Submissions by Eddie
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Jul 2010 8:48am
18th Jul 2010 8:48am
I don't normally rhyme but this one just flowed that way. (No Title)
Sublime whispers inside his ear
were louder than the shouts of society.
With white noise suppressed
he tuned to the voice in his head.
Among the hum one messagewas clear;
A messenger with priority
and so casually dressed,
he slowly climbed into his bed
He considered those he’ll leave so dear
and prayed out of fear more than piety
then, with his lips pressed
around the barrel of a gun filled with lead
his eyes closed shutfilled withtears,
as asoul prepared for its Deity.
Then when his finger depressed
the bullet made...
were louder than the shouts of society.
With white noise suppressed
he tuned to the voice in his head.
Among the hum one messagewas clear;
A messenger with priority
and so casually dressed,
he slowly climbed into his bed
He considered those he’ll leave so dear
and prayed out of fear more than piety
then, with his lips pressed
around the barrel of a gun filled with lead
his eyes closed shutfilled withtears,
as asoul prepared for its Deity.
Then when his finger depressed
the bullet made...
772 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Jul 2010 2:01am
17th Jul 2010 2:01am
Blue Collared workers
Bound in starched cuffs with blue garrottes,
an aestheticchoker dangling from our throats,
we wear what is expected…And do the same.
A nudging sun dilutes the blackness
emerging into another murky day.
We nod in our constraints.
Our conditioned minds
forged and tempered
snap before bending.
an aestheticchoker dangling from our throats,
we wear what is expected…And do the same.
A nudging sun dilutes the blackness
emerging into another murky day.
We nod in our constraints.
Our conditioned minds
forged and tempered
snap before bending.
734 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Jul 2010 3:52am
10th Jul 2010 3:52am
Alone
She always stood alone in a corner of the room.
Often she would notice a fleeting murmur from pointing eyes.
A peripheral to the hub of life that would heighten the night.
She’s gone now and after a quiet funeral,
her wake soon turns into a party
with empty corners.
Often she would notice a fleeting murmur from pointing eyes.
A peripheral to the hub of life that would heighten the night.
She’s gone now and after a quiet funeral,
her wake soon turns into a party
with empty corners.
857 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Jul 2010 1:17am
9th Jul 2010 1:17am
Remembering...
When girls would compete with
Murals on the sides of panelvans or
the bellies of Trumpies.
Crashed in a bag of beans;
Fingering a tear near Levi
where Strauss used to be.
Short spluttered coughs from
tangy scented smoke
drawn through thin tally-ho
Riding high
the crests of a song
played on black vinyl disks
…
I had gotten used to that glitch
between “I have become”and “comfortably numb” (Pink Floyd)
Too Clean now;
music Read from laser disks
scratch-free.
Leaving itches on the back of sung...
Murals on the sides of panelvans or
the bellies of Trumpies.
Crashed in a bag of beans;
Fingering a tear near Levi
where Strauss used to be.
Short spluttered coughs from
tangy scented smoke
drawn through thin tally-ho
Riding high
the crests of a song
played on black vinyl disks
…
I had gotten used to that glitch
between “I have become”and “comfortably numb” (Pink Floyd)
Too Clean now;
music Read from laser disks
scratch-free.
Leaving itches on the back of sung...
789 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
7th Jul 2010 1:59am
7th Jul 2010 1:59am
Experiences
A black hole in my mind
syphonsmy experiences into a place called
‘memories’.
A vague trip with no way back.
It doesn’t discriminate between good or bad…
Devouring all in its wake.
Just gone.
Stored perhaps to be recalled in an afterlife.
Or so I’m told.
I go there sometimesIn a dream
that will one day leave me there
in the comfort of a grave
to then dwell in the mind’s vortex of those I have known.
syphonsmy experiences into a place called
‘memories’.
A vague trip with no way back.
It doesn’t discriminate between good or bad…
Devouring all in its wake.
Just gone.
Stored perhaps to be recalled in an afterlife.
Or so I’m told.
I go there sometimesIn a dream
that will one day leave me there
in the comfort of a grave
to then dwell in the mind’s vortex of those I have known.
781 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Jul 2010 2:27pm
4th Jul 2010 2:27pm
Flat wrinkles
Pampered demons are harder to cast out.
Nourished on vices, their tentaclescling.
He lives depressed, ironed flat ondrugs prescribed
but often demon quakes would wrinkle the conditioned press.
Like over-drenched skin he becomes
uglier yet vulnerably more sensitive.
Nourished on vices, their tentaclescling.
He lives depressed, ironed flat ondrugs prescribed
but often demon quakes would wrinkle the conditioned press.
Like over-drenched skin he becomes
uglier yet vulnerably more sensitive.
805 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Eddie
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