Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
💚
Oh sod.
i dont want to do this anymore
my spelling isnt right and my neck aches
its like revenge for the hamster that bites
the unkind thumb
yes i know i used that reference on facebook
but fuck a duck Siegfried what made you the master of the universe
im drunk and that usually develops into premenstrual stress or a white hotness in my loins
not tonight tonight i want to get lost and drunk and high and cry and beg and plea and bleed and drink more
just for one night
let me be
youre sucking the life from me
my eyes are frozen and breath...
my spelling isnt right and my neck aches
its like revenge for the hamster that bites
the unkind thumb
yes i know i used that reference on facebook
but fuck a duck Siegfried what made you the master of the universe
im drunk and that usually develops into premenstrual stress or a white hotness in my loins
not tonight tonight i want to get lost and drunk and high and cry and beg and plea and bleed and drink more
just for one night
let me be
youre sucking the life from me
my eyes are frozen and breath...
935 reads
14 Comments
The Stalker
She can't breathe. He's creeping up
through the window pane,
he watches her bathe -
she can't breathe. Tears fall from her eyes.
The stalker. He lingers in the ever-dark.
He waits like the predator. She can't escape his prey.
Where is the good Lord now?
The kettle whistles. He's creeping up
through the window pane,
the hot water down her throat.
Welts rise like soldiers on the inside. Tears fall from her eyes.
"I'm frightened. He frightens me."
through the window pane,
he watches her bathe -
she can't breathe. Tears fall from her eyes.
The stalker. He lingers in the ever-dark.
He waits like the predator. She can't escape his prey.
Where is the good Lord now?
The kettle whistles. He's creeping up
through the window pane,
the hot water down her throat.
Welts rise like soldiers on the inside. Tears fall from her eyes.
"I'm frightened. He frightens me."
994 reads
4 Comments
A Tribute to 'Purple-Rain Poisoning.' (Helping TheAssistant)
Helping TheAssistant with A Tribute to 'Purple-Rain Poisoning.'}
Let me sit back for this one
and inhale my tar covered cigarette,
it's going to be pretty watching you crumble
like this cheap biscuit into this cheap tea.
Custard creams, you know, I used to like those.
Now I like 'Sports', why don't you make a name out of that?
You cheap imitation of love.
It was all very comfortable for you when you were bought
and paid for like a prostitute for greed. No more, no less.
You always were a little obsessive, weren't you? ...
Let me sit back for this one
and inhale my tar covered cigarette,
it's going to be pretty watching you crumble
like this cheap biscuit into this cheap tea.
Custard creams, you know, I used to like those.
Now I like 'Sports', why don't you make a name out of that?
You cheap imitation of love.
It was all very comfortable for you when you were bought
and paid for like a prostitute for greed. No more, no less.
You always were a little obsessive, weren't you? ...
782 reads
4 Comments
Trick my treat.
Deactivation since I want to be in your game -
the game where you deactivate my mind
and my body of being deactivated.
Shock -
the insides and let them quiver
until quiet days leave for powerful nights.
Cast me
out into the shadow of your back-hand.
Smoke me
like the tulip joint you favour.
Loathe me with eyes that allow
you to kiss me tender.
Break me
on this floor, tonight.
the game where you deactivate my mind
and my body of being deactivated.
Shock -
the insides and let them quiver
until quiet days leave for powerful nights.
Cast me
out into the shadow of your back-hand.
Smoke me
like the tulip joint you favour.
Loathe me with eyes that allow
you to kiss me tender.
Break me
on this floor, tonight.
816 reads
4 Comments
Fire in the second row.
In the Summer
my mother and I
visited Amsterdam
and sat in the hotel room
rolling joints,
on the edges of my mind.
I won't subside, or drown,
this tale in another of my endless
rambling metaphors, at least I'll try not to.
The fire alarms screeched,
feet running outside the door.
"Get your stuff, get your fucking stuff!"
She was screaming again, I knew it was too much
to ask for a quiet holiday, though I didn't mind.
The woman, with black hair and a steel jaw, grabbed my jumper
and shoes and hollered again waving...
my mother and I
visited Amsterdam
and sat in the hotel room
rolling joints,
on the edges of my mind.
I won't subside, or drown,
this tale in another of my endless
rambling metaphors, at least I'll try not to.
The fire alarms screeched,
feet running outside the door.
"Get your stuff, get your fucking stuff!"
She was screaming again, I knew it was too much
to ask for a quiet holiday, though I didn't mind.
The woman, with black hair and a steel jaw, grabbed my jumper
and shoes and hollered again waving...
860 reads
7 Comments
Just Add Water Man
your plastic soldiers charge
at my Barbie dolls
and i pretend as if this game has got too many days
too old
but as we make out a lego house
and talk of years gone by
the puzzle pieces are eaten by the dog
i put rouge on your cheeks
and paint on the nails
with some reluctance
of indifference i dont mind
or question
why your facial expression never changes
my just-add-water man the perfect man
i quite like you sat so silent
pretending you can speak and with
words we can hide or seek in the garden
or smash plates...
at my Barbie dolls
and i pretend as if this game has got too many days
too old
but as we make out a lego house
and talk of years gone by
the puzzle pieces are eaten by the dog
i put rouge on your cheeks
and paint on the nails
with some reluctance
of indifference i dont mind
or question
why your facial expression never changes
my just-add-water man the perfect man
i quite like you sat so silent
pretending you can speak and with
words we can hide or seek in the garden
or smash plates...
985 reads
3 Comments
Make haste
I turn off all the lights
with but a vacant stare,
I can't bear the thought of leaving this room
with the dust mounting
on windowsills and the
green wallpaper flaking
by the door.
Paralysis of my mind
is dismounting from the white horse
with his blackened nose
and glint in fearless eyes.
I watch the fox whining by the greener pastures.
Shame I could never escape a wolf until I shot it
with a musket
and ran fast
in the opposite
direction.
with but a vacant stare,
I can't bear the thought of leaving this room
with the dust mounting
on windowsills and the
green wallpaper flaking
by the door.
Paralysis of my mind
is dismounting from the white horse
with his blackened nose
and glint in fearless eyes.
I watch the fox whining by the greener pastures.
Shame I could never escape a wolf until I shot it
with a musket
and ran fast
in the opposite
direction.
794 reads
0 Comments
Wondering
And I worry,
as the soft skies fall
silent to crows. We stand
in a congregation of sorts
watching the small body blaze.
As much desolation is left in me
as it's left within you,
you waited to deal with death
where I disappeared
into the Jamaican haze.
We enjoyed
days
of massages and listening to sounds
that soothed the body, soothed the mind
and left us erratic and left us climactic and left us enigmatic in the soft sky silence,
blessed by crows,
trying to make sense of the waste that is left.
At the wake
I place posies...
as the soft skies fall
silent to crows. We stand
in a congregation of sorts
watching the small body blaze.
As much desolation is left in me
as it's left within you,
you waited to deal with death
where I disappeared
into the Jamaican haze.
We enjoyed
days
of massages and listening to sounds
that soothed the body, soothed the mind
and left us erratic and left us climactic and left us enigmatic in the soft sky silence,
blessed by crows,
trying to make sense of the waste that is left.
At the wake
I place posies...
808 reads
4 Comments
A Sober Writer (Legend or Myth)
Legends are those things with funny legs and just one eye and giants, fire breathing dragon Gods, the bearded man and his water to wine trick.
Myths are those things with bright metal wings and a midnight rose asleep for one thousand years, and the pretty dog laughed to see such fun and the i-Robot film...
I think but often I'm not sure for a bit, the quick education on Google doesn't really tick
Godly knowledge.
A pheonix could fly on the nights line when it is ever pronounced pho-en-ix.
Emmerdale lost that epic country extravegancer as it always had at...
Myths are those things with bright metal wings and a midnight rose asleep for one thousand years, and the pretty dog laughed to see such fun and the i-Robot film...
I think but often I'm not sure for a bit, the quick education on Google doesn't really tick
Godly knowledge.
A pheonix could fly on the nights line when it is ever pronounced pho-en-ix.
Emmerdale lost that epic country extravegancer as it always had at...
966 reads
8 Comments
Slaughter
The shark was once in love
with a pigeon
no one said his name,
it was a shame,
for the lawnmower comes around
cuts the shark down.
I liked the gravestones and statues in the garden
when I think of you all the time
and the summer breeze calls me home,
portobello sun screen
and Africa in a Lynx bottle.
When Mama always mentions how she liked you,
I never minded you,
really.
A fool for love, I should never question your motives,
still a shark
in a pigeon pool.
Believe me if this was about obsessive
I...
with a pigeon
no one said his name,
it was a shame,
for the lawnmower comes around
cuts the shark down.
I liked the gravestones and statues in the garden
when I think of you all the time
and the summer breeze calls me home,
portobello sun screen
and Africa in a Lynx bottle.
When Mama always mentions how she liked you,
I never minded you,
really.
A fool for love, I should never question your motives,
still a shark
in a pigeon pool.
Believe me if this was about obsessive
I...
826 reads
4 Comments
Daydreaming
I was day dreaming of you
and it was quiet, and it was fine.
The stars didn't end their endless flicker,
the bell didn't toll at twelve o'clock.
All was quiet, as I told you.
I was day dreaming I was free,
flying, on a bottomless cloud over a stream-lined river.
The world continued to spin and my words continued to rhyme,
strangely.
I was free, contented.
Everything still felt the same,
no matter which way I sided.
Loneliness is a better company, and wearing black, and eating little, and drinking too much caffeine and...
and it was quiet, and it was fine.
The stars didn't end their endless flicker,
the bell didn't toll at twelve o'clock.
All was quiet, as I told you.
I was day dreaming I was free,
flying, on a bottomless cloud over a stream-lined river.
The world continued to spin and my words continued to rhyme,
strangely.
I was free, contented.
Everything still felt the same,
no matter which way I sided.
Loneliness is a better company, and wearing black, and eating little, and drinking too much caffeine and...
862 reads
2 Comments
Silence is a virtue
Something lands, bites then flies away.
Oh, the mundanity and quiet rolls over me now,
the white chairs, the paved grass, the weeds growing through the cracks like my life attempting to break the stone defences. All is quiet. All is still.
A riddle of time vs. life vs. death. There's wet dew on the ground and I'm still.
A yellow candle flickers and crackles to my demise. All is quiet.
I am still. The bed fondly invites my back away from the half open curtains.
All is quiet. I am still.
Oh, the mundanity and quiet rolls over me now,
the white chairs, the paved grass, the weeds growing through the cracks like my life attempting to break the stone defences. All is quiet. All is still.
A riddle of time vs. life vs. death. There's wet dew on the ground and I'm still.
A yellow candle flickers and crackles to my demise. All is quiet.
I am still. The bed fondly invites my back away from the half open curtains.
All is quiet. I am still.
904 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)