Submissions by VOID (Rhys Waterman)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I'm not a poet. I'm a guy who writes words. Sometimes, people like those words. Sometimes they find meaning in them. And if I can keep doing that, then I'll be around.
DRUGS POEM
Published
10th Oct 2010 12:50pm
10th Oct 2010 12:50pm
Genetic Perfection
Drink up,
last call,
don't forget to drink it all.
Smoke up,
pass it on,
have a hit on this bong.
We're a generation born to be fucked,
a generation born with the shittest of luck.
An era of children masquerading as art,
an age of humans nobody can tell apart.
She's got your eyes,
he's got your nose,
I've got their fingers,
she's got our toes.
Drink up, little man,
there's not much time to go,
Death is riding fast and you're drinking far too slow.
You're the messiah of a broken year,
the saviour...
last call,
don't forget to drink it all.
Smoke up,
pass it on,
have a hit on this bong.
We're a generation born to be fucked,
a generation born with the shittest of luck.
An era of children masquerading as art,
an age of humans nobody can tell apart.
She's got your eyes,
he's got your nose,
I've got their fingers,
she's got our toes.
Drink up, little man,
there's not much time to go,
Death is riding fast and you're drinking far too slow.
You're the messiah of a broken year,
the saviour...
1078 reads
2 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
4th Oct 2010 7:27pm
4th Oct 2010 7:27pm
Cheer Up, Chuckles
Sitting on a bench staring up at stars,
listen to your music and the passing cars,
You've got style
like I've never seen.
I want to make you my queen.
But you don't smile,
You never grin.
And I try to make you laugh,
I try again and again.
But you don't smile,
You don't even smirk.
And I try to make you laugh,
but nothin' works.
You tell me I'm an arsehole,
and you've got a point.
But I work my arse off,
because I'm feeling so disjointed.
Just smile.
Flash those pearly whites,
I'll make it...
listen to your music and the passing cars,
You've got style
like I've never seen.
I want to make you my queen.
But you don't smile,
You never grin.
And I try to make you laugh,
I try again and again.
But you don't smile,
You don't even smirk.
And I try to make you laugh,
but nothin' works.
You tell me I'm an arsehole,
and you've got a point.
But I work my arse off,
because I'm feeling so disjointed.
Just smile.
Flash those pearly whites,
I'll make it...
800 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
2nd Oct 2010 1:47am
2nd Oct 2010 1:47am
Boiling Blood To Heat A Flood
I smoke another cigarette,
and grimace as a piece of me dies.
I seethe my malice from my pores.
And cast my mind to fucking whores.
I cannot see you in my mind,
because you give genesis to what I'd left behind.
I see it rear its ugly head,
and whisper in its voice,
"You always knew you'd come to me,"
"You never had a choice."
and grimace as a piece of me dies.
I seethe my malice from my pores.
And cast my mind to fucking whores.
I cannot see you in my mind,
because you give genesis to what I'd left behind.
I see it rear its ugly head,
and whisper in its voice,
"You always knew you'd come to me,"
"You never had a choice."
934 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
2nd Oct 2010 1:44am
2nd Oct 2010 1:44am
Put The Spirit In Me
It was a drunken blur as many nights are,
and I found myself without my car.
Perhaps its best I did not drive,
for what occurred I barely survived.
I crossed a road too suddenly,
and struck me down it did.
I found myself a hit-run victim,
knocked back by some little kid.
And in my growing agony,
I cast my gaze asunder,
and gathered did I, Jesus Christ,
in all his holy wonder.
But through my prayer and my rebirth,
I did not quite come through,
and Jesus Christ did turn away,
and tell me I'd seen my last day.
...
and I found myself without my car.
Perhaps its best I did not drive,
for what occurred I barely survived.
I crossed a road too suddenly,
and struck me down it did.
I found myself a hit-run victim,
knocked back by some little kid.
And in my growing agony,
I cast my gaze asunder,
and gathered did I, Jesus Christ,
in all his holy wonder.
But through my prayer and my rebirth,
I did not quite come through,
and Jesus Christ did turn away,
and tell me I'd seen my last day.
...
839 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Oct 2010 1:56am
1st Oct 2010 1:56am
Every Time I Look In A Mirror I See A Man I Love
He smiles with distinction,
he grimaces with fear.
His name is always part of me,
that man that I hold dear.
His eyes reflect mine in mirrored perfection,
his skin is the opposite of mine.
His expressions are growing familiar to me,
That man I will love 'til the end of time.
He follows me everywhere,
in windows and spoons,
he warms me with suns,
and he chills me with moons.
That man follows me everywhere.
That man who I will always hold dear.
Every time I look in the a mirror, I see a man I love.
he grimaces with fear.
His name is always part of me,
that man that I hold dear.
His eyes reflect mine in mirrored perfection,
his skin is the opposite of mine.
His expressions are growing familiar to me,
That man I will love 'til the end of time.
He follows me everywhere,
in windows and spoons,
he warms me with suns,
and he chills me with moons.
That man follows me everywhere.
That man who I will always hold dear.
Every time I look in the a mirror, I see a man I love.
843 reads
0 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
30th Sep 2010 7:32pm
30th Sep 2010 7:32pm
Bring Me A Dream
Mr Sandman,
Bring me a dream,
Make me the cutest anyone's ever seen.
Pop pills,
sniff glue,
bring the devil in to you.
He's got stories you wouldn't believe.
Smoke dope,
shoot crack,
do it all and don't look back.
There are so many stories that'd make you leave.
Mr Sandman,
Bring me a dream,
Make me the baddest motherfucker they've ever seen.
Snort lines,
bust rhymes,
shoot tequila and chew limes.
I've got stories that'd make you spew.
I've got stories that'd make you spew.
shoot rhymes and...
Bring me a dream,
Make me the cutest anyone's ever seen.
Pop pills,
sniff glue,
bring the devil in to you.
He's got stories you wouldn't believe.
Smoke dope,
shoot crack,
do it all and don't look back.
There are so many stories that'd make you leave.
Mr Sandman,
Bring me a dream,
Make me the baddest motherfucker they've ever seen.
Snort lines,
bust rhymes,
shoot tequila and chew limes.
I've got stories that'd make you spew.
I've got stories that'd make you spew.
shoot rhymes and...
1306 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Sep 2010 7:28pm
26th Sep 2010 7:28pm
Stories From A Silent Man
A blind man told me what he saw,
what he saw the night before.
A deaf girl taught me how to sing,
and deaf girl taught me everything.
A cripple took me for a dance,
a cripple taught me how to prance.
A mime told me stories of other lives,
a mime whispered secrets of other wives.
And while I type this with no fingers,
I listened closely to deaf-mute singers.
The world is stuck in propulsion,
The world is used to revolution.
The mirror shows what it sees,
but what it sees is never seen.
A child speaks...
what he saw the night before.
A deaf girl taught me how to sing,
and deaf girl taught me everything.
A cripple took me for a dance,
a cripple taught me how to prance.
A mime told me stories of other lives,
a mime whispered secrets of other wives.
And while I type this with no fingers,
I listened closely to deaf-mute singers.
The world is stuck in propulsion,
The world is used to revolution.
The mirror shows what it sees,
but what it sees is never seen.
A child speaks...
957 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
24th Sep 2010 6:04pm
24th Sep 2010 6:04pm
There's a monster under my bed
There's a creature dwelling underneath,
he tells me that his name is Rhys.
I tell that it is not so,
but he tells that it is and that I know.
He came out last night to tell me tales,
to tell me of his time in Wales.
I tell him that I've been there too,
he smiles and nods as he scares me through.
There's a monster living under my bed,
and I know that he's inside my head.
He looks like me,
and has my name.
And he tells me that we are the same.
Though why he should appear to me,
is beyond my comprehension.
And though I am no...
he tells me that his name is Rhys.
I tell that it is not so,
but he tells that it is and that I know.
He came out last night to tell me tales,
to tell me of his time in Wales.
I tell him that I've been there too,
he smiles and nods as he scares me through.
There's a monster living under my bed,
and I know that he's inside my head.
He looks like me,
and has my name.
And he tells me that we are the same.
Though why he should appear to me,
is beyond my comprehension.
And though I am no...
825 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Sep 2010 5:58pm
24th Sep 2010 5:58pm
And he is silent
There's a boy in my class,
and I think that he's the best.
From the way he styles his hair,
to the way he wears his vest.
There's a boy who sits near me in class,
and he is silent.
His name is an enigma,
his age even more so.
His interests always interest me,
the things he thinks I do not know.
There's a boy who sits alone in class,
and he is always silent.
and I think that he's the best.
From the way he styles his hair,
to the way he wears his vest.
There's a boy who sits near me in class,
and he is silent.
His name is an enigma,
his age even more so.
His interests always interest me,
the things he thinks I do not know.
There's a boy who sits alone in class,
and he is always silent.
698 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Sep 2010 2:00pm
23rd Sep 2010 2:00pm
Smells Like Teens With Spirits
My melancholy is a mess,
it follows me every day.
Though I would never ask to be left alone,
because my melancholy feels like home.
It has stories to tell,
of years long since passed.
It has memories to reveal,
memories I thought I'd glassed.
The smell of vodka tickles me,
it burns me to the core.
I drink myself to sleep each night,
if only to forget that whore.
Tell me secrets, secret heart,
and let me sing your song.
Let me play out rhythmically those words we've known all along.
it follows me every day.
Though I would never ask to be left alone,
because my melancholy feels like home.
It has stories to tell,
of years long since passed.
It has memories to reveal,
memories I thought I'd glassed.
The smell of vodka tickles me,
it burns me to the core.
I drink myself to sleep each night,
if only to forget that whore.
Tell me secrets, secret heart,
and let me sing your song.
Let me play out rhythmically those words we've known all along.
732 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Sep 2010 9:20pm
22nd Sep 2010 9:20pm
Bring Me My Ego
The field stretches far from me,
enveloping the lands.
The field rushes all around,
jumping high to kiss my hands.
I smell that crisp and clean green,
it teases on my nose.
I feel that soft brush far below,
it tickles lightly on my toes.
And darkness falls so slowly here,
but as it does it eats all held dear.
And fills me with a sense of dread,
as my ego stalks to claim my head.
His borrowed looks belong to me,
as do his thoughts and voice.
But much of him I'll never be,
yet in me much of him I see.
And I have to...
enveloping the lands.
The field rushes all around,
jumping high to kiss my hands.
I smell that crisp and clean green,
it teases on my nose.
I feel that soft brush far below,
it tickles lightly on my toes.
And darkness falls so slowly here,
but as it does it eats all held dear.
And fills me with a sense of dread,
as my ego stalks to claim my head.
His borrowed looks belong to me,
as do his thoughts and voice.
But much of him I'll never be,
yet in me much of him I see.
And I have to...
833 reads
0 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
20th Sep 2010 5:43pm
20th Sep 2010 5:43pm
Spatial Awareness
My brain is telling lies,
to my ears and my eyes.
I hear voices that whisper such devilish songs,
telling unknown truths just to drag me along.
My hunger for knowledge is my original sin,
and I know it's not long 'til the judgements begin.
My brain is talking bullshit,
waiting impatiently for another hit.
I smell fire in the bathroom,
I see children on the wall.
I hear birds inside my dresser,
and I pray that soon I will get better.
There is nothing I can say,
to take them all away.
And there is nothing I can do,...
to my ears and my eyes.
I hear voices that whisper such devilish songs,
telling unknown truths just to drag me along.
My hunger for knowledge is my original sin,
and I know it's not long 'til the judgements begin.
My brain is talking bullshit,
waiting impatiently for another hit.
I smell fire in the bathroom,
I see children on the wall.
I hear birds inside my dresser,
and I pray that soon I will get better.
There is nothing I can say,
to take them all away.
And there is nothing I can do,...
1253 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by VOID (Rhys Waterman)
