long time reader, first time poster
I used to post my poems on facebook, but soon got the feeling that i was preaching to atheists
since i'm done exams, and have a 6 hour flight in 4 hours
might as well post it all, technology makes it insanely simple
do you ever get poetic explosions?
where you just can't write enough, and sleep is totally unnecessary?
well that's what happened!



"oh shit"
i know when i'm about to face
some wry situation
the setting dinner
a hazy restaurant
and i will say
some wretched thing

the bowels of hell
will tremble
in anticipation

tea will be hot
cups and the plates
neatly in place


"do it"


show me all your drawings
show me all your thoughts
just open up
and show me what you've got

close the gap between our hearts
close the gap it's not that far
i've tried
but it's you who wouldn't budge

show me that you see the spark
show me that you feel the pain
sometimes when i want to know
when i'm doing it the right way

"keep it down"
draw it out
the blood that's clotted
heal me now

spread it all
over the wet floor
slip and fall

sew it shut
close your filthy hole
leaking jaw

clamp it down
with a heavy heart
after dark

mop it up
clean as a whistle
now i'm gone


"sickness"
when you're ready
let's do it again
this time like you mean it
as though i were him

don't you see the sickness
in that mentality
see the sickness
in your words' subtle cues?

i want to see that in your eyes
to be what he was
to turn back clock's tired hands
stretching your imagination

who am i to decide
who it is you like
i'll just pretend to be
as nice a guy as him

is that what you want of me?
to fulfill the role of some
putty which you'll mold
a plastic cast of your dreams?

free will is mine
i could go now
and yet i'm still longing
for you to answer me


"your beauty"
stuck in the crack of dawn
adjusting to the light
glazed eyes reflecting a honey sun

glazed eyes too wild to see
the sugary cream filling
clogging pores and arteries

choose the right path
is there one?
sweat drips hot at high noon

answer the question
do you feel alone
even when she's there in your arms

determine the derivative
of this pushing pulling
boils down to your beauty

to myself i can't explain
why i feel this way
boils down to your beauty

is that what started this all?
how else would interest spark
if only we had met in the dark


"fruit logic"
lemons are the most
hard to try to coax
a long banana boat
will not keep you afloat
an apple in your crying throat
is time to say enough
the cherry on the top
is nowhere near as
sweet as you thought


"teenager"
reckless thoughts
reckless words
careless actions
ready to flee
into the arms
of a stranger
fly away
into the arms
of a stranger

choose chaos
shun stability
prefer speed
ready to go
into no man's land
where many try
ready to step
into no man's land
where many die

see beauty
as well
as detail
call on no-one
for help
or security
call on everyone
for help
on homework

finger death
say fuck you
stare it
down with eyes
that see straight
to the truth
with eyes
that pierce right
to the bone

do not settle
in one place
for good

on the move
to constantly improve

on the prowl
to constantly improve


"heckler"
of all who came to see the show
i thought that YOU would understand
but to my disappointment
you were the only heckler


"hourglass"
slowly as i slip into a whirl
every part of me is sinking
into another world

locked into a loop as i descend
gasping for a breath
i breathe in sand

the clock strikes 1
the hungry crow
caws, and pecks my hand

i am not yet dead
it flies away
i wish i had a friend

"you, the shore"
away with the wind my soul will roll
gravity will aide me in my cause
upon the sea is where i'll break
and crash the shore if only for a few
slip away into my body's whole
ebbing flowing till the shore is soft

"coffee spoons"
i was out walking in the streets
when an old lame man came up to me
and asked
have you measured out your life in coffee spoons?
for that question i was ill prepared
for i have considered how many sugar cubes
i've plopped into the cups
of aromatic dark energy
but never how many spoons
so i told him 2 yesterday
2 the day before
and after that i can't recall

"imply"
I feel no traction on the wheels of my mind
I feel no love for eyes that don't confide
I feel no devotion to words written or implied
I feel no trust in any of your smiles
I feel no lust in sight of wealthy busts
I feel so lost in finding my purpose
I feel like an inaugural bottle of champagne
ready to impact the fortunes of giant rigs

"weary words"
my eyes are weary as i start to speak
the fan is spinning slowly in my head
longing to get more than an hour's sleep
dreading death's cousin lying in my bed

as light grows dim and darkness thicker still
time slows to match mind's slower hidden thoughts
but now that thoughts have lost all their free will
within the chasm of my mind i'm caught

sometimes i think i think in sonnet form
some kind of strange coherent disorder
like structured clouds in which electric storms
brew grumbling in the night with morn forlorn

a poet's dream is none but to be read
he choses words that stick right to your head
abandon hope poets who write for bread
poet's are only read when they are dead

"no comment"
there was never sweat between our sheets
never guilt nor manic jealousy
only a lake of kerosene

eyes stray when you seem not to see
for curious eyes, lips of mystery
you see, to look, to gaze, to joke is not to cheat!

a glimpse, a look, a glance I see!
some lips of red and eyes of green
a look! the look of a clumsy thief

what a thirst, the lust for love to feed
a sterile compromise of needs
do not hand to me your ring of keys

my careless gaze, your flushed red cheeks
looks away as if to say
I need you not, you need not me

after the flowers, chocolates, kisses of kerosene
the endless cups of mild, dark, and in between
you beg the words i rarely seem to speak

you beg by being happy as can be
being happy slappy snappy now to me
a glimpse, a glance, a careless gaze I see

"mother nature"
mother nature what have we done to you?
how many of your children have we skewered?
mother nature will you punish us soon?
for what we have done to you?
mother nature do you care
for our negative externanilties?
mother nature how will you fair
in the 21st century?
mother nature are you there?
or are you dead already?
has your spirit left this earth
to summon kinder beasts?
mother nature, if you're there
we say we are sorry
but oh mother nature, what irony
you are the most indifferent of all.

"still."
I caught my muse in nets of steel
gave cupid enormous wealth for help
fought with christ over human rights
drank with buddha and his friends
gambled with the devil grinning winning
but before you I am helpless still.

"Guess what?"
is doves upon a tree
singing eloquently

is missing link and key
for all humanity

strong when reciprocated
weak tossed carelessly

is feelings six feet deep
revived upon a whim

is when you look closely
that nothing else is free

is when you show your heart
for those who care to see

is sinking to your knees
in defeat and agony

is how to heal
the wounded desperately need

is when you see and feel
all great possibilities

"warmth"
how many crucial moments are ignored
how significant are these events
compared to those which are acknowledged
how will atheism fair now?
now that morals are known to be constructed
yawn its boring when nothing means anything
this hour brings only dark thoughts
entropy takes over every cell and nerve
lucid memories of hunter, pound, fitzgerald
huxley, byron, keruoac
twain, lawrence and frost
cold and alone
seeking warmth in words of old

"why goodbye is confusing"
goodbye is confusing
because what is left unsaid
matters more in longer steps
goodbye is confusing
when what is left unsaid
haunts you till the end
when goodbyes are not said
there is an understanding
not farewell
but talk to you later
see you soon! be right there!
goodbye wrenches my heart
longing to see you again
goodbye is the word i most fear
for not long ago i said it myself
and far below the skin
i paid and bled
so next time goodbyes are said
i'll plug my ears

"Trash material"
In the shit box there were many trash materials
rusty verbs, obscure nouns, and long drawn out sentences
forcefully welding noncooperative statements together
massive gravitating balls of filthy space waste
tying loose nooses on figurative garbage
making less sense than is sensible
making more progress than is perceivable
making use of all the bullshit words that are said all too often
i construct myself a wall of bullshit
a fine wall of bullshit, with engravings that date back millions of years
of deer and hunters with bows and arrows
empty gestures that left holes in the wall
to me, impregnable to all evil and wrong
leaking in toxicity from all the bullshit that i've sewn
together a tapestry of foul manure
which hopefully gives rise to life of some form
that resembles the foulness from which it grew

"Democracy"
the word is foul
for the choice was never ours

If you have read this far, thanks i appreciate it truly!
this is my earlier stuff that gave me some sense of direction

"spew"
he climbed to the top of the stairs to find out that he wanted to be in the basement
and the descent cost him many potentially precious moments
but he knew gravity would be on his side on the way down

he spilled the glass of whiskey on the bed and left it there to see if the bed would get drunk with him
but it stank of piss so he removed the sheets
only to spill another glass of whiskey on the bed and this time it tipped him over

he swam in the frozen river to find out where it led and why it was so cold and he found out
also that he was part of the river after he felt it freeze him in the flow
but he kept swimming because it felt like his limbs were moving but they were dead

he looked into the room through the keyhole and the doorknob punched him for peeking
so he broke down the door and got into the room where it was comfortable and warm
a rush of wind blew in from outside and the room was now just as cold as outside

a rush of blood went to his head and he felt like drawing lines on paper that spoke his heart
the lines became blots of ink that dried and when found by future archeologists
concluded that past culture was a war of blots and lines and blots eventually won

slowly he sank in his seat knowing he would never get anything he wanted without trying real hard
concluding that he would never try real hard to get anything he ever wanted
he sank in his seat not doing anything in particular

drawing the water from the well he thought about what he had decided the night before
to give in to cheap thrills and kicks that don't result in success of any kind
to fade away until no-one bothers to look then explode and cause a huge hilarious mess

he wondered why tragedy and cigarette butts were so romantic
what miserable lips did it drop from and why was it smoked to the end?
why must it always end in a hail of destructive disgust?

she wondered why long ago it was so much simpler and why it didn't stay
life was a little less than perfect but somehow it was better that way
resigning her trust and regaining her faith she sailed to some far away place where lies were obvious

locking the door he felt like he has done this many times before
scrubbing the floors and cleaning the empty halls to pass the time for a while
or what seemed to be a while turned into an eternal obsession, unlocking it and locking it once more

sealing the deal with red wax and a stamp to make it official
signing it to admire his own handwriting
burning it all to forget and begin again from the beginning

"tomorrow"
tomorrow i will do this and that and this then that then this then that in that order or i wont work as a clock does
tomorrow again brings hunger to most, loneliness to some, boredom to others, happiness to few
tomorrow again looks distant but now is already tomorrow yesterday
tomorrow i try to close my eyes and think of today
tomorrow i lose and feel all too happy about it which will scare me
tomorrow i could do anything i want
tomorrow i wont do anything i wanted to
tomorrow will learn that today was just as good
tomorrow will whisper sweet nothings in my ear today and make me impatient
tomorrow i will stop writing and posting things on facebook
because tomorrow you will fall into my arms out of thin air
tomorrow i will try to get more drunk than today
tomorrow i will most likely find a new hobby and abandon it
tomorrow i will leave everything and start walking West
tomorrow i will probably not study at all, just like today
tomorrow i want to fly a plane with no license
tomorrow i will be in space with no space suit
tomorrow my head will go pop
tomorrow i will think of what to do the day after and forget about it in between
tomorrow gas prices will drop and rise and drop and rise again
tomorrow gas stations will fill and empty and fill again
tomorrow more lies will be force-fed to more people than ever before
and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow each day more and more
until a tomorrow where some people have had enough
a tomorrow shrouded in garbage bags and red tape
tomorrow the system shuts its doors
tomorrow will the world be better or worse? compared to what?
the day before?
tomorrow the seas will turn to acid and plants our enemies
tomorrow the air will be sanitized of 99.9% of all bacteria
tomorrow children will learn exactly the same thing from exactly the same textbooks and pop exactly the same colored pills
tomorrow millions of old people will shit themselves while reading the anticlimax of a book
tomorrow i will start a philosophical riot amongst a illiterate satirical crowd
tomorrow the bullet will hit me square on the bible jacket
tomorrow i will stop screaming into THIN AIR
tOmOrOw i will be more practical and less creative
more functional and less inspirational
tomorrow makes today seem like yesterday
tomorrow all snowflakes will be the uniform
tomorrow snakes will grow 10x larger and threaten our existence on planes and on land
tomorrow solar panels will power electric chairs ZAP!
tomorrow i will definitely wash the dishes
tomorrow beer will be stronger and taste better
tomorrow nostradamus rolls in his grave because people took him seriously
tomorrow george bush is still president of the united states
tomorrow the stock markets will hit another low and millions of people will lose money they never should have had
tomorrow lawns will grow to a certain height and preserve themselves in all their glory forever
tomorrow men and women will know exactly what each other mean on every subject and there will be a great war
tomorrow guns in wars will fire paintballs and if you're hit you're fuckin' OUT ok? i saw that shit.
tomorrow daises may be pushed too far up and die prematurely
tomorrow the laws of physics might change slightly causing an itch on a giant organism and wiping us out
tomorrow humans will travel space and live in colonies of self sustained spaceships and generations will pass before finding another home
tomorrow tables and chairs will go on strike with pickets too
tomorrow computers wont work and virgins around the world are forced to use their imagination
tomorrow i build an ark and save myself but noone else
tomorrow i hide from the eyes i sought attention from today
tomorrow i will write things that are relevant to each other...maybe not
tomorrow i will cut a bond and say goodbye forever for fun only to come crawling back drunk
tomorrow originals will love their clones the most
tomorrow the slinky stops at the last step
tomorrow the 2012 people will shut the fuck up because they miscalculated and it came early
tomorrow lockheed martin will make cupcakes that kill you and your momma
tomorrow the coffee cup is empty and i will throw it at someone
tomorrow headlights will be connected to the breaks so deers can live another day
tomorrow an old bureaucrat will die and the world will be a fitter, happier, more productive : )
tomorrow cows and chickens will let us know how they really feel, with opposable thumbs and machine guns
tomorrow i will make another excuse to not do what i didnt do today
tomorrow thy kingdom come and we all go straight to hell
tomorrow if i have a shotgun, i'd point that shit straight at the sky and shoot heaven on down for you
tomorrow i wont be a pussy i wont be a pussy i wont be a pussy i will be a dick
tomorrow gold will lose all its value and sand will be precious and sought after and everyone will be able to get some and feel happy
tomorrow north america gets fatter still
tomorrow third world will be new world
tomorrow i will choke on my words
tomorrow art and music and literacy will be terrorism
tomorrow a bird will land on a branch and sing
tomorrow that bird will be struck down by its flock
tomorrow a culture will be westernized
tomorrow myspace has a new escort service section
tomorrow the bags under my eyes will become self aware
tomorrow the hole in my sock grows bigger still
tomorrow the apple of my eye is eaten right in front of me!
tomorrow i buy a space heater so i'm not forced to write for warmth

"lost poem"
A lost poem lost in words
a shotgun song
for 12 gauge indifference
designed to blow
off doors and minds
with mighty blast a small wish
for subtle attention
A lost poem lost in words
a poets curse
lost in empty spaces
in between lines
where meanings lie
lost in every way
to reader's eyes
A lost poem lost its watch
lost its time
its meter and its rhyme
or so it thought the renegade poem
committing crimes
resorting to larceny
A lost poem found it funny
to be obsessive possessive
to subject itself to criticism
to have words and spaces
but no punctuation or continuity
so it wondered
what am I
The lost poet
clearly responsible
for its disorientation
grinned an evil smile
and wrote on incoherent
with no apparent care
for any feelings of lost poems

"Well I hope you enjoyed our time together today, you know it seems harder and harder to sit back and enjoy the finer things in life. Till next time...Ta-Ta!"

Welcome obiwan! You have given us much to read in one sitting so it's difficult to give each poem the attention it deserves. There is much to enjoy and of interest in all of what you've given us to look over. It's evident that you have a passion for writing so you have definitely come to the right place. Hope you stick around and share more with us.

Mary

"Democracy"
the word is foul
for the choice was never ours

I agree. Democracy is just a sort of a consolation prize... and like it, it's never considered a real prize.

Welcome to emule.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/17/2008 12:38PM by AngelsFear.

obiwan

Thanks for the posting. I like much of what you have put here, but as Mary points out. This is a bit much to take in at once, so it becomes difficult to choose a piece and comment.

It's okay. You won't get too much judgmental complaining from this group. It's your work, and you can put it up however you like.

I recall the feeling of what you call "poetic explosion". I wish it came along more often. But I learned to keep it in a containment building after I was done. Then to go back and break it down into pieces. Telling too much at once weakens the overall force of each component for me. Great writing is robbed of its impact by the intense voume of material surrounding it. At least that's how I'm taking this in.

. I'm sure you noticed that there is not much of your fresh and youthful perspective in this forum, so more of this stuff would be welcome in shorter form.

Your last statement makes this feel like a drive-by poeming. I hope you don't just post and run. Hopefully you might stick around and let your poems come out one by one. If you get time to break this apart and post it back again. I think that over time you will get some worthwhile feedback and interesting discussion from a group of good people. We're mostly harmless after all.

Just a suggestion, because I like your poetry.

Steve

Hey again,

thanks guys, looking back it was pretty dumb to post it all at once,
but i was sleep deprived and impulsive at that particular moment.
I've been reading the forums quite a bit and some here should be in top poems and poets for sure.
I feel compelled to write more and more now, especially after seeing all this excellent poetry come out of almost anonymity.
I also feel at home where people take the time to read others' carefully.
So thanks again for reading, i will start commenting a bit more after the winter break as i am travelling quite a bit.

I generally recommend one be reserved in action, but furious in calculation.

thanks Mr. P
I learnt quite a bit from your comment.

Obi, it was sorta like getting a drink from a fire hydrant.