The Poetry Only Thread

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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Jerky » Wed Nov 26, 2014 5:02 pm

GOODBYE, SKY (2008)

Only a handful,
Sad little bundle of
Hollow bones and dimpled skin,
Pale, invisible,
And feathers
Once so orderly arrayed,
Now pointing every which-way.
How did you get here?

It seems so wrong.
Cloud surfer,
Raindrop drinker,
Tiny dinosaur.
You deserve better.
A proper resting place!
Not cold concrete,
Dry and dusty, blown with grit and ash.

A quick transfer to fragrant soil,
Where you might feed the worms
In turn.
One small regret:
I could have helped,
But didn't.
After all, you were
Only a handful.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Jerky » Wed Nov 26, 2014 5:04 pm

RUINED (2008)

I am in love.
Did not know I was capable
Have never been before
And do not want to be.
But now I am.
And I am ruined.

Haunted by the taste
A lifetime of lies
This feast of sour grapes
Upon which I've grown fat.

Protection - an armor of scars
Ripped away with one hard pull.
Wounded, raw and open
I lay prone
Rich fare for worms and vultures
And nowhere left to crawl.

Justification and rationalization
Have led too far astray.
Too late I find myself
Lost
Beyond all hope of reconnoiter.

And when I summon up the cruelty
To allow myself to dream,
The lens of my mind's eye is cracked
And clouded by the ever looming shadow
Of ridiculous impossibility.

I know I am not worthy.
I know that I am nothing.
Sad clay, warm dung, moist rot
Half-formed then dropped
By crippled hands of Idiot Chance.

And yet, the dream:
To take your shoulders in my hands
To put my face against your neck
And to inhale
My final breath
Until my lungs explode
And hot blood fills my brain
So I can spread into oblivion
And drown in an eternity of you.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Jerky » Wed Nov 26, 2014 5:06 pm

ONE INFINITY ZERO (2004)

The universe is one.
Nothing that is, is not.
All that is, is.

The universe is infinite.
Infinity contains infinite infinities.
Everything that is, is repeated, infinitely.
Thus, infinity is one.

Because the universe is infinite,
And because the universe is one,
The universe does not exist.
It cannot begin until it is finished.
It is finished before it can begin.

One = Infinity = Zero.

Now is the arrow that cuts the air.
We are the air, split by the arrow.
We are not now.

Because we are not infinite.
Because we are not one.
And because we exist.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby RocketMan » Wed Nov 26, 2014 6:12 pm

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me?

-John Milton, Paradise Lost

Yes, Satan gets the best lines dammit.
-I don't like hoodlums.
-That's just a word, Marlowe. We have that kind of world. Two wars gave it to us and we are going to keep it.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Searcher08 » Wed Nov 26, 2014 7:19 pm

Tao

Phu Quoc sand
as soft as sifted flour
the beach deserted,
save for the solitary fisherman
his nimble fingers
dancing in mesh
weaving his butterfly nets
readying to search for squid;
the patches of rainforest,
a vermillion rainforest
softly touching
the strip of white shoreline
striped by palm trees,
the sky and sea blending
to infinity pools
mirrors to curving mirrors;
she is wrapped in flowing liquid colour
the perfect crescent of the bay
the same curve I see
in the perfect ripe peach of her
the same welcome of shore for ocean as
she brings me into her,
The southern sun longing to skate the horizon
the way I long to run fingertips
slowly, up in flawless perfect glide,
along the muscles of her tanned back.
I watch her playing on the tropical verge,
the damp rich boundary
between sea and earth and rising ambience
of the still unseen sun.
Her skin is coppered now,
Her feet shining wet in foam flecks
Her hair bright glinting aurum
Her eyes deep brown and laughing...
and I feel so grateful
to be together
in moments bubbled
full of eternity,
as the fisherman finishes his nets
and sails toward the star whose
enigmatic smile is
slowly
delicately
dawning
on the Mekong Delta

The brightest memory of her
has never happened,
else in some other
as yet inaccessible
reality bubble
my chest does not feel her gentle breathing rise and fall,
nor is my body robed in the fall of her long soft hair.
No, I feel the blue-white coarse cotton shroud
of approaching English winter
like her duvet fallen from my shoulder
The small shrinking island
of warmth retreats to my heart's most secret dreams
It's time to wake up.
Coffee to make.
The cold shower awaits.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby stefano » Thu Nov 27, 2014 4:10 am

Wow, great stuff Jerky and Searcher. I really liked the one about the bird Jerky. Thanks.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Jerky » Thu Nov 27, 2014 8:36 am

Thanks, Stefano! I really appreciate it.

Jerky
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Iamwhomiam » Tue May 30, 2017 4:39 pm

Picture That

Picture yourself as you lean on the port rail
Tossing away your last cigarette
Picture your finger pushing the doorbell
Picture the skull and those bones on the doormat
Picture yourself on the streets of Laredo
Picture the casbah, picture Japan
Picture your kid with his hand on the trigger
Picture prosthetics in Afghanistan

Picture that

Picture a courthouse with no fucking laws
Picture a cathouse with no fucking whores
Picture a shithouse with no fucking drains
Picture a leader with no fucking brains
Follow me filming myself at the show
On a phone from a seat in the very front row
Follow Miss Universe catching some rays
Wish you were here in Guantanamo Bay
Picture a seat on a private plane
Picture your feet nailed to the floor
Picture a crew who are clearly insane
Picture no windows, picture no doors
Glued to a screen in the state of Nevada
To follow the dream gets harder and harder
Picture her wrapping a gift for the wedding
Picture her boiling the water for tea
Picture the kids climbing into the backseat
Picture my hand turning the keys
Oh picture that
Picture the dog in the pickup ahead
Picture the tree at the side of the road
Picture my hands growing steadily colder
Follow me down to a place by the river
Sold for my kidneys, sold for my liver
Why so weedy, so fucking needy
There's no such thing as being too greedy

By Roger Waters
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Grizzly » Tue May 30, 2017 5:20 pm

Poetry is subjective is it not?
If so, then what?
Is it, is, or is it knot?
If Barthes can forgive me, “What the public wants is the image of passion Justice, not passion Justice itself.”
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby dada » Tue May 30, 2017 5:50 pm

Grizzly » Tue May 30, 2017 5:20 pm wrote:Poetry is subjective is it not?
If so, then what?
Is it, is, or is it knot?


Most of the time, 'Poetry' is a descriptive value judgement, in a metaphorical sense. A basketball player jumps, a bear dances. What we call poetry in motion.

Whatever people like is 'poetry.' Like it? 'poetry.' Then justify backwards from conclusion. It's the classic case of confirmation bias. People discern patterns, think they're seeing things.

Real poetry is rare. It does physical things to people. Not just 'feeling thoughts.' You can see it on outside. A good poet can make you break out in hives.
Both his words and manner of speech seemed at first totally unfamiliar to me, and yet somehow they stirred memories - as an actor might be stirred by the forgotten lines of some role he had played far away and long ago.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Grizzly » Tue May 30, 2017 10:23 pm

A good poet can make you break out in hives.
..

indeed...

If Barthes can forgive me, “What the public wants is the image of passion Justice, not passion Justice itself.”
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Iamwhomiam » Tue May 30, 2017 10:42 pm

Thank you for sharing that touching bit of genius with us, Grizzly.
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Cordelia » Sun Jun 11, 2017 8:07 am

In the Desert

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

~ Stephen Crane ~
The Black Riders and Other Lines
The greatest sin is to be unconscious. ~ Carl Jung

We may not choose the parameters of our destiny. But we give it its content. ~ Dag Hammarskjold 'Waymarks'
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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby chump » Sun Jun 11, 2017 11:36 am

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Re: The Poetry Only Thread

Postby Grizzly » Mon Jun 12, 2017 1:25 am

Trigger warning...!

[Intro]
Now, this might get a little personal
Or a lot actually
Parental discretion is advised

[Verses]
When I was ten, shit, I believed I could fly
I would just flap my fucking arms and try to meet with the sky
And in my mind I'd envision that I was speaking with god
And then I'd chop his fucking fist off and beat him with mine
But this is just a fucking portion of the war with my mind
So I'mma take you fuckers back and through the vortex of time
When I was seven envision me at the bottom of stairs
And I solemnly swear that this is the truth, no fallacy here
See I was young, man, I was just a toddler, a kid
And he wasn't the first to successfully try but he did
He took me to the basement and after the lights had been cut
He whipped it out and sodomized and forced his cock through my gut

See it was weird because I felt like I was losing my mind
And then it happened like it happened millions of times
And I would swear that I would tell but they would think that I was lyin'
And now the power that he held was like a beacon of mine
So now I got used to it, I put up with the shit
And now my hate was so volcanically eruptive and shit
But this is nothing cause I guess he told his friend what he do
And they ate it up, shit I was like a buffet for two

And then it happened in a home where every fucking one knew
And they ain't do shit but fucking blame it on youth
I'm sorry mom but I really used to blame it on you
But even you, by then wouldn't know what to do

And now it happened so often that he was getting particular
And I'm more scared every time, word to my speed and ventricular
One night he came home and I was asleep in my bed
He climbed on top of me and forced himself between my legs
He told me: "Hey Ray, I see you like them Popsicle sticks so put your mouth on my dick and fucking swallow the spit"
And I was confused but I was scared so I did what he said
I had no idea the effect it would have on my head
My heart was pumping it was thumping with like tons of my fear
Imagine being seven and seeing cum in your underwear
I know it's nasty but sometimes I'd even bleed from my butt
Disgusting right? Now let that feeling ring through your guts

I thought of offing myself, I thought of killing these niggas
Wanted to take a fucking brick and push they teeth through they lips
Wanted to smash the fucking world and burn its leftover parts
Wanted to rip it out and just fucking step on my heart

Then I grew up and I wasn't within the reach of these men
But that didn't keep me out the motherfucking reach of my sin
And psychologically I was just as fucked as they come
I was confused, I had to prove I wasn't fucked from the jump
I was afraid of myself, I had no love for myself
I tried to kill, I tried to hide, I tried to run from myself
There was a point in my life where I didn't like who I was
So I'd create the other people I would try to become
Sexuality came into play and with as scarred as I was
I was extremely scared of men so I started liking girls
I started starving myself, fucked up my bodily health
I didn't wanna be attractive to nobody else
I didn't want the appeal, wanted to stunt my own growth
But there's a fucking reason behind every scar that I show
I never got to be a kid so that's as far as I grow
My mental state is out of date, and that's as far as I know

My biggest problem was fear, and what being fearful could do
It made me run, it made me hide it made me scared of the truth
I'm not deranged anymore, I'm not the same anymore
I mean I'm sane but I'm insane but not the same as before
I had to deal with my shit, I had to look at my truth
To understand that to grow you've got to look at your root
I had to cut off the dead, I had to make myself proud
And now I'm just standing living breathing proof look at me now
I made it through everything, I made you look like a clown
I'm fucking great, can't fucking hate, you nigga look at me now

Now I'm just saying this to tell you there's a way from the ground
The makings of a legend are often hidden in trials
Just be strong and just move on and just accept what you can
Because it makes your story better when you read at the end

[Outro]
Yeah, there's a story behind every single scar that I show
I made it out, this a me nobody's gotten before
I had to open my wounds, I had to bleed til I stopped it
Thanks for joining me here as I cleaned out my closet
I said I opened my wounds, I had to bleed til I stopped it
Thanks for joining me here as I cleaned out my closet


If Barthes can forgive me, “What the public wants is the image of passion Justice, not passion Justice itself.”
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