Who are you?

Everyone wants to know who they are. Some even find out. Write about who you think you are. Any syle. Any length. Up to 2 entries per poet. Other than that the details are up to you.

Woolgatherer

You can't see me. Only through. I am not. I am your eye/hand in water. I leave time for a time. It must be me and someone. Because every word spawned from I you mine. I am the physicist I am rocket/skinned machine of the machines/the Taoist and river/the thought of rolling up my sleeves and keeping them down. Idle akratic. Knowing you're ashamed/I should be ashamed because your boss will see the holes in your socks. But I don't care. I will never meet him. We might shake hands and judge each other immediately. He'll never meet me. I am no emotional social profit/maladjusted. Staring on/from something fucking plain/loosely happy. I'll ask what the most. Not what I expected they'll say. Englishmen are so absent/so fucking i-shaped.

Spiky



An institution of the sideline
that swiped me off my feet
and dragged me over the rough gravel

where it wedged under my skin
which over time covered the grit
in layers  

left me uneven and agitated
feeling like broken glass
grating on my bones as it sunk deeper
into my already raw flesh  

felt outside becoming smoother
like happiness
where pain doesn't exist

because it is so easy to fake the truth
when no one looks any further than the surface

and all they see are dry eyes
with rainbow prisms
reflecting off the top layer

and smiles that speak less
than the torture
behind locked doors of the mind.

Countdown to No One

I am the girl that curled up inside the clock
steered by the staggering pendulum
possessed by the tick and the tock

I am betwixt the gears that swallow time
clutching the hour, minute, second
the hand of progress neglected to re-wind

I am inconsequential

The Life & Times of a Scratch & Dent Airman

Goofy stilted teen,
standing in a Texas
pre-dawn haze,
getting bent & molded
into something more

Just in time
for a party in the desert
the perfect storm
of patriotic fervor
and roasted Iraqi flesh

Left to stumble
through drunken fog
in ancient German towns,
& in ancient Roman footprints

Beaten to the bone,
by marital discord
alone sitting on frozen
floors, recording
audience-less love songs

Thawed out and re-sent
into a new type of hell,
where the dust chokes
and blots out the sunlight
but not the smell of Death

Now two & 1/2 decades later,
he sits in the center of his life,
counting the casualties
of war & romance
the list indicates
a lost campaign & a legacy
of emotional cowardice
in the face of the enemy

A future in exile
from the harbor of love,
he is just grateful
to be allowed to watch
sunsets, and draw measured
breaths.

Miss B., this is a very good poem.  Lots of impact in a small space!  Well done, Mike.

Very good all of you. Thank you so much for all of your entries.

             -breath-

so as they've laid him down to sleep
their night will hold not 'ere a peep
he laid there waiting wired awake
for the first trill cries of a world at hate  
 
the fall of one gave rise to the next
set of pathways that lead him away from the nest  
and a laugh is a cry once you've cried till you laughed  
nine stitches sewn in to save time for the past
 
searing holes through his soul cigar burns of sorrow
in yesterday's nightmares are the cries of tomorrow
kicking so hard to get out of the shallows
a life saving hand pulled him into the shadows
 
where behind the worlds stage behind all the curtains
is where he would stay until he was certain
that down a dark alley double cardboard delight
was no longer the best place to sleep for the night
 
so it's out to the world again theories to test
but again he discovers he's not like the rest
so its back to the edges where life used to be
total isolation and perfectly free
 
he didn't end up there it's a path that he chose
a walk through the sewer in search of a rose
as again he lay waiting for the crying to start
from the world full of sadness that arrives in the dark
 
it was no time for questions the time was at hand
and he needed to know how to act like a man
responsible for your actions the words that they said  
led to finding new ways to get out of his head
 
with a soul full of fire and a stock-whip tongue
shooting shots of tequila from a musket gun
He took a few hits but postponed the fight
and silently chose to fade into the night
 
so out through the window he quietly leaped
and that marked the last time this young fellow slept

me

im a knight without the shining armor
a nerd without glasses
a super heroe without a cape

im the truth in a world
of lies
and
we all know
the truth
always
PREVAILS

I think I'm growing stronger,
but I'm not sure what for.
I thought I wanted to fight hard,
but I'm still sat here.
I was sure I wanted to write,
but I don't send anything out anymore.
I was thinking about running away,
but something made me stay.
I'm not sure I like that something,
but it is a part of it.

That big 'it'
the one that makes the same sky
look like a billboard for the end of days
and then a good reason to strip down to a vest
and smile up at the clouds
a few moments later.

I suppose I'm undecided
and a little perturbed.
I want to impress,
but I don't want to try.
I suppose I'm tired.
Tired of the sound of the keys
tired of working the bag,
but that will all change
after a good sleep
and a big dinner.
I think a lot,
I frown along with this notion
that nothing is set in stone,
so I suppose I know very little
of who I am
or where I'm going.
Maybe it's best that way.
I'd hate to kill the magic.
One thing I do know though,
One thing I definitely know
about me
is that there is every reason to keep going
I'd rather get to nowhere knowing I sweat blood
than stay right here and wonder what I could have done,
but that's a bit of a cliche,
and I thought I knew that I didn't use cliches.

.....

[L'ho trovato ! Lei non potrà mai credere dove io perso la trama ! ! E 'stato sotto il vestito sul pavimento in cucina, accanto a una bottiglia vuota di vino e una carota . E 'ovvio che ho dimenticato di dare più carote con lo stufato di coniglio ... perché eravamo ubriachi sul pavimento . Sono contento che tu mi aiuterai a succhiare l'osso pulito , io cucino ossobuco solo per due e il più casino più sono contento . Amo una ragazza con un grande appetito . Vino , vino portare il vino .Il vino più si beve e più si ride ... e sai cosa succede dopo che mangiamo e beviamo ?]


animal [feed] [ii]
 
 

Hot blooded night sweat cooks my addiction
fatal attraction falls off the bone. My little bleeder
soul redeemer, I tear away chastity from pink bloom
dragging her body thru halls, licking [cum] stained floors
strangling cackles from my provocative whore


Unraveling desires she surrenders to the beast
legs bridal bound, unbowed like mounted bronco collar
tilling sodden fields with my heavy plough
the unearthing [aches] for the rising sun
to reap and sow my seed at first crow


Staring down the barrel, mouthing hammer of dawn
between [bruised] berry wings, sliding night swallows
beating strokes in dripping pools with glint of raven’s eye
feathering her perfectly bent pulsating pulp
I am the animal, pacing, rocking in its cage


Echoes of my savage thrusts pound within her core
leather gloves slapping taut [skin]
spoiling raw meat, beaten into tender molestations
I hold her down with overbearing force
jarring fragility with trembling palpitations


Crushing muscles in vales of smothering kisses
rock [slides] and plunges, swept away in her overflow
backtracking my weeping prey along perineum
fulfilling every crack and crevice
with phallic idols lost deep inside her tomb


Torturous shackles solicit obedience and discipline
poised touch, holding back her churning torrent
tight jam between [creamy] thighs
my fox screams, begging release
from my feral heat, thrusting wild-wooly fuck


Clutching the anger charging thru my veins
winding silk locks within clenched [fist], smearing
my angel’s lust with the devil’s lipstick
I unleash the wrath with white flames
behold, the hunted, devours the feeding game.





written by Alexander Case



[I have to look at this animal in the mirror everyday]

I am the darkness inside
You only find in retrospect and hindsight

I just might
Die on your front step
Just so you can feel some pain
Or I could even rip the wings
From a butterfly
To show you a beautiful thing

I am Ukraine
And flutter byes mixed with kites
That fly like flags over Palestine

I am your pain and shame
Love and hate that comes to berate
All the good you try to create
And congratulate your success

I try my best to be true
But sometimes lies sneak up on you
And I am that bit of candor inside
Every single white lie

Who am I

Could I be you

~Maybe its me maybe it just not~


A girl that is life
Makes everyone smile
Herself us to blame

But is rather carry a knife
Even just a purge for awhile
I find People very lame

One say very soon I'll be a wife
But that's never been my style
So now I lay softly and feel the same

Its time I believe
To stop
Smell the roses that kill

Stop crying over nothing in my sleeve
And finally pop
That I can feel such thrill

So who am I before I leave
Maybe I'm psycho never been scared to chop
But I'll stand here still

So now I'm a girl
No longer a girl who dresses as a boy
And then I'll stab you dead

I'll treat you like a tornado with a twirl
But promise your a toy
So come say goodnight and rest your head

Everyone has great posts. I thank you for that. But I started this without a thought to the people who veiw themselves badly and their probable pain writing thouse feelings down. If that applies to you, please forgive me.