Poetry here.
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artisticsolution
- Posts: 1933
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 1:38 am
Re: Poetry Bin
How beautiful and generous you are APN!
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amateurphilosophynerd
- Posts: 205
- Joined: Wed Feb 27, 2008 2:07 am
- Contact:
Re: Poetry Bin
I am touched by you AS
Good to see ya lassie.
400 Word Utopias
Today I submitted a hopeless case,
of how to rescue the human racee,
from many a calamatity,
it has with disability.
400 words it had to go,
with THREE revisions then send and know!
I hope he reads the Number Three,
cos it's unlikely he/PN
will send a book to me.
copyrightkjah2009poeticgeniusproductions.
Good to see ya lassie.
400 Word Utopias
Today I submitted a hopeless case,
of how to rescue the human racee,
from many a calamatity,
it has with disability.
400 words it had to go,
with THREE revisions then send and know!
I hope he reads the Number Three,
cos it's unlikely he/PN
will send a book to me.
copyrightkjah2009poeticgeniusproductions.
Re: Poetry Bin
(((dream on, Marishka, within your sleep)))
your figure describes joy embraced
by pillows carelessly tossed in bliss,
the twisted sheets you lay upon
have shaded your nakedness...
we've surrendered to each other
given all that we have known
only to return again and again
to regain that which we have sown.
have I not untied your mysteries
one-thousand illusions or more,
each discovery bringing us closer
to the love of our opened door...
we pant and we rant
but yet we can't dispel
this fire burning deep within
(why do they call it Hell?)
mtmynd1
your figure describes joy embraced
by pillows carelessly tossed in bliss,
the twisted sheets you lay upon
have shaded your nakedness...
we've surrendered to each other
given all that we have known
only to return again and again
to regain that which we have sown.
have I not untied your mysteries
one-thousand illusions or more,
each discovery bringing us closer
to the love of our opened door...
we pant and we rant
but yet we can't dispel
this fire burning deep within
(why do they call it Hell?)
mtmynd1
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amateurphilosophynerd
- Posts: 205
- Joined: Wed Feb 27, 2008 2:07 am
- Contact:
Re: Poetry Bin
This is just a quote from a very beautiful poem by the above person.amateurphilosophynerd wrote:we've surrendered to each other
given all that we have known
only to return again and again
to regain that which we have sown
I took a bus to town today,
but no meeting that is, happened for me, anyway,
I missed the hour, from then, but one,
which mean't I saw not, anyone.
So I guess I will have to go
to a weekend thats on,
you never know, (changes subject)
My research draft reply has newly won impetus,
my duty to win, my delight to impress,
and soar in believed abilities,
so from this project become skilled and free.
kjah2009copyrightpoeticgeniusproductions
Re: Poetry Bin
Its Nature's Law to take from more
And balance it with less
And in Time recompense what once
Was gave in such excess
All things on Earth obey this law
So too, does happiness.
And balance it with less
And in Time recompense what once
Was gave in such excess
All things on Earth obey this law
So too, does happiness.
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artisticsolution
- Posts: 1933
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 1:38 am
nonsum
You say , "you've got me wrong."
How can that be,
The 'you' I know lives in a thought
In a dream
Separate from you.
You can't possibly know the reasons for my love,
You can’t sense my love,
The sensation would be yours alone
My love is not concrete… it is not just
It’s not spectacular or spiteful or desirous.
My love is a purely selfish act of hedonism.
Pleasure, peace, health for you,
Without me as an anchor
Understand it or not, accept it or not.
I don't have control over you.
Nor do I wish to
I wasn't born with the desire to have another person love me.
You have no say in the matter of my love...
It doesn't matter if I look the fool...that is mere appearances...aesthetics.
That is not what serves me.
I can make beauty out of nothing,
I can make laughter, pain, sorrow, out of nothing.
That is not what inspires me.
A simple thought...realized or never realized
Inspires me.
"Who are you? What makes you 'you'?”
"I am an artist."
"What would you do if that was taken away? Who would you be then?"
“I would be him…I would be no thing.”
How can that be,
The 'you' I know lives in a thought
In a dream
Separate from you.
You can't possibly know the reasons for my love,
You can’t sense my love,
The sensation would be yours alone
My love is not concrete… it is not just
It’s not spectacular or spiteful or desirous.
My love is a purely selfish act of hedonism.
Pleasure, peace, health for you,
Without me as an anchor
Understand it or not, accept it or not.
I don't have control over you.
Nor do I wish to
I wasn't born with the desire to have another person love me.
You have no say in the matter of my love...
It doesn't matter if I look the fool...that is mere appearances...aesthetics.
That is not what serves me.
I can make beauty out of nothing,
I can make laughter, pain, sorrow, out of nothing.
That is not what inspires me.
A simple thought...realized or never realized
Inspires me.
"Who are you? What makes you 'you'?”
"I am an artist."
"What would you do if that was taken away? Who would you be then?"
“I would be him…I would be no thing.”
Re: Poetry Bin
active lies sublimate a conundrum
a saint to some
the nicotine stained finger
points the direction to hell
as the eyes curve around
spotting the tea leaf floating...
back-stroking mind-sets
the funeral screams end
and nowhere are there trees
left to me right of circumstance
the hotdog man juggles mustard seeds
into compounds of humility
avenging the three-winged nostragod
lying perpendicular to twelve epiphanies
sighted flying north for the winter
hooved parables skittered foolishly
the ice covering the sleigh’d bells
no longer ringing the troubadour's hum,
pinochle breasts lifted to the stage
and jonathan licked the cherry clean,
maraschino madness colored his lips
the fountain of lost innocence embraced...
the jackals snorting autumnal leaves
while the curse of sunset came and
went as cigarette smoke rising upwards.
marmalade maps indicating the bowels
erupting from explosive randomness
saluting brevity with statues of bird shit
piled in monuments to lost buffaloes
((searching... seeking... searching))
the edifice of territorial happenstance
bugged bunnies snarling thru pillow teeth
disguising their love patterns with lace
stolen from attics dusty and moldy with loss
buttressed by the terminology of upanishads
that careened across tracks of rails
one summer day lost in vague flashbacks
hand-colored by acid-etched dreams
of what could have/should have been
sparkle
sparkle
sparkle
((mesmerized by the look in her eyes))
her breasts longed for suckling mouths
- hungry for taste
- hungry for passion
- hungry for waffles
the sneakers took off by themselves
running at full speed towards the horizon
never to find the sunset that eludes
the poet's breath seducing thought
as if it were some kinda palace
where gold and silver lay around
gathering dust where crimes against art
continued to pile up in junkyards for the soul.
heironymous,
heironymous,
betray: the night
betray the: night
betray the night:
the lungs filled
capacity overdrawn
the shuttle cocked
and nowhere is found
disguised as an agony.
mtmynd
a saint to some
the nicotine stained finger
points the direction to hell
as the eyes curve around
spotting the tea leaf floating...
back-stroking mind-sets
the funeral screams end
and nowhere are there trees
left to me right of circumstance
the hotdog man juggles mustard seeds
into compounds of humility
avenging the three-winged nostragod
lying perpendicular to twelve epiphanies
sighted flying north for the winter
hooved parables skittered foolishly
the ice covering the sleigh’d bells
no longer ringing the troubadour's hum,
pinochle breasts lifted to the stage
and jonathan licked the cherry clean,
maraschino madness colored his lips
the fountain of lost innocence embraced...
the jackals snorting autumnal leaves
while the curse of sunset came and
went as cigarette smoke rising upwards.
marmalade maps indicating the bowels
erupting from explosive randomness
saluting brevity with statues of bird shit
piled in monuments to lost buffaloes
((searching... seeking... searching))
the edifice of territorial happenstance
bugged bunnies snarling thru pillow teeth
disguising their love patterns with lace
stolen from attics dusty and moldy with loss
buttressed by the terminology of upanishads
that careened across tracks of rails
one summer day lost in vague flashbacks
hand-colored by acid-etched dreams
of what could have/should have been
sparkle
sparkle
sparkle
((mesmerized by the look in her eyes))
her breasts longed for suckling mouths
- hungry for taste
- hungry for passion
- hungry for waffles
the sneakers took off by themselves
running at full speed towards the horizon
never to find the sunset that eludes
the poet's breath seducing thought
as if it were some kinda palace
where gold and silver lay around
gathering dust where crimes against art
continued to pile up in junkyards for the soul.
heironymous,
heironymous,
betray: the night
betray the: night
betray the night:
the lungs filled
capacity overdrawn
the shuttle cocked
and nowhere is found
disguised as an agony.
mtmynd
Re: Poetry Bin
chaos in harmony
o! to cast this duality aside
and ride astride the one
that we profess must be
the ultimate end...
just around the bend
we just might collide
into the fabled inner side
unveiling the illusive answer
that we've tried (and lied)
to understand, but yet
the bets are off... we scoff
between each cough
feed at the trough the same
grains of truth that have
been fed to our hungry mouths
babbling in languages to describe
as that which we over-imbibe
the diatribe of intellectual pursuit
but we fail
(give this an F, sir!)
we wail until pale
in the face that embraces
our race to uncover that place -
that unknown (yet) and
we bemoan with groans
from our bones that this...
this can’t be happening
all this trampling across mind...
the fields of gold glitter
to behold our fancy tales
shattered and baled
for fodder to be inhaled
at one gulp of the greed
that we so desperately need
to bleed, to seed, to be freed
of SOMETHING
but we go on... we go on
that determination
that incessant light
within us all
only illumines mind
we find piled up with
rhyme to mean an end
that is ceaseless as wind
blowing precariously thru
our deserted hearts
longing to connect
(fuck! an inner course)
with what we inherently
must know to be THERE
but find that there is
no where to be had
how sad... we don't have
the ability to hold forever
between these hands
that drop words, drop forks...
these lips that drop words,
drop ideas, drop hints...
these two ears that hear
only what we want to hear...
these eyes that see only
what we feel we must
know? understand? have?
we ride the phantom horse
saddled to exhume the ghost
that haunts our reckoning
to feed our beckoning
wrecking our ideals with squeals
of some disguised HALLELUJAH
as if the discovery of all that we
must know is realized...
we fool ourselves into being
that which partakes sensory delight
as truths we assure ourselves
of being just right - for me,
for you, for them and us
aboard this bus to destinations
quoted in quotations, bordered by
nations gripped by salutations
greeting jokers, smokers,
and, yes... midnight tokers
eager to parlay their intellects
into treasures of matter
that only splatter more mud,
more blood that floods the lands
in dark reds whose beds we sleep
upon in dreams of more to come
of the same... the same insane
river of doubt, of confusion, fear...
the transfusions we will eventually
partake of to set free our convictions
based upon derelictions of suppositions
suggestions, emanations from gravestone
embarkations to destinations unfulfilled
to ride the wheel of life in spinning
constellations dizzying our magnifications
into mere ruminations of mind conclusions
beware! who you may think you are
is limited by what you think...
transcend thought and journey
far beyond mind to savor mysteries
that entice, that expose, that free
ego from the boundaries of simple
words that are but twigs of suggestions
built upon shifting sands of mind -
unstable as chaos in perfect harmony.
mtmynd1
o! to cast this duality aside
and ride astride the one
that we profess must be
the ultimate end...
just around the bend
we just might collide
into the fabled inner side
unveiling the illusive answer
that we've tried (and lied)
to understand, but yet
the bets are off... we scoff
between each cough
feed at the trough the same
grains of truth that have
been fed to our hungry mouths
babbling in languages to describe
as that which we over-imbibe
the diatribe of intellectual pursuit
but we fail
(give this an F, sir!)
we wail until pale
in the face that embraces
our race to uncover that place -
that unknown (yet) and
we bemoan with groans
from our bones that this...
this can’t be happening
all this trampling across mind...
the fields of gold glitter
to behold our fancy tales
shattered and baled
for fodder to be inhaled
at one gulp of the greed
that we so desperately need
to bleed, to seed, to be freed
of SOMETHING
but we go on... we go on
that determination
that incessant light
within us all
only illumines mind
we find piled up with
rhyme to mean an end
that is ceaseless as wind
blowing precariously thru
our deserted hearts
longing to connect
(fuck! an inner course)
with what we inherently
must know to be THERE
but find that there is
no where to be had
how sad... we don't have
the ability to hold forever
between these hands
that drop words, drop forks...
these lips that drop words,
drop ideas, drop hints...
these two ears that hear
only what we want to hear...
these eyes that see only
what we feel we must
know? understand? have?
we ride the phantom horse
saddled to exhume the ghost
that haunts our reckoning
to feed our beckoning
wrecking our ideals with squeals
of some disguised HALLELUJAH
as if the discovery of all that we
must know is realized...
we fool ourselves into being
that which partakes sensory delight
as truths we assure ourselves
of being just right - for me,
for you, for them and us
aboard this bus to destinations
quoted in quotations, bordered by
nations gripped by salutations
greeting jokers, smokers,
and, yes... midnight tokers
eager to parlay their intellects
into treasures of matter
that only splatter more mud,
more blood that floods the lands
in dark reds whose beds we sleep
upon in dreams of more to come
of the same... the same insane
river of doubt, of confusion, fear...
the transfusions we will eventually
partake of to set free our convictions
based upon derelictions of suppositions
suggestions, emanations from gravestone
embarkations to destinations unfulfilled
to ride the wheel of life in spinning
constellations dizzying our magnifications
into mere ruminations of mind conclusions
beware! who you may think you are
is limited by what you think...
transcend thought and journey
far beyond mind to savor mysteries
that entice, that expose, that free
ego from the boundaries of simple
words that are but twigs of suggestions
built upon shifting sands of mind -
unstable as chaos in perfect harmony.
mtmynd1
Re: Poetry Bin
Diane Mathews
Caught her ball-sack
In barb-wire
On Monday
read more
Caught her ball-sack
In barb-wire
On Monday
read more
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artisticsolution
- Posts: 1933
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 1:38 am
Re: Poetry Bin
woke up
stubbed my toe
ouch!
took a shower
water too cold
brrrrr!
started my car
out of gas
Damnnnn!
hitched a ride
driver insane
Shit!
forced to write a suicide note
pen running out of ink...
figures
stubbed my toe
ouch!
took a shower
water too cold
brrrrr!
started my car
out of gas
Damnnnn!
hitched a ride
driver insane
Shit!
forced to write a suicide note
pen running out of ink...
figures
Re: Poetry Bin
Thought
And
Care
Over
Dressing
The
Plate
And
Care
Over
Dressing
The
Plate
Re: Poetry Bin
"I
Think
That
People
Should
Give-up
Their
Liberty
For
Freedom"
Think
That
People
Should
Give-up
Their
Liberty
For
Freedom"
Re: Poetry Bin
Our relationship towards each other should be thought of as - prisoner to prisoner
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artisticsolution
- Posts: 1933
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 1:38 am
Re: Poetry Bin
I really like this one...it says alot about mankind's quest for freedom at any price...even freedom. Mankind is so full of promise, yet so illogical. Please give us a new law to make us freer...pretty please!Pluto wrote:"I
Think
That
People
Should
Give-up
Their
Liberty
For
Freedom"