Poetry, Prose and Other Creative Writing

[Golden Sun 1]

*cough* hem hem *cough*
Well here it goes..

There once was a man from Madrass
Who's balls were constructed of brass
When jangled together
They played stormy weather
And lightening shot out of his ass!

[Jason]

Your own writing please, Golden Sun 1. And for the record, I didn't so much as smirk. You suck.

[Squeezer]

Though i generally tend to be an optimistic person, I like to explore the other side of things. The side where I am cold hearted and selfish and angry. The side where I can hate and do whatever it is I want. Where I can act upon my impulses, and show how scary I can be. Essentially when I write my petry, I become something I can never be. The Matt Blair that walks around in daily life is someone who loves, someone who cares, someone who wants to do good in the world. Someone with a purpose and a good head of steam. The Matt Blair portrayed in my writing is one that has given up on life. The one thats broken in more ways than one, the kind of person that feels it's everyone's fault but his. Essentially, the person I am in life, is the voice of reason. The person who will go out of his way to make you feel comfortable, the kind of person who is a slave to society. But when i write, I am the voice of despair. The voice of something I can never be. The voice of something I can never do, but able to be dreamt up. Basically I get tired of hearing poets like Maya Angelou and others who write about how the world will be perfect one day. Lyracists like Bono drive me crazy, because he preaches a message that can never be. But mild Mannered Mr. Blair believes it can happen, his alter ego and arch villian Mr. Blair is tired of it all, and he's going to do something about it. It may be extreme, but it is the only way the evil side of me feels he can get the message across. Essentially if you cannot understand this, it's sort of like Fight Club. Most of the time, I'm Jack (Edward Norton), but when I write, I become Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), the person I wish I could be, but know that i can't. It's a little complex, but it's sort of a way of schizophrenia, just not as extreme.

[Golden Sun 1]

Your own writing please, Golden Sun 1. And for the record, I didn't so much as smirk. You suck.

Omg lighten up

[Jason]

As a matter of fact, I did just light up. The timing of your post is eerily fantastic.

In honor of me lighting up this joint, here's a piece of writing I'm pretty sure I've posted in the past.


her

i wish i was high on life
but she'll do for now
settle these rattled nerves
brain can't handle the sensory overload
it wants out but my heart's holdin' it back
until she comes along
take a deep breath
here comes the rush
that dizzying merriment
and a slow exhale
there she goes
floating off to my left
look at mary go 'round
on the merry-go-round

[Vykromond]

As a matter of fact, I did just light up. The timing of your post is eerily fantastic.

In honor of me lighting up this joint, here's a piece of writing I'm pretty sure I've posted in the past.


her

i wish i was high on life
but she'll do for now
settle these rattled nerves
brain can't handle the sensory overload
it wants out but my heart's holdin' it back
until she comes along
take a deep breath
here comes the rush
that dizzying merriment
and a slow exhale
there she goes
floating off to my left
look at mary go 'round
on the merry-go-round

I fuckin' love this one.

Lofty, as soon as I get enough time to sit down and read all of the stuff you've just posted, I'll get back to you; for now, it's not that I'm neglecting your writing, I'm just short on time.

I also had a lot of fun with DotheFandango's poem. I enjoyed it a lot more than the prose piece that preceded it; it was tighter, and working within the quasi-meter gave the poem some extra oomph that I felt was lacking from the prose piece.

[1ight]

The clock is 3:27 am, and I have been watchin anime, and suddenly I just...
My emotions just boiled up, I accually have tears in my eyes, as a human it is natural. Only a fool would hide his true feelings, crying as man, is something to be proud of, to be able to cry, cry of joy, cry because of sorrow. I think it is stupid to hide yourself, if you feel to cry, then go ahead, let your heart shed it's tears.

If you think I'm just a some pussy, then you might want to reconsider your thoughts, a way of understanding life, and youself is something wonderful. I don't know how many times a tear or two has been releifing, forgetting the world around you hand just cry what is on your heart.

hmm anyway, this is what I made up on a short time. I hope you enjoy it, if you don't then don't bother comming with some smart comment about me or my writings or my thoughts. Just keep that to youself, if your heart is so filled with anger and hate.

Pain and joy
My heart is like a fire,
the light is clear,
it's flames lift up high..

As my heart burns,
my eyes are wet,
they shed the sorrow of my heart,
softly moving down my skin,
ending as a drop..

Every time I think of you,
my world twists around,
hoping to get to see you,
to feel you...

As the days pass,
my tears have ceased,
since I hear you say,
I love you,
and as I answer,
I love you too...

You and I,
togheter,
in the eternity.

[Squeezer]

Dear Daddy (A Letter to my Father)

I will never forgive you for this,
For Slowly Killing my mother,
For making me hate you,
And slowly Destroying my brother.

I hope your new Family's Pleasing,
I hope to god they Satisfy.
And I pray for you oh daddy,
That they were worth every last lie.

Your not a real person,
Your a killer deep down.
Killing our family,
With every last Frown.

Well, you finally got those daughters,
That you always wished us to be.
At the cost of your sons,
You've got daughters to make you happy.

Forgiveness you lost today,
Along with my importance in trust.
Is this new woman really love?
Or is she just a new lust?

So dearest Dad tell me,
What do they have that I don't?
Will they share with things,
That I just wont?

When you die,
I refuse to be sad.
You ruined our lives,
How could I call you dad?

Well I hope you hear this,
Hear this loud and clear.
I refuse to let you live happy.
I'll make sure you live in fear.

Love her more than mom,
You're a filthy dirty rat.
But I'll sign this same as always,
Love you lots, Your son Matt.

Probably the most intense poem i ever wrote. My English teacher told us that we needed to write a letter to anyone, and I kinda disobeyed the order, and wrote this instead. I turned it in the next day, and he said it was brilliant, but the truth is I wrote it in five minutes, because I was pissed at my dad, for divorcing my mom and stuff, and I thought of a way to get back at him, without actually getting back at him. Oh well, I guess it worked pretty well. Enjoy

[Lofty]

Lofty, as soon as I get enough time to sit down and read all of the stuff you've just posted, I'll get back to you; for now, it's not that I'm neglecting your writing, I'm just short on time. - Vykromond

Understandable; there are quite a few pieces I posted and some are lengthy and lots of things to absorb and digest in each; take your time.

[sixtoo]

I posted this up in a previous thread but I'll chuck it up in here too

you got to cultivate your mindstate
shit is serious
my man slaque hopes your whack cuz you ain't hearin this

well I smoke pot to become an intellectual or to explore the medical
its incredible that some people seem to think laws are automatically infalable
well their not its just pot an why not

so I ask this crowd why my paratis expression is professionally not allowd when I blow clouds

what I found was that pot for purely ethical controlious stound an to expound I'm hungry an eat a pound of edibles

ohh why can we drink this incancerable status just incredible

our politicans think that we will settle
for more money for war on drugs an less express's spent on medical
it makes no cents having leaders too dence to listen to their constituants
lets use their soap boxes for pushing into when I speak you should listen
you missed the point
thinking I just want your permission even though my eyes are glistenin
opposition myself up on the top shelf
so lets invision
how to organize proper opposition to lies
from government an status quos propositions

I'm robbed up like ridalin kids without a pot just to spit in
keeping my true hidden, doing americas bidding
so no more we're eating core drop war up on the south shore

if you can't legalize it, then please at least decriminalize it
and take a stance for the slim chance that we'll advance
and then enhance our minds by injesting certain plants

our perception is infinite
our restrictions are definate
and e.d.p.ts are perminate
who gives a fuck whos winnin it

when I'm soon to yeild the crop my home grown my pot is chrome zone
so make a dash to your nearest telephone its going fast
the last one in line is a fat man alley cat smoking a huge cheeba baseball bat
with a thin stream of kemo

scheming beneath the name of his kango
choke chains strangle manic mondays like the bengle

with the bandanna star spangled to the ex hippies
now yuppie manner I can't stand ya full creating the whipp lash
that made the stock market crash investing heavily in hash
on a cross boarder dash with a mexican
illegal resident. I'm hesitant to take his pot cuz I don't trust no one with a mustache but then that won't last cuz trucks is but a swift kick in my ass

and as the cannibus flag flies at half mast for the masses
we blast bongs from confiscated its finally time to be elated
cuz come one day soon you and I will see the hypocracy
of the pot laws in this country become history, hopefully.

[Ha! Sheesh.]

The surprise of cries distant and forlorn
Regarded in bemusement and cock-eyed looks of scorn
Floating in a silver shimmering bubble hovering across the ground
Circumventing circumstances plunging round and round

Scars bundled in train cars rusted to their velvet tracks
Souls scooped in glinting golden bowls consciousness flooding from smoke stacks
Tyranny, no one wants to hear of thee, we make our meals of porous snacks
Only to experience you through our tinted mental shacks

Courage is but a string squirming in the empty mist
Rebellion is just a daydream of letters tattooed on the fist
Beauty is a distant memory fading, nearly forgotten
Duty is an indistinct stem of fees parading dreary cotton

No one is thought to think a pithy fool
When bombarded relentlessly with mental gruel
Profiteering leering to polish the convenience of steering
Avid anticipation brews a stupor of awe at where the green wheel is veering

Bruises escalate, bleed, effluviate, converge and intertwine
Mold infiltrates, seeds, procreates a scourge to coat the spine
Thoughts evolve into great tangible forms of plastic molds
Thoughts dissolve into irate mandible storms of spastic folds

Parried a whispering aura creaking dark streaks of foreboding
Deflected the future of good-will for the senses are eroding
Shallow exhibits of the long-forgotten distorted basis sensually inhibit
The current from an alternatively flowing oasis boils over glue and grit

Oblong gaze by postmodern days the disemboweled recliner rests
Serenity drips from canary-yellow Freudian Slips and false intentions build their nests
Perusing the hollows of blasphemy, endemic to all but ourselves
Our inner garments unraveled adorn endless buried shelves

[sixtoo]

Ha ~ Sheesh

thats a real dark deep seeded poem, very good job man I enjoyed the read :up: :up:

[ogron]

Lofty, as soon as I get enough time to sit down and read all of the stuff you've just posted, I'll get back to you; for now, it's not that I'm neglecting your writing, I'm just short on time. - Vykromond

Understandable; there are quite a few pieces I posted and some are lengthy and lots of things to absorb and digest in each; take your time.

I read your first three or four posts, all extremely coherent and well-developed ideas. I particularly enjoyed your piece on Mind vs. Consciousness, and I can personally say that this is probably the #1 reason why you can't 'win' (to oversimply the issue) an argument on the internet (and just about anywhere in real life, for that matter). Even I find myself prone so such irrational logic, and sometimes it's hard to simply bite down and take your medicine, and admit you're wrong.

Your example of rationalizing someone's vocubulary ("aha, he's trying to be a smartass") is one that I've long encountered in real life. I think it was Wittenstein who said "the limits of my language are the limits of my world", and there are few better items than the aforementioned example in showing how something as useful and positive as an expansive repertoire of words to broaden the scope of your mind and enhance the precision of what you're trying to express, can be warped and twisted by the defensive mechanisms of ones conscience into something so vain. (wow, long sentence! )

I really enjoyed reading your articles, and look forward to reading the rest in the near future.

[ogron]

Based on the rhyme scheme of 'Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost.

The Cell

My bars of steel do rust with age,
Like my bibles crease, page for page,
Yet my stare remains in the state
Of my cell; but an empty stage.

A simple bed my dreams await,
But complex are my dreams of late,
The dark dissolves confining walls,
The mind free to emancipate.

A bucket's stench- my bathroom stall,
Where relief conflicts with appall,
Concede I must, for the cell knows
Merely in death may we stand tall.

Light distorts all but my shadow,
Evil and twisted it does grow,
Only the night can cloak my sins,
Only the cell can save my soul.

[Squeezer]

I wrote this two days ago for school....first Honors English assignment of the year....so i wrote this

The Student

Today,
Today I do not want to listen to that lecture.
Today, I do not want to pay attention.
Today, I'm not in the mood for his examples, and his pointless lessons.
Today, I want to sleep

But there is a ferocious look in his eyes.
Like that of a boxer, whom you know will never quit.
It's then that I realize our stalemate.
The page, the lesson, none of that matters now.
All either of us cares about is winning over the other.
Without even knowing it, we have both won, and yet, both lost.

The war is lost, on both sides.
No bullets were fired, no bombs were dropped, and there were no casualties.
In that split second, we have a truce, and each of us has survived unscathed.
"The answer is five," I say.
"Correct."
Respect is our only plunder.