Original Poetry Thread

[Jonse]

[Untitled]

From the back of the head
Down the neck of the rested
Dawns on the morning sun

To the people of color
And the people of brotherhood
We forget ourselves

In the wild we generate
Acronyms for a natural face
Whatever we want to see

From the lichens and parasites
From the unborn and hosts
From the apes that we see the most

Is everything among us complete
Do we disconnect from our hometowns
To erase the organic beat
Were we all there and peculiar
Were we smashed into plates
For bilious responses to imperfection
Did you know me before I finished
For what we all share from just one source

From the back of the head
Down to the backs of the wicked
Dawns at perfect dusk

Cain, my only one
My final crutch is gone
And we forget ourselves

In the city we punctuate
Every breathe of air we take
All people smite and hate

It's alright

You are conscious

We live to forget being made of mistakes

It's alright

You are honest

An idol to be proud of

It will not change

"Though everyone who seeks something greater may pursue it through a different path, we all experience the same struggle of reaching for artistry and the feeling of starting from nothing and nowhere, attempting to climb the highest building without any tools and with hail pouring down on us."

[Jonse]

Seems as though I'm the only one posting in this thread for quite some time.

This is possibly the saddest fictional thing I've written in a while.

Principled and valiant.
He was - she was.
And she carried a blowtorch.
And she rode upon that with two legs.
He was nimble and swift.
Razor sharp charm matched only by the blade of his scimitar.
"Eslabeth".

She paired her arms with a long pole, carved metal at the end.
A halberd contorted with legacy.
Owned by her sister, prior father, and his own.
Her hair crackled as the winds carried it.
Her helmet would fall ever so slightly, and she'd tip it back up and blush.
She'd regain her composure and light the cutting edge.
"Siefmoen"

There is a tale of two whose gait led them to the ends of the earth.
Whose desire became heresy.
Escape kept them together, and with assistance they now live.
Bound by superficial words posing for feeling.
They reached an oasis of irrevocable love, figuratively and literally.

They lived alone. On windy nights, they'd sit outside as the door swayed behind them and the icicles formed. Owls and finches would sing to appease.
For they were the eagle and the hawk of the land.
Meters deep in snow she'd giggle and smile knavishly. Her clumsiness and eager attitude always became her downfall, but when harmless it served to make her more adorable. He was sly, and imperfect. Crafty, an artist, but not one who could ever believe what he would see before his eyes when he gazed upon her. The vixen was what he deemed without flaw - a work of art - and he longed to create with her a movement of that art.

And so they'd seal themselves into isolation. Neither knew how they would handle their hypothetical kin, but it was of no matter to either of them. They'd abide by the feeling that intruded upon their reason, and so they sought offspring, making love vulnerably without relent. And beyond their consummation, as the gusts rang the chimes and the kind breeze rushed to greet them each day outside, they pressed and clutched together, one on another, with a sense of hope. They had a tremendous inclination for optimism, for promise - infatuated, burning with expectancy. Yearning for their seemingly realized future.

She miscarried.

The crowned one pulled the chain, and the gates slid down. As the crowd shouted with perversion, as violent cheers echoed throughout the arena, they faced each other now having to pay for their sins in compliance with the monarch. Scars had turned them into broken, deviant soldiers.

It was customary.

With arms presented and aimed at the two, they begun when ordered. Her mount scraped the gravel and charged with haste. He quickly rolled - prickly thorns on the ground tore his shoulder's exposed flesh, breaking through the thin cloth with no difficulty. His leg, kicking the leggings off, left her on the ground. Backstepping after raising, he avoided her thrusts as she charged on foot, grasping her pattern and finding an opening. She ran to the side of him and swung downwards, slashing into his torso deeply. Her head jerked and her helmet flew off. Her neck loosened, and she could now see downwards his blade, straight through her own midriff. There was no sorrow as they fell. Collapse was met with applause and barbaric yells from the crowd.

He landed over her. A fair shade of white began to rush over their faces as the ground was painted dark red. Low, and with no strength, they fell into a pile. Her cheek grazed his, her attempt at holding back emotion failing. Desaturating the violet fluid, they were damp with the same tears that had once descended following a proclamation of passion and devotion. Pupils widened, gasping, she tried to speak with no success. He pushed just to reach her hand to no result. They shared their fate, and became two lifeless graves. A fortnight later, their tomb of the arena was cleared for the next heretics.

It was customary.

[Cupz]

I can hear you
Like the black blistered outside
I can hear you

You can stop,
if you don't mind,
I can hear you
Please stop,
I can hear you.
Do it more eligantly,
I can hear you.
I CAN HEAR YOU.

OK, take your time and pick what you want me to hear.
You can't spam me, spam like you would you normal pear.
Please take you time, wrestle with the idea
what you want me to hear
what you want me to hear

my brain can only take so much,
its easily overloaded.
Please take your time, wrestle with the ide
what you want me to hear.

More music then attention.
More stuff then mind.
Please take your time
think what comes naturally.

I can hear you
Like the black blistered outside
I can hear youI can hear you
Like the black blistered outside
I can hear youI can hear you
Like the black blistered outside
I can hear youI can hear you
Like the black blistered outside
I can hear youI can hear you
Like the black blistered outside
I can hear youI can hear you
Like the black blistered outside
I can hear you

[Sl Flk]

Title - Fractal dreams

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I lay belly down on the rocks,
The tide languidly falls away, revealing it’s eternal treasures.

My heart, beat synchronised to god’s precision and the busy traffic of the bees.

Receptive of every grain of sand and all that creeps or crawls.
All having residency in this life’s dream.

The illusion that is real.
Grains of sand, my blood.
From earth I am born. To earth is my go.
All is to be revealed… In the tidal ebb and flow.