Poetry

here's a bit of a poem (turned song) that i wrote:

You're the shit, babe. Just like Frank
Sinatra smoking a
cigarette.
So cool, so cool, so
kiss me where it matters.
I've got a bus made from dreams so-
far-yet-to-be-
shattered
that we can drive to Oregon in
where we can
have our privacy. Sound fun?
So cool, we're good
to
go.
It's my running nostalgia of
Lawrence Sterne in a
suit and tie,
in a hat,
in a
cafe
reading up on his Beauvoir.
Something he'd only do when thinking
of you.
So, how else could I articulate? You in particular
are a fucking saint.
So cool.
So cool.
So kiss me where it matters.


moar?

Once
the parties
aren't
capable
of
ingesting
you
and your tinted
eyes
of
red
retreat back to blue,
you'll
be
able
to construe
that all was
askew
and that
I was never
untrue.


nah. these suck

Hey thats awesome thanks a lot!!!! Fuck i never knew people liked us haha. Well when these recordings are done i will make sure to get you a copy!!! Word is bond,

Daggar Slade wrote:

Cenaco wrote:

THE LOVER'S FACE



She is a beauty that no one can hold,

With eyes like water twenty fathoms deep,

Oh! How I long to touch such skin of gold!

Yet her beauty lies dead, as if in sleep.



Oh! Please wake up my dear, and let death be!

And all of this darkness shall fade away,

My love, like a storm rules over the sea,

Will fight for you and keep evil at bay



[Sighing] The blue in your eyes fades as you still lay

How death smiles, as the end grows so near

Twisting, changing your face from Gold to Gray

A face of stone, the reaper chose, my dear…



In this tomb is where I shall sit and cry

Motionless, waiting for this love to die.



Carolyn C.


I wrote this sonnet in 9th grade for this writing assignment in english. It's all in iambic pentameter.

Dude, I love this! You must send me more stuff, Carolyn, I demand it!

WILL DO!

captainweresinking wrote:

Hey thats awesome thanks a lot!!!! Fuck i never knew people liked us haha. Well when these recordings are done i will make sure to get you a copy!!! Word is bond,

haha, yeah, i got it over at the Plan-it-X record boards awhile back. i burnt my friend a copy too and he likes it

So I wrote this last night. It wouldn't let me go to sleep until I'd put it down on paper. It makes me sort of uncomfortable, the subject is weird... It doesn't have a title.



My mother is in hospital
On an operating table,
And I am at home,
Clock-watching, aimless.
And I am thinking of you.

My nephew smiles as he hands
Me a paper, a drawing,
Of him and me in a generic outdoor scene.
And I smile, unseeing, at the floating stick figures, and pat his head,
But I am thinking of you.

My sister and I sit
In a darkened bar, cocktails in hand
And she whispers a salacious tid bit
Of gossip. I do my best to look shocked, scandalised,
And I am thinking of you.

My best friend is telling me
How good it is to see me
It's been so long, she says
And it has, I miss(ed) her.
But right now, I mostly miss you.

I shouldn't
But I do
I can't help it.
I'm thinking of you.

Well on a cold Tuesday morning, I was walking into town,
Had my headphones blaring, didn’t notice what was around,
I crossed the road, a car swerved and nearly ran me down,
Looked in the driver’s seat, I swear to God it was Doc Brown,
He said “Are you Michael J Fox?” I said “No I’m Jonny Fox”,
He said “Close enough, get inside,
I’m taking you with me to see another time,
A place you could only have dreamed in your mind,
An alternative reality situated just outside of Clapham,
So strap yourself in,
Cos where we’re going you don’t need roads,
To get to where punk never happened”

We landed in a concrete desert, rubble as far as the eye could see,
I says to Doc “Where we goin’?”
Doc says he’s following me,
We found the only building in the city that was left standing,
It was my local venue,
I know cos I recognised the landing,
And there’s a gig on tonight! This town ain’t so bad,
I got everything I need, right here in this pad,
So I pulled out a bottle and took a heroic swig,
Made myself comfortable and got ready for the gig,

Well an hour after doors and there was still no-one there,
The soundman was on acid, the fucking long hair,
The bands never showed cos they didn’t see the point,
When all the kids are at home still smoking a joint,
They won’t go out and do nothing, not on your nelly,
They’re just watching the telly and then feeding their belly,
Their parents listen to The Beatles, while they listen to Nirvana,
Cos Green Day and The Pistols, well they never heard either,
They got long sleeve T-shirts and they never shower,
They still believe in flower power,
The hippy dream’s faded but they got nothing new,
So they wear flares and slippers and burn incense sticks too,
The kids would rather skate than go out and smash the state,
While their parents sit still and meditate,
Action’s at a low when people just don’t care,
They zoned out to their surroundings, the anger’s not there,

And I’m stuck in this hippy, grunge reality,
Where the buildings are crumbling down from apathy,
They grab you at school when you’ve just turned 13,
And show you your brand new, life long routine,
You can sleep and work, and work and sleep,
So you can save up the money to buy a new jeep,
So you can sleep and work, and work and sleep,
Then sleep. Then work. Then work. Then sleep.

I pulled a fanzine out my back pocket, held it in my hands,
And watched the colours slowly fade away,
The words bled right off of the pages til it had nothing left to say,
I banged on the jukebox but it was useless,
It had no good records on,
Not even something weak like ‘The Best Punk Album In The World Ever Volume 1’,
Outside the windows, I saw the excavators coming to tear the place down,
No-one stopped them, for there is no community left in this town,
There’s no-one around to fight Margaret Thatcher,
The power of the flower just couldn’t match her,
Too strong was the will of Parliament to cause damage,
That with no punk rock everything went unchallenged,
Land got knocked down to build more land,
That got knocked down again for a couple more grand,
With no punk the protests were full of throwbacks calling each other comrade,
Of course the young folks’ attendance started to fade,
So it was easy for the police to move in, they were trusted,
And that’s when the whole damn town got busted,
They moved CCTV cameras in everywhere,
But the people were too apathetic to care,
They made them carry ID cards to state where they’re from,
As if by being born they had done something wrong,
They shipped all the poor folk to live out in the edges,
So the rich folk could move in and peer over their hedges,
“But before you leave, you’d better build our homes,
There, we’ve done you a favour, now you’re on your own,
This ain’t your home no more, go find somewhere new,
I know you ain’t got the money, cos it’s me who employs you,
I know everything about you, what you eat, how you dress,
Your hobbies, your turn-ons, your email address,
While I had you working in the dark, you didn’t realise,
That I completely stopped your ability to organise,
I didn’t let you have a reason to communicate,
I banned punk rock knowing you hippies would seal your own fate,
I controlled everything you wrote, everything you created,
I distracted you with advertisements so you forgot what you hated,
I fed your dark side, kept you consuming and competing,
And like a dog that doesn’t know when to stop eating,
You took it all, oh and long was it my intention,
You could have beat me if punk rock was your invention”,
Instead the city will be sold to the highest bids,
If only Sham 69 had of united the kids,

If only the 4 Skins had told us ACAB,
If only The Ramones had let us know we were a happy family,
If only The Buzzcocks had shown us how to do it ourself,
If only Crass had shown us there are things more important than wealth,
If only The Vandals had shown us it was OK to smile,
If only The Dead Kennedys had helped us put our government on trial,
If only Rancid had played live, and brought with them that vibe,
If we had Sick Of It All and Madball we could put them all on the frontline,
If we had GG Allin we’d have learned it’s OK to be hated,
If we’d have had The Refused then we could have innovated,
If we’d had Poison Idea then they couldn’t push us over,
If we’d had Minor Threat then we could have done it sober,
If we’d have had Against Me we could have done it all unplugged,
If we’d had Operation Ivy we could have done it then fucked off,
If we had The Blitz, The Clash, Disorder, Propagandhi,
The Exploited, NOFX and anyone that’s handy,

There’s a lesson to be learned, one that I will take home,
When I return to my normal reality zone,
Punk rock has the power to change the world,
It lies in every single punk rock boy and girl,
So don’t let anyone tell you you’re not worth the earth,
These streets are your streets, this turf is your turf,
Don’t let anyone tell you that you’ve got to give in,
Cos you can make a difference, you can change everything,
Just let your dreams be your pilot, your imagination your fuel,
Tear up the book and write your own damn rules,
Use all that heart, hope and soul that you’ve got,
And the love and the rage that you feel in your gut,
And realise that the other world that you’re always looking for,
Lies right here in front of us, just outside this door,
And it’s up to you to go out there and paint the canvas,
After all, you were put on the earth to do this,
So shine your light so bright that all can see,
Take pride in being whoever the fuck you want to be,
Throw your fist in the air in solidarity,
And shout “Viva la punk, just one life, anarchy”.

You didn't write that.

ClockworkRobot wrote:

So I wrote this last night. It wouldn't let me go to sleep until I'd put it down on paper. It makes me sort of uncomfortable, the subject is weird... It doesn't have a title.



My mother is in hospital
On an operating table,
And I am at home,
Clock-watching, aimless.
And I am thinking of you.

My nephew smiles as he hands
Me a paper, a drawing,
Of him and me in a generic outdoor scene.
And I smile, unseeing, at the floating stick figures, and pat his head,
But I am thinking of you.

My sister and I sit
In a darkened bar, cocktails in hand
And she whispers a salacious tid bit
Of gossip. I do my best to look shocked, scandalised,
And I am thinking of you.

My best friend is telling me
How good it is to see me
It's been so long, she says
And it has, I miss(ed) her.
But right now, I mostly miss you.

I shouldn't
But I do
I can't help it.
I'm thinking of you.

Did you write that about me? Just kidding. But that's good, Sye. I like it a lot.

ClockworkRobot wrote:

You didn't write that.

I know

Well, the point is to post things you write!

POST SOMETHING YOU WROTE, DAMNIT!

also, thank you, Lauren, I did write it for you~*~*

Winnipeg: I thoroughly enjoy your writing style and your smooth rhyming in the second one you posted.

lauren wrote:

But that's good, Sye. I like it a lot.

Agreed. Your topics are so plain and real and your writing is wonderful.

lex wrote:

Here's a haiku. I made it up just for this thread.

Open your chest and
Remove the clothes, spread the legs
Of that card table.

This should be published.

The Hill

When I get home, I will take him
To the hill
And sit him on my lap
Wrap one arm around him
Pull him tight, close
And we will go,fly
Down the hill
Powder white, clinging
To a small, bright plastic sledge
At what feels like one hundred miles
An hour, or more.
I will listen to his happy laughter
And I will be happy, also
Because the sound of it drowns
The cacophany of violent noise
Which usually resides
In my head.

You have to stop writing such beautiful poetry about our time together.

This is my favorite of my poems right now. I just re-stumbled upon it.

Embellished Reconstruction

Take my hand, we'll march down the street
Chant like an ocean and scream our bare ideals
We can disobey the road signs and follow our own maps
To know where you're going you just have to look up
Share your naivete and innocence with the celestial abyss
Let's get lost in the constellations, I only could with you
As Venus & Jupiter sing soft duets...

For eons, we float, we gaze
Acquiring whatever we can, whether it be positive or negative
Electrons urge a sense of security to calm us down
Give a friendly, "hello" to the nebulae, accept their greeting in return
As a group, we make communal progress in our ambitions
Layers of nothingness have never felt so snug
Borders and limits are things of the past, forgotten and ignored

Ecstatic and erratic, each discovery is a gift of culture
Prices have dropped and imaginations have soared
Our restless hearts beat the Valkyrie's theme
Excitement flows through our veins
And readiness radiates from our eyes
Ubiquitous and diverse, we defy the horizontal
We defy the vertical, creating an axis of understanding

Here lies History, she died behind a mask of vanity
Here lies Future, forever forgotten, rarely comprehended

Nice poem. I dig it. I read it to the tune of "I'm So Tired" cuz ... yeah...

Nice stuff, guys!


Thanks for sharing.

daggar, that was fantastic. especially the "hearts beat the Valkyrie's theme"

Danke, guys!

Satisfaction

I took a piece of paper,
folded it four times, and propelled it forward
with a quick wrist flick.
I watched the breeze carry my plane
through the park
towards a woman walking her black lab.
I watched it fly away and take a
nose dive into
mangy, early spring
grass.
I watched it persevere through
the friction of Minnesota air.
I watched it thrive.

Aw, I love that, Mike!

I had this convo with this stupid dick at the cobra skulls concert on monday and it inspired me to write this (it doesn`t rhyme but I find it really hard to write poetry that rhymes so whatever):

Disgust

I listen to the same music you do
I feel the same things you feel
I hate the same things you do

But you look at me with disgust
you look at me like I don't belong
you view me as unworthy of punk music

I happen to enjoy sleeping a warm bed
I like being able to buy things I want
Not having to wonder where my next meal is coming from is grand

So call me a sellout, a poser
call me what you want
but in the end whos the real punk
the one who conforms to counter-society ideals
or the one who has a mind of his own

Decolleté

Ik tel even tot tien
om daarna te zeggen
'Excuseer mevrouw,
ik kan uw navel zien.'

Translated into English, but it doesn't rhyme anymore by doing so.

Cleavage

I just count to ten
and then say
"Excuse me madam,
I can see your bellybutton. "
__________________________
Het Strand

Wij gingen samen naar het strand
en we staarden naar de zon
terwijl we niet doorhadden dat het begon

Wij gingen samen naar het strand
en we staarden naar de wolken
en de golven begonnen te kolken

Wij vielen in slaap onder de zon
en lagen uren op het strand
dus nu zijn we allebei verbrand

Translated into English, rhyme gets lost in this one, too.

The Beach

We went to the beach together
and stared at the sun
without realizing it already had begun

We went to the beach together
and stared at the clouds
and the waves began to swirl

We fell asleep underneath the sun
and we lay on the beach for hours
so now we're both burned
____________________________

Uit

Spanning in de zaal,
men maakt geen geluid,
Ik sla de bal,
maar de bal is uit

Translated version, again destroying the rhyme

Out

Tension in the (sports)center/arena,
the people don't make a sound
I hit the ball,
but the ball is out
_____________________________
They are better in Dutch. Translating poems doesn't seem to be doing them any good.