I write poetry - do you ? You can display your here too

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Hey when I'm down I write poems do you write poetry ?
I'll put some of mine up , I don't know whether you will get it but it's worth a shot . (:

I'm good at poetry, but it does nothing for me, so I don't write it often.

These are my only decent ones:

24.10.10
Despair
Pedantic ramblings through basement gloom
He brings to bear a caustic flame on the blackness
Like a war cry sending shadows to flight
A pack of wolves that bay after nighttide
But it refuses retreat

Mutterings in an ancient tongue, or a tongue gone ancient
The ritual continues
Past ebon creatures and black mist that haunt minds left vacant
It lingers

It defies transcription and laughs at description
Past waking moons and sorry tides the devil feasts on worry

Yet it is not the stuff of nightmares
And neither the thoughts that bring terror
It is not the blackness
And it is not mere emptiness

It is darkness of all devoid and the void of all darkness
The absence of absence
And the nihility of null

It is despair


28.4.10
Colorless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously
There is a place where silence is deafening
Where words are unspoken, unthought, and unwritten
and the rain does not fall
A space where colors are tasteless, placeless, and faceless
and clouds crawl
An existence that is absent and present in zen
While coldly friendly and previously again

It is a feeling we find numbing the eternity of nil
A sense of nonsense and fiendish goodwill
An opening in the closure of time and essence
And a nightfall in the dawn of vacant presence

It shivers in stillness through timeless progression
With the undulating solid of happy depression
While a rabbit serves us carrots and gin

And then we find that we have not found at all
And when that we will that we won't
And again that we seek what we flee from
And chase what we avoid with our hopes

Colorless green ideas sleep furiously


21.7.09
An Ode to Cheese
I like cheese
Will you give me some please?
If you don't I will start to wheeze
For no one knows the power of cheese

When the moon is full
And there is a soft breeze
I turn into a ware-wolf
And prowl for cheese

And sometimes when the light purrs just right
The great black rainbow bursts forth in the night
And I fly slithering through the liquid grass
Parting thin rainbow roots en masse
And latch into the blackness with a latchless latch

And I climb and go skipping up through the stars
The radiance of which is cast far to far
Whereupon I find I have missed the moon
And will not devour its cheese anytime soon

Then the nights grow long as all fades away
And omnipotent switching switch grass turns to hay

And as the sun dies and passions wane
The only thing left in my weakening grasp
Will be the roll of cheese I've been clutching fast
Because it appears that I have lost my place
And exploded from lack of cheese in the abysses of space

I do write poetry. It doesn't make sense to any one other than myself but I do.

Do song lyrics count as poetry, by the way?

I definitely do then. :D

Well I should have said "can be" not "yes", because it is only yes if they can stand on their own... which is bound to be the case if you want to present them as poetry. So basically yes.

this is not a very good one...most my other ones are on paper

ME3

Stone like a statue, grave like concrete.
Weather stricken, heart still ticking.
Skin as a tree, rough as bark yet ready to fall.
Engulfed in the soil, cold blood could never boil.
Scars dark as oil, reminiscent of a time past.

Trees as the cover, astranged to any other.
Before the stoned statue, much before the time asked you.
Another face as croud, not saying much just yelling loud.
Fire behind the motives, replaced as the times in mind.

i am not good at poetry.
i made this one up when i got drunk on my fathers beer at a party my parents were having when i was 13.

my bum cheek's all studded with gravel
and my a***hole's all filled with tar
guess that's what i get for chuckin' browneyes
at the D M bloody R .

(DMR stands for "department of main roads" in australia. they do roadworks).

Sometimes

heres one I like a bit

Illusion...

This one is illusion
I reach and nothing
This lit up face
I reach for it

nothing

soft lips soft eyes
warmth
I reach again
and its gone
and in its place
the air is cold
and i am cold
I lie down
and I sleep it off

and this is maybe dream
maybe nightmare
more than likely
mid-morning headache
my feeble will to move
I
reach for daylight
and touch the setting sun

Sit for midnight
See the dawn

And now I lie beside you
molested by electric warmth
creeps up my body in pin pricks
brings me back
a year ago
dream of slit wrists
in my apartment
probably
punching myself through my pillow

Ive made my bed once since ive been here
and haven't cried in some time

....

and this one

Some Bomb ass Taco Salad...

dinner was taco salad
and i stood at the stove
with 1/2 ounce ground beef
1/3 cups water
and 1/4 cups seasoning

and i stood at the stove for 1/2 hour

and then the lettuce,
a sandwich bag of baby tomatoes
cut in half length wise
and one european cucumber
peeled and diced

and i stood at the counter for 25 minutes
to get everything just so

i was in a public toilet at a train station once when i was 16-17 ish and i noticed lots of graffiti on the walls that was homosexual in nature and it was advertising their availability for gross sexual acts for anyone who would meet them at a prescribed place and time.

so i thought of a short poem and i wrote

we just dropped by from outer space
to learn your native tongues.
but ne'er did we see a more amusing disgrace
to see that yours are searching
for other mens bums.

enough of the dirty stuff.
i once thought of poetry in a way that was kind of copying the woodstock era.

i can not remember any of them fully as i have them in my bookcase at my other house at west pymble, but i can remember some words from one poem i wrote which was actually a song, but the words stand on their own.

i am not religious, but i wrote this as far as i can remember.


i spread my soul throughout the room
and flow through all within
and establish peace in harmony
with my idiom harlequin.

i slowly rise and fall in time,
make waves that lap against the walls.
my writhing mass of tentacles
squirge through the doors and down the halls.

with just one finger i can paint
your life upon my palm,
and thrust my open hand to god,
then point a ray of golden charm,
with my finger deep inside your heart
to suckle forth your sweetened soul,
to yearn and need you though my veins,
and let your rose melt through my gold.

and then we will just blast our might
throughout the spirits in the air
and clasp our hands together tight
and weave vibrations into prayer.

......
i cannot remember the rest.
something about the slats of reality breaking apart to let the brilliance of heaven shine in to blind our eyes with bliss etc...

anyway the poem winds up with us being drawn into a singularity which then explodes into a wondrous exaltation.

i must go back to west pymble and find that poem.
it is called "in the centre"

I do. My English teacher last year said I'm good at it. I might post some later.

I won't share the name of the first.