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
18th Dec 2013 8:02am
18th Dec 2013 8:02am
There is madness in this forest
Lost in a forest
snow caked trees
bundled to the best
of my ability (but not
quite good enough)
every breath crystalized
in frost upon facial hair
rugged and unshaven
eyes dripping apathetic
tears, god damn it's cold
but this is what it takes
to find that perfect madness
to make rambling nonsense
make sense in a coherent
language spoken by poetic
ancients in a frost bitten
tongue which will soon
be lost in the Summer
when good time warmth
melts the witch's skin
though this is not a bad
thing, it just means...
snow caked trees
bundled to the best
of my ability (but not
quite good enough)
every breath crystalized
in frost upon facial hair
rugged and unshaven
eyes dripping apathetic
tears, god damn it's cold
but this is what it takes
to find that perfect madness
to make rambling nonsense
make sense in a coherent
language spoken by poetic
ancients in a frost bitten
tongue which will soon
be lost in the Summer
when good time warmth
melts the witch's skin
though this is not a bad
thing, it just means...
538 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Dec 2013 10:35am
12th Dec 2013 10:35am
The Word
I have spent long tossed and turned
nights, questing through unorthodox
thought process, looking for that
original word.
A word, profound
a word that will conjure an
apocalyptic event
a word of black rose death
a word of decaying pestilence
a word of blinding justice
a word of unrealistic love
realistically depicted in a way
that the soft heart stone skin
romantic can finally smell
the feminine stench
and not cry
This word is the last surviving
myth, yet to be unproven
possibly lying at the bottom
of Loch...
nights, questing through unorthodox
thought process, looking for that
original word.
A word, profound
a word that will conjure an
apocalyptic event
a word of black rose death
a word of decaying pestilence
a word of blinding justice
a word of unrealistic love
realistically depicted in a way
that the soft heart stone skin
romantic can finally smell
the feminine stench
and not cry
This word is the last surviving
myth, yet to be unproven
possibly lying at the bottom
of Loch...
486 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Dec 2013 10:33am
12th Dec 2013 10:33am
The mirror means everything to those who gaze
The burden of skin
unmoisturized
dry flakes peeling in
the wind
Peeling away until
there is nothing left
but the raw pink
Swollen and irritated
by the slightest touch
of faithless grace
The smallest drop
of baptized warm water
causes pain like a newborn
left in battery acid
A terrible memory indeed
judgmental eyes glaze
the vulnerable naked
with an insecure perception
brought home after school
and placed behind
the tooth paste stained
mirror, convincing you that
the reflected work of art
means diddly...
unmoisturized
dry flakes peeling in
the wind
Peeling away until
there is nothing left
but the raw pink
Swollen and irritated
by the slightest touch
of faithless grace
The smallest drop
of baptized warm water
causes pain like a newborn
left in battery acid
A terrible memory indeed
judgmental eyes glaze
the vulnerable naked
with an insecure perception
brought home after school
and placed behind
the tooth paste stained
mirror, convincing you that
the reflected work of art
means diddly...
457 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Dec 2013 6:02am
4th Dec 2013 6:02am
Writing poetry isn't easy
How do I start?
Do I find something to talk about?
where do I find it?
When I do find it
how ever
will it be something
better left unseen?
better left unsaid?
Or will it be a grain of salt
which tastes like revolution?
A sort of ecstasy
dissolved in the gut and
rushed through the nerves
I now take a moment
allowing the phantom voice
of second guess to announce
his presence with a nagging opinion
Holding the backspace key
my finger nail has a hunger for it
a genocide to paragraphs and
pages, decapitating...
Do I find something to talk about?
where do I find it?
When I do find it
how ever
will it be something
better left unseen?
better left unsaid?
Or will it be a grain of salt
which tastes like revolution?
A sort of ecstasy
dissolved in the gut and
rushed through the nerves
I now take a moment
allowing the phantom voice
of second guess to announce
his presence with a nagging opinion
Holding the backspace key
my finger nail has a hunger for it
a genocide to paragraphs and
pages, decapitating...
466 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Dec 2013 11:22am
1st Dec 2013 11:22am
Coming of age will kill us all
Can we make it through the big dick world? Before the black lung
kills us, could we utter one last sentence profound enough
to remind us of the joyous swing set
remind us of the pride in sand castles, standing brave and vulnerable
before the approaching waves?
These are things I ask when I should be counting sheep.
I usually get bored after 100. In the end,
all of the numbers are pointless. Just another distraction
distracting us from grazing green grass. Does no one remember
that math was boring?
Now, the head no longer barters with...
kills us, could we utter one last sentence profound enough
to remind us of the joyous swing set
remind us of the pride in sand castles, standing brave and vulnerable
before the approaching waves?
These are things I ask when I should be counting sheep.
I usually get bored after 100. In the end,
all of the numbers are pointless. Just another distraction
distracting us from grazing green grass. Does no one remember
that math was boring?
Now, the head no longer barters with...
548 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Dec 2013 11:19am
1st Dec 2013 11:19am
I'm a Christian on Sunday
Heaven should be more complex than knees and clasped hands
at the end of everyday comforted by the loosely forgiven sins
When God forgives
Sunday Christians will rape and pillage for another whole week
without out remorse
Sunday will come, like it always does
The Sun will rise, smiling with botox lips
Reminding those whom slept on a bed
stuffed with bible pages
that the magazine cover
digs them, and is interested in sending a sell out journalist
to ask them if they believe the cows are happier in
California
at the end of everyday comforted by the loosely forgiven sins
When God forgives
Sunday Christians will rape and pillage for another whole week
without out remorse
Sunday will come, like it always does
The Sun will rise, smiling with botox lips
Reminding those whom slept on a bed
stuffed with bible pages
that the magazine cover
digs them, and is interested in sending a sell out journalist
to ask them if they believe the cows are happier in
California
496 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Nov 2013 10:58am
28th Nov 2013 10:58am
The Decaying Old Man
We forgot about the decaying old man
with a merciful knife at his throat
looking grim, coughing up cancer
Chemo bones radiating from the green
marrow, soft tissue tenderized by the
clenched father figure fist which at one
point held his once infant body in the
maternal arch of the arm, allowing him
to feed at the warm milk like absolutely
nothing else mattered in the world.
with a merciful knife at his throat
looking grim, coughing up cancer
Chemo bones radiating from the green
marrow, soft tissue tenderized by the
clenched father figure fist which at one
point held his once infant body in the
maternal arch of the arm, allowing him
to feed at the warm milk like absolutely
nothing else mattered in the world.
450 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Nov 2013 10:56am
28th Nov 2013 10:56am
The Strange Concept of Living
It's strange
how walking skeletons
caked with flesh
and skin
can think so highly
They think of glasses
so full of the defecation
they spew
(digested egotism)
and they say:
"Here, taste this. It's full of wisdom, and promising magic.
You'll stand in awe, of what I am, what I've said, and what I've done.
It is the way, it is walking on water, it is the warming solar flares of the sun,
filled with power and answer.
You will drink it, you will indulge in what I am.
You must, and if not, you'll just waste away, never...
how walking skeletons
caked with flesh
and skin
can think so highly
They think of glasses
so full of the defecation
they spew
(digested egotism)
and they say:
"Here, taste this. It's full of wisdom, and promising magic.
You'll stand in awe, of what I am, what I've said, and what I've done.
It is the way, it is walking on water, it is the warming solar flares of the sun,
filled with power and answer.
You will drink it, you will indulge in what I am.
You must, and if not, you'll just waste away, never...
485 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
27th Nov 2013 7:32am
27th Nov 2013 7:32am
Over Confident, maybe
as bullets fly by
my glossed husk eyes
visually understanding why
I smell like the stench of gun
powder, acquiring the startled
attention of those unsuspecting
of my obnoxious voice, I pronounce
words with narcissistic sounds
because on top of the world
there is no room for any one
else, just a lonely douche bag
who no longer let's his tears
salted with angst and abused
compassion run down sidewalk drains
breathing in the joyous apathy
after spending a life time of perpetually
drowning in the sewage of society
unable to...
my glossed husk eyes
visually understanding why
I smell like the stench of gun
powder, acquiring the startled
attention of those unsuspecting
of my obnoxious voice, I pronounce
words with narcissistic sounds
because on top of the world
there is no room for any one
else, just a lonely douche bag
who no longer let's his tears
salted with angst and abused
compassion run down sidewalk drains
breathing in the joyous apathy
after spending a life time of perpetually
drowning in the sewage of society
unable to...
488 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Nov 2013 10:59am
21st Nov 2013 10:59am
Adam & Eve
I watch the serpent
plant cellular devices into the
soil, God's green earth
I watch as
corporate buildings grow
from these electronic seeds
and pierce the polluted sky
I watch as these pointless towers
consume the sunlight
and suffocate the vegetation
which once grew
in The Garden of Eden
Then I watch Eve
masturbate to pornography
leaving her drained
helpless and easy
In her eyes I see nothing
but the best selling products
and her doctor's signature
on a joyous prescription
I search for...
plant cellular devices into the
soil, God's green earth
I watch as
corporate buildings grow
from these electronic seeds
and pierce the polluted sky
I watch as these pointless towers
consume the sunlight
and suffocate the vegetation
which once grew
in The Garden of Eden
Then I watch Eve
masturbate to pornography
leaving her drained
helpless and easy
In her eyes I see nothing
but the best selling products
and her doctor's signature
on a joyous prescription
I search for...
508 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
20th Nov 2013 7:44am
20th Nov 2013 7:44am
My Dick
Now
my dick is too large
smashing down the walls
just for the hell of it
screaming out obnoxiously
and clenching each thin
pencil neck
My thoughts
turning into 1,000
tiny fists of fury
punching all the solid objects
with the ease of slicing
every fucking jugular
with a scalpel
which hungers for the blood
of every domesticated
innocent soul
.
.
.
and then
after the hurricane
which I some how
succeeded to puke
into piss dripped
toilets
I come back ...
my dick is too large
smashing down the walls
just for the hell of it
screaming out obnoxiously
and clenching each thin
pencil neck
My thoughts
turning into 1,000
tiny fists of fury
punching all the solid objects
with the ease of slicing
every fucking jugular
with a scalpel
which hungers for the blood
of every domesticated
innocent soul
.
.
.
and then
after the hurricane
which I some how
succeeded to puke
into piss dripped
toilets
I come back ...
565 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Nov 2013 7:04am
20th Nov 2013 7:04am
The Dunce Hat of Thorns
From waking with crusted eyes and the head debating
on whether or not to rise from the pillow stained with lucid dreams
Waiting at a bus stop, attractive eyes
will take a glance, only seeing mundane slumped shoulders, then move on
to a broad chest pumping more blood and producing thoughts more interesting than
zeros and ones.
Other days we walk with an alpha strut. Dominating the sidewalk on
a song bird sunrise. Equipped with a charming breakfast and a plan to take on
the broken world
A sharp appearance penetrating the visual sense with a shard of glass...
on whether or not to rise from the pillow stained with lucid dreams
Waiting at a bus stop, attractive eyes
will take a glance, only seeing mundane slumped shoulders, then move on
to a broad chest pumping more blood and producing thoughts more interesting than
zeros and ones.
Other days we walk with an alpha strut. Dominating the sidewalk on
a song bird sunrise. Equipped with a charming breakfast and a plan to take on
the broken world
A sharp appearance penetrating the visual sense with a shard of glass...
586 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Tallman89
