my latest poem - impulsiveness [Archive]

peaccenicked

12th July 2002, 11:11

impulsiveness

Loneliness is an illusion or the ultimate
reality;
an underground route that stems from banality
Off the road of an improvised moment
Who turns their back on the hunter's scent?

To whistle with timid wildness
and never face the pitiless storm.
The earth stripped bare of all
that makes it warm

And where to shelter from the dark?
The open forest or streets of gold
Fates unknown but that sly fortune
that favours the bold

Exploration or reckless abandon.
This now of ill decision
so nourished by sadness
and empty derision.

Valkyrie

12th July 2002, 14:53

Bravo comrade.

Supermodel

12th July 2002, 20:18

Peacenicked
A poem by Supermodel (ahem)

Your derision of loneliness
is not real, my friend
you seek loneliness more than ever
wanting a mind resting, an end

One thing missing today
Peace's life, and yes mine,
a moment of quiet
a place like a shrine

Just let birds make noise
then pass us on by
now no sound is heard
breathe in, deep deep sigh

you listen to Che
Marx, Fidel, Putin, Mao
but when, friends in philosophy
is it time for YOU now?

What thoughts can you add
to the great thought now present
or no thoughts at all
emptiness I cannot resent

We cannot regret
Lives spent toiling and zipped
In our offices, class or clinic
constant babble we have lipped

But the one thing that's missing
in the middle of it all
Is your voice, friend Peace,
Can you hear it? so small?

Not the voice that says Hi
or another beer please
but the voice that says
what......why......as all movements freeze

Then clarity or confusion
no one knows which
you capture the birth of a thought
now, you can call yourself rich.

Peace.

peaccenicked

13th July 2002, 04:00

I do not deride loneliness
I celebrate the tears
I live amongst the torture
I am angry at all fears

(Edited by peaccenicked at 4:13 am on July 13, 2002)

peaccenicked

13th July 2002, 11:20

Deary me, in my poem I tried to evoke fear, I thought what if a poem could be a horror movie, Perhaps that is
impossible, it criminalises the poet. But it is about bringing out inner tension
Catharthis, perhaps even shock. While centring rationality. I did nt think I failed so miserably. I am not judgemental and my last line, I try to recuperate the feeling of 'the ultimate reality'. I leave my first question in the air.
As to peace of mind, I am reminded of Paul Weller ''Stop dreaming of the quiet life it is the one you will never have.''
Comrade Supermodel I am a chess fanatic.

Burns is my inspiration but the poetry competition demanded shortness.
http://www.robertburns.plus.com/tamoshanter.htm

(Edited by peaccenicked at 12:12 pm on July 13, 2002)

peaccenicked

13th July 2002, 12:37

Intensity.

Down in the village there lives a hard man
drinks cider to quarter to three.
This is a world without redemption
says he loves insanity.

The womans touch is out of reach
Hear him sing, and hear him screach.

He goes down to a harlem movie.
A lump of sugar in a cup of tea.
He sleeps with ghosts and awkward questions
Duck pretty woman and marry me.

She says
Fraudulent lifestyles are my foreboding.
At least you get what you almost see.

Into the church is the sweet reception
jingle bells are on the wall.
The kiss is the silent perfection.
god forgives each lonely soul.

(Edited by peaccenicked at 12:47 pm on July 13, 2002)

Anonymous

19th July 2002, 02:40

Someone has been talking bad about K because in one morning, without any reason he was arrested! ...... and so the tree men walked the two Guards Grabed K, And they tree together made a giant men! K said nothing, he dind demanded for answers, he spared us from heroic deeds, it was night and no one was on the streets, they arrived to a stone quarry, the guards lyed K and puted is head on a stone, at the left of the quarry there was a house, with one opened window, and one human, with his hands streched into the moonlight, K wonder who is it? A friend? Humanity? my salvation? just a qurious persone? it dind mather anymore, the wondow was alredy closed, one guard took a knyfe out of his jacket, he passed the knyfe to the other guard, making the knife pass on top of k´s head, k knew that that was his chance to grab thr knyfe and degolate himself with it, but he dind had courage to do it, then the other guard looked at the knyfe, using the moonlight like a candel, then passed the knyfe to the first guard, and this craved the knyfe in K´s Heart, making the knyfe twist two time, -Like a dog, just like a dog" said K like if living thatmoment on was too shamefull.

from "the Process" Franz Kafka

well this has nothing to do with your poems but its soo god that i had to writ it!

peaccenicked

19th July 2002, 03:39

thought provoking, Kafka gives me the willies.

Anonymous

20th July 2002, 02:25

i just love kafka´s litle stories! (the city´s symbol, short fairy tale, the vulture, before the law, the neighbour etc) Kafka is the best comtemporanean writher! his storys reveal the weakness of kafka.
When he finished The Process (wich i writhed some in my last reply) he readed it to some os his friends, and while he was reading it he was laughing very loud! almost pissing his pants! expecially in the end of the book!

mentalbunny

23rd July 2002, 18:48

I wrote this poem about my best friend, and was gonna put it in this school poem mag but they thought that parents wouldn't like it so they changed it and put it in anyway. I don't mind that they didn't like it,I do mind that they changed it. what do u think:

soulmate

Lying down, I can’t see your face,
But still, I know.
The sobs that wrack your body
Leave tearstains on your pillow.

Bloodstains on the blade,
Slashes on your arm
I see your mental pain
Turn to my own self-harm.

I must be strong
To see you through
Although it’s tough
I must be True.

True to my promise,
True to myself
True to the friendship
Above all else.

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

I think it's ok, the rhyming's a bit squiff but when i was writing it, it just wanted to rhyme, you know how things sometimes write themselves.

mentalbunny

31st July 2002, 22:51

I feel so unnapreciated, no one's telling me what they think!

By the way I like all the other poetry on here, I'll have a really good look at it soon.

andresG

1st August 2002, 02:05

This poem is not written by me but I thought I had to share this peace of wonderful literature.

Funky Monkey
by James Mongeluzo

There was once a monkey
His name was funky.

Look!
Over there!
On a chair!
A funky monkey.

(Edited by andresG at 2:06 am on Aug. 1, 2002)

peaccenicked

1st August 2002, 02:10

Metalbunny
The message is good.
That makes up for any weakness in style.
I liked it.

Anonymous

1st August 2002, 15:53

aim a blowtorch at my eyes

pour acid down my throat

strip the tissue from my lungs

choke my baby to death in front of me

spare me nothing.

watch us starve

don’t ever say sorry

Anonymous

1st August 2002, 16:01

I defy everybody to translate this poem:

No calor da febre
que me alaga toda a fonte
Sinto o gume frio da navalha ate ao osso
Sinto o cão da morte a bafejar no meu pescoço
E a luz do sol a fraquejar no horizonte
Ja desfila trémulo o cortejo do passado
Que me deixa quedo surdo e mudo de pesar
vejo o meu desgosto na beleza do teu rosto
sinto o teu desprezo como um dado envenenado

hehe i bet no one can translate it

(hint: its in portuguese!)

mentalbunny

2nd August 2002, 23:42

anarchist, I recognise your english poem (although you didn't write it, I know that). It had a impact on me when I first read it, it's incredible.

I've done laods of lyric-type stuff, which is jsut really shit poetry that rhymes. But I got one decent, slightly twisted bit of prose out of it. Now microsoft word on my computer has fucked up (good ol' bill) so I can't get to it, but i'll try to remember it:

Blood, like liquid ruby, seeps under the door, glinting in fluorescent light. Shiny lino turns scarlet under the water of life. Don't open the door, you don't know what you'll see. A young girl sits there, naked and torn. Her pale skin covered in her own blood and her father standing by, holding a knife, twelve inches of steel sheathed in his daughter's blood.

well? what'du think?

Anonymous

3rd August 2002, 21:57

Mentalbunny, yes the peom i wrote in english isnt mine, and the poem that i writed in portuguese isnt mine too, i dont have that "touch" to write poems!
about your poems they are good, expecially the first you wrote!:biggrin:

Anonymous

3rd August 2002, 22:15

Well although i said that i dont hve the "touch" to write poems i will try to say one :

SOCIETY

Your music makes me deaf
Your food makes me hungry
Your money makes me poor
Your good makes me evil

Your God is soo great
And I am soo small
Your God is life
And i am death
Your God is all
I am nothing
Your God is perfect
I am just scum
Your God is the lord
Then we are slaves

But I am free
Then your God is death

Anonymous

3rd August 2002, 22:17

Ups!! the last word i writed was "death" but i wanted to write "Dead!"

mentalbunny

3rd August 2002, 22:46

Actually my first poem (although the second isn't stricly a poem) is about guerillaradio, hope he isn't embarrased by that. We used to go to the same school, but he's left now, which is sad for me.

Anarchis, I'm glad you like the poem, I'm not sure about it, oh well. I like your last post, if it isn't yours who's is it?

bluerev002

4th August 2002, 02:22

wow so many good poems. i only wish i could experess myself in that sort of way, all i do is think.........think.....
and think somore, but never in a piece of paper. and when i do write it on da paper its not the same as in my thoughts. even if it is the same, its no good i cant write something as beutiful as your guys'. or any ones, at that. hm i guess poetry is not my thing. its not that im shallow, i hear lots of people say im deep(dunno if its true i dont really know myself). sigh. aw well.

bluerev002

4th August 2002, 02:27

Quote: from peaccenicked on 4:00 am on July 13, 2002
I do not deride loneliness I celebrate the tears
I live amongst the torture
I am angry at all fears

i like this one. its really great. i am not angry at the fears instead i am part of it, i live amongst torture, but only what i give myself, and i love......to see the tears, the deaths of others in a murder makes me grin, its just so beutiful (i was the only one smiling at the twin towers thing but i felt a strange anger mixed with... shock). in its own way death is very beutiful, i dont know maybe im just crazy

(Edited by peaccenicked at 4:13 am on July 13, 2002)

(Edited by bluerev002 at 2:29 am on Aug. 4, 2002)

(Edited by bluerev002 at 2:30 am on Aug. 4, 2002)

bluerev002

4th August 2002, 02:33

well that post is weird

was it supposed to come out like that?

i mean the post above this one. i replied and look how it came out.

Anonymous

4th August 2002, 23:27

No surrender!
Still unhurt
We fight!!

this is the trench that never surrenders
Fighting the front
Attacking their nest!

All out!!
we rise our flag!
All out!!
We are rulling our path!

canikickit

5th August 2002, 02:13

I find poetry can be quite pretentious.

angry

5th August 2002, 02:35

Wounds of love.

Looks like life with you,
is done with me.
Now you like me too
but I´ve dealt with thee.
The fear I feel
is my own sorrow.
The wounds wont heel,
not today or tomorrow.

Love isn´t rattional.

In the search for love,
I will lose.
I´m no longer above,
and I´ve payed my dues.

Anonymous

7th August 2002, 00:05

I bet that if we joined all this poems we would make a good best seller! :biggrin:

angry

7th August 2002, 01:30

Don´t fall for love if you want to be sane...

Anonymous

11th August 2002, 21:28

sanity is for weaks, only tyrans dont love, i am constantly in love y something or someone (right now i am completly enloved by a girl!)

When i am enloved i cant hate, and when i hate i cant love!!

And if your love fails, dont give up because as my grandmother says "theres plenty of fish in the sea"

Anonymous

11th August 2002, 21:39

Victoryouse we will be
Because we are Titans
Smilling to the bullets
And screaming: Towards!
The wealth of the crops
Only here smells and burns

Madrid Madrid, how well your name sounds,
Wave Braker of all Spains!
Earth dilacerates it self, Heaven Roars
and you smile, with steel in your guts

This poems were righted by repblican poets during spanish civil war

mentalbunny

13th August 2002, 13:57

Quote: from canikickit on 2:13 am on Aug. 5, 2002
I find poetry can be quite pretentious.

i know what you mean, but good poetry is divine!

angry

14th August 2002, 01:35

sanity is for weaks, only tyrans dont love, i am constantly in love y something or someone (right now i am completly enloved by a girl!)

how is sanity for the "weaks"? if you are sane you are mentally strong, strong, not weak, I´ve heard the "plenty of fish in the sea" concept, but it seems love is not for everyone, some people love, some people are not meant to be loved or to love another, it seems to me that I am not supposed to love or be loved except by me family (I think), I think it is just the way it is.
But please the ones who can fall in love, and are loved,
I am not saying that you should stop it..I hear it is great..don´t listen to me in this particular subject....if it is as great as they say it is..