Poetry, Prose and Other Creative Writing

[PUNK rock]

Yeah yeah the thread is a bit old, but I want to share too.

To You

This has been driving me crazy
All of the small talk is a waste
A chuckle here,
A smile there,
It's getting us nowhere.

I took the time to think about us
And came to no conclusion
The fuel is here,
The spark is there,
The fire is nowhere.

What else is there to do,
For me to prove myself to you?
How would you react,
If I kissed you?
How would you respond,
If I said 'I love you'?
For me you are everything I need,
But what am I to you?


Fallen
Palms sweating,
Hands shaking,
Knees weakening,
Stomach turning,
Arms shaking,
Eyes wandering,
Heart sputtering,
What has happened to me?
Have I fallen from grace?

My thoughts are all focused now,
All crammed into an already full mind.
Yet none of my thoughts help,
For all has been lost before now.
What is keeping me from falling out of control?

The last thread has been pulled from the spool,
Is it enough to make me whole
Or will I come undone instead?
No, I cannot,
As I have fallen for her
And there is no turning back now.

[Jason]

Well shit, I've been all sorts of busy these last three weeks or so, and I forgot about this thread. There's assloads of stuff for me to read, so give me a day or two and I'll post some of my thoughts on the various pieces you guys have tossed up.

Thanks for keeping this thread alive. Keep on sharing your work!

[Verthanthi]

my treasure

Safe smooth case
Its top spins again
Push down hard, now turn
Fingertips grip plastic edges with plastic ridges
It makes a grating sound
Like steel beads on wood
Finally freedom

Sanitary smell and puffed cotton
Pull the cotton out
That creepy slippery touch of
Fibrous material sliding
Between forefinger and thumb
It makes no sound, but it still squeaks
Look inside

Round red rubies
Diamond white lozenges
Little, yellow, different
Blue, translucent, and plastic
They all spill onto skin
Some skitter onto the floor
Lost in pink bathroom carpets

Swallow
Bitter like soap they slide
Over spit-soaked tongue
And down the throat
A sip of sink water follows
To chase, not cleanse the taste

[Verthanthi]

tether

Glowing white faces with spinning black hands
Hands always ready to pull in the reins
How quickly slip away these endless sands

We find ourselves servant to their every command
We are held in their bondage by the strongest chains
Glowing white faces with spinning black hands

Forever we're bowing to constant demands
Finally fragmenting under the strain
How quickly slip away these endless sands

Needlessly greedy, they gather our strands
Pulling them out, ruining the skein
Glowing white faces with spinning black hands

We could wander forever in these immense lands
But in one lonely desert we are contained
How quickly slip away these endless sands

The world around us beautifully expands
Our course in it is a thinning dead vein
Glaring white faces with horrid black hands
How quickly slip away these empty sands

[Ha! Sheesh.]

Simplistic expedition through the foreign world of art
Recognizing only shades and shapes familiar from the start

Passing fluxuations in the swirling vortex wall
Rapid pacing 'gainst the floorboards to ease the fear you'll fall

Attempting to forget that which the eyes just scanned
Continuously narrowing down the area that is panned

Scraping dully, blankly, always passé through air current dim and still
Feasting always on emptiness for it provides a numbing fill

Pass to bypass
Forged to forget
Sliding down corridor
Now dimly lit

What exits, leaves, but never dissapears
Forever manifests inside subconscious fears

Misshapen lark
Through perception park
Blanketed in personal dark
Contrast fast eroding
Diluted tears aboding
What may have once been stark

Gazing neither up nor down
Solely straight ahead
Roots submerged
And raindrops bled
Boots perturbed
And substance fled

Faster pacing down the hall
Colors dissipate and fade from wall

Distinction blurs
Disagreement concurs
Blindly the mosaic stirs

Faster still the past does pass
Floorboards murdered the last of grass

Whirling in every direction that faces straight ahead
Mobility of neck lost in evolution of bread
Cascading down slopes with no thoughts of backtracking sled

Eyes locked in position
Create your condition
Personal superstition
Shooting self with own ammunition

Roots decay
Soil washes away
Floorboards levitate over the once glowing day

Morning of mourning adorning remnants of fire
Extinguished- cold embers, the dieing is dire

Now racing, not pacing- colors morph black
Remaining piece/peace of mind shattered
There's no turning back

[Ha! Sheesh.]

Plastered to an upright wall
Terrified to downwards fall
Pastel-white contrast black night
Starving differential unto blind-sight

Imperceivable shackles
Unnoticed chains
Hopefulness cackles
Acid rains

To shrug off epiphany, to freedom soar
Blast past through the wall
Chalk outlined door

Satirical starvation
Illiterate liberation
As inquisitiveness devours identification
Impenetrable ghosts portray reincarnation

Glittering, yet wholly transparent dust
Indivisible greed, founded in lust
In only falsehood is cherished trust

Sentimental value buried within
Draped only under moral sin
Smoldering tar-pits composed of dry skin

Buoyancy lost amongst lapsing water
Son is but father, and mother-daughter
Always proudly marching to slaughter

Distant truth forgotten high on a rafter
Forever droned out by insidious laughter

[Ha! Sheesh.]

Dancing gracefully on broadway in a bright pink pleated tutu.
After several more months of instant dinner and lunch I can upgrade to a silvery moomoo.
Hailing promotion of my fat ass-cheeks in motion, swimming fluently through ten layers of lotion
Gouging the earth with my immense bloated worth, hyperextending my tongue and consuming the ocean

Clouding out the stars with greed, speed and gas-guzzling cars
Spearing the landscape with hollowness and shallow metal bars
Vaguely tinting the reflection so lost hope stares me back
Consuming more disillusioned equations to make up for what I sorely lack

Bleeding profusely the substance that is none, reflexively clotting the blood is a misintentional pun
Broiling and bubbling at the barrel of a loaded gun, ignorance and fluorescent lights are my cherished and newfound of old sun
I play the worn deck of cards of invariance; it lacks aces and jacks, filled with systematical sense
I bask in the glimmering glow of my diluted future only manifesting as a contorted extension of past-tense