Submissions by lightbaron
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Mar 2012 4:28pm
15th Mar 2012 4:28pm
im a genius
no doubt about it,
I'm a genius.
with an intellect
as sharp as
splinters and
shards from
severed spheres
I am a magician in reverse
stopping manifestation
by observing it
I can dispel
any myth or majesty
with applied mathematics.
Love,
is only a biological response to reproduction
and sure fucking is fun
but
I'm way too smart to get seduced
by such simple pleasures.
The atomic weight of...
I'm a genius.
with an intellect
as sharp as
splinters and
shards from
severed spheres
I am a magician in reverse
stopping manifestation
by observing it
I can dispel
any myth or majesty
with applied mathematics.
Love,
is only a biological response to reproduction
and sure fucking is fun
but
I'm way too smart to get seduced
by such simple pleasures.
The atomic weight of...
817 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
12th Mar 2012 5:40pm
12th Mar 2012 5:40pm
earned run
i know
that i havent earned the redemption
that i write towards
until rubbed raw
but i know damned well
that i own the right
to say damned.
Well,
this bed ive made
and now lie in
should be a feast
or at the very least
fodder,
for more than just a fanciful frame
around a flame
that has more than earned
its burn
i wish i deserved words like love
or even lust
but no
only
loss
and sunk deep in this admittance
ill quick cling to...
that i havent earned the redemption
that i write towards
until rubbed raw
but i know damned well
that i own the right
to say damned.
Well,
this bed ive made
and now lie in
should be a feast
or at the very least
fodder,
for more than just a fanciful frame
around a flame
that has more than earned
its burn
i wish i deserved words like love
or even lust
but no
only
loss
and sunk deep in this admittance
ill quick cling to...
649 reads
0 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
9th Mar 2012 7:22pm
9th Mar 2012 7:22pm
i miss my dog
i wish i could tell you
that i spent my last four dollars
and twenty three cents
on a sandwich
but we both know
this brown bag holds;
twenty four times three,
seventy two ounces of
cheap beer.
i literally
havent learned one new thing in ten years
and make light of two,
maybe two and a half
lost loves
loves that were
once in a lifetime.
Just last week
i kissed two kids goodnight.
they werent my kids,
but great kids and i loved them. ...
that i spent my last four dollars
and twenty three cents
on a sandwich
but we both know
this brown bag holds;
twenty four times three,
seventy two ounces of
cheap beer.
i literally
havent learned one new thing in ten years
and make light of two,
maybe two and a half
lost loves
loves that were
once in a lifetime.
Just last week
i kissed two kids goodnight.
they werent my kids,
but great kids and i loved them. ...
1777 reads
12 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Feb 2012 6:19pm
26th Feb 2012 6:19pm
moma dance
Never, Ever
trust a poet
who cant get pussy.
were not the dried skins of animals
pulled tight over hallowed wood,
and prodded until,
the rhythm found,
made the women dance?
yes,
what other genesis
is necessary
once the women dance.
every syllable studied,
and placed exactly,
conjures nothing
no nothing at all,
if not excited to spiral
that sleeping serpent
coiled at spine,
that once sprung,
makes...
trust a poet
who cant get pussy.
were not the dried skins of animals
pulled tight over hallowed wood,
and prodded until,
the rhythm found,
made the women dance?
yes,
what other genesis
is necessary
once the women dance.
every syllable studied,
and placed exactly,
conjures nothing
no nothing at all,
if not excited to spiral
that sleeping serpent
coiled at spine,
that once sprung,
makes...
892 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Feb 2012 6:37am
25th Feb 2012 6:37am
i allow myself this space
give me the gloom.
give me the grey,
give me the heavy
self consumed
ego, and emotion
of a masterpiece,
before its made.
and give me a monsoon,
so i can paint a sunny day
that ill never step
outside,
to.
and allow me the weight of the world,
so i can confiscate its shadows.
pleased to see me myself,
a delicate pageantry,
of freshly trimmed melancholy,
firmed just...
give me the grey,
give me the heavy
self consumed
ego, and emotion
of a masterpiece,
before its made.
and give me a monsoon,
so i can paint a sunny day
that ill never step
outside,
to.
and allow me the weight of the world,
so i can confiscate its shadows.
pleased to see me myself,
a delicate pageantry,
of freshly trimmed melancholy,
firmed just...
785 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st Feb 2012 11:38pm
21st Feb 2012 11:38pm
here
andwhenidofinallywritemyselfaway
mydear,
dontpretendthatididntbludgeon
youreardrumswiththepiecemeal
andposturing
ofaprepubescentpoet.
wheniwhittledaway
thewaste,
fromthewellfedwording
andnestledthemjustso-
andcomfyunderyourhungry
selfesteem
itseemedtosatisfy
acertainsenseofromance
yousaidyouneeded
Asorry
asmightyasicanmuster,
isfastenedtothisconfession
thatmypassionstillsimmers-
crackingtheunderstanding
ofthe,"whatishouldbedoing"
whenistackthedishes, ...
mydear,
dontpretendthatididntbludgeon
youreardrumswiththepiecemeal
andposturing
ofaprepubescentpoet.
wheniwhittledaway
thewaste,
fromthewellfedwording
andnestledthemjustso-
andcomfyunderyourhungry
selfesteem
itseemedtosatisfy
acertainsenseofromance
yousaidyouneeded
Asorry
asmightyasicanmuster,
isfastenedtothisconfession
thatmypassionstillsimmers-
crackingtheunderstanding
ofthe,"whatishouldbedoing"
whenistackthedishes, ...
724 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Feb 2012 3:21pm
21st Feb 2012 3:21pm
missed whistle
Chasing the elusive last syllable
of your name
through the silent streets
I plead with the wind
to die down
just for a moment
allow me
one refraction
a sustained vibration
for even a second
of a pleasing sound
something to cut through
these mad shrieks
crying aloud
in long seditious wails
that keep at bay
any attempt at peace
it's not fair
to ask why you lead me here
I know that I seek shadows
reach for the remaining ripples
and wonder if its sadistic ...
of your name
through the silent streets
I plead with the wind
to die down
just for a moment
allow me
one refraction
a sustained vibration
for even a second
of a pleasing sound
something to cut through
these mad shrieks
crying aloud
in long seditious wails
that keep at bay
any attempt at peace
it's not fair
to ask why you lead me here
I know that I seek shadows
reach for the remaining ripples
and wonder if its sadistic ...
788 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Feb 2012 4:19am
21st Feb 2012 4:19am
anything worth keeping ,is worth keeping secret
its when
all of the eyes of the close circle are closed,
and when
the graceful tones are unfolded
unto the ascended hallways of the never answered but always heard, that
the dancing flicker finds its footing
and flirts
just outside the firmly clamped lids of the faithful.
its the instant,
that the space enchanted by the hidden,
levitates to an outside,
an other than its origin, that
the open ended arousal of ability, stakes its claim
fertile on a foundation of secrecy.
its called on by the echo of the forgotten intent.
once...
all of the eyes of the close circle are closed,
and when
the graceful tones are unfolded
unto the ascended hallways of the never answered but always heard, that
the dancing flicker finds its footing
and flirts
just outside the firmly clamped lids of the faithful.
its the instant,
that the space enchanted by the hidden,
levitates to an outside,
an other than its origin, that
the open ended arousal of ability, stakes its claim
fertile on a foundation of secrecy.
its called on by the echo of the forgotten intent.
once...
581 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
15th Feb 2012 4:25pm
15th Feb 2012 4:25pm
bastians dilemma
If i were to start a novel i suppose it would begin like this.
Akin to pick up sticks, i would lay down letters and mold them around a gnostic momentum, that even Sisyphus would believe in, at least while the boulder is edging upward. And presuming that this still holographic helix could house a particular catharsis, than i could build a framework of phrases to momentarily suspend that indefinable electricity, until i could work out the ambiguities.
Truth is i don't see why i need to write a novel. I am way too self absorbed to monumentalize the finite details of...
Akin to pick up sticks, i would lay down letters and mold them around a gnostic momentum, that even Sisyphus would believe in, at least while the boulder is edging upward. And presuming that this still holographic helix could house a particular catharsis, than i could build a framework of phrases to momentarily suspend that indefinable electricity, until i could work out the ambiguities.
Truth is i don't see why i need to write a novel. I am way too self absorbed to monumentalize the finite details of...
632 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Feb 2012 00:44am
14th Feb 2012 00:44am
maybe me
i read the epitaph:
it said,"a jack, with a beer back
a pack of squares, and I'm
all in on the last laugh."
i could tell by the rhyme without reason
that this was in fact a treasonous math.
something about this unnamed weight of familiarity
soothed and scared me.
it haunted yet housed a thousand verses not yet slung.
hung heavy, and stingy like the murderous burden
of a worker bee turned surgeon.
surely this polished turd of a tombstone, left forgotten
beyond the borders of the foraged...
it said,"a jack, with a beer back
a pack of squares, and I'm
all in on the last laugh."
i could tell by the rhyme without reason
that this was in fact a treasonous math.
something about this unnamed weight of familiarity
soothed and scared me.
it haunted yet housed a thousand verses not yet slung.
hung heavy, and stingy like the murderous burden
of a worker bee turned surgeon.
surely this polished turd of a tombstone, left forgotten
beyond the borders of the foraged...
715 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Feb 2012 6:38am
10th Feb 2012 6:38am
of course i should have
I catch glimpses of that long since diminished ritual,
by being whisked away slowly
on the wings of pagan poetry.
The scent that lingers is not that of nostalgia,
but rather that of wine, and of roses, and the dried leaves
hit by rain drops…..but stopping,
before my heart both breaks and mends, I wonder
Should I have asked her for that dance?
I remember being around the fire
watching Salome shed the seventh seal
without blushing,
and then numbing the ambiance
with her utterance,...that she
liked watching us.
I wonder...
by being whisked away slowly
on the wings of pagan poetry.
The scent that lingers is not that of nostalgia,
but rather that of wine, and of roses, and the dried leaves
hit by rain drops…..but stopping,
before my heart both breaks and mends, I wonder
Should I have asked her for that dance?
I remember being around the fire
watching Salome shed the seventh seal
without blushing,
and then numbing the ambiance
with her utterance,...that she
liked watching us.
I wonder...
671 reads
3 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
6th Feb 2012 4:49pm
6th Feb 2012 4:49pm
if the thunder dont get you then the lightning will
I'm the redemption of a principle of rebellion,
encompassing the in-between of a fastly and forever expanding everything.
I'm the payment, paid in full, but past due
of all future movement.(although i may have robbed Peter to do it).
I'm the arousal of the single point to form lines, then letters, to incite riots,
the diet of a pristine parasitic existence.
I'm the personification of the pushed panic button,
the utter detachment, and the bumrush to the escape hatch.
A latch key kid of a rolling stone,
I am...
encompassing the in-between of a fastly and forever expanding everything.
I'm the payment, paid in full, but past due
of all future movement.(although i may have robbed Peter to do it).
I'm the arousal of the single point to form lines, then letters, to incite riots,
the diet of a pristine parasitic existence.
I'm the personification of the pushed panic button,
the utter detachment, and the bumrush to the escape hatch.
A latch key kid of a rolling stone,
I am...
926 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by lightbaron
