Fantastic-Plastic-People Fantastic Plastic people They are everywhere They eat Plastic food Stored in Plasticware They listen to Plastic stuff On the Plastic radio Always having Platic fun At the Plastic places they go All hail plastic! Is what they say Plastic, Plastic, Plastic All the live long day Hey! ©2002
Evil: nice. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! *gets carted off by the grammar police*Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
_Feel ___Spirit ___Life within cells of my perceived body _____Perceived by a corporeal mind _______heads "hurt" _______brains "ache" _______hearts yearn, wist for waters of spirit inspiring love. _________Love? _________Love. _Think ___Stifle ___Analyze to death _____No marriage between heart and head. _____No kissing the cross _______("Idolatry"). _____No glory be's _______("Mindless Ritual"). _Instinct ___to love _____not that of eating, sleeping, reproducing ___to care for others and oneself ___to ease the pain-filled burthen _Force ___Holy Spirit ___Water ___Mist of breath _____in-spire _____breathe in spirit _______incense _______prayers rising to the altar of God pumpkinsaren'torange I love your "illegal" (or extra-legal, maybe?) poem. It is beautiful. The words are so rythmic--wonderful imagery!
Cool, I started the thread that now has lots of awesome poems in it. I especially like Pumpkins'. Here's another of mine. Trend Setter I've taken too many breaths, sighed too many sighs. I've seen too many sorrows, lived too many lies. I just want it all to end, want a peace so serene. I want my lies to end, want a slate that's clean. So comfort me with silence, bless me with rest, end this cold existance. I think it's best for me to breathe no more, to never sigh again, to end all of these lies with one final sin. So let the shot ring out, let my death be heard. Let the eyes begin to water for all the tears that will be poured. I will lead a new revolution. I will start a whole new trend, for all the sad and lonely children to leap forth to their end. Let it all end, let it all end...
thanks Angelus... your's too is a fine example as ever a poem could be! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! i am in a writing mood today...it's all misty and overcast here today, it's like the sun is trying to shine through a sheet of guaze .. & .no snow on the ground YET...i will walk down by the the quarries and sit on this one boulder-ish clump of limestone and write a bit.....
Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! The beating butteryfly wings spawned the mighty hurricane: An adage sweet and delicious describes how the smallest wind may incrementally and exponentially combine with larger forces until a great tempest is born. true, great things have humble beginings and are influenced by the smallest of its parts, like atoms in a chain reaction. Still a butterfly has no defense against a hurricane. Nor have we... against nuclear and biolgical weapons. It is better said that the "meek shall inherit the earth"
I haven't been in a happy mood recently. If my poems are beggining to depress you skip over this one, it's another downer. Though one of my more well written ones in my opinion. To Merry My love for you has brought me here, to this cold place I know to fear. Where heart and mind blur into one, and exits are but by knife or gun. My love for you, long unreturned is all for which i now do yearn, and life itself has gone hollow when my heart I may not follow. And though my hand may be weak it knows the path that it must seek to carry the blade into it's home and finish, with blood, this final poem.
Angelus yep, i think that we poets tend to feel things just a bit more deeply than all others(no offense to non-poets) - that includes feeling sad, depressed, over-whelmed...what have you. funny thing, Angelus, i won't tell you to cheer up or snap out of it, because, too, we poets also seem to "snap out of it" in due time. we follow our instincts/intuition concerning these matters..it seems. writing poetry helps "figure" out our internal state-of-mind, if you will...and, it triggers a sort of catalyst to bring about the next emotion that is lurking below the "offending" /unwanted feeling. does that make sense...eh. dunno.
The inevitable decay of an untouched life Collapsing on itself as the voids grow bigger Hope replaced by acceptance Acceptance replaced by action From the stillness of my heart Hatches my own demise I look around me and see nothing I look inside myself and feel empty Who am I to keep the two apart? Without a meaning to life there’s no reason to live Without life there’s no reason for meaning There is but one solution The beginning was the end And the end shall be the beginning Everything in between was but tragic existance (I was in a bad mood.....)
Words of Yesterday Your words of yesterday still linger on my mind. Feelings hurt, damage done. You were so unkind. Will I never learn? I feel like such a fool. All I did was care. All you were was cruel. ©1996
Since I call myself a poet: BETRAYAL To look at the world, and see only pain and misery, The Joy, the Hope, all gone lost millenia ago When our fathers gave up, and surrendered Their Hopes, Dreams Beliefs; Their World To Greed, Chaos and Destruction, and sacrificed Betrayal Their offspring to a demonic, bloodthirsty god In the hopes of acheiving riches beyond their wildest imaginings, beyond all scope of belief comprehension REALITY
http://galileo.spaceports.com/~jerece/siirler.htm This is my poem page @my web Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Feeling the Feeling Empty eyes, eyes a madman. Empty soul, soul of a sad man. Tears of pain, need to break free. Need something else, need to find me. Feeling let down, feeling nothing at all. Feeling the feeling, free fall free fall. The battles lost, victories far apart. No perspective right from the start. Faded stories like jeans in the wash. All is not won, all had its cost. Feeling let down, feeling nothing at all. Feeling the feeling, free fall free fall. ©1991
A quake poem. arrive in a map, created for killing fight over flags, to slay we are willing gather goods! go forth! increase your health. gather your ammo, heighten your stealth. the bodies strewn in electronic chaos digital weapons yield point laden payoff stereo groans of dying young soldiers randomly spawn, another death bolder rockets will launch and shrapnel will fly ignore their warning and surely you die lurk in the shadows, rail them in passing light speed aluminum rending and slashing digital death, so warm and embracing so brief, so slight, so random in placing rebirth! a life, so recently passed onto the battlefield again shall ye pass to kill, to death, to battling foe revel in chaos, welcome it's glow imagined reality apparently real for 50 bucks it's almost a steal!
In The Dark Sitting in the dark with nothing to do. Nothing is making sense as the world rushes by. I am watching myself outside myself. Reality blurred. Dreams of metallic butterflies. The colors fading into each other as the tears of pain blur the canvas of past and present. A solitary candle flickers against the night as the wind gently blows hot and acrid. Shadows caress the walls like slithering snakes reflecting our inner darkness. My soul cries out silent screams for all that is not right. Lost in the chaos of it all. Sitting in the dark with nothing to do. Nothing is making sense as the world rushes by. I am watching myself outside myself. Reality blurred. Dreams of metallic butterflies. ©2001
-Love Song of Sigrid the Haughty- Give your hand to me Vow Eternal war in my arms by my side Ever two in one we fight and die Decimate the forces of the Nazarene I am a warrior my pledge is never to repent Our Will one in two our victory is sure You fear not death I fear only dishonour The Gods of our fathers shall be avenged /Anti-Christian moot ATM.
Our favorite recipe The recipe for war -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To have a war, you have to make a war. The basic ingredients and recipe is to arm your future enemy. As the Military Industrial Complex excels the only meaningful protest comes from families whose children come back in a bag. During these times wraping the MIC in a flag is not enough. So they wrap themselves in the bible. They trade a God bless you for your life and justify the next war by the weapons they just sold to Evilstan.
I Find Myself Wondering I find myself wondering Why no one understands This mental state I carry It’s not what I had planned I wish things could be different I wish I could find another way I wish I could turn it all around Hoping for some light in my dark day I am tortured by my thoughts Like a stalker, they hunt me down On the brink of disaster all the time I know my mind must not be sound Locked up inside, my wings clipped I am nothing more then a social misfit A square peg in a world of round holes Spinning end over end out of control I find myself wondering Why no one understands This mental state I carry It’s not what I had planned ©1998
Miss You This feeling I have cuts down to the bone. Keep looking out the window to see if you are home. I reach out in the night to feel you lying next to me. Looking for hope but all I find is misery. I am withering from all that has come to pass. I was so blind, what a complete and utter jackass. I must move on, start over again. Perhaps I should take up meditation instead of men. ©1991
the link the link exists yes it’s still there no matter how hard i try to ignore. the link exists yes it’s still there when will it break? the link exists yes it’s still there the butterflies fly. the link exists yes it’s still there my heart pounds. the link exists yes it’s still there i now know how to break it. the link exists yes it’s still there the key is within him. the link exists yes its still there forged in laughter and in tear. the link exists yes its still there one day soon i know it will disappear. the link exists yes it’s still there i feel it still. the link exists for now i quietly wait to morn its loss.
