Submissions by antonee19
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
You don't need to know me. You'll find out enough through my poetry.
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
15th Dec 2011 00:49am
15th Dec 2011 00:49am
Menstrual
Existence is unreasonable,
Unfair, and short.
It is a stagnant river, bottomless.
The edges overflow with birth.
Drought comes from the mortality.
One side is a ballet dancer in the midmorning light,
Waving and vague.
It will dance until lactic acid kills it slowly.
Another shall be reincarnated from its enthusiasm.
This existence here induces a delicate orgasm.
The other side, teetering in black,
Has overgrown nails and spikes on its back.
It is mindless, eyeless and skinless.
And above all, quiet and anemic.
It bathes in its...
Unfair, and short.
It is a stagnant river, bottomless.
The edges overflow with birth.
Drought comes from the mortality.
One side is a ballet dancer in the midmorning light,
Waving and vague.
It will dance until lactic acid kills it slowly.
Another shall be reincarnated from its enthusiasm.
This existence here induces a delicate orgasm.
The other side, teetering in black,
Has overgrown nails and spikes on its back.
It is mindless, eyeless and skinless.
And above all, quiet and anemic.
It bathes in its...
746 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
15th Dec 2011 00:26am
15th Dec 2011 00:26am
Ichthys and the Pagan
Ripe with expression,
Borderline obsession.
Into delta and delve,
Into understanding and rationality.
A hoax, a gimmick, a doubtless choice,
Lure into the buzzing, calm before the storm.
Loveless and foreign, bleak and hard.
It’ll pine away before it starts.
Minerva is open,
Aphrodite is spread.
The temptress and the goddess,
One shelter, one bread.
I like to lick dirt, I eat worms.
I think hard enough to turn my sweat into sperm.
Sewage and blood, despair and hate,
Time’s up. I’m alone on a lake and ready to cast and...
Borderline obsession.
Into delta and delve,
Into understanding and rationality.
A hoax, a gimmick, a doubtless choice,
Lure into the buzzing, calm before the storm.
Loveless and foreign, bleak and hard.
It’ll pine away before it starts.
Minerva is open,
Aphrodite is spread.
The temptress and the goddess,
One shelter, one bread.
I like to lick dirt, I eat worms.
I think hard enough to turn my sweat into sperm.
Sewage and blood, despair and hate,
Time’s up. I’m alone on a lake and ready to cast and...
681 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
14th Dec 2011 00:25am
14th Dec 2011 00:25am
Phoneme
A whisper without a scream,
A goal without a reason.
Trial and error without judgment,
Murder without consequences.
Burden without a load,
A roofless home with no floor.
A breath of cyanide,
God will be defied.
Temptation determining the outcome,
Driven back to the edge like cattle.
The barren desert night is silent except for the rattle.
This is when one is to whisper and scream,
As one entity.
A goal without a reason.
Trial and error without judgment,
Murder without consequences.
Burden without a load,
A roofless home with no floor.
A breath of cyanide,
God will be defied.
Temptation determining the outcome,
Driven back to the edge like cattle.
The barren desert night is silent except for the rattle.
This is when one is to whisper and scream,
As one entity.
593 reads
3 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
14th Dec 2011 00:18am
14th Dec 2011 00:18am
Disarray and Conquest
Jain in the undergrowth,
Chained down with an oath.
Ahimsa beneath my palms,
I sway in lenience to the tranquil psalms.
A dive without a breath, deepening in the outstretched arms.
My chakras are blazoning, screaming against Om.
I should back down into my own shadow-less retreat,
And close my eyes tight, all three, until I go blind.
I gaze at the moon enveloping the star,
I carry my cross, sweat in my spine.
The order is disrupted, the planets unaligned.
I walk on needles, with peace and a pentagram.
Chained down with an oath.
Ahimsa beneath my palms,
I sway in lenience to the tranquil psalms.
A dive without a breath, deepening in the outstretched arms.
My chakras are blazoning, screaming against Om.
I should back down into my own shadow-less retreat,
And close my eyes tight, all three, until I go blind.
I gaze at the moon enveloping the star,
I carry my cross, sweat in my spine.
The order is disrupted, the planets unaligned.
I walk on needles, with peace and a pentagram.
546 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Dec 2011 2:17am
13th Dec 2011 2:17am
Me and My Buddy
Angel dusted and ironclad,
A wandering itinerant, an aimless nomad.
Broken homes and a shattered lifestyle,
I reap and harvest in shameless beguile.
Deception and inception,
Devious and insidious,
Crawling in the back of your mind,
A cavernous recess with stars few.
Tremble down into the forbidding random,
Let the knives and needles free your pony.
Ride it into the setting sun, above all fathomable,
And into the trenches of the unwanted beyond.
Meet me there, a humble knight above a white shadow,
And let my glow guide you,...
A wandering itinerant, an aimless nomad.
Broken homes and a shattered lifestyle,
I reap and harvest in shameless beguile.
Deception and inception,
Devious and insidious,
Crawling in the back of your mind,
A cavernous recess with stars few.
Tremble down into the forbidding random,
Let the knives and needles free your pony.
Ride it into the setting sun, above all fathomable,
And into the trenches of the unwanted beyond.
Meet me there, a humble knight above a white shadow,
And let my glow guide you,...
664 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
11th Dec 2011 8:42pm
11th Dec 2011 8:42pm
Marble in the Water
Unsung and unfolded,
My dry clay has been remolded.
Struck down by the bolt and the gravel,
I think the far reaches have begun to unravel.
My reason in revamped, my resolution is fractured, yet pure.
I am an anglerfish, dripping black with death and a lure.
I am the predator, the keen eye amidst the blue,
This man before me in the reflection is made of something new.
Stuck in a pose, latched to the earth,
Why does it seem so simple to mock a rebirth?
When my guardian angle comes and sets me free,
I will crack the world in half and drown...
My dry clay has been remolded.
Struck down by the bolt and the gravel,
I think the far reaches have begun to unravel.
My reason in revamped, my resolution is fractured, yet pure.
I am an anglerfish, dripping black with death and a lure.
I am the predator, the keen eye amidst the blue,
This man before me in the reflection is made of something new.
Stuck in a pose, latched to the earth,
Why does it seem so simple to mock a rebirth?
When my guardian angle comes and sets me free,
I will crack the world in half and drown...
638 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Dec 2011 3:12pm
9th Dec 2011 3:12pm
Monotonous
I must look deeper into myself,
Past the egocentricity,
And into the lost eyes of Serendipity.
These words seem to melt onto the paper,
Like a violin chord.
It is the only redemption I can afford.
I have an earth-shattering ego and a plummeting self-esteem.
I blow chance after chance of any possible redeem.
It infuriates me, how it slips from my grasp.
I just want to latch on with iron fingers in an unforgiving wrench.
Then I’ll be able to revive a dead soul again and again,
And I can finally find a way out of this mess,
At least, until the...
Past the egocentricity,
And into the lost eyes of Serendipity.
These words seem to melt onto the paper,
Like a violin chord.
It is the only redemption I can afford.
I have an earth-shattering ego and a plummeting self-esteem.
I blow chance after chance of any possible redeem.
It infuriates me, how it slips from my grasp.
I just want to latch on with iron fingers in an unforgiving wrench.
Then I’ll be able to revive a dead soul again and again,
And I can finally find a way out of this mess,
At least, until the...
537 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Dec 2011 3:25pm
6th Dec 2011 3:25pm
My Thoughts on a Girl Dropping Hints
She has the lips of a good kisser,
But I know she isn’t.
She has that wrinkle in her brow,
Sweetness in frustration.
She’ll brush her hair, modestly,
Golden and warm oak mixing.
She’ll try to make a hint to me, as if to say,
“Grab my hand, feel my silky palms…”
I do not know how to react
To this newfound love.
It has snuck up on me,
Silence amidst the roaring of stress.
The things she asks for,
The love she wants to regret,
The dazed and confused grin…
Isn’t lust one of the seven deadly sins?
But I know she isn’t.
She has that wrinkle in her brow,
Sweetness in frustration.
She’ll brush her hair, modestly,
Golden and warm oak mixing.
She’ll try to make a hint to me, as if to say,
“Grab my hand, feel my silky palms…”
I do not know how to react
To this newfound love.
It has snuck up on me,
Silence amidst the roaring of stress.
The things she asks for,
The love she wants to regret,
The dazed and confused grin…
Isn’t lust one of the seven deadly sins?
576 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
5th Dec 2011 4:17pm
5th Dec 2011 4:17pm
The Journey
I buy bullets for Russian roulette,
My mind’s burning like a cigarette,
My persona’s addicted to the aroma and the fear,
I feel a sense of security growing near.
I think the outcome of my choices are affected by my desires,
And the only thing standing between them and me is the smoke and fires.
Put it out, put out, go to the edge. Take chances and risks.
This is your last chance. You better go all the way, even if you miss.
I think this nervous tick of mine is resurfacing.
It makes tweaks, it rearranges, and is repurposing.
It isn’t...
My mind’s burning like a cigarette,
My persona’s addicted to the aroma and the fear,
I feel a sense of security growing near.
I think the outcome of my choices are affected by my desires,
And the only thing standing between them and me is the smoke and fires.
Put it out, put out, go to the edge. Take chances and risks.
This is your last chance. You better go all the way, even if you miss.
I think this nervous tick of mine is resurfacing.
It makes tweaks, it rearranges, and is repurposing.
It isn’t...
650 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
29th Nov 2011 5:08pm
29th Nov 2011 5:08pm
Saraf ()
I can be your lie, I can tempt you with an alibi.
I can hold your own for you.
I can take away anyone that spits in your face,
I can get an old, dusty rope and sneak up on them.
But hey, you can always throw me away if you want to.
I’m just a dream, just a thought in the back of your head.
And I’m not so much megalomaniacal, I just know what’s best for you.
I promise.
Next time there’s someone beating your ass, I’ll be there.
I’ll be your confidence, your respect, your humility.
Next time you’re hyped up on all the cocaine you can handle,...
I can hold your own for you.
I can take away anyone that spits in your face,
I can get an old, dusty rope and sneak up on them.
But hey, you can always throw me away if you want to.
I’m just a dream, just a thought in the back of your head.
And I’m not so much megalomaniacal, I just know what’s best for you.
I promise.
Next time there’s someone beating your ass, I’ll be there.
I’ll be your confidence, your respect, your humility.
Next time you’re hyped up on all the cocaine you can handle,...
569 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
29th Nov 2011 00:58am
29th Nov 2011 00:58am
A Mural of Black, White and Gray
Derived from pestilence,
And a droning noise in my ear,
I am to continue to wither away,
Year by fragile year.
The great outdoors and refracted waters,
The gunning of saints and insignificant martyrs,
These are the things to consider as I write,
Before I am crafted, reborn, and taken flight.
There are things that mean little to me, true, true.
Petty things such as relationships and meager responsibility.
Wretched, minute things such as unobtainable talent and ability.
Such small things. I should light a match and watch them burn.
...
And a droning noise in my ear,
I am to continue to wither away,
Year by fragile year.
The great outdoors and refracted waters,
The gunning of saints and insignificant martyrs,
These are the things to consider as I write,
Before I am crafted, reborn, and taken flight.
There are things that mean little to me, true, true.
Petty things such as relationships and meager responsibility.
Wretched, minute things such as unobtainable talent and ability.
Such small things. I should light a match and watch them burn.
...
585 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
27th Nov 2011 2:16am
27th Nov 2011 2:16am
Illuminate Me
And I am only a piece of the puzzle,
I am a puppet in the illusion.
My mind is set on the states of enchantment and confusion.
I am a mirror, with a touch of shadow growing nearer.
I am composed of witchcraft, I am a heart and a lung.
I am a marionette, and my eyes are gouged.
I do my own bidding, my senses are blinded, yet aroused.
And I will continue on this tangent until I break my face into a wall.
Control me, I will suffer.
Pierce me with your all-seeing eye,
One that overtakes my own third.
The pyramids are aligned, my senses are...
I am a puppet in the illusion.
My mind is set on the states of enchantment and confusion.
I am a mirror, with a touch of shadow growing nearer.
I am composed of witchcraft, I am a heart and a lung.
I am a marionette, and my eyes are gouged.
I do my own bidding, my senses are blinded, yet aroused.
And I will continue on this tangent until I break my face into a wall.
Control me, I will suffer.
Pierce me with your all-seeing eye,
One that overtakes my own third.
The pyramids are aligned, my senses are...
709 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by antonee19
