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Prose & Poetry

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i started this thread over at chilax, and thought it should continue over here. :whistle:

so, here are some of my old stuff...everyone feel free to post their prose/poetry :)

some old journal/book entries:

“It's 2:20am and I can't sleep. I can feel my bones creaking like old pipes filled with water. I don't know what my bones are filled with that is making them creak so much. Or why they're creaking. Or why I'm paying attention to it all of a sudden. I bet that they've been creaking for years and I just now noticed them. All I know is that I can't sleep because my bones are creaking and I pay so much attention to shit like that…”

“The floor tiles were moving…off the floor and back to the floor, left to right and acting like waves. I saw those dots again. They were everywhere. I was standing in a sea of those constantly moving dots. A sea of constantly moving dots in the lunch line. I'm scared…What if… the floors everywhere start moving and nothing is stable and I turn into the man in Munch's painting and my face melts into my skull and all I'm left with are violent screams? What if Mike and Lisa are just like Munch’s two friends and they are the only stable things in my life? Maybe one day… they'll tell me that they just can't be friends with someone like me. Then they'll turn from me and walk away, leaving me all alone with my melted face and violent screams.”

“Eyes don't always work properly. Sometimes they're compromised by...something. Something gets in the way. That something isn't black, it's clear. Clear and spacey and it makes me lightheaded. It doesn't prevent me from seeing, but it prevents me from seeing accurately. People get, big and normal and big and then back to normal and I grab my eyes because they focus on the wrong things or the play games on me and it hurts.”

“Time really isn't time if it disappears, is it? Last night, time wasn't. From 1am to 5am there was no time. I was awake, but I didn't do anything. Time managed to elude me. I'm not sure what I did for that piece of time which wasn't time…I was sitting on my bed, looking at my reflection which wasn't my reflection in the mirror. I realize that any time I've ever looked in the mirror, I've never seen the reflection as my own…Something's missing from me. At some point, I found myself lying on my back on my bed, unable to breathe...all of my weight came down on my lungs and transformed itself into a boa-constrictor and was trying to take out my breath via asphyxiation. Frightened, I remember feeling my eyes become large with what else but fear. I remember feeling very frightened. A few moments later I had caught my breath and a sudden feeling of weightlessness. Almost as if the weight that was choking me before was now absent from my body which wasn't a body and seemed to be floating. I knew I wasn't floating, but I also knew I wasn't weightless.”

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I recently found an old journal from when I was going through a really bad time... It is not something that I would ever post though...

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Roses are Red

Violets are Blue

All of my Base

Is Belong to YOU.

Roses are Red

Violets are Blue

This line doesn't rhyme

and neither does this.'

roses are red

violets are blue

in soviet russia

poems write you

I take full credit for all of those.. alright maybe i dont :whistle:

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Into the emptiness I go. It is dark and were it leads I do not know.

It attracts me into it with obessions, and feeds emotions. The first to leave is my happiness. Sadness is next to go. Then goes my anger. What I am left with are few emotions. Depression, sorrow, and fear. They soon leave too. Now what am I left with? Nothing. Nothing but Emptiness

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Guest quasicartes

A Poem

You've Got To Love Poetry

He laid her on the table,

So white, clean and bare.

His forehead wet with beads of sweat,

He rubbed her here and there.

He touched her neck and then her breast,

And then, drooling, felt her thigh.

The slit was wet and all was set,

He gave a joyous cry.

The hole was wide... he looked inside,

All was dark and murky.

He rubbed his hands and stretched out his arms,

And then he stuffed the turkey.

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hopin for the best

but im fearing the worst

im on the edge

feels like im gonna burst

need to get it off my chest

put it all out there

then maybe i can rest

only hope is that youll care

ive waited so long

kept everything on the inside

now the wait is almost over

and my eyes are opened wide

waiting for that call

just remembering the time

when i met you at the mall

then my phone rings

i wonder if it could be true

and my heart skips a beat

but i see its not you

^^thats pretty much how i feel right now...how is it? ive never showed anyone anything ive written before...so be kind

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yet another poem...dont know if i like it as much as the other but here it is

The Wait

My nights become longer

Its as if time stands still

And this wait is taking a toll

As it has me feeling ill.

Nothing to do but sit here

As my mind brings thoughts,

Thoughts of what might be

And it puts my stomach in knots.

For all i can do is hope

That you will come to me

That you will want to be together

But i am forced to wait and see.

And now you dont respond

Now i start questioning

Asking what ive done wrong

But as i think i find nothing.

So im left here in the dark

Left here to contemplate

To question every move

On this very long wait.

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a thing ive learned

from my own experience

from times i crashed and burned

is that girls dont want nice guys.

They whine and cry

About what they want

About finding that nice guy

But theyve already found him.

They dissmissed him as just a friend

And use him for when theyre down

Because his loyalty to her will not bend

But she does not care.

She chooses the the bad guy

who ends up hurting her

She runs to the nice guy

Who listens and comforts her.

She thinks hes always going to be there

But chances are he wont

hell see how she doesnt really care

And he will leave.

So im telling you girls to open your eyes

For the one who youve been "looking" for

Is right there, but you dont realize

That youve pushed him away by not caring.

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Not sure if I should resurect this thread or not but since I'm drunk I havent the restraint to deside not to...or whatever... umm anyway.... I added a poem to a page of poetry i write regarding one particular person in my life. Someone who maybe should no longer be in my life...hell i dunno.

http://www.planetburrito.com/sally.html

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A Poem

You've Got To Love Poetry

He laid her on the table,

So white, clean and bare.

His forehead wet with beads of sweat,

He rubbed her here and there.

He touched her neck and then her breast,

And then, drooling, felt her thigh.

The slit was wet and all was set,

He gave a joyous cry.

The hole was wide... he looked inside,

All was dark and murky.

He rubbed his hands and stretched out his arms,

And then he stuffed the turkey.

That is simply priceless.

:rofl:

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My Lovely Angel

Secret memoirs filled with words beckoning to reach my beauty of the heavens.

I collapse in the midst of lonesome empathy in quest for your love and discretion.

Beloved kisses leave shades of rose covering my cheeks in divine inscription.

Tears from my sheltered eyes harass the earth, masking my unbreakable conviction.

Hands left wrapped in russet waves part the sea, once in view I see the light.

I gaze at a smile so radiant the brilliance engulfs the gloom and enslaves the night.

Love flows steadily through the veins hitting the heart without the slightest restraint.

Patches of flora encircle my brittle limbs in the wake of this heavenly Saint.

Elevated high, we bathe in the billows while she cleanses my tainted essence.

Swallowed, I bask in the love and compassion of this seraph and marvel in her presence.

She guides me back to grace but never from her do I receive the declaration, "Farewell"

For reborn I am, forever enclosed in the wings of my lovely Angel.

Forth Comings

Can you hear my panting breath echoing through the azure?

No more days of sorrow will the feeble remnants endure?

They both collide collectively structuring a haunting moan.

The reverberation is of horror akin to a stone devastating bone.

The stench of death crawls down serving your heart with deceit.

Your stomach twists like a torso, suffering an undesired defeat.

Heaven witness' the fall, yet revolve its head in the company of Thee.

The decision to deny grace leaves you broken and alone with the amorous plea.

Will my tragedy leave me drowning choking in this crimson torrent forever?

I entreat for mercy, save me from the scar of this inexcusable endeavor.

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^so nice :)

some of my favs;

the man had killed the thing he loved,

and so he had to die.

yet each man kills the thing he loves,

by each let this be heard,

some do it with a bitter look,

some with a flattering word.

the coward does it with a kiss,

the brave man with a sword!

some kill their love when they are young,

and some when they are old;

some strangle with the hands of lust,

some with the hands of gold:

the kindest use a knife, because

the dead so soon grow cold

some love too little, some too long,

some sell and others buy;

some do the deed with many tears,

and some without a sigh:

for each man kills the thing he loves,

yet each man does not die.

he does not die a death of shame

on a day of dark disgrace,

nor have a noose about his neck,

nor a cloth upon his face

nor drop feet foremost through the floor

into an empty space.

------------------------------------------------

out of the arm of one love

and into the arms of another

I have been saved from dying on the cross

by a lady who smokes pot

writes songs and stories

and is much kinder than the last,

much much kinder,

and the sex is just as good or better.

it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,

it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't

work

as all love

finally

doesn't work ...

it is much more pleasant to make love

along the shore in Del Mar

in room 42, and afterwards

sitting up in bed

drinking good wine, talking and touching

smoking

listening to the waves ...

I have died too many times

believing and waiting, waiting

in a room

staring at a cracked ceiling

wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...

going wild inside

while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...

out of the arms of one love

and into the arms of another

it's not pleasant to die on the cross,

it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in

the dark.

Charles Bukowski

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hopin for the best

but im fearing the worst

im on the edge

feels like im gonna burst

need to get it off my chest

put it all out there

then maybe i can rest

only hope is that youll care

ive waited so long

kept everything on the inside

now the wait is almost over

and my eyes are opened wide

waiting for that call

just remembering the time

when i met you at the mall

then my phone rings

i wonder if it could be true

and my heart skips a beat

but i see its not you

^^thats pretty much how i feel right now...how is it? ive never showed anyone anything ive written before...so be kind

Oh, my.. :wub: I love this. This is kind of how I'm feeling at the moment.

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The Gasp Before The Fall

9/12/06 - by Jimmy Changa

A moment spent without regard

but simply absorbed in purity

Could be a second or a year

time lost to passion's surity

With love's plunge in view

heeding the edge's call

They inhale their fears and take

the gasp before the fall

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I'm not a good poem writer(what am I talking ,I 'm a very bad poem writer)but here is one that wrote one of my friends:

Sin or crime? By Sem 1:08 p.m. 12/III/2006

The mirror shattered into pieces

My heart broken in two pieces

His spirit resting in peace

I

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I used to hate poetry but now I kind of like it :ninja: but I still hate gothic poetry.

what is gothic poetry?

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