What went wrought
When wit went in it
What wild tongue
With words wrote wrong
Wise whilst written
Weird when spoken
Well worth Whisp'ring
Through well wetted whistles
Wordsworth wrenching
Clouds are broken
Some Devil, Some Angel by autumn-cannibal, literature
Literature
Some Devil, Some Angel
The last night has fallen
When all of the thoughts fade
Away. And suddenly you find
The rays are cast
In a bleaker light, for now
You see your once proud comrade
After all his pride and tone is lost,
You finally look upon him, and
When the world around you stops spinning
You focus upon the brightest thing you see.
Amidst the chaos you fall and
Weep upon the mud, then
You realise there is no time to
Live anymore, and at that moment,
How can you find the passion to
Write, laugh or love?
When did you last hear your brother cry,
I ask you.
What if Jane, whilst writing at her desk
Had closed the hearts, opened the chasm
And sold her soul. How many eyes would the breeze
Slam shut? How many girl's hearts would soften?
What code would they follow? A ring?
A ring around the rosy flesh and murmured breath,
Lessened by the wooden frame. Caught short, cut off.
Settle down. Just settle. She wrote the book on love,
Now we can do better, we can suck it up,
And swallow.
Twice a day. Just pass the water.
Or have you heard the one about Arthur?
A fatal young man of the time they say.
Oh a Cambridge man, well I wouldn't know.
All very holier than thou I'm sure
He didn't have t
I sat beside A solemn tree
Aged and blackened All through winter
The roots anchored in By a rusting crust
Now all that blooms Out beneath it
Just a rosebud Rising gently
Encrusted with A crown of ruby
Of course, I saw him only yesterday;
Some time, same place as I always do.
How did he look? How did he look,
Well his skin was positively shimmering.
Granted a few creases and ripples
Here and there, but no more than you'd find
In a plump orange perhaps,
Or in your most comfortable sweater.
But how could he look any less glorious
With two magnificent suns, giving him
Such warmth, such glow.
And I have followed his growth long enough.
Enough to be called an obsession, can you believe.
Or adoration, one or the other.
But look at me, I would look past him,
Through him, beyond him within my first thought or second.
If he would on
What went wrought
When wit went in it
What wild tongue
With words wrote wrong
Wise whilst written
Weird when spoken
Well worth Whisp'ring
Through well wetted whistles
Wordsworth wrenching
Clouds are broken
Tis in your love, my sweet, that I am drowned
And dragged to darkened depths by care alone
By razor thorned compassion, I am crowned
Left bleeding in devotion matched by none
Please spare me from the burning of your joy
The scolding of a pagan like embrace
Midst flaming flesh there stands a broken boy
Emblazoned by the lips upon your face
Your emanating warmth, it chokes me so
My Queen, your glow can melt the very air
None can withstand the aura of my beau
Except for me, a fool who dreamed to dare
Despite unholy smile and hateful laugh
So pleasant is this blessed aftermath
This morning's Rome by autumn-cannibal, literature
Literature
This morning's Rome
I gazed to look upon this morning's Rome
As sunlight breached the towering scape
To welcome waking Gods who traipse
The pillars clad in glass
The bold centurion guard begin their march
With praise to grounded coffee beans
Don midnight armour, leave their dreams
To guard the citadel
The concrete trenches tremble at the sound
Of chariots, self drawn, that cough
And splutter smog, as drivers curse
From fist to sharpened tongue
Philosophers in fine Armani robes
Beg answers of the blotted sky
Their questions torn as bullets fly
Through blood soaked alleyways
The coliseum filled with craving fans
To roar as lions pitch and hit
The
A face on which a laugh cannot be tamed
Nor shift the eyes from their transfixing glance
A masquerade, for means that won't be named
To mask a truth, or pointless circumstance?
Emotions fly but lose their wings to pride
Or hatred, to which Atlas could not bear
A mould to trap the thoughts which dwell inside
But always shall such thoughts be stirring there
A friendship lost to rumoured haunting weeps
To mourn the blank expression on your face
But now, it seems, the scar, it merely sleeps
Behind a mask, a comrade now must place
Unspoken truths, when lost to fleeting lies,
Remain to some the softest lullabies
They traipse the earth and crush its beauty born
Malicious screams that face a wincing sneer
The crude and curse replace the tooth and horn
As none would let their fragile souls appear
They seek respect and yet are pitied so
As all do slouch through time and meet disgrace
But such is not from roots or mocking foe
A glimpse at smeared reflections of their face
To lead the life of screeching wench or fool
The beauty must be in the eyes of thee
For not one man of honour has the tool
To find a trace of virtue there to see
They plague our streets as razors rip the skin
As they prevail would leave a void within
A sloth encaged in such a livid cell
A blade of grass midst drought and flame and flood
The shrill and lurid screams which bid you well
Who feed on cowards cry and angered blood
I feel amongst the wolves, and I, a horse
They circle to surround and rouse my fear
They do not bark and yet in voice as coarse
Do ask your name and dreams which brought you here
My curse is to be great amongst the lay
A prospered mind that's scarred by tooth and claw
Too few have such to prosper in this way
And never have I craved my loved one more
My age within this place will end in time
And so I once more gaze on the sublime
A love is but a candle
its the lovers who build the fire
stroke by stroke
we consume each other
as we consume the world
our hearts led together
by a simple kiss
A gentle kiss in the night
sparks igniting a numbing flame
that threatens to become a raging inferno
it swayes softly
slowly
tantalizing the flesh
burning the mind
as I slowly secumb to your touch
Hearts worn on sleeves fall too quickly
for I fell before I ever stood by your side
as an awakening of understanding
of confliction began
and in a moment i was yours
your innoncence unshaken
by my braz
The sooner this night ends
The faster I realise the mortality
Of eternal nightmare
I lay awake and yet asleep
Eyes fool my preceived mentality
That I refuse to share
Dreams swim around my head
All while question social morality
Returning answers unfair
Dawn breaks distant shawdows
As I realise the ultimate fatality
Of this dreamed affair
Try to open heavy sealed eyes
As the last of enclosed vitality
Leeches from stagnant air
He hurt me,
And he even makes me feel guilty now,
We seem to have gone above and beyond just misery,
He makes me feel like Im not good enough for happiness,
For love,
For trust.
He chose nothing and now I have nothing.
Except, I was given a gift today,
And it made me happy for a fleeting moment.
It was a smile from a boy.
Hey, I might even like this boy,
But no, I cant.
I cant betray him, though he hurt me.
I try to run away but I just get pulled back,
I try to run to the smile,
But should I trust the smile?
Its been so short a time, I dont know I can trust anyone.
Especially not myself.
Beside
I figured something out the other day.
A peculiar theory, I admit.
I realised that breaking,
Well, it isnt a sharp pain.
You imagine its like shards of glass through your chest.
Or maybe a hammer tenderising meat.
But no,
Turns out that breaking,
Well its something different.
Breaking is a mostly senseless, timeless realisation that something is missing inside you
And then, over time, you realise what that something is,
Your heart,
Your soul,
Your love.
Sounds rather melodramatic, I admit.
But perhaps not as melodramatic as broken glass or hammers.
Not as dramatic as your heart being cleaved in two.
Or rippe
I've been told I should be dying,
Like to test it out one night.
I'd like to suffocate you,
I'd like to put out your light.
Just this one time.
To see what it is like.
Without this life of mine.
So I'd like to try out dying.
I've been told that i should be flying,
Been told by the winds passing by.
I've been told that i should have feathers,
That I should be soaring in the sky.
Spiralling all around.
Forever I'll be free.
Never touch the ground.
So I'd like to try out flying.
I've been told that I should be sad
Tears on my face tell I've been crying,
The pain in my eyes shining
As all your words show me you're lying
Your t
The delegation of the nation
Keeping the litigation flowing
While the masses keep showing
Their faces display false knowing
Which turns the head of state
And helps them create
The coalition of the willing
Yet the blood keeps spilling
The innocents keep tilling
The fields with their bodies
And their souls form the basis
Of a permanent stasis
To lead to inevitable end
So they no longer defend
The rights they once had
Then it all leads to this place
With the poor lying face down dead
For a cause they never knew
And the liars keep lying
While the poor keep dying
For a cause thats not true
Theres a sweet little story
behind every I love you,
Because Ill sit down to write
a special little poem and
find that words just dont do the trick;
after all theyre only words .
They cannot show you
the depth of the ocean,
the height of the sky,
the reaches of the universe, or
the true intensities of colors.
And if pictures are worth
a thousand words
But these words cannot measure
the depth of my love,
Then Ill not draw a picture,
Care Shovel
Listen, to the shovel.
Can you dig?
I see the dirt you throw.
Where will this hole go?
Am I to never know?
Cigarettes and crackpipes,
metal bites glass,
tearing through the grass.
Another dispiriting night
delves past.
Flush me out of bushes
Got the pedal to the metal
Heart leaping, lungs of sand
Everything is larger than me
Slip me away unseen
Running in front of a train
Almost on empty but
I just have to get away
Current Residence: Wherever I wake up (england) Favourite genre of music: Rock/Jazz MP3 player of choice: Sony Walkman Favourite cartoon character: Who's that speedy fellow in the sombrero? Personal Quote: Luck is a blessing, misfortune is a test
By the grace of the tide, i am upon your shores once more, if you'll have me. i have 4 new poems and one on the way. i have missd you all, and im ready to write again vis vires ex
I've been a little restless recently, but the evidence of my creative energy has yet to come to fruition. So I am reaching out to you, my esteemed network of scholars, writers, artists and enigmas: Please, give me something to write about. I would greatly appreciate any help you could give me
Hi again everyone.
I was wondering if any of you would be gracious enough to offer me your opinion; I need to put together a portfolio of my poetry for an interview at Warwick University. Unfortunately, I can only include 5 or 6 of my poems. I was wondering if you could contact me and tell me which of my poems you liked the most. I would greatly appreciate your help, thank you so much