A Poem Thread

Discussion in 'Art & Culture' started by Angelus, Nov 9, 2002.

  1. Trooper Secular Sanity Valued Senior Member

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  3. Arne Saknussemm trying to figure it all out Valued Senior Member

    Wow! Would that all poetry were presented so slickly - now that it easily can be so. Rap and half the crap on YouTube would die off in minutes if the Brownings were reworked. Great stuff!
    Last edited: Jul 21, 2014
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  5. Trooper Secular Sanity Valued Senior Member

    Is their happiness more important than your own?
    Come—let me show you an empty throne.

    From lodestone ladles to lunar mansions,
    we’ll decipher puzzles with nine dot expansions.

    Hear it?—a rousing old battle cry.
    Bound to necessity—there are limits to "I."

    Once told of men and mice.
    Potentials spiraling with loaded dice.

    Hope—the agony of desire.
    Love to wit—wine to fire.

    Proud assertions of self-control:
    beware of the captain of his soul.

    Whether in motion or at rest;
    we’re all first mates at best.

    In a realm of freedom and a realm of constraint,
    who’ll condemn us—a glass coffin saint?

    An unchangeable tyrant overhead;
    aware of nothing—dead is dead.

    Faith is made void—hollowed be thy name.
    There’s no such thing as an absolute frame.

    Come hither, Dilettante, nothing is set in stone.
    Neither righteousness nor judgments inhabit the throne.

    Ideals to die for—all have eaten from the tree.
    Be free to nothingness—nothingness to free.
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  7. Arne Saknussemm trying to figure it all out Valued Senior Member

  8. Quantum Quack Life's a tease... Valued Senior Member

    Fortress building

    There was a child who was so mild
    That no one thought of her as wild
    And yet beneath her gentle face
    Was chaos time could not erase.

    And every day her pain would stay
    Just out of reach, in no one's way.
    And though she smiled, her soul was riled
    Because it has been long defiled.

    Yet, unreleased, her pain increased
    Until her deepest longings ceased.
    And in her mind she built the kind
    Of fortress no one else could find.

    Now all alone, in walls of stone,
    A young girl guards her fragile throne.
    And nobody can hurt her there,
    And nobody can show they care.

    So pain presumptuously plods on
    With fear the queen and rage the pawn.
    They fight to shield and yet to free

    The little girl I once called Me.

    A poem sent to me from a fellow fortress builder - 2011

    ~Author remains anonymous
  9. StrangerInAStrangeLand SubQuantum Mechanic Valued Senior Member

    Lovin' Her Was Easier

    I have seen the morning burning golden on the mountain in the sky
    Aching with the feeling of the freedom of an eagle when she flies
    Turning on the world the way she smiled upon my soul as I lay dying
    Healing as the colors in the sunshine and the shadows of her eyes

    Waking in the morning to the feeling of her fingers on my skin
    Wiping out the traces of the people and the places that I've been
    Teaching me that yesterday was something that I never thought of trying
    Talking of tomorrow and the money, love and time we had to spend
    Loving her was easier than anything I'll ever do again

    Coming close together with a feeling that I've never know before in my Time
    She ain't ashamed to be a woman or afraid to be a friend
    I don't know the answer to the easy way she opened every door in my mind
    But dreaming was as easy as believing it was never gonna end
    And loving her was easier than anything I'll ever do again

    Kris Kristofferson
  10. Stuart Registered Member


    That from which the pulse beats
    As drums bashing repeatedly
    With a wild stare, an accompanied blush
    The distant scape beckons

    Raw energy, expansive space
    Running forwards, spinning
    Waving arms in all directions
    Felling trees, launching an axe

    This is when the adrenaline really spouts
    Now racing straight
    Continuing past the fires
    Snake veins and an eight stroke heart

    Spent scapes left behind
    Along an unseen path
    Demarcated, well demarcated
    Unseen through bloodshot eyes


    "My Goddddddddd, this takes me to eternity and back"
    Shuffling and coiling, along the red production line
    Steam and grease and iron spinning
    Past waking hours, lust knows no rest

    Work, as a door, fist marks, indentations
    Then, as the pavement, head marks, concussions
    What's left for sleep is passed over
    Bricks bashed in with the face

    "Maaaaake it more, take more, mooorree, Goddamn...."
    Head, hands, face peeling time from the mold
    A bat and a screaming headache
    Spinning Visage, broken drywall

    Pulling the strings above
    Stilted motions of strength
    Making them move
    To pull the roof in


    Then that which stopped short
    Standing still next to a rail and a river
    Carefully observing it flow
    In increasingly predictable streams

    No purpose
    Empty, as if anemic
    Waiting silently even to death
    Still, watching, listening
  11. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned

    ^interesting writing.. one can rest with it for a while, very little clutter, yet somewhat saddening, yet the passion for the writing itself is a gift.

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  12. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned


    The World Wellness Web
    has evolved from it's beginnings
    perhaps someday
    World Peace
    will be achieved
    of course
    such takes time and structure.

    isn't a hierarchy
    is choice
    a field of legitimacy
  13. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned

    Not The Best Writing

    Don't put me in your livingwill
    I have my own..
    I prefer not to have an attention deficit disorder.
    ?Why do you need me as an additive in your chest to get through the day.
    as if you weren't love

    perhaps it is

    that missed the starting gun.. that said "be you and no one else"""""""
    I guess it may be true.
    Some souls get themselves so muddy with stealing people into their will that their soul expires
    from the wheel of incarnation.
    It ain't me
    it's just natural ethic.
    You can't even begin to know what love is until you have mastered
    that we are born individuate
    he or she whom defends itself with other beings
    or uses other beings to feel livingly

    I guess it may be true
    some souls expire.
  14. StrangerInAStrangeLand SubQuantum Mechanic Valued Senior Member

    To Beat The Devil

    It was winter time in Nashville, down on music city row.
    And I was lookin' for a place to get myself out of the cold.
    To warm the frozen feelin' that was eatin' at my soul.
    Keep the chilly wind off my guitar.
    My thirsty wanted whisky; my hungry needed beans,
    But it'd been of month of paydays since I'd heard that eagle scream.
    So with a stomach full of empty and a pocket full of dreams,
    I left my pride and stepped inside a bar.
    Actually, I guess you'd could call it a Tavern:
    Cigarette smoke to the ceiling and sawdust on the floor;
    Friendly shadows.
    I saw that there was just one old man sittin' at the bar.
    And in the mirror I could see him checkin' me and my guitar.
    An' he turned and said: "Come up here boy, and show us what you are."
    I said: "I'm dry." He bought me a beer.
    He nodded at my guitar and said: "It's a tough life, ain't it?"
    I just looked at him. He said: "You ain't makin' any money, are you?"
    I said: "You've been readin' my mail."
    He just smiled and said: "Let me see that guitar.
    "I've got something you oughta hear."
    Then he laid it on me:
    "If you waste your time a-talkin' to the people who don't listen,
    "To the things that you are sayin', who do you think's gonna hear.
    "And if you should die explainin' how the things that they complain about,
    "Are things they could be changin', who do you think's gonna care?"
    There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind,
    Who were crucified for what they tried to show.
    And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time.
    'Cos the truth remains that no-one wants to know.
    Well, the old man was a stranger, but I'd heard his song before,
    Back when failure had me locked out on the wrong side of the door.
    When no-one stood behind me but my shadow on the floor,
    And lonesome was more than a state of mind.
    You see, the devil haunts a hungry man,
    If you don't wanna join him, you got to beat him.
    I ain't sayin' I beat the devil, but I drank his beer for nothing.
    Then I stole his song.
    And you still can hear me singin' to the people who don't listen,
    To the things that I am sayin', prayin' someone's gonna hear.
    And I guess I'll die explaining how the things that they complain about,
    Are things they could be changin', hopin' someone's gonna care.
    I was born a lonely singer, and I'm bound to die the same,
    But I've got to feed the hunger in my soul.
    And if I never have a nickle, I won't ever die ashamed.
    'Cos I don't believe that no-one wants to know.

    Kris Kristofferson
  15. bpathos Blind Pathos Registered Senior Member

    By Blind Pathos

    From my chair
    Through the air
    I want my info now
    Truth or dare
    I don’t care
    Give me info now

    Hip wired infolites
    Something bout usage rights
    Whereas my info wow
    Flying flags ever knowing
    Looking back never going
    Here’s my info now

    Meaning without content
    Exists without it being sent
    The contents meaning slowly dies
    Contending feeds on sorefull eyes

    Mercy typo pings brindle blogger
    Immortal mention 2 NSA loggers
    Wikimaster with google goggles
    Seeks truthess acknak for boondoggle

    Give me just a little push
    My parental burning bush
    Life lite the snippet deluxe
    Youtube the world gone amuck
  16. bpathos Blind Pathos Registered Senior Member

    By Blind Pathos

    There will be no secrets
    Nowhere to hide
    The left and right outwitted
    And little brother inside

    The drones and data crawlers delve
    Dreams and nightmares being ourselves
    Compiled evidences mount concern
    While mankind’s bridges burn

    Our cyborg image never shown
    Our accessories scent allured us
    Hums of technology a pleasant moan
    We breathed deep the aroma’s service

    Bandwidth culture firmly in place
    Everyman has no face
    Ethnicity of avatar and clan of choice
    Everyman selects a voice

    The blind face themselves feeling
    Something’s missing out of sight
    Reaching for the cognitive ceiling
    Surrendering for wrong and right

    To machines constant drumming
    The overfuture’s coming
    Where there’s nothing left to do
    And no difference from me to you
  17. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned


    As it were by 1969 ish
    I am confused
    at the continuous invent
    of the materialization
    of human form..
    the sickness of continued population increase
    with really only cluttered integrity to show,
    It's not as if people actually get a long perfectly at all.
    they slop the air with commentary of slight and neglect
    humans evolved into form,
    what on earth are they doing
    multiplying human form on and on
    with what seems little regard for Life..
    And the kid was supposed be a person.
  18. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned

    The Mess

    The mess of opinionated/
    what actually is an ?opinion
    guess I wouldn't know
    I'd rather 'not bother.
    is naturalaw
  19. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned

    Toooooooo Much Double Time

    "make it true
    "make it so
    disgusts me'
    you think your bright
    yet you exemplify hellllllllll
    with your cluttered ronism that destroys realtime
    righteous overt negligence is materially destructive
    as coversion is unfit.
  20. Trooper Secular Sanity Valued Senior Member

    True Tomorrow

    Why do you ask such things?
    Do you know what the future brings?

    Is it better to seethe?
    Art like air allows you to breathe.

    All men are slaves. None are free.
    The torch-bearing whore is necessity.

    Do you think me a fool, for my love of tomorrow?
    Should my delight linger into one's own barrow?

    Shall I trust in the spinning of the triads?
    And yet, speak nothing of the dyads?

    They are my pleasure, my pain.
    I yield to their needs, their gain.

    When I risk, does my reason pause?
    They are my reason. They are my cause.

    If deprived of such delight
    by weak resentment and petty spite.

    My fury, my passion, my love will embark.
    I will guard my purpose, protect my mark.

    The key that unlocks my passion's cage
    will put all of heaven in a rage.

    Shall you seek solace like a child in a womb?
    Take away love and your earth is a tomb.
  21. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned


    where it was,
    the united nations
    a good idea for political and social peace.
    ooooohh the sidelines of social and textual ?!illegitimacy.
    and the familial whip of tooo much.
    & strange excessions.


    ?!what is this ?!now
    of compass ?! regarding religion,philosophy or skin color?.

    ?what are we raceing for?what for?!
    ?!what of legitimacy????????????. and not wanting or demanding a ?kisss for !!!!something

    Allllllll these sideline things
    the crime of sensual war, ?littering our planet with negligence and superfluous industrialization.

    Some say, some said,
    back when before the 1500's
    "Like what life represents
    ?what will thisearth look like thousands of years from now..
    It isn't and wasn't meant to beeeeee
    a place of greed and human error....
  22. Anew Life isn't a question. Banned


    *lost by cause*

    one can choose to choose
    to live life as a good person or
    one can end up garnering oneself into being an idiot............
    an idiot plays wargames.
    an idiot enjoys voyeurism.
    an idiot thinks he or she has rights to punish,harm, and alter beings single liberty

    .it never is too late to choose to be a good person

    how a harmful being whom is relishing in the wrong kinds of fun.. ?!wake
    to the idea of being ?!good
  23. sculptor Valued Senior Member

    A little ditty from the 'nam days:

    Love the system and fight the war
    but don't as what you're fighting for
    lest you fight the system and hate the war

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