Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

My poems are way too taboo for this site.


Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

This is probable. Too bad. I'd love to read them. Nothing's too taboo for me.

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

I want to break something, I break....myself Tear myself so compleatly That I can't be fixed Maybe then things would Be quiet... This unrelentless screaming I can't drown it out No matter how loud I turn up my music I want to talk... But words wont fill my mouth My wrists scream for relife My mind for peace both elude me while friends say: I'm here, I love you, You arent ALONE.....Just more screaming....

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Hi Vengey.
Take care of yourself.

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

People tell me its going to get better. What they dont tell me is how hard it will be, how long it will take or that I will be a compleatly different person when I get there. They dont tell me some nights will be filled with me sitting up against my bed crying and taking jagged breaths trying to calm the storm in my head. They dont tell me that some days I will wish I had a razor to make the angry words that fill my veins escape hoping that by using the razor I can let them out, make them stop hurting me. They dont tell me some days I wont have the strength to look at myself in the mirror because my body feels like it belongs to a stranger. They dont tell me of sleepless nights and dark circles under my eyes the next day. They dont tell me that some times when I need to eat that voice will tell me no you are too fat. They dont tell me it will be easy because they would be lying. They do tell me they love me. They tell me they are here. They tell me i am not alone. They tell me I have to be strong. They tell me to fight. Well this is me fighting. This is me hoping that things are starting to get better.

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

ever had one of those nights where nothing really makes sense? like it feels like there is so much in my head that there is no room for me. Its so loud I cant hear my thoughts. I have yet to go to bed because I cant. I cant just lay there thinking. This may not even make sense. But there is so much...too much.

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Ruminations from the Gutter

Let us dwell upon
that solemn stick creature
with deep holes for eyes.
Whom thunders about merry streets
Distressed for none to greet
Withered thin with a wistful mind
& hopeful heart of buzzing flies.

Is he bound to this pitiful fate?
To lay low & idle
as a drunkenly tossed single from a pair?
As a forlorn flower left beside the vase
wherein the other blooms wild
amid the dying odor of his quiet despair?
As a man alive, lowered in the dirt
cheap casket, clawing at the splintered wood
for only the hope of breath of air?

Is he forgotten by this starry world
to be left straggling & blown
by the hurried winds of an infinite Universe?
To be bound, tied and shackled
pre-determined to exist as a tired bundle for the fire?
As a perfect specimen for the roaring, public pyre?
To be found wishing from the sinistral apex
of the holy gutter
for one pair of merciful angel eyes
to fix upon his thunderous,
crestfallen poet's stare?

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

So Spoke the Unsound Maiden

'O what great ecstatic joy was felt by me!;
once thunderstruck by the sound waves of her voice
traveling gracefully to my trembling ears,
like an uncovered childhood melody.

Yet of such crushing blow were the songs she sung!;
once at last the words were deciphered to be
so cruel to my heart, so throbbing with pain
breathless in the pierced lung, which her two eyes had slain & stung
with such a force of a thousand angry, begotten bees.

Such passing dismay were the stabs of her breath!;
pulsing in gusts of sweet Spring air,
yet dreary cold like winter's haunting eve.
So all is told by a lonely Arawak slave,
shackled by hope and chained by love
outcast with the glowing bosom-heart in eternal night
river of blood pouring over the naked knee.

So void were her words to my shaken infant mind!;
So cast away from her graceful shore
into her merciless sea of flailing misery,
so misshapen & misguided by human ecstasy
so aghast in lack of any sign hinting toward heaven,
or empathy!

And how, out of such gold lightened beauty,
could emit such cruelty for the sake of cruelty?
Words shooting like arrows from beneath the darkness
of her shifting, wild sea like an armed knightly fleet.

Such passing dismay were the stabs of her breath!;
which offered nothing but a soul torn a'fire
mingled in hopeless desire
with my sullen shame of mind
a' flame in the guttered pyre!

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

6 word stories-

He said I was worth it
The he proved it to me

Not the first not the last
His fingers dance across my skin
Ghosts remain in brusies he left