B sides and Rarities ("Poetry")
Golden Orchids
El Mañana
Scream.
Flight
NOTE; this was a stream of consciousness peice, If you can workout what its about I'll give you an Ecookie and be happy that people can understand me when I try this kind of abstraction...
Damnit I've got no time to cry
sleeping awake in my dream
at least now here I can fly
fearless of the fall
inevitabley onrushing
through blued spheres of light
esperanto flickering in my ears
waves crashing against my shores
Damnit woke up again
the albatross watches with eyes blind of sight
waves still crashing on my shores
the treeline is trembling
still I fly
screw turbulence
I've got my life dream
rushing through my hair like locusts cross the desert
noise dragging me back
against the waves
against the hour
my hour.
awake I fall
Inevitably
now I'm here
never a better moment to scream, as they do say
in esperanto
in my ears
Damnit, no time to scream
Trains and the being of where
Unimportant
I feel like crap so this is a steam of conscious excercise to try and clear my head. I may delete but havent decided yet...
****************************************************************************
I'm sitting up tonight
Watching life
I can feel something there
Like wings on my back
Maybe a dream not real enough
Its dark out
I'm still watching life
There's something to be gained
I just need sleep
But I cant feel it
Sensations are like gold
green string thread
spread 'neath the 'epi
Touch taste and time
Contact is nice
we are all everybody everywhere
Its like screaming in my head
through thick layers of velvet
and a fuzzy shade of me outside
No one deserves help if every one Is
I'm locked out within
I still hear screams
Passion or murder
It's irrelevent
02:17
help.
Minds Mirrors
This ones about sleep...
I really need some.
*****************************************************************************************************
My minds have mirrors
Attached to my nervous system they be
By little threads of sinew and such
My minds like unto the clouds
My minds mirrors like leaves upon the tree
And my feet are full of the roots!
My eye lenses are kith or kin to solar and luna
and all I can see are reflections of reflections
of my minds
captured in mirrors
Thought upon thought upon thought upon thought upon
Flesh upon bone upon bone becomes flesh
Whats within without and around reflects
and I can see it back through a sunflare
in the tranquil eclipse I watch my thought minds
there are so many I think
they are flipping and revolving and reflecting or refracting
the clarity of a thousand mirrors loses me my objectivity
and whats with me outside is now within my inside
and my stomach is full of dust
and my minds are blinded by my light
and all is around and around and around
within without before what thought begat that drowning sensation in my head?
A Bloody Metaphor.
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i agree with localmusic. last line is awesome, and it matches the rest of the poem. i wish there weren't negative votes, because there's really nothing negative about the poem. i enjoy. i give you plus
I dunno, the last line was fine, but it was how the whole thang was rushed and fast with strange metaphors that really got me. And it was only getting better towards the end, the last two stanzas were really nice.
But I'm a bit prejudiced, it always seems tacky to me when things are caps locked, like the words can't speak for themselves (which in this case they definitely can). It would have survived with equal if not more power if it wasn't all yelled.
This seems to be similar to my piece 'A Pronoun', yet I can clearly see in what ways it is different. Obviously I would have written this piece differently, but I think it comes from a similar emotion.
That + was from me. I haven't worked out what you meant by it, but for me it's like the feeling I have when i'm trying to play a song I don't know ell enough, keeping up with the other players. "Damnit woke up again" is what happens when I start thinking to hard instead of trusting my fingers. "Damnit, no time to scream" is when I'm trying to do a relatively easy chord change but I get mixed up and get out of time. And the stuff in between is just the song. So, yeah...
when I read surrealist stuff, especially stream of consciousness, I don't ever try and understand what this meant to the author, because it is nigh impossible...
I think the more important thing is the imagery and thought that the reader goes through while reading it... and for that reason I am giving you a +1... I love all of the motion in this piece, and I love the mental picture...
The language in this is a little too off-kilter, but i liked it none-the-less... and like ITC, I esp. liked the last stanza... +1
I'm going through your back catalogue. I really should have done this sooner. It's good stuff, especially this one.
absolutely brilliant style, the wordplay was exquisite and it managed to create a strange sort of vaguely insane feeling, which I can only say I enjoyed. To not plus 1 is an injustice to humanity.
Though to be honest, I didn't really get that it was about sleep. It didn't really seem to be about anything so much as simply generating an aura or vibe through the style, which is really interesting.
This is a wonderful piece. Like aslid, I'm not sure I would have gathered that it was about sleep without your opening, note, but it does indeed have a somewhat sleepy feeling. The wordplay specifically has a very calming, rhythmically peaceful feeling to it. I could imagine a parent reading this to a child, softly as they try to sleep.
A firm and definite plus one.
heh you see what you see in a piece, i'm not gonna tell u what i wrote it for unless you cant see anything :P
The thing is, the part about the "expectant whore" doesnt really match the est of the poem. the tone is jsut all wrong. Pf course it's totally subjective, and I'm plussing it anyway, but it seems like 'call-girl' or 'courtesan' would fit better.