Submissions by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
DARK POEM
Published
1st Nov 2009 11:59am
1st Nov 2009 11:59am
Trick or Treat
I have all these words
rushing around inside,
but then they stop
just as I get to the page
I swear that these words
want me dead.
I'm back now
the ordeal is not over,
but I'm back
and he was a human being
and they manipulated him
and his children weren't mentioned
at the funeral.
They had their false prayers
their two dimensionality
which must be comforting
and I had my whiskey
but what did she have;
his daughter
She heard herself
reduced to nothing
by those cunts
shallow cunts.
It's...
rushing around inside,
but then they stop
just as I get to the page
I swear that these words
want me dead.
I'm back now
the ordeal is not over,
but I'm back
and he was a human being
and they manipulated him
and his children weren't mentioned
at the funeral.
They had their false prayers
their two dimensionality
which must be comforting
and I had my whiskey
but what did she have;
his daughter
She heard herself
reduced to nothing
by those cunts
shallow cunts.
It's...
1027 reads
3 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
24th Oct 2009 9:19pm
24th Oct 2009 9:19pm
The Seed Experiments
I'm still a little hazy around the edges,
A couple of ants here and there, but never really anywhere.
The nausea was horrible, I hid under my duvet for just under two hours,
Chopin soothing the worst of it.
Then it began; four hours at their most complete,
An insular soundscape with a few extra dimensions thrown in until I could only hear my jawbone humming.
I tried to put a pencil to paper, but I woke up next to what looks like a child's caligraphy lesson.
And my room! Looks like the chicken became the walking dead,...
A couple of ants here and there, but never really anywhere.
The nausea was horrible, I hid under my duvet for just under two hours,
Chopin soothing the worst of it.
Then it began; four hours at their most complete,
An insular soundscape with a few extra dimensions thrown in until I could only hear my jawbone humming.
I tried to put a pencil to paper, but I woke up next to what looks like a child's caligraphy lesson.
And my room! Looks like the chicken became the walking dead,...
963 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Oct 2009 10:44pm
22nd Oct 2009 10:44pm
Goodbye
Just let me say goodbye
like I need to.
Not like everyone expects
or how everyone wants to be there;
just me
just me
as I need to.
The bond was mine
and no one in this situation
had that.
I just want to say goodbye,
not like you want to allow me to,
not like you think I should.
I just want to say goodbye
just as I have to.
like I need to.
Not like everyone expects
or how everyone wants to be there;
just me
just me
as I need to.
The bond was mine
and no one in this situation
had that.
I just want to say goodbye,
not like you want to allow me to,
not like you think I should.
I just want to say goodbye
just as I have to.
1067 reads
7 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Oct 2009 10:42pm
22nd Oct 2009 10:42pm
It's up to you.
Life doesn't stop for anyone
until it really stops.
Remember that.
When everything becomes a test
it is only you
that is being tested...
To an extent.
There is an infinite examination
going on, eternally,
but occasionally
the individual
gets thrown a question
or an answer
that they weren't ready for
and when you face it,
remember that it was put there for you.
Everyone else can help or hinder,
but it is up to you
it is always up to you.
until it really stops.
Remember that.
When everything becomes a test
it is only you
that is being tested...
To an extent.
There is an infinite examination
going on, eternally,
but occasionally
the individual
gets thrown a question
or an answer
that they weren't ready for
and when you face it,
remember that it was put there for you.
Everyone else can help or hinder,
but it is up to you
it is always up to you.
1003 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Oct 2009 7:06pm
19th Oct 2009 7:06pm
Sunday, Bloody Sunday.
The tables are covered in graffiti
saying nothing
as the families sit down
to their Sunday roasts.
The beer is cold,
but I am much colder.
There's a funeral on the way
and the streets look dead
as they have since I noticed them.
The world still lacks taste;
the jukeboxes say so
as do the newspapers
and the cinema screens.
Give me symphony music
or jazz,
Bukowski, Celine, Fante
or Dostoevsky.
A rare steak
and some time to myself.
A pen and paper will do,
but the insular thing
isn't working so well...
saying nothing
as the families sit down
to their Sunday roasts.
The beer is cold,
but I am much colder.
There's a funeral on the way
and the streets look dead
as they have since I noticed them.
The world still lacks taste;
the jukeboxes say so
as do the newspapers
and the cinema screens.
Give me symphony music
or jazz,
Bukowski, Celine, Fante
or Dostoevsky.
A rare steak
and some time to myself.
A pen and paper will do,
but the insular thing
isn't working so well...
920 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Oct 2009 5:53pm
18th Oct 2009 5:53pm
My last piece of paper -Ironic really.
I’m still listening to the jazz cats
just like you told me.
Not many people around me understand,
but you don’t need to worry;
I got used to that
a long time ago.
It is how it is.
So you are gone;
There’s nothing left of you
apart from memories:
Something I don’t have enough of,
but what I have
will have to do.
Just like me
you were probably a good man,
but, like me,
there was only a select few to see it.
Well, I never did,
but right now
you are everything.
2.
The work lot are in...
just like you told me.
Not many people around me understand,
but you don’t need to worry;
I got used to that
a long time ago.
It is how it is.
So you are gone;
There’s nothing left of you
apart from memories:
Something I don’t have enough of,
but what I have
will have to do.
Just like me
you were probably a good man,
but, like me,
there was only a select few to see it.
Well, I never did,
but right now
you are everything.
2.
The work lot are in...
1022 reads
6 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
17th Oct 2009 7:17pm
17th Oct 2009 7:17pm
16.10.09 -Farewell
It is very strange
when you realise
that, once and for all
they are gone.
They are no final words,
no goodbyes,
just a blank space:
no chance of filling it.
And the poets continue
attempting to put the word
down, but they miss
the point.
Every sentence
has been blown
straight out of my head.
Everything has evaporated
in just a few words;
That one phone call
'he is gone'
and he is.
And so,
to my father
who is no longer anything,
just a few things i can remember:
Rest...
when you realise
that, once and for all
they are gone.
They are no final words,
no goodbyes,
just a blank space:
no chance of filling it.
And the poets continue
attempting to put the word
down, but they miss
the point.
Every sentence
has been blown
straight out of my head.
Everything has evaporated
in just a few words;
That one phone call
'he is gone'
and he is.
And so,
to my father
who is no longer anything,
just a few things i can remember:
Rest...
1064 reads
7 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
12th Oct 2009 9:27pm
12th Oct 2009 9:27pm
Botticellian Trees -Fading in the song of the leaves
One of them looked strong,
the other should have appeared
weaker:
Much more like death.
Is this not the case
when you study life
like a painting?
Our differences are minimal,
but they represent –to us-
our own significance
or, more so,
our lack of it.
The flourished tree is blind to it.
That is how it succeeded.
The weak limbs of its frail counterpart
have watched us all over the many years;
heard all of our fuss
and seen our useless agony
all for the sake of death
Or perhaps, the flourished tree...
the other should have appeared
weaker:
Much more like death.
Is this not the case
when you study life
like a painting?
Our differences are minimal,
but they represent –to us-
our own significance
or, more so,
our lack of it.
The flourished tree is blind to it.
That is how it succeeded.
The weak limbs of its frail counterpart
have watched us all over the many years;
heard all of our fuss
and seen our useless agony
all for the sake of death
Or perhaps, the flourished tree...
992 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
12th Oct 2009 9:22pm
12th Oct 2009 9:22pm
Throw it away
Throw it away,' he said.
Throw it away
throw it away
throw it away.
Hume didn't believe
that any man had
thrown a life away
while it was worth
keeping
and nor
do I.
Throw it away
throw it away
throw it away.
Hume didn't believe
that any man had
thrown a life away
while it was worth
keeping
and nor
do I.
1000 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Oct 2009 3:44am
9th Oct 2009 3:44am
The pleasures of this world
Waking up half drunk,
forcing the food down
and then sitting on the toilet
to feel everything that was there before
burst out of me,
whilst writing it down.
The sounds that I try and hide
because the woman I make love to
is laying awake next door.
The knowing,
that all I have to do
is wipe,
brush my teeth
and head for the bars
to start again.
forcing the food down
and then sitting on the toilet
to feel everything that was there before
burst out of me,
whilst writing it down.
The sounds that I try and hide
because the woman I make love to
is laying awake next door.
The knowing,
that all I have to do
is wipe,
brush my teeth
and head for the bars
to start again.
864 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
7th Oct 2009 10:17pm
7th Oct 2009 10:17pm
Concrete
My shoes rest on concrete
as I lean on concrete
and stare at it.
Everything is concrete;
especially our mistakes
and our final outcome.
We are not music,
or art,
or the future
or hope,
we are what has been
before us:
one step closer
to
the
end
as I lean on concrete
and stare at it.
Everything is concrete;
especially our mistakes
and our final outcome.
We are not music,
or art,
or the future
or hope,
we are what has been
before us:
one step closer
to
the
end
946 reads
1 Comment
ANGER POEM
Published
7th Oct 2009 00:48am
7th Oct 2009 00:48am
"Get the c**t!"
Let the racists
kill the racists.
I don't have a problem
with that,
but when they attack
someone who really
couldn't give a breath
for geographical origin
they really say something.
I'm not sure
exactly what that is,
but it's good enough
to lock them all
in a hateful
ethnically diverse,
starving cage
and let the cunts
kill each other.
kill the racists.
I don't have a problem
with that,
but when they attack
someone who really
couldn't give a breath
for geographical origin
they really say something.
I'm not sure
exactly what that is,
but it's good enough
to lock them all
in a hateful
ethnically diverse,
starving cage
and let the cunts
kill each other.
948 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
