Submissions by Intricate_B
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I is what I is..
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Mar 2013 6:03pm
14th Mar 2013 6:03pm
The secret to life..
Intrepid travelers, and wanderers about.
Hobos and transvestites, and paramount louts.
Traveling near, they come from afar,
To see this wicked mind that's too far from par.
Weird transit thoughts, interior turmoil.
From druggies on needles, who smoke off of foil.
The freaky and fascinating gather from all around.
To gaze upon the freakiest, broke mind that's been found.
My constant broke mind, my mad man's nonsense.
To the freaks and transients, it makes perfect sense.
To know what I know, internal thought wrought,
Makes sense of it all. The secret...
Hobos and transvestites, and paramount louts.
Traveling near, they come from afar,
To see this wicked mind that's too far from par.
Weird transit thoughts, interior turmoil.
From druggies on needles, who smoke off of foil.
The freaky and fascinating gather from all around.
To gaze upon the freakiest, broke mind that's been found.
My constant broke mind, my mad man's nonsense.
To the freaks and transients, it makes perfect sense.
To know what I know, internal thought wrought,
Makes sense of it all. The secret...
735 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Mar 2013 5:15pm
13th Mar 2013 5:15pm
untied mind. a palindrome
Untied mind,
Gateful unknown.
Times wasted and wanted
Times you show.
Dark, sick twisted,
Unified sick mind of mine.
Twisted, sick, dark,
Show you times,
Wanted and wasted times.
Unknown grateful
Mind untied..
Gateful unknown.
Times wasted and wanted
Times you show.
Dark, sick twisted,
Unified sick mind of mine.
Twisted, sick, dark,
Show you times,
Wanted and wasted times.
Unknown grateful
Mind untied..
535 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Mar 2013 6:17am
13th Mar 2013 6:17am
Aesthetically speaking..
Cellar Door..
516 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
13th Mar 2013 6:13am
13th Mar 2013 6:13am
#75
I think and count. Uncounted to be unaccounted for? Unacounted and ransacked in the proverbial head that is me. mine.
Mind plus the mindless equals, what? Said out loud one would be accused of crazy:
"Lock him up!!" {out loud}..
"Poetry and flowetryof the maximum sort" {on paper}..
Try? To write on paper craziness and mindlessness not so mindless. Not so crazy. Loopy maybe, Crazy not..
Get it out and calm. Ease. Time to rest. Or not.
Crazy, mindless speach and no time to sit. To sleep.
Get it out not, and...
Mind plus the mindless equals, what? Said out loud one would be accused of crazy:
"Lock him up!!" {out loud}..
"Poetry and flowetryof the maximum sort" {on paper}..
Try? To write on paper craziness and mindlessness not so mindless. Not so crazy. Loopy maybe, Crazy not..
Get it out and calm. Ease. Time to rest. Or not.
Crazy, mindless speach and no time to sit. To sleep.
Get it out not, and...
677 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
12th Mar 2013 3:33pm
12th Mar 2013 3:33pm
Long overdue lovins..
I sit here and ponder. Often, from what seems afar, lost deep in thought.
Buried by burden, and stress, and as it becomes overwhelming, the weight unbearable I scream for release!
I lash out and pray for a break that never comes. Then, through the thicket of ire induced fog, shines that beacon.
The fiery intense red glow of passion, lit years ago. And in the crimson glow, shines the face of an Angel.
A woman of unrivaled perfection that I so strives to touch. Yet through the thickness of pain, she, innocence incarnate, personified by my queen is yet out of...
Buried by burden, and stress, and as it becomes overwhelming, the weight unbearable I scream for release!
I lash out and pray for a break that never comes. Then, through the thicket of ire induced fog, shines that beacon.
The fiery intense red glow of passion, lit years ago. And in the crimson glow, shines the face of an Angel.
A woman of unrivaled perfection that I so strives to touch. Yet through the thickness of pain, she, innocence incarnate, personified by my queen is yet out of...
636 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
12th Mar 2013 3:26pm
12th Mar 2013 3:26pm
Hatred! Translation, pt1.1. rated t.v. ma (explicit lyrics)
Ok dude, for real you can go right on out and fuck yourself..
Not in the Sylvia Plath sense of fucking yourself, because ultimately in the end, we all end up fucking ourselves..
No..
I mean in the litteral sense of fucking yourself.
Full on to the hilt, balls deep in a midget fucking yourself, fuck yourself.
Let fall the pants and let slide the proverbial -or metaphorical, Whichever the case may be- penis in the act of fucking ones-self..
The, "I hate you so intensly, I wish all bodily harm upon you" sense of fucking yourself..
The "May you die...
Not in the Sylvia Plath sense of fucking yourself, because ultimately in the end, we all end up fucking ourselves..
No..
I mean in the litteral sense of fucking yourself.
Full on to the hilt, balls deep in a midget fucking yourself, fuck yourself.
Let fall the pants and let slide the proverbial -or metaphorical, Whichever the case may be- penis in the act of fucking ones-self..
The, "I hate you so intensly, I wish all bodily harm upon you" sense of fucking yourself..
The "May you die...
636 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
11th Mar 2013 6:13pm
11th Mar 2013 6:13pm
Lost boy blues.
Lost in my nind, unable to cope.
My life line is short, like this literary rope.
It seems much shorter, as I reach the end.
Locked in my mind, the shell once again.
On comes the darkness, engulfed by the pain.
My thoughts overwhelming, my speech is retained.
Deep dark self torture, my mind in refrain.
The hurt comes again. The downpour of rain.
The shell that remains. My world of pain.
My world of insane. No more to gain.
In memory lane. No more refrain.
The world of self torture, that I adore,
No one to talk to, self sorts out...
My life line is short, like this literary rope.
It seems much shorter, as I reach the end.
Locked in my mind, the shell once again.
On comes the darkness, engulfed by the pain.
My thoughts overwhelming, my speech is retained.
Deep dark self torture, my mind in refrain.
The hurt comes again. The downpour of rain.
The shell that remains. My world of pain.
My world of insane. No more to gain.
In memory lane. No more refrain.
The world of self torture, that I adore,
No one to talk to, self sorts out...
627 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
11th Mar 2013 6:11pm
11th Mar 2013 6:11pm
A cry for help.
Lost in transit, my thoughts start to race.
From my mind to my soul, time is replaced.
With a pause, time stops,
I'm overcome with rhyme.
Not much matters, upon paper, The creative lines.
Stress induced artwork, you like to read.
My lost sense of sanity, your words plant the seed.
A mad man's nonsensical, starts to take form,
Tight scrambled nonsense, from my mind is torn.
Your words spark pain, which triggers a thought.
When I'm hurt, I should write, or so I'm taught.
Hurt feelings inspire, in a much painful way.
My pain becomes...
From my mind to my soul, time is replaced.
With a pause, time stops,
I'm overcome with rhyme.
Not much matters, upon paper, The creative lines.
Stress induced artwork, you like to read.
My lost sense of sanity, your words plant the seed.
A mad man's nonsensical, starts to take form,
Tight scrambled nonsense, from my mind is torn.
Your words spark pain, which triggers a thought.
When I'm hurt, I should write, or so I'm taught.
Hurt feelings inspire, in a much painful way.
My pain becomes...
829 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
11th Mar 2013 3:25am
11th Mar 2013 3:25am
My insight.
She appears before the intimidating clouds and realizes that hum drum is the ultimate act of defiance as we clean the barrel of our pistols..
673 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
10th Mar 2013 8:08am
10th Mar 2013 8:08am
Forever the dunce. L.J. pt1.
Across the way, on the merry go round in the park, is a boy of scrawny stature. Picked on, and beat up, bullied to the point of tears.
8 years old, this boy wanders without guidance. No adults to look up to, no parents to love on him. Wandering aimlessly, he is on a search. For right and wrong. The good examples to follow.
Ever wandering, in the Dust Bowl, Ghost Town, Whereverville USA. In the tiny pocket, packed away deep, in the deepest crevice of my mind. Hidden in the safely and confines, where, not a soul can inflict harm, upon him.
...
8 years old, this boy wanders without guidance. No adults to look up to, no parents to love on him. Wandering aimlessly, he is on a search. For right and wrong. The good examples to follow.
Ever wandering, in the Dust Bowl, Ghost Town, Whereverville USA. In the tiny pocket, packed away deep, in the deepest crevice of my mind. Hidden in the safely and confines, where, not a soul can inflict harm, upon him.
...
684 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
10th Mar 2013 6:00am
10th Mar 2013 6:00am
Wasted youth
Is this a life worth living?
I have one thing going for me, and that is my wife.
She cares for me.
Aside from that,
I have done nothing with my life.
I fucked up time after time after time.
My life has been a series of mishaps from a very young age. "You're going to end up in prison by the time you're 18!!"
The words of encouragement to a ten year old boy.
I really had a lot going for me. People really cared.
The words echoed within my adolescent mind.
They resonated and stand as a scar upon my 30 year old mind.
The only happy...
I have one thing going for me, and that is my wife.
She cares for me.
Aside from that,
I have done nothing with my life.
I fucked up time after time after time.
My life has been a series of mishaps from a very young age. "You're going to end up in prison by the time you're 18!!"
The words of encouragement to a ten year old boy.
I really had a lot going for me. People really cared.
The words echoed within my adolescent mind.
They resonated and stand as a scar upon my 30 year old mind.
The only happy...
833 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Mar 2013 00:03am
10th Mar 2013 00:03am
Stay Brilliant. A.D.H.D. story time.
Madness and rambles, this that and thought.
My loud busy mind, my twisted ass thoughts.
What goes on, in that big mind of yours?
This that, and riff raff, see the hawks soar.
Nonsense of nonsense, and gibberish galore.
I love my wife and kids, but not much more.
Counting cracks on sidewalks, skippin the chalk,
O.C.D. tendencies, and water proof caulk.
Slow your thoughts, and unjumble your words,
This that, and madness, and rambles I've heard.
The hustle and bustle, of maddening thoughts,
Mixed up and jumbled, and military cots. ...
My loud busy mind, my twisted ass thoughts.
What goes on, in that big mind of yours?
This that, and riff raff, see the hawks soar.
Nonsense of nonsense, and gibberish galore.
I love my wife and kids, but not much more.
Counting cracks on sidewalks, skippin the chalk,
O.C.D. tendencies, and water proof caulk.
Slow your thoughts, and unjumble your words,
This that, and madness, and rambles I've heard.
The hustle and bustle, of maddening thoughts,
Mixed up and jumbled, and military cots. ...
609 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Intricate_B
