Poem of the Month - November 2024
Poetry Contest Description
Three weeks to nominate your favorite DUP poems!
You have THREE weeks to nominate no more than THREE of your favorite poems from another DUP poet!
Please note the following guidelines when making nominations:
The voting for this competition is anonymous; therefore, spoken word nominations will be disqualified.
1. Self-nominations are not accepted. The great majority of the competitions here are about spotlighting one's own work on a particular topic or theme. This is a chance to nominate that poem that you wish you had written but some other great talent here beat you to it.
2. You may nominate only THREE poems from THREE different DU members.
3. No DUPLICATE NOMINATIONS. If you nominate a poem that has already been nominated you will be asked to replace the nomination.
4. Any genre except erotica or pornography. This is a Facebook feature and we must adhere to their guidelines.
5. Any member who is banned or disables their account PRIOR to winning will be automatically disqualified.
6. One win per member per calendar year, beginning with the month they win.
7. Please notify your nominee they have been nominated. Please make sure your nominee has not won within the last 12 months.
Current Poem of the Month Hall of Famers:
2024:
January - Styxian
February - Confluence
March - Thor_Azine
April - Indie
May - LjDynamic
June - WillowsWhimsies
July - Nixprty
August - Shilohverse
September - Her
October - Wallyroo92
2023:
January - Styxian
February - Daniel Christensen
March - Betty
April - DaisyGrace
May - Northern_Soul
June - Neves
July - Razzerleaf
August - _feral
September - Adelphina
October - Cipher_O
November - no comp
December - sophos
2022:
January - Luna Greyhawk
February - AspergerPoet
March - Relic-54
April - Alan-S-Jeeves
May - _feral
June - Nevermindthegaps
July - Indie
August - inechoingsilence
September - Rianne
October - Bluevelvete
November - Honoria
December - KristinaX
2021:
January - brokentitanium (k.)
February - SatinUgal
March - X
April - RiAN
May - DaisyGrace
June - Bluevelvete
July - Jemac
August - Northern_Soul (-Missy-)
September - Joshsam
October - cold_fusion
November - Buddhakitty
December - Particles_of_HerII
2020
January - New Beginnings
February - Edible Words
March - Madame Lavender
APRIL - Monkeyman
MAY - Timagination543
JUNE - Lepperochan ( Craic-Dealer
JULY - Strangeways_Rob
August - Daniel Christensen
September - Aspergerpoet
October - Lunagreyhawk
November - Kristinax
December - Ahavati
2019
January - Daniel Christensen
February - Sophie_Ericson
March - AudioHarleea
April - From the Ash
May - Miss_Sub
June - Naajir
July - Layla
August - Ahavati
September - Miss_Sub
October - Howling_Whelms
November - Johnny Blaze
December - Rachel_Lauren
2018
January - Lady_of_the_Quill
February - ( Craic in a box )
March - Tinabubuya ( Tee Mali )
April - Crowfly
May - AtomicBomb
June - Miss_Sub (Missy)
July - Meadowsweet
August - Layla
September - Cold Fusion
October - Todski28
November - TheMuse22
December - Bender
2017
January - Vee
February - Crimsin
March - Onefiftysix
April - Daniel Christensen
May - Alexander Case
June - Aemelia564
July - The Silly Sibyl (Jack Thomas Heslop)
August - Quietusquill
September - Shadoe
October - Poetsrevenge
November - Naajir
December - Poetspeak
2016
November - John Feddeler
December - Ahavati
Please note the following guidelines when making nominations:
The voting for this competition is anonymous; therefore, spoken word nominations will be disqualified.
1. Self-nominations are not accepted. The great majority of the competitions here are about spotlighting one's own work on a particular topic or theme. This is a chance to nominate that poem that you wish you had written but some other great talent here beat you to it.
2. You may nominate only THREE poems from THREE different DU members.
3. No DUPLICATE NOMINATIONS. If you nominate a poem that has already been nominated you will be asked to replace the nomination.
4. Any genre except erotica or pornography. This is a Facebook feature and we must adhere to their guidelines.
5. Any member who is banned or disables their account PRIOR to winning will be automatically disqualified.
6. One win per member per calendar year, beginning with the month they win.
7. Please notify your nominee they have been nominated. Please make sure your nominee has not won within the last 12 months.
Current Poem of the Month Hall of Famers:
2024:
January - Styxian
February - Confluence
March - Thor_Azine
April - Indie
May - LjDynamic
June - WillowsWhimsies
July - Nixprty
August - Shilohverse
September - Her
October - Wallyroo92
2023:
January - Styxian
February - Daniel Christensen
March - Betty
April - DaisyGrace
May - Northern_Soul
June - Neves
July - Razzerleaf
August - _feral
September - Adelphina
October - Cipher_O
November - no comp
December - sophos
2022:
January - Luna Greyhawk
February - AspergerPoet
March - Relic-54
April - Alan-S-Jeeves
May - _feral
June - Nevermindthegaps
July - Indie
August - inechoingsilence
September - Rianne
October - Bluevelvete
November - Honoria
December - KristinaX
2021:
January - brokentitanium (k.)
February - SatinUgal
March - X
April - RiAN
May - DaisyGrace
June - Bluevelvete
July - Jemac
August - Northern_Soul (-Missy-)
September - Joshsam
October - cold_fusion
November - Buddhakitty
December - Particles_of_HerII
2020
January - New Beginnings
February - Edible Words
March - Madame Lavender
APRIL - Monkeyman
MAY - Timagination543
JUNE - Lepperochan ( Craic-Dealer
JULY - Strangeways_Rob
August - Daniel Christensen
September - Aspergerpoet
October - Lunagreyhawk
November - Kristinax
December - Ahavati
2019
January - Daniel Christensen
February - Sophie_Ericson
March - AudioHarleea
April - From the Ash
May - Miss_Sub
June - Naajir
July - Layla
August - Ahavati
September - Miss_Sub
October - Howling_Whelms
November - Johnny Blaze
December - Rachel_Lauren
2018
January - Lady_of_the_Quill
February - ( Craic in a box )
March - Tinabubuya ( Tee Mali )
April - Crowfly
May - AtomicBomb
June - Miss_Sub (Missy)
July - Meadowsweet
August - Layla
September - Cold Fusion
October - Todski28
November - TheMuse22
December - Bender
2017
January - Vee
February - Crimsin
March - Onefiftysix
April - Daniel Christensen
May - Alexander Case
June - Aemelia564
July - The Silly Sibyl (Jack Thomas Heslop)
August - Quietusquill
September - Shadoe
October - Poetsrevenge
November - Naajir
December - Poetspeak
2016
November - John Feddeler
December - Ahavati
ajay
Forum Posts: 2117
Dangerous Mind
2
Joined 21st Mar 2023 Forum Posts: 2117
Flashing Lights
when the twilight is a fading glow
beacon of life tell a tale of woe
the star is now a distant light
the fading glow signaling night
once strong stark and bold
standing as a sentinel with stories told
of bravery with audacious breath
never minding there lurks death
dances of love rhythmic embrace
not seeing shadows on fragile face
moments not seen, lost and found
thinking love last forever no end
with the zenith of the sun
reaper will make his stand
a smile a wink and a guiding hand
he takes us forward to the inevitable end
II: The Beginning
it was all based on trust
which led to the deceit
spoken in shadows cast
by an unsure heart
it was betrayal so bitter
the exquisite pain so sharp
with grace she held to her
love songs sung with angel harp
the friendship with hearts entwined
intricate patterns emotions designed
surface glitter in darkness lies
truth concealed in lying eyes
III: The broken Vows
her journey long her rest were short
kisses and hugs strewn along the way
confetti and rice thrown outside the church
ended vows when scene betray
hearts shattered yet try again
holding another stranger's hand
yet again promises made ended
kisses land on her bridesmaid
the fight was short
the battle lost
she walked away with a broken heart
yet again she travelled forth
...footprints on the sand
handprints on the wall
graffiti of life
in the walls of time...
beacon of life tell a tale of woe
the star is now a distant light
the fading glow signaling night
once strong stark and bold
standing as a sentinel with stories told
of bravery with audacious breath
never minding there lurks death
dances of love rhythmic embrace
not seeing shadows on fragile face
moments not seen, lost and found
thinking love last forever no end
with the zenith of the sun
reaper will make his stand
a smile a wink and a guiding hand
he takes us forward to the inevitable end
II: The Beginning
it was all based on trust
which led to the deceit
spoken in shadows cast
by an unsure heart
it was betrayal so bitter
the exquisite pain so sharp
with grace she held to her
love songs sung with angel harp
the friendship with hearts entwined
intricate patterns emotions designed
surface glitter in darkness lies
truth concealed in lying eyes
III: The broken Vows
her journey long her rest were short
kisses and hugs strewn along the way
confetti and rice thrown outside the church
ended vows when scene betray
hearts shattered yet try again
holding another stranger's hand
yet again promises made ended
kisses land on her bridesmaid
the fight was short
the battle lost
she walked away with a broken heart
yet again she travelled forth
...footprints on the sand
handprints on the wall
graffiti of life
in the walls of time...
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
Go To Page
PAR
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Forum Posts: 317
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Dangerous Mind
20
Joined 26th May 2022Forum Posts: 317
Dreams, Streams & Waterfalls
This life has had it's way
This place has had its way with me
This loss that burns so cold
Won't back down it will never go away
These dying breaths are fading now
Seems like breathing has lost its charm
That flame i once felt inside
Seems the glow finally died
The memories i had of you
And the place where we ran through
Streams and waterfalls
The memories are fading now
Just like the strength that carried us through
Dreams and waterfalls
Is this what it will come to?
A drowning pool of hopeless heartache
A pond where memories die
Slowly drained and washed away
If i had the strength i would lift us up
If i had some more undiscovered ways
But this time it is real
This time i will surely die
This is the last goodbye
The final words of regret
This is the last goodbye before i die
This place has had its way with me
This loss that burns so cold
Won't back down it will never go away
These dying breaths are fading now
Seems like breathing has lost its charm
That flame i once felt inside
Seems the glow finally died
The memories i had of you
And the place where we ran through
Streams and waterfalls
The memories are fading now
Just like the strength that carried us through
Dreams and waterfalls
Is this what it will come to?
A drowning pool of hopeless heartache
A pond where memories die
Slowly drained and washed away
If i had the strength i would lift us up
If i had some more undiscovered ways
But this time it is real
This time i will surely die
This is the last goodbye
The final words of regret
This is the last goodbye before i die
Written by Vision_of_insanity
Go To Page
PAR
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Forum Posts: 317
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Dangerous Mind
20
Joined 26th May 2022Forum Posts: 317
I Do Not Agree With Reality
I am alive.
Open my body, what do you find?
Periods and question marks.
A useless hide.
A meat sack of trivial answers and lies.
Locks of hair entangling my mind.
Wading through emotional turmoil tides.
Combing through the who's and why's.
Leaving all of reality behind.
I'm just a cunt. Some useless meat.
Come prize me as your specialty.
I'll give you your dose of prime protein.
And fatten you with psychological schemes.
Keep me alive in your dreams.
Keep me close, don't try to hide.
Keep me wet, squeaky and clean.
Keep me exposed; opened wide.
I am alive, for you to question.
Make a statement and you are wrong.
What you think is the lesson.
I've been leading you astray all along.
I'm your world of your creation.
That cunt that always lies.
I'm the beast you're hunting for predation.
While I mimick my enemies crimes.
Open my body, what do you find?
Accusations and remarks.
You're wrong to trust your own creation.
It's your mind that's in the dark. ;)
Open my body, what do you find?
Periods and question marks.
A useless hide.
A meat sack of trivial answers and lies.
Locks of hair entangling my mind.
Wading through emotional turmoil tides.
Combing through the who's and why's.
Leaving all of reality behind.
I'm just a cunt. Some useless meat.
Come prize me as your specialty.
I'll give you your dose of prime protein.
And fatten you with psychological schemes.
Keep me alive in your dreams.
Keep me close, don't try to hide.
Keep me wet, squeaky and clean.
Keep me exposed; opened wide.
I am alive, for you to question.
Make a statement and you are wrong.
What you think is the lesson.
I've been leading you astray all along.
I'm your world of your creation.
That cunt that always lies.
I'm the beast you're hunting for predation.
While I mimick my enemies crimes.
Open my body, what do you find?
Accusations and remarks.
You're wrong to trust your own creation.
It's your mind that's in the dark. ;)
Written by AfterSexDilemma
Go To Page
PAR
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Forum Posts: 317
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Dangerous Mind
20
Joined 26th May 2022Forum Posts: 317
JUDGING A POEM
I
Confess that I am among
the innumerable souls that
dare to venture into the magical
and amazing world of writing
and reading poetry.
I
use to try to write and judge
poems by syntax, grammar,
and all the rules Mrs. Know it All
taught in English 301.
I
use to read the great and
well known poets and conclude
that "I might as well forget trying
to write even a simple poem."
THEN
after years of silence but still
in the corner of my heart there
was the urge to write something,
maybe even a poem. Then one
day in a coffee shop years ago
I jotted down these words:
"I am not going to write poems
worrying about being judged by others;
neither am I going to read poems in
order to JUDGE others." I was free at last.
Confess that I am among
the innumerable souls that
dare to venture into the magical
and amazing world of writing
and reading poetry.
I
use to try to write and judge
poems by syntax, grammar,
and all the rules Mrs. Know it All
taught in English 301.
I
use to read the great and
well known poets and conclude
that "I might as well forget trying
to write even a simple poem."
THEN
after years of silence but still
in the corner of my heart there
was the urge to write something,
maybe even a poem. Then one
day in a coffee shop years ago
I jotted down these words:
"I am not going to write poems
worrying about being judged by others;
neither am I going to read poems in
order to JUDGE others." I was free at last.
Written by TheOralizer
Go To Page
Hotpuffinstuff
Joined 19th July 2020
Forum Posts: 19
Lost Thinker
Forum Posts: 19
Awhile
colour
my heart
with your lips
it's been
fading
awhile
fill
my soul
with your fire
the embers
have cooled
awhile
touch
my skin
with your breath
it has
not felt in
awhile
hold
me close
with your arms
love has
evaded me
awhile
my heart
with your lips
it's been
fading
awhile
fill
my soul
with your fire
the embers
have cooled
awhile
touch
my skin
with your breath
it has
not felt in
awhile
hold
me close
with your arms
love has
evaded me
awhile
Written by AspergerPoet56
Go To Page
Vision_of_insanity
Forum Posts: 97
Tyrant of Words
14
Joined 22nd Jan 2024Forum Posts: 97
The false pretenses campaign
Natural men, in their awkward majesty,
descend to the lushly absurd fields of paradise,
where the spectral line of sports begins.
A peculiar ballet of limbs,
an odd assortment of sinew,
unfolds like a grotesque tapestry.
Under the surreal sun, their bodies,
partially symbiotic, partially independent,
contort and stretch in clumsy elegance.
The air thick with the irony of sweat and flowers,
a collision of the primal and the sublime.
Grunts echo like misplaced sonnets,
as they engage in the bizarre rituals
of competitive absurdity.
Every jump, every throw, an idiosyncratic gesture,
a tribute to the awkward beauty of existence.
Paradise, a haven of the perfectly imperfect,
witnesses this disjointed choreography.
The audience, a blur of indifferent spirits,
observes in bemused silence,
the incongruous spectacle,
as natural men play their endless,
bewildering games.
descend to the lushly absurd fields of paradise,
where the spectral line of sports begins.
A peculiar ballet of limbs,
an odd assortment of sinew,
unfolds like a grotesque tapestry.
Under the surreal sun, their bodies,
partially symbiotic, partially independent,
contort and stretch in clumsy elegance.
The air thick with the irony of sweat and flowers,
a collision of the primal and the sublime.
Grunts echo like misplaced sonnets,
as they engage in the bizarre rituals
of competitive absurdity.
Every jump, every throw, an idiosyncratic gesture,
a tribute to the awkward beauty of existence.
Paradise, a haven of the perfectly imperfect,
witnesses this disjointed choreography.
The audience, a blur of indifferent spirits,
observes in bemused silence,
the incongruous spectacle,
as natural men play their endless,
bewildering games.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
Go To Page
Vision_of_insanity
Forum Posts: 97
Tyrant of Words
14
Joined 22nd Jan 2024Forum Posts: 97
The Way I Love You
When you are not with me
You are my first thought when I wake up
My last thought before I fall asleep
You are every sip that I drink
You are the sweet fruits that I eat
You are my healing water of life
You are the cooling breeze of wind
Caressing my skin on hot summer days
You accompany me deeply rooted in my heart
When you are with me
We are completely naked
There is no holding back
I share every thought with you
Listen to you attentively
I feel your feelingso
Sense your needs
Fulfill your wishes
Even before you express them
Your skin is my canvas to write on
With my fingertips and juicy Ink
An invitation to a wild dance
Ecstatic and with burning passion
Our souls are intertwined
Our hearts beat as one
I love you unconditionally
Your body, your mind and your soul
Written by Sappho
Go To Page
slipalong
Forum Posts: 857
Dangerous Mind
43
Joined 1st Jan 2018Forum Posts: 857
Blood jet is poetry: after Plath
And here you come, with a cup of tea
Wreathed in Steam.
The blood jet is poetry,
There is no stopping it.
~ Plath
Your poems: I feel like I enter a forest
of toothpick trees, a rigid summer
where shadows fossilize
the lungs of poetry asthmatic—
wheezing air does not absorb;
but, there is a silence here—
I do not feel alone.
I seek artifacts, pooled
in the sweating hollow of your verse
I read and read and read
while their prison'd orange contrasts
the etiquette of embroidered lace—
tablecloths, crumpets and tea
white-gloved pinkies
attempting to mediate
nervous chatter of saucers and cups
over the infidelity of an oath—
over the drought of belief
and drying roots of a rose bush
'There is no stopping it' —
blatantly excused ignorance
I mind my manners out of respect:
right foot over left, intentions
shaded by a wide-brimmed hat;
steaming skin contained
in an apricot scarf—
polished silver service
tablecloth stiff with starch
The blood jet of poetry
a sanitary napkin in my lap—
my phallic posture smiling
hard, and politely erect.
Written by Ahavati
Yankee Doodle Eulogy
I thought nations might learn from their mistakes
but now I know this to be far from true
as malice aforethought will just renew
like venom through the fangs of deadly snakes
and thusly have my countrymen been bit
by premeditations of pain and death
forevermore heard in their shibboleth
of famed cruelty and discarded wit
that shows my country is now dead to me
but for that slow expiration of heart
beating before the carcass falls apart
in the feeding frenzy of anarchy...
now comatose here and necrotic there
on life support...and palliative care.
but now I know this to be far from true
as malice aforethought will just renew
like venom through the fangs of deadly snakes
and thusly have my countrymen been bit
by premeditations of pain and death
forevermore heard in their shibboleth
of famed cruelty and discarded wit
that shows my country is now dead to me
but for that slow expiration of heart
beating before the carcass falls apart
in the feeding frenzy of anarchy...
now comatose here and necrotic there
on life support...and palliative care.
Written by MidnightSonneteer
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PoetSpeak
Forum Posts: 168
Tyrant of Words
56
Joined 17th Nov 2013Forum Posts: 168
darling...who is always in my prayers and complaints
it was a crowd of strangers
it was a fleeting moment
when we exchanged smiles
it was a quiet meeting
in which two worlds wanted to add colour
i left my footprints in
his courtyard
n turning away from there
spark ran through my body
to touch his rough lips
in a few seconds of meeting,
that face made its place in my eyes
my soul was touching
his soul with tenderness
his spiritual eyes
had hypnotized me
and a dripping virgin stream
starts flowing through me...
i would say
it was a pure moment
when the green-blue oceans,
laden with salty, sweet beauty,
danced to merge into one another...
it was a fleeting moment
when we exchanged smiles
it was a quiet meeting
in which two worlds wanted to add colour
i left my footprints in
his courtyard
n turning away from there
spark ran through my body
to touch his rough lips
in a few seconds of meeting,
that face made its place in my eyes
my soul was touching
his soul with tenderness
his spiritual eyes
had hypnotized me
and a dripping virgin stream
starts flowing through me...
i would say
it was a pure moment
when the green-blue oceans,
laden with salty, sweet beauty,
danced to merge into one another...
Written by dimpy
(dimpsmoon)
Go To Page
DamianDeadLove
Damian DeadLove
Forum Posts: 75
Damian DeadLove
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd June 2024Forum Posts: 75
Reality with no end
Always attached to her sadness
abandoned
loneliness was her best friend
forgotten by society
no one wanted to be her friend
abandoned in the corner of the silence
that is her life, every day
she hides her sorrow in a blade
In the silence of the darkness she wakes up alone again
a dream to never surrender,
a reality that has no end
abandoned
loneliness was her best friend
forgotten by society
no one wanted to be her friend
abandoned in the corner of the silence
that is her life, every day
she hides her sorrow in a blade
In the silence of the darkness she wakes up alone again
a dream to never surrender,
a reality that has no end
Written by Vision_of_insanity
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Humble Me
I don’t lack ego in life
I’m stop short of conceited
In quest after Miss Poetry
in the World the same not repeated
Recluse adolescent shy cub
raised best as could by young mother
Never taught to be king
so chose a player thru struggle
Reluctant confidence self assured
Ripley believing or not
I made myself into the vintage Man I raised
chiseled in slow mastery thought
No virtuous grandeur where I stood
pebbles can’t pass before shame
Maybe was meek when I was formed
now word gets born from my name
Onto discover flight in esteem sand views
overseeing wordplay routines
Life couldn’t humble me so easy
so the Lord dissolved arrogant things
I can’t sight one direction
so I scribe one handed upwards of fore
Kobe Bryan practice rounds
is how the drive became more
Iconic pineal panoramic roads spin
settling birds eye emotional pages to table
Mission accomplished at sign of quill release
now I reverse what I’m label
Captured in provoked tongue tied phrases
held hostage at stroke of a thumb
Chose to be genuine in architect bound by design
is where thought originates from
I’m stop short of conceited
In quest after Miss Poetry
in the World the same not repeated
Recluse adolescent shy cub
raised best as could by young mother
Never taught to be king
so chose a player thru struggle
Reluctant confidence self assured
Ripley believing or not
I made myself into the vintage Man I raised
chiseled in slow mastery thought
No virtuous grandeur where I stood
pebbles can’t pass before shame
Maybe was meek when I was formed
now word gets born from my name
Onto discover flight in esteem sand views
overseeing wordplay routines
Life couldn’t humble me so easy
so the Lord dissolved arrogant things
I can’t sight one direction
so I scribe one handed upwards of fore
Kobe Bryan practice rounds
is how the drive became more
Iconic pineal panoramic roads spin
settling birds eye emotional pages to table
Mission accomplished at sign of quill release
now I reverse what I’m label
Captured in provoked tongue tied phrases
held hostage at stroke of a thumb
Chose to be genuine in architect bound by design
is where thought originates from
Written by Duice
Go To Page
Duice
Joined 16th June 2024
Forum Posts: 4
Twisted Dreamer
Forum Posts: 4
I Wrote of writers today, today
Wanting hearts pulse at tepid pace in fingers that run across hastily inked planes, where listless, blind, complainers feign smart and hold the word creative, claimed
By straining, linking unrelated trains of thought that carry waves of brains on wheels of rot to the place where myriads of bad ideas coughed up atop the page, splash and stray, crash and break
As they relate like oil spills to floors of lakes and spades to rakes, as some dig deep through soul to vibrantly paint and others' teeth take bits washed ashore, long having sat to bake, to bind and sell and though, the grind is Hell, I'm dispelled as mixed emotions flake
Moments of joy, clash, with points of ache Sadness, fast to poke in, deflates sorely staged, acts of plays that gain acclaim, as they employ, contain scenes, as alien to the others words and ways and meanings chopped up and spirit splayed as the soothing aid of rain to hydrophobic blades and wasted crop, dropped neath ceilings, beige or grey to fast be dragged beneath displays by rats, untamed where authors shop for turnips
With their noses turned up to 12 o'clock and papers sticking out their pockets
next to pens they use to jot to show their couth and class and let you know they have a name and stones to throw and words just strong enough to afford to hone brash homes from crumbs they stole out the mole hills they were made
Cold and unconstrained in glass abodes, insanely lacking shade, when that's the rage, is where they stay, behind walls and stronghold gates that surely hold a dozen cats and back on to pastures grazed
These posers often stroll our streets, holding leering gazes and quill-tips raised at coffee shops and inns they stay in, like hand position and dismal disposition could convey that their rhymes might drip from pen at any minute and set
the largest flame, still more ablaze, of which we'd be amazed
But most are are daft and dull and born to laze and twist the truth till it's consumed by either love or hate which shapes the views and guides the reigns of reader's fates, as those who butcher stolen quotes from film and stage fill their plates by judging others through some pseudonym or actors face
Some should have left night's blanket, blank
of their designs, their constellations staunch and rank, they cheapen skies
Messing where perfection lies
like if Vegas strip were flown and placed
where Atlantis sank,
it'd be less a prize
but no surprise, as it attracted lavish snakes to throw confetti high past scaly mouths that gaped and up to caps of ocean waves to boast to oafish sailors in every color's, every shade of sunken castles, desecrated far below their empty boats and vacant lines and
as they whined of fish and bait the rich would sigh, There's no debate in soulless eyes
And so I know, until every mystery's exposed and excavated, sold, sapped, drained and had it's corpse revived, until they're all smacked with cash to be propped back up, over sounds of ancient cries Until every effort ever made to rise above matte, mundane, and easels dry is dusted into dust and crumbled grain, polished into pixels plain like crushed crust of apple pies, those who suck at veins will go on milking wonder's pain,
I pray some wonders
will
forever hide
In the world resides, much insane
Voices, vapid,
choices, vain like girls who dance and rave on aging tanks, once deployed on war torn banks where very few survived, yet on they climb to have their photos taken, draped in uniforms, with phony ranks, cut at sleeves, legs and tatted waists to show their booties bounce and stomachs shake
Some inhumane, are lost inside
A blatant shame, like plastic money filling banks and those not thankful for summer's rays wasting in basements on sunny days
Some assess the human race with no thoughts of real stakes Basic, uncreative minds focused on their estates which leads those without the parts to make a sum or thumb to grow a garden home to compelling traits, to quickly trace, to cheat, compile waste and cheap thrills to later defecate onto sacred pages without a pound of prestige being chased
Potential beauty strafed, in lieu are shadows laced with ghosts of poets, most irate that keep Shakespeare rolling in his grave from cooling ears to Atlas vertebrae and back he sways
Lord forbid these abhorred horrors do more than hope to fornicate and get to pass the bucks and ink to buck or doe, misshapen
by long, being inundated
with lazy words
and the haze of craze over deadline dates their parents were never late with
Children, trying to fake it, to prove they were no mistake, overflowing with goals to pop the world with the point of dull, hand me down, rapier blades
Kids trying to save
every, man, woman, boy and girl from so called, pitiful lives, they rate lower then their own from isolate caves, glaring at diamond rings and bones of slaves laid out in silver spoon and ivory cages, they parade in
Buffoons, letting thoughts unfurl from claw foot tubs where their rubber ducks are played with as they hum to tunes and bathe, shave and rinse in their very favorite, white decadence
from some bovine's tit, we only need a few to help save all wit, to crash the ship of pompous twits and flakes who write of tundras from shores of barely frosted lakes they won't plunge in, yet on they skate on ice that's thin and as bound to break as the binding of books which are truly great or the genius is, with no peers to help displace the massive weight of being the one inmate who still sees straight down crooked halls
It's on he, the burden falls to heed the call, to demonstrate how words have the power to draw every person, big or small, in one imperfect statement It's on she, who's talent's tall to madly quake, knowing there are books and scrawls we cannot erase
then shift a gear and change the pace with words of fate and conclusions, clear as cubes of glacier, crushed by the strength of apes
The only way we can topple shelves disgraced and clean the slate, is to rise as fog through sewer grates and knock the grubs from window panes of poets, late as we grow as grapes that will not wait, or be slow to show the way though this lonely maze
We need not flop complacent, cells in stasis could
still spawn as stars in space with heroic names that shine Hell through walls, opaque, into every demon's oasis
We can plant seeds to overtake the disease of smut, dumb, stolen glee and fake hatred
I hope the world embraces those who sprain wrists, wiping stains and waste from this overpopulated, depressing, degrading, fading, once sanctimonious place that soon won't exist
We few, it's chosen saviors, savor finer things, make tea to sip, then sit and quip on days more patient
But maybe I'm the stick in the mud, mad from chafing and it's not the way the wind's been facing but the past, this art form finds abrasive, maybe today's works, still fresh and new, are acquired tastes and I should trap my tongue in it's old and tired, flappy gum, rudimentary case, tap my foot to drum as words plummet from broken sponges into pools of decay, as I soak in the view and quietly say
"Pass me that fool's book,
who am I to judge?"
By straining, linking unrelated trains of thought that carry waves of brains on wheels of rot to the place where myriads of bad ideas coughed up atop the page, splash and stray, crash and break
As they relate like oil spills to floors of lakes and spades to rakes, as some dig deep through soul to vibrantly paint and others' teeth take bits washed ashore, long having sat to bake, to bind and sell and though, the grind is Hell, I'm dispelled as mixed emotions flake
Moments of joy, clash, with points of ache Sadness, fast to poke in, deflates sorely staged, acts of plays that gain acclaim, as they employ, contain scenes, as alien to the others words and ways and meanings chopped up and spirit splayed as the soothing aid of rain to hydrophobic blades and wasted crop, dropped neath ceilings, beige or grey to fast be dragged beneath displays by rats, untamed where authors shop for turnips
With their noses turned up to 12 o'clock and papers sticking out their pockets
next to pens they use to jot to show their couth and class and let you know they have a name and stones to throw and words just strong enough to afford to hone brash homes from crumbs they stole out the mole hills they were made
Cold and unconstrained in glass abodes, insanely lacking shade, when that's the rage, is where they stay, behind walls and stronghold gates that surely hold a dozen cats and back on to pastures grazed
These posers often stroll our streets, holding leering gazes and quill-tips raised at coffee shops and inns they stay in, like hand position and dismal disposition could convey that their rhymes might drip from pen at any minute and set
the largest flame, still more ablaze, of which we'd be amazed
But most are are daft and dull and born to laze and twist the truth till it's consumed by either love or hate which shapes the views and guides the reigns of reader's fates, as those who butcher stolen quotes from film and stage fill their plates by judging others through some pseudonym or actors face
Some should have left night's blanket, blank
of their designs, their constellations staunch and rank, they cheapen skies
Messing where perfection lies
like if Vegas strip were flown and placed
where Atlantis sank,
it'd be less a prize
but no surprise, as it attracted lavish snakes to throw confetti high past scaly mouths that gaped and up to caps of ocean waves to boast to oafish sailors in every color's, every shade of sunken castles, desecrated far below their empty boats and vacant lines and
as they whined of fish and bait the rich would sigh, There's no debate in soulless eyes
And so I know, until every mystery's exposed and excavated, sold, sapped, drained and had it's corpse revived, until they're all smacked with cash to be propped back up, over sounds of ancient cries Until every effort ever made to rise above matte, mundane, and easels dry is dusted into dust and crumbled grain, polished into pixels plain like crushed crust of apple pies, those who suck at veins will go on milking wonder's pain,
I pray some wonders
will
forever hide
In the world resides, much insane
Voices, vapid,
choices, vain like girls who dance and rave on aging tanks, once deployed on war torn banks where very few survived, yet on they climb to have their photos taken, draped in uniforms, with phony ranks, cut at sleeves, legs and tatted waists to show their booties bounce and stomachs shake
Some inhumane, are lost inside
A blatant shame, like plastic money filling banks and those not thankful for summer's rays wasting in basements on sunny days
Some assess the human race with no thoughts of real stakes Basic, uncreative minds focused on their estates which leads those without the parts to make a sum or thumb to grow a garden home to compelling traits, to quickly trace, to cheat, compile waste and cheap thrills to later defecate onto sacred pages without a pound of prestige being chased
Potential beauty strafed, in lieu are shadows laced with ghosts of poets, most irate that keep Shakespeare rolling in his grave from cooling ears to Atlas vertebrae and back he sways
Lord forbid these abhorred horrors do more than hope to fornicate and get to pass the bucks and ink to buck or doe, misshapen
by long, being inundated
with lazy words
and the haze of craze over deadline dates their parents were never late with
Children, trying to fake it, to prove they were no mistake, overflowing with goals to pop the world with the point of dull, hand me down, rapier blades
Kids trying to save
every, man, woman, boy and girl from so called, pitiful lives, they rate lower then their own from isolate caves, glaring at diamond rings and bones of slaves laid out in silver spoon and ivory cages, they parade in
Buffoons, letting thoughts unfurl from claw foot tubs where their rubber ducks are played with as they hum to tunes and bathe, shave and rinse in their very favorite, white decadence
from some bovine's tit, we only need a few to help save all wit, to crash the ship of pompous twits and flakes who write of tundras from shores of barely frosted lakes they won't plunge in, yet on they skate on ice that's thin and as bound to break as the binding of books which are truly great or the genius is, with no peers to help displace the massive weight of being the one inmate who still sees straight down crooked halls
It's on he, the burden falls to heed the call, to demonstrate how words have the power to draw every person, big or small, in one imperfect statement It's on she, who's talent's tall to madly quake, knowing there are books and scrawls we cannot erase
then shift a gear and change the pace with words of fate and conclusions, clear as cubes of glacier, crushed by the strength of apes
The only way we can topple shelves disgraced and clean the slate, is to rise as fog through sewer grates and knock the grubs from window panes of poets, late as we grow as grapes that will not wait, or be slow to show the way though this lonely maze
We need not flop complacent, cells in stasis could
still spawn as stars in space with heroic names that shine Hell through walls, opaque, into every demon's oasis
We can plant seeds to overtake the disease of smut, dumb, stolen glee and fake hatred
I hope the world embraces those who sprain wrists, wiping stains and waste from this overpopulated, depressing, degrading, fading, once sanctimonious place that soon won't exist
We few, it's chosen saviors, savor finer things, make tea to sip, then sit and quip on days more patient
But maybe I'm the stick in the mud, mad from chafing and it's not the way the wind's been facing but the past, this art form finds abrasive, maybe today's works, still fresh and new, are acquired tastes and I should trap my tongue in it's old and tired, flappy gum, rudimentary case, tap my foot to drum as words plummet from broken sponges into pools of decay, as I soak in the view and quietly say
"Pass me that fool's book,
who am I to judge?"
Written by ExercisingDemons
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DamianDeadLove
Damian DeadLove
Forum Posts: 75
Damian DeadLove
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd June 2024Forum Posts: 75
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