Poetry competition CLOSED 17th April 2012 6:14am
WINNER
PierreTheMad
PierreTheMad
RUNNERS-UP:
diddi
and lightbaron
Seriously? Come on!
Anonymous
He writes twistedly sick and so pretty-yet they know him not-and it is a pity
BUDGIE
Budgie squawks
pisses of to Paris for the weekend
and craps on people
from the top of the Eifel Tower
refuses to answer his mobile
and will never come down
Written by troutmaskreplica
BUDGIE
Budgie squawks
pisses of to Paris for the weekend
and craps on people
from the top of the Eifel Tower
refuses to answer his mobile
and will never come down
Written by troutmaskreplica
Anonymous
Hay Field
As I watch the setting sun.
I lay here snuggled in the hay.
I drift away to sleep.
I quickly see a vision of you.
You are walking across the field to me.
I can see the rain softly falling.
As you get closer I can see your smile.
I can soon see your sparkling green eyes.
You wrap your arms around me.
With our lips pressed together.
We gently caress one another.
I can smell your sexy cologne.
Suddenly I am awakened by your touch.
We whisper sweet things to one another.
And we share our love and passion.
As we slowly dance the night away in the rain.
July 26, 2011
As I watch the setting sun.
I lay here snuggled in the hay.
I drift away to sleep.
I quickly see a vision of you.
You are walking across the field to me.
I can see the rain softly falling.
As you get closer I can see your smile.
I can soon see your sparkling green eyes.
You wrap your arms around me.
With our lips pressed together.
We gently caress one another.
I can smell your sexy cologne.
Suddenly I am awakened by your touch.
We whisper sweet things to one another.
And we share our love and passion.
As we slowly dance the night away in the rain.
July 26, 2011
T.V.
So much red, so much yellow, colors mix in a shade of mellow.
So much to see, I’m blinded by the gleam, a furious flash of blue and green.
Help me recover, I’m a slave to its beauty.
Allow me to feel the impiety of your creation, so wild and vivid, untamed and free.
Tripped me you have, I cannot stand on my feet,
Mesmerizing weakness and strength in a gorgeous blend of fluency and art.
If they call it art.
Peeking at the last glance of the million words,
I remain baffled by the outcome and the fire in the eyes of the creator.
Rage and sorrow, misery and anguish,
Creation - Death.
Beauty in its most brutal form.
The beast.
The warm red smothered over the canvas, the Ground
And the fingers run as brushes, etching away at the caricature.
So much detail, satisfaction is guaranteed.
A feast for your eyes and your family’s eyes.
Bleed unto the T.V. as you stare at your death.
Home of the idiots, mindless and dumb.
Slit your throw and stitch it back together if your so fucking bored.
But this is so sexy.
So fucking cool.
If just once I’d see what I saw, would I like what I see?
OK never mind.
Turn off the T.V.
Published 19th August 2011 4:05am
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/26510-t-v/
So much red, so much yellow, colors mix in a shade of mellow.
So much to see, I’m blinded by the gleam, a furious flash of blue and green.
Help me recover, I’m a slave to its beauty.
Allow me to feel the impiety of your creation, so wild and vivid, untamed and free.
Tripped me you have, I cannot stand on my feet,
Mesmerizing weakness and strength in a gorgeous blend of fluency and art.
If they call it art.
Peeking at the last glance of the million words,
I remain baffled by the outcome and the fire in the eyes of the creator.
Rage and sorrow, misery and anguish,
Creation - Death.
Beauty in its most brutal form.
The beast.
The warm red smothered over the canvas, the Ground
And the fingers run as brushes, etching away at the caricature.
So much detail, satisfaction is guaranteed.
A feast for your eyes and your family’s eyes.
Bleed unto the T.V. as you stare at your death.
Home of the idiots, mindless and dumb.
Slit your throw and stitch it back together if your so fucking bored.
But this is so sexy.
So fucking cool.
If just once I’d see what I saw, would I like what I see?
OK never mind.
Turn off the T.V.
Published 19th August 2011 4:05am
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/26510-t-v/
What's Coming Around
So what do you want
from me ,
you got each eye
so that I can't see ,
I try to look
kind of jolly , happy
I'm blind and I'm struck
by impossibility ,
the kind bestowed
upon , unwantedly ,
my ride you towed
the one you rode
for free ,
now I'm alone
for your hilarity ,
the break
of my bones
a responsibility ,
to take but you don't ,
though my soul
you squeeze ,
such audacity
is attoned with ease ,
a flea's mentality
is at home , with you it seems .
An ignoramous ,
a blood swigger
you're so shameless ,
a truth rigger ,
your totally blameless
so how do you then figure this
a little miss painless ,
a gold digger
who makes no sense .
Reality devoid ,
depravity you employ ,
internally
you're a cavity ,
who strips me of all joy .
Self obsessed
and mercenary ,
your husband , a press
for the money you bleed
you're a self centered mess ,
you think that you're the best
but I know
as I don't guess
you've got it coming , from me .
So what do you want
from me ,
you got each eye
so that I can't see ,
I try to look
kind of jolly , happy
I'm blind and I'm struck
by impossibility ,
the kind bestowed
upon , unwantedly ,
my ride you towed
the one you rode
for free ,
now I'm alone
for your hilarity ,
the break
of my bones
a responsibility ,
to take but you don't ,
though my soul
you squeeze ,
such audacity
is attoned with ease ,
a flea's mentality
is at home , with you it seems .
An ignoramous ,
a blood swigger
you're so shameless ,
a truth rigger ,
your totally blameless
so how do you then figure this
a little miss painless ,
a gold digger
who makes no sense .
Reality devoid ,
depravity you employ ,
internally
you're a cavity ,
who strips me of all joy .
Self obsessed
and mercenary ,
your husband , a press
for the money you bleed
you're a self centered mess ,
you think that you're the best
but I know
as I don't guess
you've got it coming , from me .
Earth at full throttle
The world
an engine piston
shoving and shifting
compression , obsession
power in full comission .
Full forward traction
all for interaction .
Relaxation
high speed jubliation
moving across
all of the nations .
Forgiven
well ridden
grudges gone by
its time to use
and open
your third eye .
Interceptive and objective
its time to be a little more
perceptive
or collective ,
interactive , less of the captive
a touch towards
a world more attractive .
Technology
bad intentions
no apology
no comprehensions
what's the point of all
these interventions .
Combustion of internal
revving up of the infernal
nuculear powers ,
sky scraping towers
Taliban claiming to be muslim
but there cowards .
The modern world at war
one half winning
and their inforced law
the other one keeps spinning
each other they abhore
for f**ks sake
everyday I awake
and I just can't take
it anymore .
The world
an engine piston
shoving and shifting
compression , obsession
power in full comission .
Full forward traction
all for interaction .
Relaxation
high speed jubliation
moving across
all of the nations .
Forgiven
well ridden
grudges gone by
its time to use
and open
your third eye .
Interceptive and objective
its time to be a little more
perceptive
or collective ,
interactive , less of the captive
a touch towards
a world more attractive .
Technology
bad intentions
no apology
no comprehensions
what's the point of all
these interventions .
Combustion of internal
revving up of the infernal
nuculear powers ,
sky scraping towers
Taliban claiming to be muslim
but there cowards .
The modern world at war
one half winning
and their inforced law
the other one keeps spinning
each other they abhore
for f**ks sake
everyday I awake
and I just can't take
it anymore .
Soap World
There's a roof top scene
with back yards and bins
the tune , the whole theme
once again it rings .
The awaited saga begins
a television fantasy
peoples evasion
from their own reality .
Where liasons happen
and lives are flattened
just a script
played by characters picked
an unreal fleet
they live on the obvious street
where the past
and present cast
apply their acting feet
always by the bar in a pub they always meet .
Some of them are sinning
and the losers they start winning
bad turns to good
as the camera
keeps on spinning
it records false life
and it's ex wife
behind a board that's snapping
for years it's been seen
but never really been happening .
There's a roof top scene
with back yards and bins
the tune , the whole theme
once again it rings .
The awaited saga begins
a television fantasy
peoples evasion
from their own reality .
Where liasons happen
and lives are flattened
just a script
played by characters picked
an unreal fleet
they live on the obvious street
where the past
and present cast
apply their acting feet
always by the bar in a pub they always meet .
Some of them are sinning
and the losers they start winning
bad turns to good
as the camera
keeps on spinning
it records false life
and it's ex wife
behind a board that's snapping
for years it's been seen
but never really been happening .
Anonymous
EVERY WOMAN IS A PURE WHITE FLOWER
Each woman was born a pure white flower
A virgin in every way
Then she grew
and grew more
She bloomed sometimes
Withered at others
Was a learner, a girl, an adolecent, a teen
a young woman, a working woman, a woman who wanted to live
she was a girlfriend, a lover and wife and a mother
a cleaner, a fixer, a nurturer,
she had great success
and tortuous failure
She prayed, she fasted
She survived
But now the bloom is not as bright
It needs more of tender light
As she gives her daughters the gift
Her mother gave to her
Everybody falls down
Learn to get on your feet
Everybody fails
Learn from them
Everybody is somebody's victim
Do not be a victim twice
Everybody nearly drowns
Learn to swim
Life has been called nasty, brutish and short
Show them how to live it with poise, intelligence and grace
Each woman was born a pure white flower
A virgin in every way
Then she grew
and grew more
She bloomed sometimes
Withered at others
Was a learner, a girl, an adolecent, a teen
a young woman, a working woman, a woman who wanted to live
she was a girlfriend, a lover and wife and a mother
a cleaner, a fixer, a nurturer,
she had great success
and tortuous failure
She prayed, she fasted
She survived
But now the bloom is not as bright
It needs more of tender light
As she gives her daughters the gift
Her mother gave to her
Everybody falls down
Learn to get on your feet
Everybody fails
Learn from them
Everybody is somebody's victim
Do not be a victim twice
Everybody nearly drowns
Learn to swim
Life has been called nasty, brutish and short
Show them how to live it with poise, intelligence and grace
Anonymous
Fine Wine & Great Lover
IT WAS JAN. 3, 2012.
I remember the night we met.
You walked in the club looking sexy and hot!!
On the way to my house we got a bottle of fine wine.
Which we shared many hours later, we got blitzed.
Time went by and it felt like I'd known you forever.
We vowed to each other we would be lifelong lovers.
You told me you knew no other like me.
We were great lovers together.
Hardly got out of bed.
Didn't leave each others sight.
We made plans to marry.
We were so happy together.
Then one morning I woke up and you were gone.
Haven't seen you since.
IT IS NOW JAN. 4, 2012
IT WAS JAN. 3, 2012.
I remember the night we met.
You walked in the club looking sexy and hot!!
On the way to my house we got a bottle of fine wine.
Which we shared many hours later, we got blitzed.
Time went by and it felt like I'd known you forever.
We vowed to each other we would be lifelong lovers.
You told me you knew no other like me.
We were great lovers together.
Hardly got out of bed.
Didn't leave each others sight.
We made plans to marry.
We were so happy together.
Then one morning I woke up and you were gone.
Haven't seen you since.
IT IS NOW JAN. 4, 2012
walked through again
As i woke you were already there.
Your faint footsteps had walked home.
Every footprint seeping through my pores;
leaving me with nothing but solemn sentiments, and a shaded stamp on my soul.
If only there were words to express the ache.
I return to my sleep in hope
to be walked through again.
As i woke you were already there.
Your faint footsteps had walked home.
Every footprint seeping through my pores;
leaving me with nothing but solemn sentiments, and a shaded stamp on my soul.
If only there were words to express the ache.
I return to my sleep in hope
to be walked through again.
Don't you cry
When I swore to never see you crying
I hoped we would not change until the end.
But as times go on, we have to live on
and nothing stays the way it was before.
As your tears are flowing like a river,
I break my oath, come to you, hold you tight.
When I can't be there to shield your heart,
I just have to make sure that it stays safe.
I want to hold you, feel you, want to kiss you,
but I know you can't endure the pain.
So I hide my tears and show a smile,
and stay as we are now until the end.
Let me be your pillow, when you're falling.
Just to let me see if everyting's alright.
Use me as you want until disposal.
But please promise that you'll never cry.
When I swore to never see you crying
I hoped we would not change until the end.
But as times go on, we have to live on
and nothing stays the way it was before.
As your tears are flowing like a river,
I break my oath, come to you, hold you tight.
When I can't be there to shield your heart,
I just have to make sure that it stays safe.
I want to hold you, feel you, want to kiss you,
but I know you can't endure the pain.
So I hide my tears and show a smile,
and stay as we are now until the end.
Let me be your pillow, when you're falling.
Just to let me see if everyting's alright.
Use me as you want until disposal.
But please promise that you'll never cry.
This was not a bad poem. It was by no means one of my best, but it is the only one that I have that never got any comments. Perhaps it was too evasive and indirect for an addiction poem. I don't know.
Twentyrun
I go back in again
preconscious answer repeated
another night
in the black ice heat of the stem
where explanations are only lies
whatever words come,
another night spent to forever
rising, falling, crawling, watching
watching
the night shorter
the moon dimmer
in the streetlight
the car hotter
I fail.
I fail you
as we ride this heat again
into American night
falling off one by one to darkness
pale faces sweating into sunrise
on another next-to-last desperation run
through the hours of regret
when the pools of imagination run shallow.
We dress to makeup who we were
best as we can
to pull it off again,
to find our way back to the night
back to our arms
or their arms or riding one more run
watching, crawling
watching…
the red-glow snapping of my new-found heart
beating hard.
Your rose dies in my vase
dried in the dayheat
where we shift heavily on the bed
sweating out our sovereign dreams
through fits of sleep
until we rise to ride again
into ice city smoking night
hiding your needle, toasting the chore
empty bodies riding, waiting
watching…
with no way left to turn back.
Home is lost, it's separated
by years and miles and countless dollars,
with its cold streams crashing through forest hills
its streetlights all burned out
its black sky lit with countless stars
lost here in the city haze.
Instead I wake in the dusk
feeling for the phone.
My rose dies in your vase.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/36846-twentyrun/
Twentyrun
I go back in again
preconscious answer repeated
another night
in the black ice heat of the stem
where explanations are only lies
whatever words come,
another night spent to forever
rising, falling, crawling, watching
watching
the night shorter
the moon dimmer
in the streetlight
the car hotter
I fail.
I fail you
as we ride this heat again
into American night
falling off one by one to darkness
pale faces sweating into sunrise
on another next-to-last desperation run
through the hours of regret
when the pools of imagination run shallow.
We dress to makeup who we were
best as we can
to pull it off again,
to find our way back to the night
back to our arms
or their arms or riding one more run
watching, crawling
watching…
the red-glow snapping of my new-found heart
beating hard.
Your rose dies in my vase
dried in the dayheat
where we shift heavily on the bed
sweating out our sovereign dreams
through fits of sleep
until we rise to ride again
into ice city smoking night
hiding your needle, toasting the chore
empty bodies riding, waiting
watching…
with no way left to turn back.
Home is lost, it's separated
by years and miles and countless dollars,
with its cold streams crashing through forest hills
its streetlights all burned out
its black sky lit with countless stars
lost here in the city haze.
Instead I wake in the dusk
feeling for the phone.
My rose dies in your vase.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/36846-twentyrun/
Fit For A King
I know the ghost who sings to me
Of all the wrong I’ve done
He reminds me of my miseries
Numerically, one by one
He serenades me to my knees
My disgraceful tale retold
Phantom choirs join for harmonies
All pains increased ten-fold
The maestro and his orchestra
Compose a rhapsody
A hellish ballad rife with tears
Summoned by grim memory
Armed with ghastly instruments
And melodies for lies
The strings of sorrow resonate
False emotion in true guise
The music builds to fevered pitch
My instabilities are winning
And when it seems to reach the end
It starts over at the beginning
The concert hall is filled with grief
So there’s no room left for me
I look and find an empty seat
The Throne of Insanity
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/6778-fit-for-a-king/
I know the ghost who sings to me
Of all the wrong I’ve done
He reminds me of my miseries
Numerically, one by one
He serenades me to my knees
My disgraceful tale retold
Phantom choirs join for harmonies
All pains increased ten-fold
The maestro and his orchestra
Compose a rhapsody
A hellish ballad rife with tears
Summoned by grim memory
Armed with ghastly instruments
And melodies for lies
The strings of sorrow resonate
False emotion in true guise
The music builds to fevered pitch
My instabilities are winning
And when it seems to reach the end
It starts over at the beginning
The concert hall is filled with grief
So there’s no room left for me
I look and find an empty seat
The Throne of Insanity
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/6778-fit-for-a-king/
Starving The Plague
Body by body
The beast dines on bones and the moist bits of flesh the vultures left.
Rotting corpses bloated with hope
Still with the same glass-eyed gaze toward Heaven.
God never came for them.
Never moved His apathetic ass from His comfortable cloud
with enough purpose and drive to save them and the death toll rose.
The body count extending years in either direction.
Arms outstretched like wings
Waiting patiently for a good, stiff breeze to carry them away,
they dropped dead where they stood,
High upon the mountain tops.
Shouting down at all the disbelievers and heathens,
Informing them of all their wicked ways.
This is a world where man punishes man and God stays silent
Waiting for our introspection to lead us to a realization
Of the depth of cruelty from ignorance.
Those "Chosen Ones" have chosen themselves
Unless lip-reading in the dark suddenly became possible.
So starve the plague and let it die.
Slough the infected skin.
Start anew with bright disdain.
For, when all this ends
Humanity shall finally begin.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/6880-starving-the-plague/
Body by body
The beast dines on bones and the moist bits of flesh the vultures left.
Rotting corpses bloated with hope
Still with the same glass-eyed gaze toward Heaven.
God never came for them.
Never moved His apathetic ass from His comfortable cloud
with enough purpose and drive to save them and the death toll rose.
The body count extending years in either direction.
Arms outstretched like wings
Waiting patiently for a good, stiff breeze to carry them away,
they dropped dead where they stood,
High upon the mountain tops.
Shouting down at all the disbelievers and heathens,
Informing them of all their wicked ways.
This is a world where man punishes man and God stays silent
Waiting for our introspection to lead us to a realization
Of the depth of cruelty from ignorance.
Those "Chosen Ones" have chosen themselves
Unless lip-reading in the dark suddenly became possible.
So starve the plague and let it die.
Slough the infected skin.
Start anew with bright disdain.
For, when all this ends
Humanity shall finally begin.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/6880-starving-the-plague/
