Poetry competition CLOSED 7th March 2013 8:56am
WINNER
AscensionES (Aptilneilrionaltion)
AscensionES (Aptilneilrionaltion)
Rebirth
"There are two perfectly good men, one dead, and the other unborn." - Proverb
two men, and I
the man that existed a year ago is dead
the man that existed an instant ago, also dead
the man who will exist an instant from now does not yet breathe
and he is different from the dead men from instants, years ago
and different from the not-yet-man who will exist in a year
and they're all so
goddamned perfect
the spectres who haunt my past
caricatures of the man I was at each instant
and all so blissfully unaware
of what's to come
caught candid in their halos of faded photoprint
sainted by the innocence born of ignorance
and the shadows of the not-yet-men
standing, details blurred, but proud
embracing loving families I have yet to meet
stepping out of not-my-car from jobs I have no knowledge of
and no foreseeable path to those ends
gilded heroes for building a bridge to it all
but not I
not the I of this instant
the only I that exists
I am flawed, judged mercilessly
carrying all the scars of before
and the weight of the gap between I
and the not-yet-men
I exist to carry the truth
for as long as possible
before we're all
nothing but dead saints
two men, and I
the man that existed a year ago is dead
the man that existed an instant ago, also dead
the man who will exist an instant from now does not yet breathe
and he is different from the dead men from instants, years ago
and different from the not-yet-man who will exist in a year
and they're all so
goddamned perfect
the spectres who haunt my past
caricatures of the man I was at each instant
and all so blissfully unaware
of what's to come
caught candid in their halos of faded photoprint
sainted by the innocence born of ignorance
and the shadows of the not-yet-men
standing, details blurred, but proud
embracing loving families I have yet to meet
stepping out of not-my-car from jobs I have no knowledge of
and no foreseeable path to those ends
gilded heroes for building a bridge to it all
but not I
not the I of this instant
the only I that exists
I am flawed, judged mercilessly
carrying all the scars of before
and the weight of the gap between I
and the not-yet-men
I exist to carry the truth
for as long as possible
before we're all
nothing but dead saints
http://wordbiscuit.com/images/school.jpg
< remembering the dead Mr. Kelly >
I was visiting home on one of those visits
that doesn't work out just like you know it
won't but you go anyway because you've started
to believe in some of your fantasies like
finally getting something straight with your
folks or maybe with that first love of yours
who you hope is having as hard a time of
it as you are so you'll both discover what
you knew all along or (at least) get a good
fuck out of it but you end up talking to
people you aren't interested in and even more
people who aren't interested in you but at
least (besides the weather) you can catch up
on who's died like this time it was Richard
Kelley (Mr. Kelley to us) who a few months
before his death started coming back to the
high school, walking into his old classroom,
and teaching whoever was there about the
war between the states about the building of
the transcontinental railroad and i bet he
was still pretty good as he was the best
teacher i ever had.
- - -
Anonymous
"Fresh Beginnings"
http://content.artofmanliness.com/uploads//2011/08/divine.jpg
Juxtaposed,
straddling
between
Heaven and Earth,
we struggle,
upholding honor.
Called good men
by the
wisdom of the ages,
we toil daily,
crumbling
in stages
to the very
gates of death.
As cracked shells,
our former-selves
still
wanting,
yearning
to get it right,
to begin again,
to start anew,
to live another day,
a fresh beginning.
Now,
humbled inside,
we continue
fighting for acceptance
in a cruel world
of grand expectations,
we still have our
generous
loving feelings,
hoping this time
it works.
http://content.artofmanliness.com/uploads//2011/08/divine.jpg
Juxtaposed,
straddling
between
Heaven and Earth,
we struggle,
upholding honor.
Called good men
by the
wisdom of the ages,
we toil daily,
crumbling
in stages
to the very
gates of death.
As cracked shells,
our former-selves
still
wanting,
yearning
to get it right,
to begin again,
to start anew,
to live another day,
a fresh beginning.
Now,
humbled inside,
we continue
fighting for acceptance
in a cruel world
of grand expectations,
we still have our
generous
loving feelings,
hoping this time
it works.
Had to give this a quick go before bed 
"Unbound Again"
Starts so mindless, the art is being bind-less,
then kindness minds us, externalises thought,
and then mom, she makes us, shapes us even
before we break free and crying
lay claim to our own way.
So while we're alive, sink down or thrive,
whether proud, aloud, whispered fail or no,
our faults all our own, whether secret/known,
is blame a closer friend than love?
Then bang, gone from the life we're living,
blame no longer ours to own,
the dead can't talk, bad deeds forgotten,
too much effort to spend on hate alone.
"Unbound Again"
Starts so mindless, the art is being bind-less,
then kindness minds us, externalises thought,
and then mom, she makes us, shapes us even
before we break free and crying
lay claim to our own way.
So while we're alive, sink down or thrive,
whether proud, aloud, whispered fail or no,
our faults all our own, whether secret/known,
is blame a closer friend than love?
Then bang, gone from the life we're living,
blame no longer ours to own,
the dead can't talk, bad deeds forgotten,
too much effort to spend on hate alone.
Dreamers the Two
One man was born a King, one child will be born into the drug filled project.
One man born in faith, one baby will be born with an addiction from the womb
One man found a life educated in books, on boy will find his training wearing colors
One man found dreamed of freedom for his people, one man will find his freedom in the dependencies of others
One man lead his people to a great white house holding sacred text, one man will drag his people down with powder white Inca curse
One man fought for equality, one man will oppress all around him
One man died for the love he taught, one man will die by the violence he lived by.
It is said we are all created equal, but the disparity can’t be ignored
If we all lived by sacred text the first mans path, the second man might stand a chance
One man was born a King, one child will be born into the drug filled project.
One man born in faith, one baby will be born with an addiction from the womb
One man found a life educated in books, on boy will find his training wearing colors
One man found dreamed of freedom for his people, one man will find his freedom in the dependencies of others
One man lead his people to a great white house holding sacred text, one man will drag his people down with powder white Inca curse
One man fought for equality, one man will oppress all around him
One man died for the love he taught, one man will die by the violence he lived by.
It is said we are all created equal, but the disparity can’t be ignored
If we all lived by sacred text the first mans path, the second man might stand a chance
Rebirth.
The dead have a wonderful
life of which they live,
no longer corrupted
by society's labels
of right or wrong,
sharing wisdom as they watch
a nation build their own destruction
piece by piece,
a puzzle never to be solved.
And those who have yet to live
have so much to learn,
laughter ringing out
while naive dreams are shared
innocent of corruption
that the dead are free from.
The dead have a wonderful
life of which they live,
no longer corrupted
by society's labels
of right or wrong,
sharing wisdom as they watch
a nation build their own destruction
piece by piece,
a puzzle never to be solved.
And those who have yet to live
have so much to learn,
laughter ringing out
while naive dreams are shared
innocent of corruption
that the dead are free from.
Anonymous
Congratulations to the winner Honor Never Dies and runner-up Kitty...some really nice writes.
Great comp, too!
Strider
Great comp, too!
Strider
