Poetry competition CLOSED 29th May 2012 5:53pm
WINNER
DeeperThanDark (Nicky)
DeeperThanDark (Nicky)
RUNNER-UP:
4everheartbroken
Page:
lost of freedom
Stuck, yet in full motion...
How can this be...
Visions to ensnare...
Dreams left alone...
Things captured better left
For another day...
To those who can handle it,
Your time is now...
Grab all you can and run...
I’ll sit back and wait for the
Precise moment, if there is one...
Carrying on in a state such
As mine, could prove fatal...
The moment I await could plunge
Me further into the depths of
This anguish I reside or deliver me
Softly into the arms of bliss...
I’m ready to run, how about you?
.:Granite Planet (Rendition):.
http://8020.photos.jpgmag.com/16944_12730_9e30494b6c_l.jpg
without
any flair; from
atop an unfolded folding chair
my eyes; my hands
they
stare
incessantly
dimly seeing
barely
touching
scary
is the fear
conflicted
another-con afflicted
the self
somehow-somewhere
my touch
restricted
boxed in
didn't plan it
my planet with its
cold grey granite
a placement
where
my
time, my spirit
my flesh
it’s spent-fatigued
besieged
by its own loneliness
in-formed
by my captive’s wariness
this stress; a dark wave
riding
a dark crest
where my freedom; where’s
my freedom?
so random in its departure
and
how it went
how it moved from
being
somewhere
from
one place
to
this place
no-where.
..
photo: Erez Ben-Or
kriticool said:
.:Granite Planet (Rendition):.
without
any flair; from
atop an unfolded folding chair
my eyes; my hands
they
stare
incessantly
dimly seeing
barely
touching
scary
is the fear
conflicted
another-con afflicted
the self
somehow-somewhere
my touch
restricted
boxed in
didn't plan it
my planet with its
cold grey granite
a placement
where
my
time, my spirit
my flesh
it’s spent-fatigued
besieged
by its own loneliness
in-formed
by my captive’s wariness
this stress; a dark wave
riding
a dark crest
where my freedom; where’s
my freedom?
so random in its departure
and
how it went
how it moved from
being
somewhere
from
one place
to
this place
no-where.
..
photo: Erez Ben-Or
I enjoyed being trapped by
your words kriticool...
The imagery was just as
entrapping to my mind...
Very nice indeed...
And the picture is
rather breath taking...
.:Granite Planet (Rendition):.
without
any flair; from
atop an unfolded folding chair
my eyes; my hands
they
stare
incessantly
dimly seeing
barely
touching
scary
is the fear
conflicted
another-con afflicted
the self
somehow-somewhere
my touch
restricted
boxed in
didn't plan it
my planet with its
cold grey granite
a placement
where
my
time, my spirit
my flesh
it’s spent-fatigued
besieged
by its own loneliness
in-formed
by my captive’s wariness
this stress; a dark wave
riding
a dark crest
where my freedom; where’s
my freedom?
so random in its departure
and
how it went
how it moved from
being
somewhere
from
one place
to
this place
no-where.
..
photo: Erez Ben-Or
I enjoyed being trapped by
your words kriticool...
The imagery was just as
entrapping to my mind...
Very nice indeed...
And the picture is
rather breath taking...
Anonymous
The Queen Is Dead.
It came like morse code
consistent and structured
with its secret message
burning in its electric impulses,
gathered
like a fool and his possessions
that crawled in with anxiety
and danced out with glee
and it's not that the bitch in me
ever lied,
but simply took a ride
to look for you
out west somewhere
belted in for her own protection,
severed from society
like a sixty year old cabaret
that just received its final call.
No matter how far we travelled
inconspicuously,
there is not a road we traced
on the map
with spiteful fingers
that showed an exit sign
or a wooden gate
or any green flashes
that dared to show along the way
It should have been easy, the exodus.
It should have been the outright truth
that flickered those chosen signals back to us
in simple terms,
scratching out our temperamental hate
like knives and forks screeching
on cheap rounded plates
playing waterphone sounds
to the sweet center of our ears
that eventually hit the
three and a half pound barricade
we were yet to escape.
And they shot the knighted messenger
on his white horse
who only bared the message
that the Queen was dead
and to mourn her civil death
in the small hours
of the
aftermath.
It came like morse code
consistent and structured
with its secret message
burning in its electric impulses,
gathered
like a fool and his possessions
that crawled in with anxiety
and danced out with glee
and it's not that the bitch in me
ever lied,
but simply took a ride
to look for you
out west somewhere
belted in for her own protection,
severed from society
like a sixty year old cabaret
that just received its final call.
No matter how far we travelled
inconspicuously,
there is not a road we traced
on the map
with spiteful fingers
that showed an exit sign
or a wooden gate
or any green flashes
that dared to show along the way
It should have been easy, the exodus.
It should have been the outright truth
that flickered those chosen signals back to us
in simple terms,
scratching out our temperamental hate
like knives and forks screeching
on cheap rounded plates
playing waterphone sounds
to the sweet center of our ears
that eventually hit the
three and a half pound barricade
we were yet to escape.
And they shot the knighted messenger
on his white horse
who only bared the message
that the Queen was dead
and to mourn her civil death
in the small hours
of the
aftermath.
the sex and violence of a metaphor
"These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die,
Like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume." - William Shakespeare
her melancholia always had a way
of wrapping itself around my throat
like the tightening of a noose
with heavy feet on a wobbly chair
it was the way she looked at me
that had me hanging myself
at the mercy of her desires
my resolve unraveling
at the unspoken promises in her eyes
that only through pain could we set
ourselves free from the demons we craved
my body a story of bruises and blood
to be read in the ecstasy of bitten-off screams
of my gagged, assimilated soul
willing, always willing
to fall on perpetually bruised knees
and gaze up at her magnitude
that burnt through me with every lament
uttered from her spirit-drenched lips
as I dragged her whimpering into bliss
pleading for oblivion at my touch
in the love-soaked sheets of our delusion
amid the echoes of our screams
it was easy to imagine heaven within the abyss
God a silent watcher to our guilt-christened fucks
that only fueled the passion for more violent affairs
agony our paltry saviour while we dined on pleasure
gluttons for punishment at the click of rosary beads
‘til death do us part
"These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die,
Like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume." - William Shakespeare
her melancholia always had a way
of wrapping itself around my throat
like the tightening of a noose
with heavy feet on a wobbly chair
it was the way she looked at me
that had me hanging myself
at the mercy of her desires
my resolve unraveling
at the unspoken promises in her eyes
that only through pain could we set
ourselves free from the demons we craved
my body a story of bruises and blood
to be read in the ecstasy of bitten-off screams
of my gagged, assimilated soul
willing, always willing
to fall on perpetually bruised knees
and gaze up at her magnitude
that burnt through me with every lament
uttered from her spirit-drenched lips
as I dragged her whimpering into bliss
pleading for oblivion at my touch
in the love-soaked sheets of our delusion
amid the echoes of our screams
it was easy to imagine heaven within the abyss
God a silent watcher to our guilt-christened fucks
that only fueled the passion for more violent affairs
agony our paltry saviour while we dined on pleasure
gluttons for punishment at the click of rosary beads
‘til death do us part
To look up into nothingness
To fight to accomplish nothing
To see nothing but death ahead
No more future
To die alone
To Die Alone
To feel regret
To wish for a difference
To be so dark as to wish
it upon someone else
To know your days are limited
To take your final, lonely breath
Welcome to Hell.
To Die Alone.
To fight to accomplish nothing
To see nothing but death ahead
No more future
To die alone
To Die Alone
To feel regret
To wish for a difference
To be so dark as to wish
it upon someone else
To know your days are limited
To take your final, lonely breath
Welcome to Hell.
To Die Alone.
