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Poetry


Shryke

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after sitting in a cafe being rather bored today i looked down at my little notepad in front of me and all of a sudden had words pouring into my mind

 

i started to scribble them down, and lo and behold, a strange little poem began to appear upon the pages

 

from time to time this sort of thing happens. i don't even really know where the hell the inspiration comes from. i can be doing the most innocuous things, and all of a sudden get an idea :sorcerer:

 

i was just curious if there were any others here that indulge in writing such things, or would be willing to share them

 

or even, who (if any) would be your favourite poets?

when your mind works against you - fight back with substance abuse!

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I like cats, meow

Frolicking among the grass

Where is ham, desu

There was a time when I questioned the ability for the schizoid to ever experience genuine happiness, at the very least for a prolonged segment of time. I am no closer to finding the answer, however, it has become apparent that contentment is certainly a realizable goal. I find these results to be adequate, if not pleasing. Unfortunately, connection is another subject entirely. When one has sufficiently examined the mind and their emotional constructs, connection can be easily imitated. More data must be gleaned and further collated before a sufficient judgment can be reached.

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yeah it's not always poems for me

 

my notebook is full of all sorts of random little anecdotes and stories, and random scribbles

 

one thing i was tempted to write down was a very odd remark i heard when i was purchasing something from a store

 

cashier: how's your day been so far?

me: nothing special, could be better

cashier: well on the bright side, it could always be worse. you could have leprosy

 

anyhoo, to be back on topic, here's a random poem i wrote at like 1am ages ago

 

are these memories real?

have i been dreaming my life away?

maybe i was just sleeping

imagining a better day

but the dream has turned to ****

the nightmare everlasting

lost within my own mind

my hands cold and grasping

can never reach the other side

can never quite pull through

ever stuck within the dream

with these memories of you

when your mind works against you - fight back with substance abuse!

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i actually end up writing a lot of stuff while i'm at work

 

to be honest, there's not much else to do between midnight - 8am (other than come on here and harass people like Archie) :sorcerer:

when your mind works against you - fight back with substance abuse!

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I used to write a lot of free-form poetry & scribbles. I have notebooks full of the stuff. Most of it was what I'd call therapeutic mind cleansing, but it helped quiet the mind, so I wrote. :lol:

 

Oddly, I didn't like writing poetry via keyboard, so as I slowly stopped using pen and paper over the years, I also stopped scribbling.

“Things are as they are. Looking out into the universe at night, we make no comparisons between right and wrong stars, nor between well and badly arranged constellations.” – Alan Watts
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i write poetry every so often ... use to do a lot of writing now just occationally.

 

i actually have a book published called On the Border or One Step Beyond ... which can be found on amazon.com

 

sample:

 

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY...

 

The moon spoke silver deviltry

Like a whisper laughing greed

To reflect a ghost- spawning ceremony

With it

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My poetry could easily be classed a crime against humanity. My favourite poets are Pablo neruda, and G.K. Chesterton (when he wasn't being anti-Semitic*).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*There's debate about whether he was or not. I happen to think he was. But at the time practically everyone was. And at least GK wasn't frothingly anti-semitic. Indeed he occasionally said some rather nice things about Judaism, hence the debate.

"It wasn't lies. It was just... bull****"."

             -Elwood Blues

 

tarna's dead; processing... complete. Disappointed by Universe. RIP Hades/Sand/etc. Here's hoping your next alt has a harp.

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*There's debate about whether he was or not. I happen to think he was. But at the time practically everyone was. And at least GK wasn't frothingly anti-semitic. Indeed he occasionally said some rather nice things about Judaism, hence the debate.

Kinda like Bobby Fischer.

coexistreflection.gif

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*looks up Bobby Fischer*

 

No.

 

GK was if nothing else a fan of the little guy, and simple decency. I doubt he would have regarded the Holocaust as anything other than a catastrophe wrought by irreligious brutes. Shown the eradication of Gypsy and Jewish culture from Eastern Europe he'd have probably spent the rest of his life trying to nurture what was left. Think big pies, banging on tables while you speak, and waving a stick at the Hun.

"It wasn't lies. It was just... bull****"."

             -Elwood Blues

 

tarna's dead; processing... complete. Disappointed by Universe. RIP Hades/Sand/etc. Here's hoping your next alt has a harp.

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i write poetry every so often ... use to do a lot of writing now just occationally.

 

i actually have a book published called On the Border or One Step Beyond ... which can be found on amazon.com

 

a friend of mine actually had a book published a couple of months back, and he was trying to persuade me to collect together some of my poems and try and get it published

 

i suppose it's just a matter of trying to collect all the stuff i've written. it's sorta all over the place, and there's probably dozens written on scrap paper and stuff that i've just thrown away

when your mind works against you - fight back with substance abuse!

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a friend of mine actually had a book published a couple of months back, and he was trying to persuade me to collect together some of my poems and try and get it published

 

i suppose it's just a matter of trying to collect all the stuff i've written. it's sorta all over the place, and there's probably dozens written on scrap paper and stuff that i've just thrown away

 

that's how most of mine where and it took forever to rewrite them into the computer ... still have tons of them I haven't gotten to. I do have enough together for another book though (working title Dancing through the unknown), just haven't put the final touches on it yet.

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This is something I wrote years ago when I was 17, to the girl I seriously believed to be the love of my life:

 

 

My world, a field of grass

Every joint too good to pass

Every spliff I had to smoke

Every blunt I had to toke

In the morning and after class

My eyes were glary, just like glass

That field of grass was all I knew

But all that changed when I met you

You are the flower in the grass

Just like that joint, too good to pass

But unlike my beloved pot

Share this flower I would not

So to protect you from the mass

I put a sign "Keep off the grass"

 

 

I'm still proud of it :)

Edited by Pope
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