So, I know you all write poetry. We all have angst, its not just a teenage phenomenon! I think we should share our poetry, it'll be fun. I'll start:


A Little Something

I lost a little something today.
Maybe it was important,
I don't know.
Maybe it had something to do with you.
I'd rather not get out of bed
This morning,
I'd rather waste away
And try to remember
What it is I'm trying to forget:
That I had something,
A reason to live,
And I threw it all away.
But it's not important.



Alone

Sometimes she cries,
especially when she has
no shoulder to cry on,
no arms to hold her.
Then she wants to die,
because she thinks that's
what it expected of her,
and she lives for everyone else.
Are you alone, love,
lonely like her shadow?
Do you sleep, love,
only to wake to greyer skies?
And she knows
there must be some way out of this.
And she dreams,
but her dreams never come true.




(Poems copyright Katherine Carr 2001)

cooOOooOL...nice writing there kat :inserts thumbs up emoticon that vb! doesn have but vmb does:

uhm i usually do like weird spoken word type flows...but here's a try at something dif i wrote the other day b4 a protest being a good for nuthin gutter gurl...

fine! u lose aka business alley
business alley
bum-like space
taking up the air
sweet disgrace
.
time sipped away
styrofoam liter
chill winter day
caffiene, upper, jitters
.
lean where, worn benches
naked asfault now
because beurocrat buildings
--should fall
they said "no"
to having a place
to pass out
"..without rent?!
scum bags pay!
make something of yourselves
work for the towers
or go away!"
.
business alley
creepy
gots trades of its own
deal these rocks
sellin home cooked
not homegrown
.
'when i grow up'
they say i cant...
be sittin in the alleyway
be waiting in the gutter
.
fresh cement 'do not touch'
few will ever do
just that--lay a finger
on what the scruffy opening
it's tall, story-high, shadowers
mean...
.
mad, mean, greed
injust, competitive, game
the machine
work a holic, alcoholic parties
rushed daze
too complicated for you
to persue, what it all stands to be
they say
.
die, die, die
where'd it all go?
rolled snake eyes
twice in a row
gambling stability
building leaning
shadowing thoses...
structures, sucked it all
stoll your life.
.
5 daze, 7 times a week
construing cleaner alleys
dumpsters with keys
as you robed the robe-less
so you could hord your waste
.
gained over wage
testifying underpaid
made a living,
stealing
lost love, life, inspiration
insight
.
you became the helpless
poor lifeless
at the end
of the alley
lifeless, regretful, coulda
shoulda beens
in place of those
at the end of the business alley
raped
those who's eyes you
wouldnt even meet
when asked for the time
or to spare a dime
deadened, r u ashamed?
who but urself
the machine, the package
is to blame
__________________________

...not so spectacular, buti like what it's abouT

i like to write haikus at work:

sitting in office
mail i have not picked up
shoes under desk


posting on vb
ack! a bug on the window
i can type backwards

(I promise I will write real poems soon)

Ode to my cable modem, which gleams and twinkles at me,
from the corner near the phone behind the birdcage.

What technological goodness you feed into my brain!
Such swiftness with which you do so!

If only I could have asked the nice man to hook it directly
into my viens...oh what a world it would be!

[Teasing about IBEEAC edited out.]


<Just teasing you!>

Joe is a man
Joe's got a van (maybe)
Joe doesn't like how I spell.
Joe thinks I'm silly
(but I'm not really)
Hey, JOE! I also can't rhyme!

[Post edited out.]

In a small ode to the cable
from someone who is able
a mispelling occured
of a simple word
now i have a new label(IBEEAC)

a small point was made
now some people are afraid
to post their rhymes
in these slow times
so ill start the parade



searches through many pages of crappy writing, pulls out gun and shoots self for being such a crappy poet

Sunset Cliffs

I am so content here.
I find so many answers with you at my side,
here at the cliffs,
where perhaps destiny lies
in the sound of the crashing surf,
as it sculpts the rock with abandon,
not even meaning to.
Where the waves shape what we will see
and always have
always will.

Perhaps destiny lies in a flashing smile,
quick and teasing,
and savagely alive.
Perhaps it lies more accurately in timing,
although I am hard pressed to forfeit
my faith in the unexplained.
I have a great desire to impress,
I realise as I return your smile,
for you are very impressive.

I can feel my blood moving distinctly,
and I wonder what it aspires to do.
Does it know what great goal it is moving towards?
What wonderful thing it is so compelled to discover?
...it's a lot like me.

I have never yet met someone,
so apt at self destruction.
It really takes some gumption,
but at least his friends are cool.

check out

http://www.poetry.com

They have fun poetry contests every day!

see the peace, the motionlessness of the land, life is there, death is here, watch, wait, listen, nothing new, all of it old, always changing, not my fault for the change it just happens. blowing wind creates the excess memories, see it happen, but its to slow to see, speed it up twice again, still a thousand decades to long, ill be part of it soon enough.

hear the music

animals all around, yet you can not see any of them. Bright as day when its night, not possible without light. Motion all around, closing in with little fear. fire made brighter, keep them away. Flames crawling around to find the trouble.

hear the music

plants growing without water, see the miracle if you have the time, if not come back and see the change. It dropped from my pocket left there thousands of decades, buried again and again, not by dirt or sand, buried by concrete and metal, a thousand miles high.

hear the music

cars racing, trucks slowing, people walking, buildings growing taller by the minute.
life is at its peak but no one notices, so now they're all dead.

the music is silence

the only thing on my mind


My jeep is in there somewhere and my work and a couple of books i've been reading, where and with whom I'm gonna live when my lease is up and my future occupational plans and where i want to live in the future and what kind of shoes to buy and a new TV, stereo entertainment center Im buying and who knows when i'll be done paying for it and how to get my hair cut. okay sex wasn't the only thing on my mind, but it was probably in the first place or maybe tied with what kind of shoes to buy. Don't worry though that one has been canceled since i bought some new shoes. So sex is now number one. That includes just being with you.

This kind of poem is called a pantoum. Do you see the pattern?

Liquified


In blistering heat haze you moved me
The shimmering pulse, oh, I can’t bear it
And in a lazy shift my heart melts against the pavement
So tread softly now, and go home.

The shimmering. Pulse. Oh, I can’t bear it.
As though each breath was filled with fluid
So tread, softly now and…go home.
I am withered, like the crone, spent, and tired.

As though each breath was filled with fluid
I gurgle in the gutter and whimper at your feet
I am withered, like the crone – spent, and tired.
Stroked, by the sun, oh, leave me alone.

I gurgle in the gutter and whimper at your feet,
And in a lazy shift, my heart melts against the pavement
Stroked, by the sun, oh, leave me alone.
In a blistering heat haze, you moved me.


Kreeli, 2001

Cheshire Girl

Ow! The way she strides across an ocean in paralyzing beauty!
The way she digs a thick hip into each of her steps
I’m gonna fall over myself following her.
Woo, mama! Her stunning gaze is a binding contract!
Lids rimmed in dark black coal and languid blinks
I’m ripped apart by her backwards glance.
Shee-it! Look at the way she leans across the sidewalk!
The hollow under her arm is shady, smooth, cool
She’s perfected the art of infatuation.
There! See how the city pauses around her; her body wades
Through a sea of malcontents, a Cheshire Girl
Her grin…oh! The state I’m in.
The state I’m in.
OH.
The state I’m in.

Kreeli, 2001

ode to the boy who sent me pictures of his friends guinea pig
He is very silly, and he can be scruffy and cute
And he lives in ocean beach to boot!
THE END


by, Avalon

I have an extreme urge to put myself into a big vat of nothingness and stir myself into oblivion until time reaches the end of the clock and it can no longer tell me the time for i am a free flowing entity devoid of the realness of life and all the boundries that it posses.

:blush:

...well, it's true.

ha ha. Tough act to follow, kreeli. Nice poems, I am impressed!

quiet little kitty so sweet and pure. everybody loves you. At night i hear you playing. You keep me up all night long wanting to play. You scratch me and bite me. I should lock you in the closet but the constant whining i would hear keeps me from doing it. Sometimes death seems like a good option or even letting you run free. quiet little kitty so sweet and pure. everybody loves you. even me.

This poem is really about a guy I know that tried to kill himself, and I was the only person he told. He got better though.


Fallen Angel

He never asked for this,
so why is he getting this?
Why does he feel so lonely
when he could have the world?
Maybe he'll get lucky
Maybe he'll get happy
Maybe he'll just leave this empty life.
Oh, how he'd love to
just fly away
To spread his broken wings
once more
and disappear.
He deserves better than this,
this life of devastation.
Oh, fallen angel
cry on my shoulder
I'd give you your own heaven
if I could.


Katherine Carr 2001

Kreeli,

nice pantoum. i love sestinas myself. (quite similar with repeating words and all)

Here's a poem relayed to me by my friend British Chris

2 y's
u r
2 y's
u b
i c u r
2 y's
4 me

Of course we've prob. seen it before, but he is here insisting I post it, inquire if he may find a gf here, and if he should get a tongue ring. there i said it. HAPPY?!

Some people have a fetish for death
like Gord Downie and his wherewithal.
He drives down corduroy roads,
and always leaves a lasting impression.
I like to write things that give cause enough to be silent,
and reflect upon whats been said.
I hope it is eloquent yet forceful
and strong enough to escape the narrow route thats been carved for it.
Some people like to write about things,
like Regan and her marmalade skies,
and her happy Saturdays and grilled cheese sandwiches.
I prefer to paint a picture of the insanities,
through the eyes of the detached.
Its like playing card tricks with the devil
and laughing hysterically when you reveal to him
that you knew what his cards were, all along.
And sometimes I make things real,
so close that you could swear you feel it
brushing past you in a crowd.
There? Did you catch it? The gnarled fingers
gripping your shoulder for a moment amidst the bustle
strong and firm, and every bit alive,
warming the skin beneath your shirt
then passing on with a smile
before you can turn your head.
That is where I reside, with Cordelia
looking out into the Prairie Sunset,
watching the wheat ripple in the breeze,
still golden beneath the dusk,
that's where I know I can laugh with the devil,
dance with the faeries,
and never once care if I am leaving
a lasting impression.

Another day, another dollar
that's how I try to think of it anyway.
You have to I guess
otherwise you go crazy,
kindof like me
Whata they call it?
Stir crazy?
yeah, I guess that's what I mean.
Sick of the stillness
and the darkness,
of the situation I mean.
I'm sick of wishing I could just run out into the sun,
like other people do.

People, I understand people, it's my job, I have to.
I have to know everything thats spinning around in their heads,
all the time, especially when...
That's what made me crazy I guess-
knowing what they're thinking,
when the crack sends them reeling into darkness.
You know, it all depends on how you see it.
Some guys just do it, and that's it -it's over.
But I think of it like this:
you're born, right? and then someone kills you.
Well, in the same way that you can't remember anything
from before you were born,
then so can you not remember anything when you're dead, right?
So really, if you never knew you were alive,
then you were never really there,
and you're not missing anything-
and then it doesn't matter that much after all, does it?

So when I kill someone,
I'm not doing anything to them, really.
I'm just depopulating earth, a little.
Well anyway, now you know what makes me tick,
or at least what keeps the gears in the clock turning,
even after they've been clogged and choked with blood.
Really though,
it's not the guts that can jam the clock works,
it's the thoughts, that are ticking away
inside the heads of people
who suddenly find themselves
pinned down to a mounting board, like a butterfly
at my mercy,
knowing they will be exhibited-
an example
until either the clock stops ticking,
or everyone forgets
that they were ever there.
Tick tock.

Apologies to all of you who have read it before, it is often used as my visiting card but this site has an introductions board for you to "hang" yourself in.

A PLEA FROM;

BOBBY THE CALF AND LARRY THE LAMB (HEAVENS GATE)

TO THE INNOCENT YOUNG CHILDREN OF THIS CRUEL PLANET

Dear Children,

When you next have meat for tea
Please think of Bobby and me,
We loved our green field and blue sky;
and did not choose to die

So when your family next shop,
you could all help to stop
the cruel killing of today,
by choosing to live the vegan way

You could close the factory farm
that causes us all so much harm,
and those other vile targets
the overcrowded animal markets

And what would be our finest hour ?;
closing the very last abbatoir.
Its too late for poor Larry and me,
for we sadly, were in your tea.

Thank you for reading our letter,

Bobby and Larry,

Heaven's Gate.