Kat's Poetry Corner

Vegankat · Dec 2, 2001

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)

GhostUser · Dec 3, 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

kerouac · Dec 5, 2001

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

Avalon · Dec 5, 2001

(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!

Joe · Dec 6, 2001

[Teasing about IBEEAC edited out.] 
<Just teasing you!>

Avalon · Dec 6, 2001

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!

Joe · Dec 6, 2001

[Post edited out.]

majake · Dec 7, 2001

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

Avalon · Dec 7, 2001

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.

Avalon · Dec 7, 2001

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

GhostUser · Dec 7, 2001

check out <a href="http://www.poetry.com" target="_blank">http://www.poetry.com</a> 
They have fun poetry contests every day!

majake · Dec 7, 2001

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

majake · Dec 7, 2001

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.

Kreeli · Dec 7, 2001

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 cant 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 cant bear it. 
As though each breath was filled with fluid 
So tread, softly now andgo 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

Kreeli · Dec 7, 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 
Im gonna fall over myself following her. 
Woo, mama! Her stunning gaze is a binding contract! 
Lids rimmed in dark black coal and languid blinks 
Im 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 
Shes 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 grinoh! The state Im in. 
The state Im in. 
OH. 
The state Im in. 
Kreeli, 2001

majake · Dec 7, 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

majake · Dec 7, 2001

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.

Avalon · Dec 7, 2001

:blush: 
...well, it's true. 
ha ha. Tough act to follow, kreeli. Nice poems, I am impressed!

majake · Dec 7, 2001

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.

Vegankat · Dec 8, 2001

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

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