poetry in motion/such a splendid notion/thus begins the literary commotion

[Jason]

there used to be some thread called "tw artists redux to the fifty fourth power" or something along those lines. i'm sure it still exists, but the thing is, it's old and haggard. it's not even yesterday's news. it's the week since last tuesday's news. well, there's that, and then there's the fact that i'm too lazy to track it down and post in it.

so then, here we go. i'm going to post some of my own writing. you're welcome to post some of yours. it doesn't have to be poetry. i just felt like being a silly goose when i made the thread title. you don't even have to post words! shock! horror! dismay! you're allowed to post digital art or scans of sketches you've done. we're generalizing when we say that you're supposed to post your "art" here.

one more thing, and i shouldn't even have to say this, but alas, this community requires constant babysitting. don't be a dicklick and ruin the thread with nonsense.

that seems to be all. thanks, and have a challenging day!

edit: i forgot to mention it's perfectly okay to constructively critique others' work!

[Jason]

none of this stuff is titled, but who cares.


those old hands never grow tired
never seem to care
about the time they're ticking away
and that face never smiles
never laughs
but it's not down
no, it sure isn't down
when tomorrow's just a memory
and next week becomes the week before last
those old hands will go right on
caressing the hours
the minutes
the seconds
and that face won't show a hint of worry
as we continue to wage wars
as peace dissolves
and the world falls to pieces
those old, reliable hands
and that cold, emotionless face
they tell us the time
and time tells us it doesn't care




there's a socket in the wall
and the serprents, they lay siege
first to strike
first to draw blood
plugged in, turned on
never a refrain from the neverending drain
we've all sockets in our minds
and the serpents, they lay siege
teeth sinking in
venom coursing swiftly
tuned in, amped up
we upload, download, input and take out
always putting strains on our overloaded brains
there's a socket in the wall
and it's time to pay it mind
we've all sockets in our minds
and it's time we built a wall




i hear the faint pitter patter
the giggles as they scatter
memories of a childhood long since past
a time when innocence
meant not having to make sense
lullabies gently silencing cries
laugher lasting forever after
life was fun, not dysfunctional
fear was a monster under the bed
not murder, not war, not tolls of the dead
i hear toys being tossed about
the joy and the glee of a playful shout
memories of a childhood long since past
we've all grow up far too fast
now innocence is a foreign planet
and we haven't wished up a star
since we were kids

[Jason]

this black ink is midnight
and it's past my bed time
yeah, it's past my bed time
i'm darkness and i'm falling
and only the sunrise can catch me
yeah, only the sunrise can catch me
fast awake and wide asleep
we're all dreaming
let's never stop beginning
happy endings have to start somewhere




if you die in a plane crash
over the atlantic
i'll be on the rescue boat
sent out to look for survivors
and i'll sink that ship
with my heavy heart
drag it right on down
to the bottom of the sea
and it'll be dark
and it'll be cold
but i'll search that ocean floor
look under every rock i can lift
stop and talk to every fish i can see
and it may take awhile
but i'll find you
i won't give up 'til i find you
and you and me
we'll go for a swim
we'll pump our arms
and kick our legs
and we'll make some friends
along the way




sunlight's peeking in
through the cracks between the blinds
day breaks across your face
my heart breaks
'cause it's just a dream
rub my eyes
blink a few times
remember those quiet times?
that morning chill
trying to sneak its way
under our blankets
and make the hairs
on the backs of our necks
stand on end
roll over
come closer
the cold can't win
if we gang up on it
arms wrapped around you
would've held tighter
had i known that someday
today
it'd just be a dream

[Jason]

lonely
just six little letters
but they can sure tear you up
they can get inside your head
and that once warm bed you were
sleeping in
dreaming in
those six little letters come
creeping in
sneaking up
and now that bed's as cold as
the middle of december
and you pile the blankets on
you wrap 'em up tight
but that chill
it's sticking around
it's standing its ground
lonely likes to stay awhile
lonely likes to sleep over
night after night




a sweet crackling ember just inches from my mouth
it's been too long since a djarum black has graced these lips
and i'll take a clove over a cigarette any day
rochester winters come flooding back
black cloves
blue hands
blue lips
we were too stubborn and too young to come in from the cold
but it was that chill that made us feel alive
seeing our breath
swirls of smoke and steam that rose on up forever
most of our thoughts were exhaled out into those icy white clouds
heading off to forever to remembered who knows when
thoughts were built to be airborne though
and we sure let them fly
but not a word was spoken between drag after drag
the sweet taste
the cool air making the hairs on the backs of our necks stand up
what was there to think about?
what needed to be said?
a beautiful night, with some stars and a bench to perch on
everything was as it should be
and the cloves, they were just fitting in
interlocking with the whole simple scene
completing the puzzle of all puzzles




we all look up at the stars
but is that gaze ever returned downward?
all those tiny specs of light
they have to be twinkling at something
world's a mess
and what comes after tomorrow?
for all we know, it could be the beginning
for my part, for my fresh start
i hope one of those stars comes crashing down
down to greet me and tell me the tales
only a twinkle of light in the night sky
could ever tell
star light, star bright
come sit with me awhile
and let's figure out if everything's gonna be alright

[Jerome Scuggs]

i used to be really into stream of consciousness as a form of poetry.

people make cents
& i think they are crackpot.
but a bang, a feel, a kick, a devilishly short time; a change.
i want to forget the efforts of tomorrow.
imagine him thousands of years old,
stand,
droop.

bits and pieces of too much to never take a deep breath. & security dissapears over the nightstand.
bad dreams the same dreams the sum of her nightmares.
cabin lovedaze memories.

in reality we are not absurd, in reality we are not abused.
it's your own freedom you destroy.
glance at the crowd. they're following you.
when you decide to triumph over tyrants, let the hegelization take root.
appearing resolute is a good way to come all that way.

indian imperial police, ordering establishment. it is not always possible, but we can view slides. talk about lepers, in a physical cave, & dread that place.
i watched them burn and die.
the funniest word was "tennessee".

paranoia reflects adulthood education.
a reach for her arm takes three questions. a plane echoes. bits, pieces, too much together to take a deep breath.
i am staring into sheepjerking side eyes.

[Jerome Scuggs]

I'm also semi-into photography. We like to go trekking through abandoned buildings downtown and record our adventures.

[Jerome Scuggs]

[Galleleo]

Hi jase!

[Bilbo]

When I saw the title this was the first thing I thought of:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I61C34dPl9M

[Scurvy]

Traditional b&w photography
film processing & darkroom work done by yours truly

[Scurvy]

black and white charcoal from live model



edit: there is some digital shit on there that obviously isnt supposed to be

[Necromotic]

my cheap photoshop creations i did for two of my friends. i thought they came out pretty neat

[Scurvy]

like the bottom one...i'd reccomend a different font

[DoTheFandango]

I used to write alot, now I write very little. Here's something from a story I never finished:

I will start this story at the beginning.
The beginning happened long ago. So long ago, in fact, that I can hardly remember truth from lie, action from thought, life from death.
Long ago, I had no hope for human kind. Today, I have some hope, although it exists in only the most optimistic parts of my mind. It is placed somewhere between to the thought of my own immortality and a sex romp with Marilyn Monroe.

[Pummel]

A riddle:

Several blind men approached a leper, 'hello good sir, I am in search of a motorcycle' exclaimed the blind men.
The leper replied 'A motorcycle sirs? what do you need that for', the blind men replied in a sarcastic manor 'yes, a motorcycle'.

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You decide.