POETRY - Can you write a Poem?

[DonQuixote]

Lol, just exactly what my pals thought
The moon seems to have brought
The southern aura of the lycans
Not the eerieness or the shamans
The flower 'Don Quixote' have bloomed brightly
Under falling beams of the pale moon
Where drunken delirium strikes mightily
And gnaws each parts before high noon


Maybe a protips for my poems: I mostly use the words as metaphors---so you only have to imagine the most appropriately resembling situation/description which matches the image.

Freefall,
a) Did you do the search to make the link to the tulip? I had no idea.
Pretty passionate flower.

b) Metaphors -I try to let the words paint a picture in my tired-ass mind.
I did get the Dark Carnival imagery, but I have a very hard time putting all of your pieces together.

Now on to your Next post, lol.
(And, some day, I still have all those I shirked my duties on to read and comment on.)

 

[DonQuixote]

Leitmotif

I weave love parasites
In our crystal bed . . .

Defy, magnify
If you went impaired
We will have to bear new bulbs

Freefall,
So dark and eerily spooky crazy-assed.
The imagery is unsettling.
To get beyond the basics will take me more time and brain cells than I think I may have.

 

[freefall]

I know for long a tulip hybrid variety named Don Quixote, so I put a link in case you're hoping too high

And trust me when I say the leitmotif is only in the form of the poem (a whole palindrome)---no explicit meanings intended; I just grab words and throw them to look meaningful. Pretty trickily garbage, huh? =P I call them "experimental trash-flower"

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

And trust me when I say the leitmotif is only in the form of the poem (a whole palindrome)---no explicit meanings intended; I just grab words and throw them to look meaningful. Pretty trickily garbage, huh? =P I call them "experimental trash-flower"

Who knew two different people using the same method could get entirely different results?

 

[freefall]

^You're saying? I don't grasp

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

^You're saying? I don't grasp

I grab words and pervert them for my own purposes and then throw them together. Except you do it well.

 

[freefall]

^Oh. I think you're doing a pretty good job. But not enough perverse. You need to learn more from Lefty or Qui

 

[DonQuixote]

Perverse? Moi? How could you even suggest such an unthinkable thing?!

Oh, wait, that was meant as High Praise.
(Or is that praise from someone who's high?)

Your secrets are out.
All these weeks I have felt not up to the task of reading and responding to your verse, only to find out that you have been playing HEAD GAMES with me!

Well, it's almost 11PM EST. This old tired brain and bag o' bones must have needs be off.

Take care, guys.

Oh, "The Cremation of Sam Magee" - I think I may have posted a reading of it in these hear parts. That's your homework. Watch and then post a reply.

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

I'm almost happy with this poem... almost.

Death of a Dingle: A Beat (it) for New Roomy

After finals the feared finality is to be fulfilled
Full filled my social stomach with dirty socks on doors, crude orders of chores
The snore of silence, the silence for snores
Radio plays as floored from ignored to abhorred with detours at bored
It was fine before, outside my damn door,
But shit's fucking different now:

I gave y'all my peaces of mine in my pieces of mind
The least y'all could do is make shit worth my wasted time
How you gonna do me?!? Give to me what's due me:
Give me my please don't do it in here
Give me my deterrence deterrent
Give me my sapience save the homo
Give me my anti-social abode
Give me my goddamn four walls of fugue
Give me my me with a side of asides

But all I got was these tired servile feets propped in heels,
Stilting me to unseen heights of "how's the weather up where?",
Which I click a thousand times in time with
"There's no place like alone"
"There's no place like alone"
"There ain't no place like alone"
"Will never be no place like alone"
"Alone is where the heart quits"
"A house is not alone" (Unless y'all and I be far apart)
"There's no place like alone"
"There's no place like alone"
Oh, and I'll pick up that damn lousy t-shirt on my way out of "in"

But no, till then, y'all a be steady messin with my shit
Puttin up y'all's social statements on my walls barren like I liked them
Havin y'all's exclusive conversations in my air still like I liked it
Proppin open my door to humanity closed like I liked it
Stop it! Who y'all think y'all are? What you think I is?

Though once I had my fingers
For free flowing deaths by dingle tingle
Dingle divided by double leaves me and mine a remainder wholly single
And
I ain't got the warm lips y'all have to suck
I ain't got the warm holes y'all have to fuck
I ain't got the warm hands y'all have to hold
I ain't got the warm shoulders y'all have to be consoled

Now for me,
It so cold in the We
How the fuck does I supposed to keep peace with you lettin out that heat?
So shut the goddamn door!
Y'all know, that door you never noticed before?
Y'all know, that door the keeps you "in"? The one that keeps me "out"?
Preferably with you back on the far side of it where you belong and be grateful that you belong.
It so cold in the We,
How the fuck do I supposed to keep peace with you lettin out that heat?
I paid for that hot air
Y'all took in while y'all was there
So spare the "care" and leave me my wares
I still got some lukewarm loving I left for my wear
That exotic indigenous air not found out there anywhere

But of course this room's place y'all'll never heed
Fuck a poem, it's space y'all need

 

[DonQuixote]

Ghibli,

The tales have been told
since Arthur's time of old
of Witches evil, with hearts of stone
whose black blood doth run cold
with the Devil's dank dark running through to the bone.

And, somewhere in the story told,
These Wicked women without a womb,
Were found to have teats from a tomb,
acrid, hanging, full of death,
a cold so numbing, it would take your breath.

And, not relinquishing,
give you over to Death.
But not before Satan's Spawn
Tormented you up till Dawn.

---

Wenchine,

My poor, tormented friend,
The agony of love, broken,
wont to mend.

The torment travailed upon thy temerity,
to say nothing of thy traumatized psyche.

'Tis sad when economics demand
its Pound of Flesh as its price
for a deal done when things were nice -
and dandy,
and this other, a piece of candy.

But now you must, with a modicum of grace,
daily see this self same face,
and pay dear silver from your soul,
as the price commanded to climb from this hole,
to a time, not too future far, when you can say "Skol",
and get on with your life,
less this strife.

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

Why do I hit the submit button? I'm only submitting to Regret.
Are you guys checking my forum comments? Lotta love to go to waste.


Life's
Up tempo staccato
Made me slow and let go
Lowly behold me note ho
Notes passed slow as light load
Now
Time for grow and transpose
To notes too low for ear lobes
And Forte John Doe'd with piano
Eu sambo com a nota so

And this is how the note goes:

Ah, The Snatch Back: A neo-funk meditation for my former selves
Now I
Wish I
Could snatch my past back
Neither of us want it, now give it back
Wish my was could just wasn't
But it was, times the dozen
My real eyes surreal lyes internalized
Sawed y'all ones to trust in
Sawed y'all was, but still doesn't

Can't snatch my past back,
Add to y'all's large lack
Of sizable shits, bigger damns
Frequent-flyer fucks, uncanned Spams
I know y'all don't know I've known of your load
But shit's cheap when y'all haven't much to dispose
Cared to plaire y'alls bared share of air
This how the story will cease to go:

And I'll kiss frogs to keep from cousins
Less' god bless this child when spend of attend ends

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

Why I changed my avatar: Hopefully something for my best nothings

Swallowed plight and pride oblige
Open wide for refuse to hide inside
Refuse that refuses me mine
Plugged tight to try and find
My mouth full and dry

So I thirst

So

I

T
h
i
r
s
t
For my last first
Friendly neighborhood curse
All my life I've come in fucking first

First to start, when first to wait,
First to figure never from "late"

First to ask, first to hear
First to get sent Van Gogh's Ear

First to offer, first to console
First shown out the black backdoor

Though forever first, it's not from fast
Just y'all never did run with my ass

Stead y'all left, sans heft, with the best of me
Guess I'm yet better off with the worst of me
Left to wonder how my worst lasted so long first

Worst is worse when worldly sores burst
Nice guys finish last, yeah,
But they're finished with first
But hey
A spurt of worst burst could reverse the curse
It'd be my first to last last to first
I'd lovingly luster my trophies of last
To bury them in the Earth I'd flip on its ass
As seeds of change sown, now to be plowed by you alone:
There'd be no phony phone tag as I'd let y'all crown me undisputed champion
There'd be no faked lunch dates as I'd let y'all find me my own sole lunch-mate
There'd no left standing as I'd let y'all no occasion for which to rise
There'd be no nothing as I'd let y'all make me alpha of omegas and the omega of alphas

But it is and I'm not
Worst of first's my life lot
Till I can manage my legs to tire
Or manage to find the attached body expired
My tight open then wide shut
As away this damn world struts
If I last first as long to get last amends
Here's a start with this poem's end

 

[Lefty]

wennie....
it may not be my neighborhood anymore
but i still luvs yadude and cares a lot.

 

[DonQuixote]

Wenchine,
This is where I get in trouble - a poem of meat and substance
that requires careful contemplation.

On a semi-comatose mind!
Alas, I will have to come back to play
for I must have needs be off e'er light of day.

LeftyCuss,
Why isn't this your neighborhood anymore?
It's a cummunity playground.

 

[freefall]

Wen, your prose poems are delightful---telling many issues in (not so ) compact piece.
_______________________

Disorder

Cars crash
Glass breaks
Buildings on fire
Streets jam
People panic
Thieves rob
Screams and screeches on air
Citizens go wild
Police backfire
Barrier breach
Freeman on reign
Fearful hoax
Communication failure
Self provocation
Obedience erased
People on strike
Vendetta roaring
Credits missing
Sibling wars
Nation on wreck
Rules gone
Laws expire
Regulations absent
Norm disapproved
No harmony
No conformance
No unison
No rights
No serenity
No sanity
No accordance
No peace
Chaos and riot
Ruckus and havoc
Mayhem and dismay
Mind burst
Self rape
Irregularity equals disorder

Leaders, saviors
If even you flee away
Who shall support us then?

Orders, justice
If even you give up
Who shall be on our side then?

 

[Lefty]

friends

like

soap on a rope

use up

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

Aww, I like the chaos. It's brootiful. Tell Orders, Leaders, and their friends to take a vacation. Hopefully my school will get burned down before finals.
Reminds me of this one:
[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHgbzNHVg0c[/ame]

Make sure you listen to the cyberrap at 3:37

Reminds me a bit of these two

[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_WhE7mBwK8[/ame]

[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqmORiHNtN4[/ame]


That's compliment cause I loves me some Janelle Monae.

 

[freefall]

Lol, Wen. I absolutely love your remark this one. It's unexpected, abrupt, and swirling confused

Now for the poets here, I don't usually do this kind of genre very often, so enjoy it
__________________________

Return to My Heart

A long weary way to travel
Trembling my short heavy steps
The fading echoes of callings afar
But you are still taking this voyage
To see sweet home one last time
So I will wait here for you
To return to my heart
The sour rocky road piercing each foot
The chilling wind depressing mental
But I can still hear your breath speaking
Which promises encounters
And I will wait here for you
To return to my heart

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

I like your synesthetic use of the word swirling. On point.
I respect that your poetry isn't hindered by love, but respect even more that you are able to churn out this kind of love (correct me if I'm wrong) poem.

I feel some intestinal pressure; it must be another poem coming out. I'll marry the person who can dust off my poem movement and tell me what I ate. It's not happening though.

I should let it go
By it, I mean
I should let y'all let me, my carcass, go
Really, not much letting to do
But there's enough blue bad blood for the nightly sea of leeches
Swirling with now indifferent, but convenienced, thirst above my carcass
Borne with more D-glucose than y'all'll ever use, and more L-glucose than y'all'll ever care to know about
That O so negative blood
A taste unlike many other
In that it's like EVERY other
And to be forgotten after gotten(,) quicker than any other

So my carcass goes
Falling down out from the sea
S
S
S
S
S
S
L
L
L
L
L
L
O
O
O
O
O
O
-wly with the retraction of dulled teeth from dulled meat
And thus my carcass falls back into me
Into my highest lows
A cave made from cons of second derivative doze
Wishfully to this time stay my home
If I could just start lingering
Stop thinking...

The Unlovely Carcasses: A Love Suicide for Altruistic, Egoistic, Anomic, Fatalistic

... And y'all just might miss my carcass

Just a carcass hurled
To indifferent worlds
Bones of plastic
A bit mas'chist
Y'all can spare my cares
As y'all take my wares...

... And y'all just might miss my carcass

Made
Such a decent backup doorstop
Such a decent backup supply stand
Such a decent backup hand...

... And y'all just might miss my carcass

Made
Such a decent backup shoulder
Such a decent backup sounding board
Such a decent backup heart...

... And y'all just might miss my carcass

Decent because detachable
Backup because it scared away so much more than crows...

... And y'all just might miss my carcass

Dropped from the lowest highs of social butterfly flights
To the highest lows of sweetly bitter spites
Cause of death:
Death of a cause-
A cause to take up y'all's space
A cause to feel my carcass traced
A cause to be wholly part
A cause to be partly whole-
All causes comatose circa creation...

... And y'all just might miss my carcass

But I can't give y'all the distinct non-pleasure
No... not yet,
Of my carcass's postmortem non-importance
Though 'tis the gift that keeps on giving
The day I give it
I will give me
More than y'all's world ever held for me...

... And y'all just might miss my carcass

When I put it to rest
So that I may wake

[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKh1_QAZyH4[/ame]

Oh, coming soon, a poem about why I'll never be happy with my poetry

 

[Whipped]

COWBOY DEAN's INJURY

A lean and handsome cowboy of twenty-three,
he wears tighter than skin blue jeans and chaps
that display a sexy ass and cock and balls
for everyone to marvel at who see
his deep crack, his massive balls and pole.
Determined to become a winning champ
at riding bulls bareback, he recently
was gored by a bull's horn driven up his hole.

This cute cowboy is one of those young men
who has the need to have his ass bullwhipped
by a sixteen-foot bullwhip wielded by
his friend TC whom he implores for ten
cutting strokes on cheeks off which he's slipped
his skintight Wrangs. While whipped, he does not cry.