Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

I fit in to both of those categories, Punk. sad

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Hahaha My TV Screen isn't really that big but the object SURE IS HUGE!!!

The Creature wrote:

^^ Hey, some cool stuff there, Punkman. I dig that above it's quite true! My only problem with books is finding enough storage...I've got my closet full already.

And remind me not to ever mess with Hyknorazoraging. That name sounds like it could do some major damage...

Hahaha Damn right it sure would. lol

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Got a sad, melancholy one for ya'll, if that's what you like. I had certain definite feelings I was working off, but I'd rather not have this piece be construed as, uh, completely autobiographical. lol

Love From Another Place

I would so lightly tap upon your slender saintly shoulder
but my fingers are broken, mangled, twisted...
these nerves growing like wild vines,
suffocating motion as it weeps in the dirt.

I would move your lovely mind whole mountains
with my incantations and rosy thought dreams,
but my mouth is sealed shut with rose thorns
and old, yellowed barn twine.

I would so tenderly kiss your full plush blooming lips
but mine are charred, chapped, and covered with dust.
Crows pick my brain as I float balloon like upon your ceiling.
There are never enough bricks in my stomach to weigh me down.

I would share with you my eyes and all they have to say,
but mine have blood in them, rolling loose and fiercely sharp,
piercing all the worlds which they silently witness,
saying things they never meant nor wished to say. 

I would reach out for you with butterfly affection,
but my ghost limbs cannot stop shaking with the spoiled earth.
Transparent and grey, they shrivel in the mist
as they fall from my sight, out of mind, and off the shelves.

The lonely brook flows steady on through your heart and mine.
but oh, how my mind has grown so tired with time
...only waiting for you at the end of the line.

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Another very cool one man. I dig it again. smile

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

^^ Sweetness. smile

Play You A Song

Here comes roaring by that downtown train,
blazing the wounded rails with a thousand sparks flying.
the conductor drunk and blissful beneath that dopamine sun.
I salute, and play a song.
Carrying on through the bricks, the reeds and weeds, I cry in the grass,
laughing mad at some cruel, inside joke into this solemn night.

Wise men arrive, share with me their words
and leave with a nod, smile and stroke of their beards.
So I salute, envisioning my own ghost's haunting place, and I play a song.
Existential nightmares plague my youthful sins and dynamite excursions
into the depth of loneliness and wistful sleeping trees.
The whole world shakes, crumbles, explodes, and reforms within a minute's time.
Overpowering are the drowning notes on this beaten six-string
as they collide head on with the air on this dreaming lion pavalon.
The winds stir something unknown. Whirlpools circle my ears.

The women all come and go, perhaps they speak of Michaelanjelo.
Sharing with me eyes and ears and smiles that lack a place of belonging.
My political world is sign language, my abject is reject
and the very words with which I speak is a forlorn mystery to these hardened,
red-bellied snakes, slithering through the smoke house and back into the parlor.
I cringe, reel, grimace, lean forward and jolt out my lightning upon
the heads of these drunken wanderers of aimless flight.
Their white wings shredded and torn, mine stained black, yet slowly spreading wide.
I write down on paper the infesting nonsense which rolls like a pound of dice in my head
and I play a song.

A band of children dress themselves up as adults, sending smoke rings my way
through the pouring hail and rain that smacks the pavement beneath my feet.
Delighted, I run reborn through the city streets, 'till my heart gives in and I weep, weep,
weep with the willows and the widows.
There and then I think I understand their cold, closed coffin delights.
So I jump over all buildings in my path, shine my light upon the dark alleys
and provide the world with the courage to be mad.
Abnormality my specialty. Indifference my collected difference.
And just to purge the grief from these tired eyes,
allow me to play you this here song.

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

WOW!!! You had me at Drunk driver. lol

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

^^ GOOD! See, I thought a drunk train conductor would be an apt way of explaining a person's complete lack of control over their life. lol

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Truth but a Junkie even more. Hahaha

Another nice choice of words bro. Thumps up again. smile

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

My sister pulled my finger
When I was six years old
And I let loose a ripper
With the scent of toxic mold

It blew my sister's hair back
And caused the walls to shake
In ran my panicked mother shouting
"My God, a rancid earthquake!"

"It's okay, mom" I answered
"That was just me breaking wind
I'm sorry if I scared you
and caused the walls to cave in"

She shook her head and grimaced
Like most moms usually do
When the child they suffered labor for
Fills the house with the stink of poo

I know you're prob'ly wondering
"Is there a moral here?"
This story seems gratuitous
It's just Lon being Lon, I fear."

But rest assured, my dear, good friends
There's a point, and it's a zinger:
If you want to see if someone's full of shit,
it's easy -- just pull their finger.


Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

You impress me bro. Sweet [and funny] one. smile

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Eh.  Took me about five minutes.  I could do better.

If I weren't so lazy. lol

Re: Poetic Corner (for the Artist in us)

Hahaha lol