a thread for all my work.

[woot woot]

Pfft bit over the top dont you think? Not bagging its better then my short stories and I hope you dont take this as a dis on your writing just saying theres compliments then theres compliments that are soo silly its almost as bad as them not having read it.

stop stalking my posts u gay critic.

[Eng]

he critiques gay men? or is a critic of the ho mose xual persuasion?

and/or both!?

.__O

[stonedleprechaun]

i really enjoy your writing style.
i'm jealous, i strive to be as abstract as you.

[Eng]

thought u'd come around eventually...

...thanks tho.

[stonedleprechaun]

I insulted your threads, gorgeous, not your poems.

&& I'm glad to see you've entered PoTW. Would you be interested in CA poets combined?

[Eng]

I insulted your threads, gorgeous, not your poems.

if you continue to be this needlessly pedantic and contentious you'll run the risk of growing on me, so stop.

[Eng]

_snow

Lines of white have froze stiff,
But don’t sniff -s.hit’ll dampen your spirits,
Times of night; the snows glow’s lit
The roads grit, almost magic to live it,
With a lack of traffic delivered;
The slope outside managed to wizard
A one-way path, take it; you can’t command
Or clamber to grasp the revisit,
Man…I can actually feel it, heat
From a slab of ice I handle,
Hand-clamping my image,
Squeezing this mimic, freeze in the scrimmage;
Breathe minus degrees to the limit

My skin at unease with these physics,
I can easily pin it, on the visible breath,
Physical depth…of crushed snow, still it
Creeps through my bones – shivering;
A weep without tone, pivot a quiver in
Equipping my bow, swig a lick of the liquor
Hitting the liver delivering a kindling glow,
Flame inside, firm my aim and rain their sky
With two arrows either side of my nose,
The third? Below; just rolls with broken prose,
At my feet I grope the bowl, “Damn” the feat
Breaks quick an open hole in my make-shift
Home from cold, wearing my salvage loosely,
F.uck whatever suits me, suits be…walking past,
Never according cash, I just smell cheap cologne
As they squawking trash on they cellular phones,
A bell tolls, it’s twelve so, I get to work;
[Forgotten on the news, confusing to youth’s brains]
“Brother, could you spare another some loose change?”

_my other half

Hello…

…I wrote a letter to you, and whether it’s true
Or of relevant views with my intent construed
Is relative to evidence proved; evident through
A few elements skewed -- potentially, I drew
For you my hesitant yet elegant cues…choose them,
Please, or at the very least read them.

Greetings,

I like that tight black sweater moved onto your form,
Embellishing your unfettered youth when worn,
Torn jeans, yes, those seams dreamed of freedom,
(Like someone I know not subject to hope; seething)
Even your manner of hair evokes a stammer or stares,
But what do…you care? Posing animate…yea,
The way they watch you…I dislike, think twice,
This type of people’s sheeple; breathing deep in evil
Amidst the ignorance, I wished a little once…feeble,
I now resist the impetus; eagle…eyed, I despised
The abject hapless; clashing with classes in school,
Now you mingle with the same masses I ask; is it cool!?

I am a fool.

I am singular, in this world; you’re my plural still;
Sinful for longing your part, more so; amongst throngs…
& your heart! Feel the beat elevate, reaching an
Unsteady pace, it was never fate for you to resonate
With these heady fakes lacking cerebration of faculty
I’ll celebrate – if this letter works - when you come back to me,
My extrovert…

…Yours hopefully,
The Introvert

_pictures of a city

Look closely

Watch stalkers walk upon cracked cobbles,
As authors forge accord with glass morals,
Indigent children, illiterate; still can wax oral,
Rich pilgrims’ conform to laws like math models,
A corps pours more port forth from a black bottle,
Dusk yawns to swallow dawn without a spat or quarrel.

Musky auras escort aurora’s brief reprieve,
Within an alky mist a standard flips erratically,
Over sober chauvinists trading hammer fists
Fuelled by foolish avarice…the banner reads;

“The Alchemist”, the manor sits amidst inner city
Limits, where the only manner which is adequate
For passage is (at least) an average wit combined
With a vast instinct – there the worth is a surplus
Purchase of amethyst cannabis, that’d please & reason
Even legions of the most disagreeing cantankerous

& if you can’t handle this;

Unashamed blaze o’ fauna
Join the crazed around the corner
The hopeful who don’t smoke dope for cheap;
Instead fulfilling idioms about an oaf’s money
But who cares!
Ignoring wages, a wake will still smell of potpourri

The casino, where ‘heroes’ gamble after ample gold,
Examples roam about financial goals sampling souls
& then proceeding to trample those, still we roll those
Iced dice; snake eyes melt your dream throw though
Hands played & dealt dance with chance as egos fold.

They don’t know

How else to act? If life is a game that must be played
Let them; badly, gladly and/or aptly, he’ll brush their fame
& hush their names in ink - in between all these aisles of life
You'll find a madman's smile spliced with a priceless delight,
Unconcerned; turning an easel that shapes victims of entity,
This is simply the ebb & flow as he paints pictures of a city.

...

_pen some wonders

...


Sitting here,
One hand free I…pen some wonders,
Favoured lead but erased my pencilled blunders,
See people pass through pointed-ly
(Free of mental hunger), to a fast food joint to eat;
Just one of a senseless number of things
Now consensus among us…but I digress as I
Press my forehead, thumb crush my jaw then,
Try and wake from my…gentle slumber,
To another.

…

Late night inspirations leave little indentation
In the mornings – scorning hidden
Information in relation to my whim’s creation
Riddled as if a Sphinx erased them.
[Yawning]
Begin the day playful like an infant racing;
Pinch my lady’s butt – gently gnawing the
Poor thing the minute she’s waking, feel her
Grin erasing my childish inclinations.
[Stalling]
Shame is…it’s the best way beside s.ex we
Be interfacing, see what I’m intimating!?
Never mind, softly stalking she sets about
Getting coffee pouring, her fallen stare…
...Angelic,
And yet it, sears a hint of flagrant guilt in places,
Shift my glare (evasive), basic-ally
Can’t make it blatant, preparing the early ritual…
…Staring at a pitiful image; in the face of
Myself.

Hands in the basin, relinquishing and sinking
Last night’s inks and staining, straining…
…With my stinging knees’ inflammation
Triggered from their sleepy stints in stasis,
[Aching]
F.uck it, to me it’s all the same thing; pain and…
…Painting flame with an insane pen;
In time my, strife defined my-self as a wise guy,
As if I had links with made men.

...

S.hit, between my past amore for a mangled w.hore,
My damaged family OR the nonstandard
Horn sitting atop my angled maw,
Let me try and show you what the f.uck I manage for.

…

Conceive the advent of fragmented thoughts
Weaving an abject course, until all a man yen for
When he clambers forth, to fathom his atoms force
- disbelieving his tangent form, is to receive
An abandoned corpse...

...still I breathe yet to leave
because I just seen my b.astard born.

_god's complex

Under shrouds of clouds I could plunder thunder from,
I imagine; a dunce amongst lovely dunes - through which each
Piece plays a sundry tune - awaiting a crunchy doom opposite,
Where hungry plumes often zip through the scenery easily
Plucking a delicacy elegantly retrieved for its offspring;
Soft things, in their infancy boon-less whilst clueless to strife…

…subject to soon miss being students of life, a rife condition;
A chef’s knife slicing chicken in his kitchen, next; his kinsmen;
Will you miss them misspent souls that indent toll on my whole existence?
You’re indifference makes inference to otherwise, there are no
Pinions to gift them once their scenes done – end of act – sin then;
An aged concept fabricated from me, once obsessed over to be
Weighted upon weak, now wasted on these freed from the stigma.

Between ligaments & filaments I implemented your entire impetus,
Now strictly vigilant to incidence, I’ve grown indirect to those
Amongst whom I was once so intimate, in the hunt of indulgence &
Militant power, the hour of ‘stimulant’ powder flowers from the buds
Of insolence, a dissonant counter to the innocence I floundered
To gift you from birth, mirth deserts me as each query berserks me.

A vantage of the atlas grants my eyes many things to grasp at,
Yet they often vanish…ephemeral, temporal beings I’m seeing
Fleeing from flexible paths I gave them, a shame when…vain men
Crave things; greed disrupts the uncorrupted seed till you’re crazed then
Fear sears the lasting impression on your whole b.astard subsistence…

…then you ask for forgiveness, addressing the ether neither here
Nor there through the medium of prayer - the biggest crime I see
Amongst tiny morsels of humanity, is how the anarchy & atrophy
In your life breeds and you’ve all but forgotten how to find me…

…


…within yourself.

_life is a carnival

Sunspot skyward, somewhat tied by the strings of Times purses,
I wander yonder; wonder if my life has a sublime purpose,
I bear recourse for earthy forms, tryna be Gaia’s servant,
Uncertain for what I am searchin for; the tail of a divine serpent
With no start or end, yet I’m sure my life has a defined verdict,
As does yours, his or hers - just fixtures on a wired circuit,
Mechanical cannibals with mandibles from a febrile furnace,
Tearing into animals as if we’re from a higher surface,
I try and service…karma, but drama creeps so I’ll fire first if
I see heat coming that can’t be doused by inspired verbiage

But I’m away from that now; civilization’s a distant memory,
Persistent friends be proficient enemies in lizard threads you see,
Or sheep’s clothing, weed rolling peeps make stiff accessories,
But don’t trust them, if you can loosen
the tongue of supposedly strong chums with a lick of Hennessey,
Pharmaceuticals that are far from suitable, they bridge our destiny,
Afflict us with a list of sickness then offer the instant remedy,
So I broke out, with no route, hoping to reclaim my entity,
My essence, leaving behind anything I thought might lessen me.

-

Opportunity is scarce; it might come around but once a year
Like a carnival, where lovers bustle like barnacles often there,
I remember; embers of past images (dancing in a blaze I bade)
Simple things; her dimpled grins…seeing me playing games,
Blurry focus but knocking over coconuts made her bounce with joy,
A lousy toy, she liked it, I couldn’t complain with her mouth so coy
But…
…an eventual twelve ounce of boy,
Didn’t seem a fair trade for a boundless void

-

I wish life was more like the carnival.

[Danny :D :D :D]

Very good work, I'm not a fan of poetry, but I liked it

[Eng]

_soft souls/soles.

So selective with company kept; void of cordiality,
Before & after’s are very relatable with the laws of causality,
Past the times of fraternizing beyond the walls of my family,
I’m not fine; I am a sublime victim of stunted growth,
But my heights average, in fact…I’m just another note
or statistic inhibited; still groped by my mother’s home,
Too lethargic to generate any attempt at escape,
I mean I sometimes read books, and people,
Facilitated by my seat near this windowsill
where I’m part paralytic but analytic of individuals
who roam freely with no prison as home really,
I envy nomads that can feel their souls, feel me?
Thinking about where I might have flew to cast walks,
Once told education would be a useful passport,
That was as a young one now I truly rue on past thoughts,
… I ask am I stagnant?
A fragment of soul trapped in matted body and bone
…lying in wake?
Resigned to my fate, why not? I’m provided my plate,
Shouldn’t complain, who’s to blame? I coulda contained
The doting I knew eventually woulda constrained,
Instead of hoping on going outside I was growing outlines
On a page w/prose poetry & art; to oppose the mundane
Dumb days in a physically unscathed life,
Know what’s nice? When sun rays send frequent light,
And in sequence right; I love grey tenebrous nights,
But I’ve never lived them; I only express them in forms
Of how I’d like to, because it seems I’ve elected to yawn
While I keep vigil,
& seep visuals on the canvas signed with my discreet sigils,
Compose songs from notes donning the wall I wrote on,
Or prose when in modes to travel; soles don’t touch gravel
but you can see in my work; where all my soul’s gone.


'time wounds all heels.'

[Eng]

_awkward

the life of one conjurer, rambling
about his alzheimer's onset,
pulling out of rabbits; hats
where their brains should've been.