Unsung Poets

Rules:
1. You must not have any trophies from prior competitions (If you receive a trophy while this competition is active, your submission(s) will still be counted)
2. You may write about any subject you please
3. 1-2 entries per poet; give me what you think is your best work yet
4. You have one week - have fun and write on!

Cliche beach

Standing upon cliche beach.
With waves of banality,
Beating at my feet.
I scribble.
The crimson sun,
Rises over the sparkling sea.
Fumbling and grumbling,
I kick into touch.
English is a great language,
For selling chicken shit to strangers.
But not for elusive phantoms,
that lurk beneath the fallacy of the daily ritual.
I have no crown of thorns.
No existential pain.
Only words in my brain.
That fail to congeal,
To any useful being.

(funny that you create this contest today. This one is one of my personal best (imo), written 3 years ago today, March 16th, 2012






"See How They Run"

 

Early fire & rise…
morning sizzle...

a warmed up
&
chilled out

flowering first, I am
a walk (more like
a run) through the night...

& I have forsaken sweet
for a kiss of bite,
a zephyr frozen spear of time
as truth can spit the heart
like a space of wavering
~daze~
can smack around a mountain,

a cheerful bash of wind,
a confident Sun or a growling saw
of hope, the future
is stretching & relaxing
a breeze of change
into killing blows

& I run where I feel
the absence more pronounced
than death or hyacinth,
alas, I am
to beg Apollo's favor:

somewhere
there is a healthy break of ground
from blood of fools
& magistrates...
even to them the power
to believe in love or flying stones

or an oracle
of door to door corridors
that lend a reprobated course:
though Sun-drenched, I am
smoking in the stench
of gasoline & Hades

sweating the art of light & song
to suffer accidental salvation,
a satisfied grumbling
in winding sacrament

-serendipitous events-

choice...I leave my heart to burn
a rise of silent murder
scorching still
or
chilled out:
chance

I feel like a walk
(more like a run)

& grow to explosion...

(not my best on a technical level, but this was written on one amazing night last Summer, by candlelight in an isolated cabin, my head constantly buzzing & popping all with these happy, green thoughts (& they were so, soooo green)inspired by my infiltration of the Grundy Hunting Company. Don't look for their website. They aren't the type a guys that have websites. But I love to trespass on their property, which is actually my property, because that mountain is mine, & I am Its. So I go where I please up there. Dem guns don't bother me. Clothing optional.)


"The Shape I'm In"


How much I miss
to moss-in-love
holding the mold
to gorgon-stone

a lifetime ago, this
ancient road.

Horizons beam
my wanderlust dream:

I am dim of years
in dandelion-blaze
as my wildcat-smarts
dig field mouse-bait

still sleek (From Behind)
with the Sun-Going-Down
‘til morning lurks
to hone the worm

& I (alone,

at-night,
 aloof-on-hooves
 & rambling for love
 at the Back of Beyond)

wish-to-bite
these curious skies
with reborn eyes
on firefly wings
across the ranging twang

countryside crows
(with craggily-bent)
these hard-up-hills
to the faceless brunt.

I brow my spells
in leafy-black
where halfskulls moon
in pretty-pink.



(Colors-to-dust
  by the lush of dusk)

:

I am mossed & made
on the honey.bear mark.

I mulch in murk
'til the unicorn drinks.



How little you miss
to dwell-in-stone
these forgotten roads
a lifetime ago.

Horizons sing
of worm & wing,

that perpetual gaze
of rock & gust.

                 THE BIRD WHO WILL NEVER FLY AND SING AGAIN

Your wings use to carry you far but now there broken and torn.

Your song use to be heard but it's now no more.

Your wings are bloody and broke and your voice is gone.

The little bird who looked out her cage wishing to be let out is no more.

The little bird is dead her wings in bloody torn pieces on the floor her voice ripped out the song is never more.

The little bird died that way never to fly or sing again good bye little bird I must say.

Moonlight Mood

Candle lit vibes set                          
my moonlight mood.                  
               
I see impulsive dark skies and                                
visions of the burnt spoon.  
                                                             
I know she wants to fight and                                    
I'm already being fooled.                                    
                                 
If I can't find my pipe,                                    
I'll be pissed off soon.                                    
                                 
It wasn't love at first sight and                                    
she can't know the truth.                                    
                                 
Its impossible to cry                                    
because I'm never moved.                  
               
I can't handle tonight,                            
so I dream of noon.                                                  
                               
She looks me in the eyes and                                  
says, "I can't be with you",
                                 
then leaves, in the right,                                  
as I watch from my room.

Nobody Town

I'm stuck in the city.                  
This girl is too easy.                    
Another bottle is empty                    
And I'm feeling dizzy.                    
Day is a distant memory.            
                             
I tend to slip and spill                      
On pharmaceutical hills.                        
Three grams and ten pills--
I'm covered with the chills.      
I do it for the thrill.                    
               
I don 't want to come down.                    
I can't let go of the crown.                  
If I do, I might just drown.                  
I feel like a foolish clown                  
Trapped in a nobody town.                    
               
So, turn off the lights.                  
I want to see the skyline                    
Performing my last rites--                  
Moonshine through wine                  
And stars in the night.                  
               
What a terrible fate--                  
Letting my eyes dilate                  
With death as a soul mate.                  
This is the world I create.                    
It is already, too late.

My words, my therapy

This masterpiece that is about to be written
As I am thinking about the first verse
Thoughts resonating with each keystroke
Each word slowly lifting the curse

Mind feels like it's in an endless loop
As I figure out what to convey
Words that must mimic my thoughts
So as not to lead one astray

What will I attain by releasing the inner demons
That stake claim by disillusion
Easily swaying the mind to be torn asunder
Must I now seek absolution?

Changes with the seasons

Winter

The wind is cold
Like the ice in the soul
Of the enemy that is near
'Tis the season to cajole

Spring

Sunshine will seep through
Flowers will magically appear
Fantasies await
With the memories you hold dear

Summer

Time to hone one's skill
While you have some idle time
Don't delay the inevitable
You won't always be in your prime

Fall

Time is slowly winding down
As the colors begin to fade
Time to relax, time to sleep
And soon one can join the masquerade

I Saw A Ghost

The sky rising building floating, effortlessly    
across repugnant energy.

(Resources plundered by flesh eating mosquito)

The Saber-tooth politician fucking robotic dwarfs
against deteriorating old walls .

(life has a meaningful ending )

The Boat drifted between reality and individuality,
then began to yammer violently at dead bodies,
submerged within the craters of humanity.

Subliminal Hallucinations  

Brain scattering verbal elitism,
our sunken ships,  
demarcation of  silicone fishes,
wars molding a sullenness infested inventory ,  
generating pragmatic vultures.

" these walls hides realities architectures "

Brain constructing wounded pythons,
our dented systematic barriers  
shall derail his train,
hoaxes of words
may sound absurd

" heated arguments creating destructive fusions"    
   

"The Logical Thought"

Look at the world.
Breath in the air.
Open your eyes and realize
Why you are there.

In that particular spot,
At that particular moment.
It really does appear it's
For no reason, don't it?

But who do we know?
The thing is, who knows?
Is there really a reason
For were anyone goes?

I like to believe so,
For every moment you are alive,
You are moving closer to your purpose,
And that should not be a surprised.

Not everything is easy,
Nor is anything clear.
But we do know one thing,
there is a reason your here.

vacuums


finding yourself in a position
where poetry is the only thing that
is keeping you sane
whilst drowning and gurgling
in a seas of pain
getting beat down so many times
without a single complaint

because inking the daily onslaught
of your consciousness
helps to reduce the smell
of you own blood stuck in your nostrils

thick salted blood blinding the eye.
slicing and cutting
between the eyelids and the eyeballs
a nation sinking together
each in his own ocean

learning how to float
when they had to swim to survive
blood is the only currency
that qualifies for all kinds of transactions
salted with pain that doesn't even mix right

being swallowed into nothingness
in the absence of everything you had to own

She is


She is short, smart and thick in the right places
When she takes a stride,
The earth moves to the rythm of her love, care and aspirations
Looking into her eyes that pierce my soul
Revealing everything that I wanted to hide from the world
 
Feeling so vulnerable and comfortable at the same time
She is blessed with the looks of a fallen angel
But I only started loving her when I discovered
The character hidden by what she does when around her friends
Rich with good morals and values
An example of a great upbringing
 
I want to Smother her with Love and protect her from the world
Beacause there isnt many like her in our generation.
She is nothing close to the woman I desired
But  her character has taught me what to look for in a woman.
I could be wrong, She might just be painting this image
But ill pick my own brush and start painting it with her.
 
I like to act hardcore like I'm not interested in anything
but she feeds the romantic beast inside me for the world to see
"I keep learning these good things about her"
and with every chapter I know this is the one
I have always been praying for