end up with what? A few scribbled lines... that means absolutely nothing to anyone else but you.
Such cynicism. Poetry has brought beauty to the world since people could write. The Bible, the Qu'ran. Robert Frost. Poetry can and does touch people. Words are power. Not to mention the joy of creation. You should have stayed out of the thread. It is for poetry after all.
there are also plenty of poems and poets that use their lingual talents to paint positive and beautiful imagery. they'll use their words to make you appreciate little things in life you usually don't.
Absolutely true, especially the underlined part. Yup. Some people with talent can write some beautiful poems. But I have no idea how they do it.