Poetry Arena

Discussion in 'Art & Culture' started by Congrats, Jan 20, 2002.

  1. Congrats Bartok Fiend Registered Senior Member

    Let's have a poetry arena!
    Where we hurl hunks of poetic justice at each other and attempt to come out unscathed.
    No one ever esponds to posts made w/poems, and it's about time they did!

    We've got to get the rest of sciforums noticing our humble morsels of words!
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  3. Congrats Bartok Fiend Registered Senior Member

    Blood on Jono’s Ceiling: The Remixes and the HITs.

    <1> Little Strabnats this time
    Shut. (staid)
    Now the doors are closed so I can fall asleep more easily
    In the 4th room off to the left.

    One by one

    These lights…they all shut off!
    First, second, third!
    While the beat presses….

    Now through the corner of my retina.
    A fleshspasm, a wince.
    But this is all mainly the sensation of…
    (screaming down into the bark as ice and grit flow upon the in a
    nothing shape….)

    Now the windows are closed so I can fall asleep more easily
    The windows are closed so nothing
    Not even air can
    In by the barrel
    A barrel,
    Two barrels.
    Some barrels.
    A couple or a few barrels.
    Go home trucks!

    When once I decided to climb up (residue)
    All the way into the airvents
    And crawled and crawled and crawled.

    The tunnels I used went pretty far.
    Abridging many air regions.
    They truly dropped off at many certain others.
    I was stuck in the airvents!

    Air goes long, football high.
    Regions flow one against each other.

    They all try to reach a consensus
    Of a probability.
    Something truly distinctive.


    Scream and shout it through the air
    While it bounces through the slim passage.
    Soon it will find itself to the hard corner
    Of impersonal liberty.
    Soon We’ll be free!

    Given all denominations and tokens
    Of our wealth.
    We do find a definite, distinct rhythm
    Of something far clearer
    Than us.
    In that we find ourselves
    And all around us.

    Pancakes flapping, hissing on
    The griddle as Mickey walks in.
    Long day of work.
    But he sits still
    And listens for all will be free when the eyes are clear!!!!!

    <3> Generational Gap
    Number the stars in the sky, Hibbert. (muster)
    But I can’t father.
    Well, Hibbert, that’s simple nonsense. A simple case of nonsensicalness!
    But, silly Papa! There are a large number of all those stars.
    Oh, Hibbert I’ve got a story.
    YAY!! I LUV You Papa!

    I was a little boy in the nineteen-fifteens.
    I remember crawling under my desk
    Lining up in the hall
    Because a nuclear missile could have been coming at Los Angeles from our backdoor
    In Alaska.
    A backdoor sneak, you understand.
    Why yes, papa!

    The stars were fewer then,
    Since so many stars could have fallen.
    What, papa?
    I’m dreaming off…
    You don’t worry.
    Yes, hibbert?

    There are still a living myriad of stars!
    A simple legend!

    <4> Brown Eyed Susans, Aren’t they Oh so gosh golliness lovely!!
    Over through the mailboxes
    Tagline, darling. GO PUSH THEM!
    I do not want to sound like your mother.
    Simply said, I am your Aunt Susan.
    Your old and new mama at once.
    Because your only ornate old one is dead.
    I do not want to push you so that all pushing becomes a pulling-
    Confusions, you know?

    You are my horrible child
    I dislike your methods,
    Your frazzlements.
    You disturb me.
    You give me parturitions!
    Now just go push the mailboxes
    I will faint from the wretched heat
    You will let it get to me, will you not?
    Yes you will.
    I know it.
    The Virgin Mary is telling me!

    Solyia Mary I commend thee!
    The lord Jesus respects thy heavens above.
    The angels blare their warning horns as tagline moves around
    They map her out and kill her.
    Oh Angels, go Angels.
    A-N-G-E-L-S Go home team go! Of class, of love, and of life. Now kill her!

    <5> Wishing them well, and wishing them home. How does life Take Turns Like These?
    I found Johannes, next morning (obsess)
    Taking his breakfast on the terrace,
    Taking his companionship with the birds
    In the too-old aviary.

    Oh, Johannes, we all say to him.
    Why to bother with the aviary in the East Wing?
    It’s so old!

    The room is old, dark, and unused.
    It’s dusty and we all know it.
    DON’T WE?

    But the birds still fly,
    All through the ceiling and over the iron vats.
    They’re like overpowering mongrels that just fly and fly until all the weak oily sparrow meat slips off.
    Like oily rubber on a car.
    It just falls off, doesn’t it?

    Peering through, again, in a routine
    Iron vats and silken ceilings.
    Fire wrought devilry
    That brought us such joy.

    (It’s too cold.)
    (The room is far away, and too cold.)
    (and a lady has died there!)

    The electricity has long gone since there.
    But the birds remain.

    They remain free to fly,
    Little four legged marvels of our mistake in planning.
    Oh how tragic…
    Our mistake,
    In life and our mistake in all
    That has ever mattered in this silly tub of a house.

    When you look up the stairs, you can continue to look until you feel angry
    And the ceiling caves in around your eyes.
    You ask it, scream and shout it.
    Oh Drat! Oh Snap!
    Soon you spill your wine and now you’ll clean. Get down on those marvels and scrub!

    <6> The Furrows
    Down further from the aviary, (sustain)
    We pass a ramp
    By a large, monster window that glares at us.
    That glares at us.
    That glares at us.
    That glares at us. Until.we.get.stuck….

    It must have a pillow section with 20 layers.
    For us to sit on them! Correct!
    Along its banked tiers.

    Oh, surely, but when I look out I see the furrows,
    And understand it all.
    The clawarrows have pierced the furrows.
    Oh, how THEY SQUEALED!
    When I look out, I see the village; yes.
    But my glory what a space between.

    The Elves carry the platters
    Over and done through the floor.
    They carry them empty;
    Carry the wind.
    Because no one eats the furrows anymore.
    The wind done gone again, tomorrow, but rarely no more.

    <7> Let’s go on a hunt!
    Waiting in my office, (deplore)
    Down by the house down the road.
    I am wondering about those furrows.
    Aren’t you?
    I’m sure we all are.
    And that’s OK.

    At this moment I am being serenaded by a threat.
    Once again we all will.
    It’s…um well…a fact of life.

    Truly, I believed you would understand!
    Oh Jolliness!
    AWWW, zammilia bonniaer tuba bomm!
    (that little reprieve)
    (Let’s kiss the snowflakes, Johannes.)
    (What, no?)
    (oh that’s cool with me.)
    (GoodBYE Johannes.)

    the monster-the worst thing to fear.
    Congratulations, Mrs. Fisher.
    You’re not the monster.
    Neither is Mrs. Yuknis.
    Or Dr. Monks Oh good lets keep searching until we get a hit.
    Click, Click, BOOOMMMM!!
    It’s my Famous Cuisine Tutor.
    Mrs. Candromie.
    I truly dislike her ways of cooking.
    She…adds the spices in at the wrong intervals.

    <8> Rivulet Handparty
    Oh Dera!
    Oh Dera!
    I did not spell that wrong, since you are Dera.
    You were born Dera Hanover Mixxington!
    In (12-45-77788- 1875.) the house by the end of the road.
    In the room that is now the office.
    Let’s go hunting for your origins.
    I am certain you just know me
    And not my mother.
    She never held it and now we have a stain.
    Oh it just tickles my rivulets!

    In the Grass
    Wriggling through the tiny naturals of dirt
    That form rivulets.
    I find a secret
    An accurate copy of the life that once followed me around.
    Shed it off Jonathan Shed it off!
    Watcha’ back!
    It gonna’ eatcha’!
    Bad and so bad you can never decide to be…. (blasé)
    And I know you hate it.
    You can never take it.
    Cause I’m unbreakable.
    You, Jim McGreevey…
    You are broken.

    the inner circle
    of triangular strength
    is heating in
    we in and its out and I love
    for you to suffice me, I will not respond.

    forever inside the night
    we will be devils
    we will be locked inside
    heating this glowing oil
    living on the scraps again.

    quite bluntly,
    you lay there on the chaise
    as if nothing has happened
    noting rotten things but your own private circle
    tell me how do you feel as me?
    do you feel so nice

    the bears rummage in the town with
    the room that is covered in redleather
    small silver crystal cut
    flat and divisive and clearly blue
    plenty in this room commands me.

    remember the time I jumped down the staircase?
    all those fantasies that just didn't sort right?
    well congratulations, Jonathan.
    you are now
    you are now...
    somewhat older, perhaps.

    terribly inkier
    living in the Halloween scraps
    much repentence
    but no cure for the sickness.
    (too bright!) oh, turn the neons off!
    turn them off, like rubber lamps
    (congratulations, congratulations) u keep sayin 2 yerself
    for my tea (before you count one, two, three)
    I keep sayin to myslef
    and then exhaustion arrives

    cold nips at my face
    slowly unpins the canvas of fibre
    slowly melts the frozen green threads
    and washes me free.
    carries me down the river,
    I am thawed.


    Handed up to me
    the little parcel was handed up the rocks,
    over to my head
    now I see the brightness!

    Oh, what an expanse of sky!
    For a man as such, a lover as much
    I cannot cast aside this flowering of hope!
    Given to me, over my head, I'm living in the sky,
    when the eye pulses.
    to the back of the fabric,
    I see the ocean
    frozen in my midst.

    I sat, and asked myself:
    What are the parameters of my midst?
    the stupid pressured thing, the little dandy
    he told me, so I believed.
    the eye pyulses to the limit

    one leg, across to a second
    up into a waist.
    severed at an angle
    up past my arms, through my fingers
    downward, reaching my head.

    I see 5, 456, 789 trees
    suffering in dark unison.
    I see an idea suffering in the blackness, and I can see it!
    As I can see the trees.
    Grasping each tree,
    given up to me
    my feet are raised in gratitude.

    For your hand has littered my spacious allusion.
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  5. Yogamojo Here's lookin' at you...? Registered Senior Member

    These are your spells...

    And they come from your spellbooks. Engrave them into stone for they are more precious than time...

    But before you do that, however, you should copyright your work if you haven't already. There are theives and triflers who will plagerize and capitolize if given the chance. This is why many hesitate to post their valuable writings on the internet.

    Nice work, hopefully some others catch on!

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  7. Merlijn curious cat Registered Senior Member

    I really would like to join, but I write in my own language: Dutch.
    I did write one or two things in English, but they are not really that good. Still I will you let you in on one.

    The damp forest surrounds me,
    and I am entangled by the air itself.
    The green light fills my eyes,
    until I cannot see anymore
    The birds, the breeze and the falling drops
    sing an enchanting lullaby;
    I stumble, fall - and my drowsy lips
    feel the kiss of Diana.
  8. Pollux V Ra Bless America Registered Senior Member

    the following is something I wrote for a voluntary writing class I have every tuesday

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    ata Bank

    My photoreceptors focus on the buildings
    They are everywhere, stretching into the cloudy sky
    There are no shadows in these bowels
    The sun cannot shine where megaliths blot out its intensity
    Since I am curious I open my memory banks
    I recall the data of this place’s past

    Two of the tallest towers climb into the sky
    Then fade away along with hundreds of other structures
    Other, smaller buildings sometimes replace them
    But eventually they all slip away
    As a lush ocean of green vegetation spills atop the landscape.
    I watch as a battle between tanned humans begins
    Spears and arrows tear across the sky like bullets
    Some are lit with fire
    There is a rain of thin projectiles and the continuous noise
    Of bodies thumping atop the green Earth

    The ground lurches under my feet and I see a seashore in the distance
    The sky darkens to a pitch and rumbles with lightening
    But only briefly, and it soon disappears to reveal a long column
    Of colossal lizards lumbering into a blue sunset
    There is a commotion not far away
    One of the creatures is bawling and bracing for an impact from the brush
    Like torpedoes a trio of predators emerge and hurl through the air towards their target
    They leap high into the sky, their audible hiss stirring the components of my ears
    Their claws dig into the gray flesh and yank the beast into the sand
    Lifting a plume of dirt into the air
    The animal’s bawling stops, and its surrounding counterparts grow wary

    The land is suddenly overrun with lava and oceans of bright crimson that glows
    Pillars of fire rise from volcanoes and stab into a black, billowing sky
    There is a wall of flame in the distance that stretches into both horizons
    It spits fiery boulders and meteors onto the land
    Then it all falls apart, piece by piece the world is ripped into a cloud of vapor
    The sun’s glow fades into oblivion, into a nebula of mucus-resembling material
    There’s a violent flash, and suddenly the matter is back inside another star
    This one’s much larger and colored a deep red. I can see claws of fire
    Flaring up from its surface
    Then the vision disappears, and I am back in the city, where I started.

    I begin trudge into a store and ask the salesperson for a container of oil.

    There's no meter in this poem/story and I've noticed that at the bottom sentences end in two lines. Ignore that and treat each sentence as one line. If you'd rather read the converted notepad document I'll post it as an attachment.
  9. Congrats Bartok Fiend Registered Senior Member


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    Merlijn-I think you should go ahead and post your poems in Dutch. There's an understanding and beauty to poetry that trancends even knowing the meanings of the words. Seeing the kind of rhythm your English poetry has, I would like to read what you have in Dutch. Even if I can't understand it, it's your real poetry.
  10. Pollux V Ra Bless America Registered Senior Member

    well it appears that I was wrong. I guess you could dl the file for your own...personal enjoyment.
  11. Congrats Bartok Fiend Registered Senior Member

    :bugeye: Pollux- I like your poetry, yet the great thing about free verse is its ability to hit real hard with short, meaningful lines and you're not really utilizing that. But that's beside the point.

    Here's another one:

    Files in a lovely correction
    drawer A for the picking
    flies in a jar.
    the flies are fat, and plump
    I read the files and they tell me facts

    flies in air
    of lovely stone whisps
    never ceased before death
    as air wrapped
    Providence in surrender.

    as outdoors cried and heaven alarmed.
    to never be right
    or cancel my harm of hate,
    for one to be sure
    and one to be had,

    Humanity leads a double session,
    for two winks a fool
    one traded his trade for a quintet,
    his blanket for a strange set of tongs;
    one long profusion of commerce.
    and so the grass commenced
    Last edited: Jan 28, 2002
  12. Pollux V Ra Bless America Registered Senior Member

    Yogamojo we actually have nothing to fear by posting our thoughts here, since each post is dated we would take them to court and easily win all or more money they made off of our material.

    I'll get back to ya, congrats.
  13. Avatar smoking revolver Valued Senior Member

    I like this topic

    [Beautiful Vampire]
    I see you approach, I see you come.
    You want my house and car,
    With chatter nice and looks so good,
    I almost fell in your dirty trap.

    You’re so sticky and sweet, that I can see,
    Through your net of love and greed.
    I’m nothing to you: her eyes are saying,
    So deep and blue like killer sharks jaw.

    You see my suit and nothing else.
    Typical slut you are,
    Worse than vampires teeth,
    You want to drain me out.

    I laugh at her and have my fun.
    She thinks - I fell,
    Blinded by her sugar voice,
    So sweet as a box of lemonade.

    I take her to Transylvania,
    Saying: let’s get married there;
    And leave her in a castle old,
    Hope she finds our nighttime host.

    I’m crossing the border,
    Hiding behind the trees,
    Making the night to be my cover;
    And suddenly I’m spotted by a guard,
    Who asks for my ID.
    My ID?! what do you mean,
    What’s my ID,
    What makes me so different,
    From you and other?
    My location, job or dog,
    My place of birth or name,
    And what it all means to you?
    I am myself a unique ID,
    That cannot be faked or cloned.
    I am for what I am,
    Citizen of earth, just like you,
    But so different in so many ways;
    I am what I made me to be.

    (c) by Mitago @ www.everypoet.com
    P.S. Mitago=Avatar(I'm not stealing anybody's work

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  14. Congrats Bartok Fiend Registered Senior Member

    Oh MARIAH!

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    Ahhh...perfect awkwardness. Such a sentimental feeling. You are very intense and very right, Avatar.

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    Good point, Madame Pollux. The thing is actually knowing if someone is using your poetry. They could be using it on the underground circuit and slowly, over years, accumulate millions. Then when you crack the story you really crack the bucket, so to speak. I'd love to hit some dirty pig on its face with 'Monoliths', my current little private collection. Let's go, girls!
  15. iced_earth Anathematized Registered Senior Member

    this is one of mine its a free verse thing going on , so enjoy

    The perfect sunrise
    From Jonathan to Christie

    I love you like the moon that shines, that is a reflection of the sun that burns brightly,
    Like your eyes
    Its like the blanket of stars, in the midnight hour, I dare not focus on many, when one burns so brightly like the one before me
    I gasp for breath from a heavenly body, that is the beauty of the entire universe in its glory

    It’s like a crystal shoreline, in the night,
    There is no need for a candle for the love is bright
    Its only you that can do this to me
    It’s you the star I want to see
    It’s your breath I want to breathe
    It’s my soul I wish to bequeath
    And intrust with you
    I never then would worry of what to do
    So long as I’m with you

    The moon shines, with its glory passed form the sun that is in its self-apart of the universe in all its glory
    Like a love unsurpassed, like a feeling that comes out at last, its you the one, all the time.
    Like a restless sunshine
    Like a wave that crashes into the shoreline

    A curve in the sprinkle of water, so eloquent in appearance
    But yet so complex to recreate its brilliance
    Such a simple element, that is the basis of all existence
    A world of feeling that is the distance
    Between the sun and the end of sol
    Witch is thee only measurement of the soul
    And its experience of love, that makes them whole
    A beginning to prase the universes extol
    And the unimaginable price of its beauty
    Like the beginning of a nebulas that is cloudy
    No one can know the reasons why
    It’s such a hard question to imply

    The moon now shines above your eyes, means nothing to me, when you cry.
    Like tears of heaven and the shimmer of the hope not yet dead in me
    Of this another heavenly body, circling to its doom
    Down the spiral to its death that looms
    It it’s self the star in the cold night sky
    Radiating its thoughts in rhymes
    Through the vastness of space
    Sending warm kisses to your face
    To create we must destroy
    The child now runs, trips over the toy
    Trying to understand its self
    The universe who else
    Couldn’t be as pretty as thee
    But you Christie

    The moon is now setting over the horizon, the sun comes up to bring forth the warmth
    To a planet An AU away from its source
    To something invisible that grabs with force
    The light, that shines into the eyes
    Of you, the perfect sunrise

    written by: jonathan ryan alligood
  16. Congrats Bartok Fiend Registered Senior Member

    Here it is...

    Originally posted as it's own stupid THREAD!

    Oh DEAR! THis is some great stuff!
    This is Great!

    Between the sun and the end of sol
    Witch is thee only measurement of the soul
    And its experience of love, that makes them whole
    A beginning to prase the universes extol
    And the unimaginable price of its beauty

    So perfect! I don't know if you meant to say 'witch' but I think it's better than 'which'. You wrote a beautiful poem-are you a professional? Because this seems to have some incredible classical underpinnings. If not, you are a natural with more talent than you can imagine.

    The Earth is iced, isn't it
  17. Congrats Bartok Fiend Registered Senior Member

    Exceprts form this afternoon's jam session:

    [The importance of trees to my left
    I am now on my cotton slip-sheet
    looking through
    my little portion

    three band
    of color immense
    it is scaring the birds form their roosts
    it is slowly drifting; inching.
    I wish to play Brammhes, yet sky calls.
    soft pillow, or dome, or leftish stitch
    sky always calls]

    [In my chaos, wreckage,
    in my red core of wet, mushy tells me
    to be strong
    to do good
    to be overly, succinctly, good. ( I meant wrong)

    to seek an exploded life
    in a white, banded bird cage now
    no more steel drumbucket

    symbolisms stick.

    bands drift
    too far, so to you can catch on them
    pour moi, pour toi, pour elle, pour lui,
    as I

    never in steel unison
    cried trees of water.
    I utilize an ability just to 'say'
    manifesto for corporate endangerment
    tommorrow, intensify, maybe today
    slam you in court
    there's that smell again
    Victorian whole grain goodness.]

    [slowly turning purple
    I turn cold-blooded
    I feel...better
    I feel turned upon a side.]

    [For you to seek my truth,
    I feel capable.
    One more upon the old oak tree,
    I tie you a ribbon.
    Deep down, I sample your flavor.

    set hole in my socks
    set deep in my life.
    created words of meaning,
    of soft absulence in my life,
    of never parting to my side
    Flow to my life, bypass me.

    We tried to apply rouge to your face;
    You're a clown, Non?
    I wish not to be you,
    to be mean, in other may'aps words.
    So in a clear, crystalline package. (limper,limper,limper,limper,there)
    I am not funny, not quite gone.
    not quite straddling a cliff of looning.]
  18. iced_earth Anathematized Registered Senior Member

    Re: Here it is...

    well im glad you liked it , it took along time to write that.
    im just glad some one can enjoy it. because she didn't.....

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  19. iced_earth Anathematized Registered Senior Member

    this is another one,

    Wishes of twilight

    Darkness and light
    Sparks in the wind
    Untouched and twinkle with delight
    Uncaring and unshowing concern for what’s below
    The earth in darkness and shadow

    From nadir looking up
    pondering ideas erupt
    what is this sight
    here in the midnight
    the twinkle in the star
    the burning thoughts that char
    wondering as a child with perplexity
    what is this spell you cast on me

    clouds and haze
    what can keep this brightness from my gaze
    shining through all around you
    your star IM transfixed upon
    until we part, until dawn

    never can you be blocked by a nimbus
    always moving like Hesperus
    bright and never dim
    in the galaxy you swim
    and I will watch and I will stare
    for you are the one that is so rare

    color ebony surrounding the light
    in the shades of white
    you are seen through the umbra
    these things of scintilla
    the brightest speck to blind the eye
    but yet, even then id look to the sky
    searching where are you, set and confusion
    please don’t be an illusion
    the night sky has become unclear
    please don’t disappear

    reverse eclipse as you wonder from my sight
    watching, running as you disappear into the daylight
    I will wait here, for you
    And your beautiful shimmering hue
    In the light always wishing for twilight
    Wait Again to see you at night

    by: jonathan ryan alligood, was copy writted jan-31-2002
  20. Avatar smoking revolver Valued Senior Member

  21. Avatar smoking revolver Valued Senior Member

    here's one more from me

    [Joke of the Gods of Love]
    I walk and walk all the time
    Through the desert of a melting sand
    Leaving a trail of a desperate man
    Looking in the distance and smiling of my luck
    Which turned out to be another joke of the Gods of love
    Making to believe in the mirage of love
    Love that was never known or met

    And as a vicious snake in sand
    There's a danger of a deserts game
    For I see the dream of my life, arising in my sight
    Thinking of it as another mirage of love
    And letting it go as a fantasy of my mind
    And after a month or so, I realize how I was wrong
    Believing in my luck, which turned out to be
    Another joke of the Gods of love

    But all’s not lost I say and pray, for it was just a dream
    A dream of a future glimpse
    And a look in the deserts face
    Another joke of the Gods of love
    Who know how to play this game of love
    You, my flower in the melting sand
    You who arises from the sands of time

    (c) by Mitago @ www.everypoet.com
  22. iced_earth Anathematized Registered Senior Member


    I am Nothing

    Time again welds it’s hands
    Circling to doom, are the sands
    Thee hour glass once was filled
    But now my dream has been killed
    As the wisdom comes at a price of my youth
    I can now see the truth

    Wasted and diminished if I leave nothing
    Could I be remembered for just being

    Is a life that is ordinary and plain
    A life at all, wasted and wane
    Forgotten is this man
    Was that fates plan
    To condemn me from the start
    To make me want to rip apart
    What I’ve done
    What is seen
    What I could have been

    Now I look through my eternally dead eyes
    On to my life played tell I memorize
    How plain how ordinary it all was
    Can’t it be remembered for something

    Is it wasted, is it dim
    My out look or is it grim
    Doomed to feel betrayed
    Life now confirms what I’m afraid
    I mean nothing in the scheme
    The bigger picture now I scream
    Shout to the heavens to be heard
    I just want to be assured
    This was the blue print nothing more
    My heart now blacked to the feeling abhor
    I realize this life to be nothing
    I’m remembered for nothing
    The way it has to be
    The way it has to be
    You would torture me?
  23. Bebelina kospla.com Valued Senior Member

    You are all so very good! I´m baffled...
    I don´t even know if I dare to post something here, among the professionals...

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    But I will anyway, just to torture you....

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    I´m trying to write lyrics to songs actually, so maybe you can help me improve them, so that they become more rythmical....if you want to, that is.
    Here´s the first one:

    When we love

    In a forest full of light
    telling secrets is the play
    running across the bushes
    of new life

    Becoming the creatures dreamt of
    in ancient dreams of future visions
    celebrating the fullness of the moment
    indulging our souls

    We are the flowing circles
    in between times of excess
    never forgetting who we are
    always seeking new ways to be
    explorers of reality

    We will win this game
    because there is no way to lose
    growing fresh essence
    of exuberant light and
    losing our minds
    in equations of mystery

    This is who we are
    when we love

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