Poetry
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Advice of a hypocrite
It's a grand eventless evening here, far too bleak for wine and conversation; Just huddled with a notebook, out in late October- While you are off romancing with the beautiful. Bleed into, onto the canvas, oil and acrylic on your eyelids and your lips, so you do it each day- I'll be smoking in the chapel when you come to visit with a prayer while crying. Did she gaze upon your painting with hot breath and her blind eyes? those beautiful whites? Darling, singing to your siren- well it never does much good, no. Now I say this in poetry knowing its fantasy, but perhaps you could forget her; leave the blind girl with her dog.
-Well, I wish you better luck than I've had.
Spider Falling
Spider, spider, look at all the hours that you've spent on spinning silk. Look at all those sturdy strings, keeping you up off the ground. You must make your mother very proud. Oh but spider, little spider those silver strands aren't so strong as you might like to make yourself believe! Watch my cigarette-cinders, little fiery fingers, press upon your homespun promised-land! Tear, snap, wear thin, the little web you've made. I can see surprise in your six wide eyes, but this is how web-weaving works. Keeping all those flies, tucked so tight, within the silk sheets that you've spun. So it ends as you had it begin; your sins of weaving and venom, they can't keep you from falling with the ashes. You'll enjoy no sympathy from the insects, and no mercy from my cigarette.
The Boxer-romance
Me, Miserable?
Have a Happy New Year
Whisky and Ink
Heel
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I just joined this site and I've been skimming through some of the recently added stuff. Anyway, out of the five or six things I've read so far, this is by far the best. I know that's not saying much, but take it for what it's worth. Great writing.
I like this one. If it were me, I'd feel remorse afterward, like a little kid picking the wings off a butterfly ... but it still makes a point. Also, it really made me want a cigarette. *sigh*
BTW, thanks for the comment. I believe if one doesn't doubt their religion now and then, then they don't truly believe it -- "belief" itself implies doubt, and without asking questions regularly, we never learn anything new about our own thoughts. :D
I like it, but I think there's a typo in the last stanza- Bed instead of bead? I like the comparison between love and violence.
Hmm... Well, I LOVE to watch people FIGHT, how does that work?
I usually don't really like poems for some reason, but this was one I liked a lot. It rings true too. +1
Nicely done. I love when writers can put so much into so little without sacrifice or end up leaving it blunt in a condescending meaning.
This is where I'd say something like "This is a sad piece." but that'd be like picking up a pencil and pointing out to everyone that "This is a pencil."
Plus one just the same, though. Very nice.
