Submissions by Tallman89
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am a worthless existence who write for the sole purpose of making life feeling less pointless.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Feb 2014 12:26pm
21st Feb 2014 12:26pm
To Simply Swing
Swing for the fences they say
but you gotta provide your own stick
and it's safe to say that a dick is a pretty good
stick when a lovely behind moves before
darkly eyes while passionate blood erects
desire to swing for the fence once mentioned
in the form of an excerpt from some coming of age story
where the protagonist discovered the tragedy of having a sack
and awkwardly hit a home run with his pretty good stick
Spinning dizzy in swirling nonsense
jaw dropping awesomeness of the absurd simplicity
of a vortex, how it spins with a complex...
but you gotta provide your own stick
and it's safe to say that a dick is a pretty good
stick when a lovely behind moves before
darkly eyes while passionate blood erects
desire to swing for the fence once mentioned
in the form of an excerpt from some coming of age story
where the protagonist discovered the tragedy of having a sack
and awkwardly hit a home run with his pretty good stick
Spinning dizzy in swirling nonsense
jaw dropping awesomeness of the absurd simplicity
of a vortex, how it spins with a complex...
547 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Feb 2014 10:45am
20th Feb 2014 10:45am
Through Solitude
The unbearable intensity of this solitude. Thinking about a gun
but never consider obtaining one. A taste for sharp steel indulgence
to puncture a hole in what's mundane, to bleed it dry. Grown restless
as chronic masturbation finally feels too excessive, chaffing isn't pretty.
Too numb to feel the punch line punch me in the eye, the fist might as well
flew over my head like subtle appreciations of my ridiculous pick up lines
spoken words flashing like cheap diamond rings, they are just as good.
Oh how these dark pupils brighten at the glare of an open...
but never consider obtaining one. A taste for sharp steel indulgence
to puncture a hole in what's mundane, to bleed it dry. Grown restless
as chronic masturbation finally feels too excessive, chaffing isn't pretty.
Too numb to feel the punch line punch me in the eye, the fist might as well
flew over my head like subtle appreciations of my ridiculous pick up lines
spoken words flashing like cheap diamond rings, they are just as good.
Oh how these dark pupils brighten at the glare of an open...
603 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Feb 2014 10:51am
19th Feb 2014 10:51am
This might be nothing...
Leaning forward to offer these creepy hands which do not intend to creep anyone out.
Just curious about the friendliness of touching skin, where you find comfort
in dragging finger tips as they explore your limits (hopefully, there are none.)
~As I lean forward
I conclude that jumping from this height
is survivable~
But it's nothing serious, just a bunch of games where the reward is something special
but not too special. Just a seemingly profound something which spends time in replacing
your boredom. At times, this something is confused with a crucifix...
Just curious about the friendliness of touching skin, where you find comfort
in dragging finger tips as they explore your limits (hopefully, there are none.)
~As I lean forward
I conclude that jumping from this height
is survivable~
But it's nothing serious, just a bunch of games where the reward is something special
but not too special. Just a seemingly profound something which spends time in replacing
your boredom. At times, this something is confused with a crucifix...
489 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Feb 2014 12:23pm
9th Feb 2014 12:23pm
I am in this bedroom
I am in this bedroom
and In this bedroom, I lie motionless
regardless of the pulsing vital signs, regardless
of the expanding lung, wanting to be filled with tar
because oxygen is so god damn disappointing.
In this bedroom, I dream with caffeinated eyes wide open
painting a romantic scenario on the ceiling fan
each blade displaying a scene
and when in motion, the ceiling fan portrays
an animation of lush hands (one with rainbow
colored bracelets dangling on the wrists
and the other with clumped dirt fingernails)
every red finger passionately...
and In this bedroom, I lie motionless
regardless of the pulsing vital signs, regardless
of the expanding lung, wanting to be filled with tar
because oxygen is so god damn disappointing.
In this bedroom, I dream with caffeinated eyes wide open
painting a romantic scenario on the ceiling fan
each blade displaying a scene
and when in motion, the ceiling fan portrays
an animation of lush hands (one with rainbow
colored bracelets dangling on the wrists
and the other with clumped dirt fingernails)
every red finger passionately...
464 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Feb 2014 12:20pm
9th Feb 2014 12:20pm
The Difference between Red & Brown Carpets
I have reason to believe
that the red carpet crawlers are boring
balls of lint wearing elegant dresses
sharp tuxedos displaying a perfect nobody
pretending to be somebody when asked
through a block buster camera lens
Oh how they can be somebody
to the dazed limelight rats
blinded by sparkling flashes and fascinated
with the trivial shine on a parked limousine
too distracted by the grandiose
of the Hollywood sign to notice
the streets are knee deep in polluted litter
the same streets home to the homeless bozo
only living for the...
that the red carpet crawlers are boring
balls of lint wearing elegant dresses
sharp tuxedos displaying a perfect nobody
pretending to be somebody when asked
through a block buster camera lens
Oh how they can be somebody
to the dazed limelight rats
blinded by sparkling flashes and fascinated
with the trivial shine on a parked limousine
too distracted by the grandiose
of the Hollywood sign to notice
the streets are knee deep in polluted litter
the same streets home to the homeless bozo
only living for the...
424 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
6th Feb 2014 12:50pm
6th Feb 2014 12:50pm
God sucks at plowing
sent out a thought
and left it suspended in air
idle in a cold moment
chilled to the bone, yet
you can still find warmth in the marrow
maybe that's considered evidence
of a soul existing
in the middle of winter, who knows
when there is no proof of God
existing within the mounds
of plowed snow, seems more logical
to find the holy ghost calling the shots
from beneath the humble dirty slush
caked between the rubber ridges
of your shoe's sole, no place
for an egotistical hand to thunder slap
the soft cheek of a woman
who has...
and left it suspended in air
idle in a cold moment
chilled to the bone, yet
you can still find warmth in the marrow
maybe that's considered evidence
of a soul existing
in the middle of winter, who knows
when there is no proof of God
existing within the mounds
of plowed snow, seems more logical
to find the holy ghost calling the shots
from beneath the humble dirty slush
caked between the rubber ridges
of your shoe's sole, no place
for an egotistical hand to thunder slap
the soft cheek of a woman
who has...
541 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Feb 2014 10:59am
5th Feb 2014 10:59am
The Porcelain Heart and The Dry Hand, Feat. St. Valentine
the best place for a porcelain heart
is a warm dark pocket, cozy
safe from rose thorns, sharp jagged stems
a neck for a blush red head, safe from
that gasp of breath which feels last
in a line like powdery sugar
through the left nostril into rushing red streams
from that safe porcelain heart in a cozy pocket
sharing the space with a dry hand, also safe
from the laser red eyes of St. Valentine
Hallmark's assassin, paid for the kill
a hammer opposing the porcelain heart
pounding the chest, but only cracking a rib
and bruising a black lung,...
is a warm dark pocket, cozy
safe from rose thorns, sharp jagged stems
a neck for a blush red head, safe from
that gasp of breath which feels last
in a line like powdery sugar
through the left nostril into rushing red streams
from that safe porcelain heart in a cozy pocket
sharing the space with a dry hand, also safe
from the laser red eyes of St. Valentine
Hallmark's assassin, paid for the kill
a hammer opposing the porcelain heart
pounding the chest, but only cracking a rib
and bruising a black lung,...
413 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Feb 2014 12:57pm
2nd Feb 2014 12:57pm
Just A Sigh
another puff of smoke
another gulp to drink
and another moment
a ticking time to think
about where I'm going
with a flick of flint
the spark is spreading gossip
as the tongue salivates
for a wound to lick, up the nose
says good morning before
the sun remembers to smile
before the cereal turns soft
and soggy, how will these
heels shuffle across snow
depends on the sandy eyes
so heavy with the yester miles
every step a piercing shard of glass
and every drop of blood
bled from the tough skin, ready
to walk a spiral...
another gulp to drink
and another moment
a ticking time to think
about where I'm going
with a flick of flint
the spark is spreading gossip
as the tongue salivates
for a wound to lick, up the nose
says good morning before
the sun remembers to smile
before the cereal turns soft
and soggy, how will these
heels shuffle across snow
depends on the sandy eyes
so heavy with the yester miles
every step a piercing shard of glass
and every drop of blood
bled from the tough skin, ready
to walk a spiral...
617 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Feb 2014 12:54pm
2nd Feb 2014 12:54pm
Something More
just need something more
to make the tip of each finger
shock with static through every
dull nerve, to send the heart racing
with every drop of rich blood
to make every tear sparkle and splash
on impact so crying can seem less
pathetic, just need something more
to make bad habits feel glamorous
to die in a bed of gold, the nostrils
cocaine laced as the lungs are blackened
and the liver is withered with a touch of
grace, just a taste of sweetness
just a spoonful of sugar
to keep the blood flowing
so the mind can race at a pace...
to make the tip of each finger
shock with static through every
dull nerve, to send the heart racing
with every drop of rich blood
to make every tear sparkle and splash
on impact so crying can seem less
pathetic, just need something more
to make bad habits feel glamorous
to die in a bed of gold, the nostrils
cocaine laced as the lungs are blackened
and the liver is withered with a touch of
grace, just a taste of sweetness
just a spoonful of sugar
to keep the blood flowing
so the mind can race at a pace...
515 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
21st Jan 2014 6:44am
21st Jan 2014 6:44am
Clouds express freedom
staring attentively at a wall
not a trivial detail can be found
not even an imperfection in the paint
no outlets where I can plug in a TV screen
to give me what I want to see
to tell me what I want to be
left with mind games, hop scotch thoughts
hopping like frogs from "this is it" to "this is not"
from "I need this" to "I can do with out"
perverse brain waves ripple through flesh
nothing but tits, ass, and dick sucking lips
feminine figure imagined perception
forgot to add a personality, oh well
done...
not a trivial detail can be found
not even an imperfection in the paint
no outlets where I can plug in a TV screen
to give me what I want to see
to tell me what I want to be
left with mind games, hop scotch thoughts
hopping like frogs from "this is it" to "this is not"
from "I need this" to "I can do with out"
perverse brain waves ripple through flesh
nothing but tits, ass, and dick sucking lips
feminine figure imagined perception
forgot to add a personality, oh well
done...
522 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Jan 2014 12:39pm
18th Jan 2014 12:39pm
Cry at your own funeral
no coffin, no urn
resting in a synthetic
peace, I managed to hear
your plastic words at the eulogy
not much to say as the dove
was too lazy to fly away
(some other time, perhaps)
seraphs perform "Don't Fear
The Reaper" through a dropped bass
and auto-tune, eye liner eyes drip
black and pretty behind grieving veils
while the mother whales as her dooms day
hallucinations materialize, "bottoms up"
says the father in his alcoholic regret
once again, both now adrift as
heavy paternal ghosts, heavier
than others,...
resting in a synthetic
peace, I managed to hear
your plastic words at the eulogy
not much to say as the dove
was too lazy to fly away
(some other time, perhaps)
seraphs perform "Don't Fear
The Reaper" through a dropped bass
and auto-tune, eye liner eyes drip
black and pretty behind grieving veils
while the mother whales as her dooms day
hallucinations materialize, "bottoms up"
says the father in his alcoholic regret
once again, both now adrift as
heavy paternal ghosts, heavier
than others,...
439 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Jan 2014 12:37pm
18th Jan 2014 12:37pm
Today
In a salty state of panic
the crooked jaw mumbles
apologies as eager eyes
stare too long, dry hands
reach out with jittering fingers
the head twitches and tilts
thinking only of a mirror
which cracked once or twice
remembering tough skin laughter
manicured index fingers point
so cold the tongues were as they
salivate at open wounds, cut fresh
from words meant to slice
a victim of vampirism, those leeches
those parasites of dark red fear
now dry, rickety joints shiver
below zero in an attic constructed
of an anonymous dead...
the crooked jaw mumbles
apologies as eager eyes
stare too long, dry hands
reach out with jittering fingers
the head twitches and tilts
thinking only of a mirror
which cracked once or twice
remembering tough skin laughter
manicured index fingers point
so cold the tongues were as they
salivate at open wounds, cut fresh
from words meant to slice
a victim of vampirism, those leeches
those parasites of dark red fear
now dry, rickety joints shiver
below zero in an attic constructed
of an anonymous dead...
475 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Tallman89
