Be it Angstful (yeah, it's mmm'new word DAMNIT), grotesquely depressional, morbidly hateful, or emotionally incoherent, it's time to get poetic on someone's ass.

I'd like to propose a thread for all the strange mental currencies fellow nubblites out there have to share. Post your poetic ramblings here. And tho, reading the well refined or blathering emotionally charged locutions from your fellow nubblites would in itself be worth throwing away a few combined hours worth of potential home or occupational work, I propose a slight spin on our upcoming feast of words. Let it be that each nubblite submitting a piece shall be required to write a brief review of the immediately previous submission. For all those, wandering in to partake, may it be that they leave with fruitful review by which to refine their art.

All are welcome... ...Ah. Yeah, I suppose even you Hoe. I have seen that on random occasion you too have taken to a poetic rambling or two. You should post as well. I won't even write well based slander upon your poetic aspirations... well... no more poking fun that I would at anyone else anyway (all in good jest).

So without further introduction, I shall bestow upon you fine mortals a tale with longing about a common subject... The suck-azitional nature of life in Warsaw.

-------------------------------------

Nights of Warsaw and Alcohol

No, I will not go to the bars with you,
I will not even start the car in that direction with you.
I find you boring and incredibly dull.
(But for some reason I have not been able to resist your pull…?)
Why do you not leave me be?
There are plenty of stories that lend adventure to my life,
Advice from you mouth? Only leave me in strife.
I listened to you once, I heard all your lies,
Was talked at and spoke at, heard all your social ties.
I grow angry at your pointless speeding pursuit of chasing tails and letter bomb mails.
There is so much more available for discussion, why not try something involving real passion?
Why is this so beyond your vision?
Why do you hate so much?
Why not calm your mission?

So in this pseudo-sanctuary of family and home I rot down with my inkless pen all that I believe need be known.
In play time, I’d tweak with a paradigm, rather than suffer a ball or a toy.
Where did the dreamers go?
Has anyone found my peace and serenity, once called hope?

My heart cries out for a genuine pain, a tangible rebellion with aid and friends.
But, I’m sick of the fight.
And violence galore, and harshness and lewdness, tantrums beating the floor.

So what choice does this leave me? A confusional mess.
Hot Dog! Opportunities, looking right, looking left.
But is intuition the savior, the rescuer, the godsend?
Is focusing on this my long needed aid-mend?

So where do I start? And what courage to accumulate?
What faith in myself?
What direction to heal?
“it’s all an illusion so focus on what’s real…”
And what is real but, love, fun and adventure?
GOD DAMN, maybe it’d be easier if I already had tenure.

And I showed all my courage, my faith and my might,
To overcome a social pressured dilemma that paralyzed me with fright.
I looked up through the sky for aid in my quest,
I put my heart to an answer and got what was best.
A talk with the old soul, the man who knows faith,
And in us I put mine to feel a way out of this place.
And out we came, not I but, us both.
Me, one step closer to finding my betrothed.
Yet, the forceful one, I have seen he has bounds.
And if I lack in awareness of this thing styled ‘contention’,
I win and they win like a divine intervention.
And I love them all, and the story continues with good ending,
And my heart, yeas our hearts, have done a fair bit of mending.

And Fun, Love, and Adventure… Manifest…

Chan, I must say, because of the everpresent positive inquiries in your writing and unique rhyming style, I have always been reminded of you whence listening to 311, it's nuts.

This whole section was great and completely reminded me of Dr. Seuss. I'm really feeling this idea, "A talk with the old soul, the man who knows faith, And in us I put mine to feel a way out of this place. And out we came, not I but, us both." Having faith in the human race as a whole is something I've been juggling for a long time now. I recently wrote a not-as-well-orchestrated set of meanderings about such.

Key issues here man. I think your merging of something like an old saying in "chasing tails" and more blunt realistic example in "letter bomb mails" nails (heheh) the point. It's good to mix atmospheres like that. Because you get totally different vibes from being vague and being specific I think.

This is one powerfully-packed line here. A paramount declaraction proving a paramount declaration.

I really think you've done a good job capturing the importance that you're trying to convey. For me it's because of the somewhat desperate, but resolved tension, and then the consequent "peace and serenity" that prevails really gives me the sense of a realistic ongoing accumulation of will.

Yep. I'll get something new on the board here in a few... but I don't want to introduce the next stuff until people have had a chance to read the former.

[ December 09, 2003, 01:38 AM: Message edited by: Titan ]

Alright then.

Here's a contrast to Chan's grandiloquent prose. These lyrics were written and then coincidentally applied to a loungey blues song.

pillow, soft and delicate,
where my head rests post predicate.
comfort zone. not to be alone.
disturbing thoughts arise, only at night.
but the scent of you is all I need
to calm me down and settle me.
my eyes go numb. you see me through
the winter weaks and what will become.
when my pillow sleeps so do I,
swiftly forcing my nightmares to die.
train me so, I go solo,
calling this and that place home.
if you only fit inside this sheet,
to wash away my fears, rinse and repeat,
my phobic days, their death would meet.
I just found your hair at my feet.

[ December 10, 2003, 06:14 AM: Message edited by: Titan ]

Damn. I was hoping that we'd have more brave souls. Well, fuck. I'm not gonna let this good idea go to waste.

Titan. This is BadAss.

pillow, soft and delicate,
where my head rests post predicate.
[I love the phrase post predicate, it conjours up images of a distant and nearly forgot turmoil.]

comfort zone. not to be alone.
disturbing thoughts arise, only at night.
but the scent of you is all I need
to calm me down and settle me.
[1. you know the aid-mend you seek for your troubles]

my eyes go numb. you see me through
[2. you've nourished your aid-mend and spawned a linked maturity]

the winter weaks and what will become.
when my pillow sleeps so do I,
swiftly forcing my nightmares to die.
train me so, I go solo,
calling this and that place home.
if you only fit inside this sheet,
[as though, the person is so happy, so utterly content that, if you could just capture that feeling in a song, maybe everyone would understand]

to wash away my fears, rinse and repeat,
[throwing in rinse and repeat not only adds a kick of humor but really gives the writing another dimension. the reader goes through the action with you and takes on the mind frame of the action itself. I found myself, not before, but after rinsing and repeating, wondering what it is that I do to wash away my fears. then I wondered what it is that you do to do the same. that was an amazing three hit combo: rinse and repeat.]

my phobic days, their death would meet.
I just found your hair at my feet.
[this is a real display of maturity. there's a deep understanding of the individual and the relationship here. what two are together and what each is on their own.]

This was an amazing writing. I wasn't sure if you meant that the lyrics had the music or that the music hasn't been made up for the lyrics yet, but if it is floating around somewhere I'd love to take a listen.

That kicked ass.

Back in a bit after I've dredged something up from the archives...

[ December 14, 2003, 09:37 PM: Message edited by: Percipere'Chan ]

I hear from a reliable source that it can only be heard live, and that it's pretty pimp music.

I've heard that a nigger sings that song as well, so it must be good, black guys are the best at the blues.

And then..........

I'm getting eager to do some of this

I like to pretend
[no sarcasm]
by: Percipere’Chan

I like to pretend that the threat of nuclear war is out there. [img]smile.gif[/img]

That I or my friends, family, or future children might have to go to War someday (nuclear or otherwise). [img]smile.gif[/img]

That no matter the war, the cause is racial, religious, or political absolutism. [img]smile.gif[/img]

That we’re in danger of killing ourselves off due to ignorance of our inexorable link with our environment. [img]smile.gif[/img]

That the root cause is a socially contagious disease of the mind that causes not feigned or pretentious but real “evil”s. [img]smile.gif[/img]

That these real “evil”s are a manifested culmination of thoughts & feelings from the masses. [img]smile.gif[/img]

That I have the ability to do something about it. :mad:

:D Time to go play.

[ December 16, 2003, 04:23 PM: Message edited by: Percipere'Chan ]

Peripere, that was beautiful!

Percipere, very nice. At first glance before I read that, I had low expectations due to the smiley faces and such. After reading it, however, all worries were laid to rest. I love what you've done with the effect of the red face near the end. I can't quite explain my full opinion of it, seeing as though I have a much more limited vocabulary than some of the other users do. Whimsical, satirical, and thoroughly enjoyable. Well done Percy.

-------------------------------------------------------------

little ditty of mine, ridicule as you please

Charmed for an Age

I'll charm you for an age
to swallow like a pill
you'll choke as you let it down
a countdown to your end

And in solemn prayers and lullabies
In tattered bibles rest dusty lies
grow up too fast for your regrets
with rosary cheeks and whispering lips

When a soft hello echoes old goodbyes
of quivering lips and tear drop eyes
of songs to you, read under trees
filled with loveluster lies tossed around in the breeze

As charmed for an age as you'll ever be,
by crosses and floods, famine and disease.
use holy water to put out the fires
started by your religous wars.
Then wrap blessed bandages
around stigmata sores

I'll be your saving grace,
the trinity that calls you home
I'll be the answer to all your prayers
so that you'll never be alone.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Apologies for the nonexistant punctuation

[ December 17, 2003, 08:50 PM: Message edited by: Fruitacious B ]

You're quasi-rhyming scheme is captivating. I love it when the author really does whatever the hell he feels is necessary.

"And in solemn prayers and lullabies
In tattered bibles rest dusty lies
grow up too fast for your regrets
with rosary cheeks and whispering lips"

This whole stanza is pretty pimp. Great use of language here... the word play with rosary cheeks is just brilliant.

"When a soft hello echoes old goodbyes"

Man. I can think of so many occasions when that is relevant. That's just a really well captivated all-inclusive line right there.

"of songs to you, read under trees
filled with loveluster lies tossed around in the breeze"

Good mix of imagery and metaphoricalism.

"As charmed for an age as you'll ever be,
by crosses and floods, famine and disease.
use holy water to put out the fires
started by your religous wars.
Then wrap blessed bandages
around stigmata sores
I'll be your saving grace,
the trinity that calls you home
I'll be the answer to all your prayers
so that you'll never be alone."

I'd like to address the kick-ass-ness of this whole last bit. You make your point head-spinningly clear in the first part, and use some great wordery (much like the word "wordery"). And then tying former specific ideas into the personal tension at the end sort of lets you reflect (more-so if you've had likely applied experiences) and what-not. It works. I really think it works. I'm a fan.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is a recently vented set. Very basic and to the point. PC, you'll probably enjoy this right now.

<font color="gray">dire times devour the land when thought is gone. our power and wisdom and courage defines us all. now I can be what I want. my will to be is strong enough. so set us free.

ridiculous crimes pour through our minds when compassion's out-of-date. how'd we get this off? surely it's not how we were made. I think we could have what we crave if the goal that we sought wasn't blocked; all this shit's in the way. so set us free.

now I know where I can be alone. now I know how I can overcome. now I own my own life, now I know. now there's no way for you to silence what I know.

so fuck your abscence of compassion. fuck your greed and all your guns. you fuck yourself when you look away. it's your own world that you've thrown away.</font>

[ December 16, 2003, 04:54 PM: Message edited by: Titan ]

Titan,

Thanks Mano. I dig it.
<font face="blue">The last line especially so. I think it all tends to be a matter of focus. And when you focus on abscence, that's what you'll see. my 2cents.</font>
So here's a little revival for this thread. It was written for a ...'friend' of mine.

-------------------------
i asked, it was answered:

passion and love are different how?
passion is for a thing, love, with.
...But one stIll thinks it, 'unfathomable'.

and so i wrote:

my soul is weiGhted, i'll never fly so high as before
regret stains...
they DON't wash out.
only fade in time as the clothinG grows old.

dEscrepit, we near catharsis from blunted senseless wasteD life.
Strife. Is for wHile we're yOung.
and layEr upon layer, upon layer, upon layer...
nearly, they become blankets.

...we take comfort in the distance

seek ye the closure of god.
as we put to rest our troubled souls.
then lighten up again, to play the fool.
but for no audience that we'll se, we've passed on, and let th'rest be.
we had our chance,
- with broken, strange, absent love, sans featherweight grace

meanwhile...

don't bother showing a face

wy be present in an abscent world?
where pragmatism is the bottom line

un-fathom-able:
not capable of being fathom[:a unit of length used for measuring the depth of water]ed; a: impossible to comprehend; b:immeasureable

or is it just my wretched vision torn...

i can't understand the incomrehensible, but feel a presence nontheless...

god please help me, i'm so confused...

-

i replace you now from gratful function used,
unwittingly serving as my muse.
but with upon your lonely heart
...life

[ March 13, 2004, 03:57 AM: Message edited by: Percipere'Chan ]

[ March 13, 2004, 03:47 AM: Message edited by: physis ]

[ March 13, 2004, 03:47 AM: Message edited by: physis ]

my heart was in your hands
now its sprayed onto the wall
you were taken in a second
like the trigger being pulled

Running so hard
going nowhere fast
stoping just short of the end
I'm too short of breath
to finish this race
its so useless
she's already won
no one cares about second place
she walks away with it
it should have been mine

so we look at ourselves
blinking again and again hoping to open our eyes to a new light
and yet we awaken
only to see the reflection is the same
old faces staring into new wounds
our hands soiled with the cleanliness of our newly begotten sins
oh how young we feel

gathering the riches of the world
gobbling it all up inside us
taking it to our graves where it truly matters, right?

so stare into the sun
chase it till it dies
blind yourself in ignorance
lose yourself in your own shadow

wow.. i almost wanted to post something on here.. but i read everything that was posted.. and, well.. i am no match

maybe another day

I find that the more I write poetry using a really strict form (a sonnet, villenelle, triolet, sestina) the better my free verse gets. I am a firm believer that a good poet has to learn the rules before he can break them and become really original with his work. Also, I think most of the poems posted on this thread are great.

So here is a sonnet that I wrote.

The Duality of Men(tality)

My only friend and bitter enemy
Fills my eyes with tears then wipes them dry.
As gentle as my Father taking care of me
With fire and grace he tears me from the sky.
Shieking from the outside to my inner hate
Yet whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
Hell doesn't want him nor does the state.
If I died tomorrow he wouldn't shed a tear.
Kill him now, let him hang upon the tree.
Give him love and bow down at his feet.
Make him beg as he struggles there to breathe.
And while he swings you'll pay for your deceit.
For When you cut out your duality.
All that's left is an observers mentality.

Barry, I like that one, and I agree a good poet should learn the rules first.

"I'm on the edge leaning forward, all I need is a push,
I've been shoved to the cliff, there's no turning back now,
I want to let go, but my shoes are gripping tight, If I just had a push I could fall,
Serenading to the ground not slowing or stopping once,
Watching the world below me, as I come closer to the end,
This is my escape from hell, I'll never have to breathe again,
Now the ground is nearing, time is going slowly, memories flashing through my mind,
I want to float back upwards, I still want to live, it's almost over and I can't fix it now...
The ground and I are colliding, I gasp for one last breath,
I flash back to reality and look out off the cliff,
I look down on my doom, and turn my back on the fall,
I walk away a survivor, shaken by what I almost did,
Stronger than ever, but still afraid to face myself,
Someday I'll recover, but until then, I'll just hide in the shadows and seclusion."
[ -Malibu]

"I'm on the edge leaning forward, all I need is a push,

(hey there, could you give me a push? -I like the allusion.)

"I've been shoved to the cliff,"

(combination: 'time to shove off' & ~tone that says your parents are making you do something stupid again.)

"I want to let go,"

Malibu. Don't tell me you want to do it. I want to find out for myself. Tell me what goes on in your mind, heart, or soul and I'll get the picture.

"but my shoes are gripping tight,"

Tell me more about the personality of your shoes.

"If I just had a push I could fall"

Tell me how bad you want the push. Or tell me how timid you are about it. Or tell me both in two different voices.

"Serenading to the ground not slowing or stopping once"

I think this is the hardest part of the writting (on this subject) to do well.

I very much like how it was a flash-forward. I think I could really slip into this with a little work.

I don't think you really intended it as something to get feedback on at least not in a constructive manner or you would probably have posted it in the Strange Mental Currencies thread. Nonetheless, I find myself wanting to know more about The Approach. And what you are feeling as your eyes finally move from looking across to looking down. You might even take me somewhere completely different between when you're other shoe decides it's better to join it's comrade and when you feel... nothing.

I'm glad you posted this. I very much enjoyed it. I hope you're not offended that I brought it here. I believe, in order to gain the ability to shift between light and shadow, we must learn expression.

-p'Chan

"There is but one truely philosophical problem, that is Suicide." -Kammu

[ March 17, 2004, 07:58 PM: Message edited by: Percipere'Chan ]

BarryJive-

Your adherence to standardized temporal order is classic and normative. I would also say detestable but for the understanding that if one can appreciate strict form and learn its structures, one may, If they see true enough, forget which they learned first.

Please share anything you would wish to offer of structures and forms. I believe to would do much benefit to this thread. Thanks Jive. It was a Great post.

some things from recently...

My Brand New Path
[03.??.04]
Stealing minutes in this world
I am lying to myself
Fading thinner is my patience
To come back home

Shattered pieces have fallen to the floor
Mixing with the scattered papers
Paper once for expressing dreams
Only needed now to hold my pain

Nothing's left to give
I've given it all away
The one who has it
Has gone so far away

A lonely ghost I am, wandering
Through the mist by candlelight
An empty vessel I am sinking
Into the bowels of Hell tonight

Metal kiss the skin
- - -
Haze in Clouds on Your Night
[03.06.04]

whispers of me surround you
lie me down
my breath can be felt on you
feel the warmth of my mold
find me the truest and the pure
search with your life
empty the churches and the temples
search for salvation's light

you stand on this with no inclination
you stand there looking to put my away without hesitation
i am the one that follows you in your shadow
i am the creature you have been hiding from late in the night

i am the darkness of your heart

eating you alive
eating your eyes so you cannot see right
draining your compassion so they will hate you...
so you will hate you
i am the creature you will sleep with forever
i am the one who took your life

---
I just liked this one's title...
Suicide Notes and Daisy's Petals
[02.26.04]

Today I will kiss the barrel of my idignation's end. To feel the cold of the metal on my lips will calm my spinning head a little more. Or, just maybe; my wrists will become warm their own tears pouring out of slits of darkness. But will you see in time, in time to care. Would you even care? Maybe if I made myself like an ornament, hanging from high above. Would that be any better? Make you see? If I am out of the circle then you don't have to break stride to avoid me. You won't have me in the backroom in a dusty box in your mind anymore. There really is no chance of things being how they once were. I can see it in your eyes. I said I couldn't read you anymore, I have to admit I lied a little. I can see you lie to me, keeping me on that string. Why? I don't know and you won't tell me, but just maybe if I used the string to caress my neck you will wish you told me then. You will wish that just maybe you came a little closer a little sooner. Or you threw me away for good instead of holding on just enough to steal my life. This is not your fault, I am my own fault. I just wish that I could make you be you again, you a year earlier. Me a year earlier. But I am going back to the me you once knew, the me you saved me from. Don't you see what you are and can be? Maybe you do and you don't want that. Just tell me if that is how you feel. Because I am afraid that one of the above I shall soon feel if I can't find a way to get out of this cold. I will hold a daisy for you to have, white, like the true beauty of you. And at my feet will be a picture, now torn, but once together, showing us; how we once were and I wish to be again...
I can't let something as beautiful as you be tarnished by something like me. Wither away, I am withering away, but it feels like I just can't get away from you. You are the master of my thoughts. I can't go on like this much longer. I wish you would see, see just how much you really mean. It will be like before, it will be better than before. Just one more try...

Or just one more dies.

...but have no fear. I am not dead, see.

tru dat

Four Walls
[03.31.04]

This is my confinement
This is my cell
This is my quarters
This is Hell

Place a mirror before me to watch my life pass by
Give me a paper and pen to ink my good-byes
Shut the light from the windows to imitate my heart
Close my eyes, from this world I will part

These are my hands
These are my fingers
These are razors
These are my pills

Slice my skin to bleed out the pain
Open my up to expose all my shame
Open my mouth for the pills to fill my throat
Open my lungs for the last breath of hope

There is my body
There is my loathing
There is my creation
There is my failure

This is a sad end to a tragic beginning
Born into four walls ever spinning
Dead in the four walls of meaning
Only to live in your walls of loving