Writing something else.

[fool]

Possibly this doesn’t warrant its own thread but, I couldn’t decide which thread to put it in so it gets one anyway. Truth be told I’m still not more than half decided to post it at all and were it not for the intermediate state of refreshment I find myself in I probably wouldn’t be doing so.

Anyway, I wrote this, I hope you like it.

A kinder break.

A new dawns finest,
first reaching far
flung spears of light,
breach the dust stained
super cooled silicate
that framed last night.

Breath some life
across these tensed
cornea’s, relax the
pupils beneath.
Soothe fevered retinas,
ease

the turbulent
consciousness toiling
through insomniac skeins
in flight from dreams,
insensible to Morpheus’ schemes.

Allow me once more
that unaffected countenance,
that beatific unconcerned smile.
That delightful naive inviolate
innocence.

 

[Mercutio]

T'would appear that The JoJo has inspired you, fool.
Marvelously done.

 

[The JoJo]

Did I?

Very nice!

I really do love this place (SF)...

 

[fool]

T'would appear that The JoJo has inspired you, fool.

and

Did I

well sort of, I started the poem a while ago, but never got round to finishing it until I saw the insomnia thread. Which certainly inspired me to post that poem.
Glad you liked it, it makes writing the thing seem worthwhile. (mind you I’m still not happy with the rhythm from about midway to the end. :x )

 

[Tea]

I don't know anything about poetry, but I know what I like. And I like it.

 

[Howell]

I'm gonna use your thread fool.

This is one of two journal entries I've ever written in my life. I never shared it anywhere before because its ... well when you've only written two the feelings going into writing ... nevermind.

IIRC, It was originally written as a song. 1992. Freshman year of college. 800 miles from home and first year of total independence. I was living with multiple self-destructive people with them in a downward spiral.

what do you do

What do you do when you're sittin' with your friends
and they're drowning their sorrows but mostly themselves.
When every brain cell lines up in row upon row only to get
mowed down like a certain holocaust by the stuff their takin' in.

I wanna rescue ... rescue them from this existence they call life. Take them on the divergent path and show them the way, show them the way.

So many people, so many places, so many experiences they miss because of the untouchable, inescapable cloud in their head. Don't talk yet. Just try to walk, just concentrate on the walk.

I wanna rescue ... rescue them from this existence they call living.

"I drank vodka all night."
"So what," I want to say. "So much better for the clerk who sells; but you, you keep slipping away by the second and by the drink."

I wanna just say pick yourself up and get to bed but I care, I care too much. I wanna rescue them from this fence they've weaved around themselves. They're not able to let others in or themselves out except for the one drink that deludes them into thinking the gate is wide open until the cold reality smacks them in the face and sends them back to the bottle.

 

[Mercutio]

Ah yes, Purdue University. Where the weekend starts at 1:17PM on Tuesday afternoon.

I saw the same thing when I was there. Most especially my fourth year there. The first three years I lived with the same people. It wasn't that we were friends per se but we recognized that we were highly compatible. The fourth there were a HUGE number of drunken 18 year olds. I saw some things that year that churn my stomach, and I know exactly what you're talking about.

 

[Fushigi]

I went to Rose-Hulman Institue of Technology (alternate name: Rosem-Hosem Inst. of Proctology). One guy in my dorm freshman year drank got so platered at a party in October that they had to repeatedly pour him into bed to try and get him down for the night. Later, they tacked his shirt, which was ruined by stains from spills and run-ins with others, the wall, etc. to the ceiling of his dorm room as a reminder. Even with that, he didn't start to recall the party until the following May. But beyond that time, the guy had an otherwise perfect memory. He maintained both an B+/A average and about a 0.20 blood alcohol level for most of college. Sophomore year we found him in the hallway, turning the water fountain on and off, on and off, on and off. He was fascinated by it. We also coined the term hairf*** to describe his look.

- Fushigi

 

[fool]

Tony, if you know what youlike you know everything you need to about poetry ( or any other artform come to that).

Howell, your welcome and your journal entry certainly struck a chord.

Anyhow, I'm drunk(ish) again, and therefore am posting poetry? again.
let me know what you think.


The Dancer.

The man stepped centre stage and stood
Head high in the cold naked light.
Focus of the crowds gaze,
of the perennial first night.
And said

" I need some hard lines to recall my spirit.
for to it I am ever drawn backward,
as if moonwalking into a trap.
I’ll fight, it’ll be ‘cause I’m bitten.
though always only when almost too late.
If I prevail once more,
And If my steps perchance should please,
Know then, I will have disfigured my fate.
Know this, I have in their own blood shod
these bandaged feet.

When I wake,
knowing it is now again tomorrow,
eyes raw and open, tears turning
pale cheeks red.
I shall invoke an angel
who will, my call, not heed
will not stoop to such a depth as
is occupied by my bed.
So I shall woo me a muse,
who, blushing and coy, my plight
will not seek to ease, senses
offended by so broken a sight.

For I am an old man.
Have learnt too many things.
But never found such courage
as to grow my own wings,
swing sweet and low,
and carry myself home.

So tomorrow as today,
I shall dance with my kobold,
dance this daemon till both of us hobble.
Shredding the swaddling on my feet
as contorted and broken as they are and will be.
I shall dance as ever for the first time again,
and they shall witness, who take your seats,
natures sickest, most beautiful game."

The man picked up a foot,
rotated a shoulder, and with
an articulacy of back and hips.
To a music no other could hear,
scribed a dance so vital so vicious,
that none who saw could say
they previously knew joy or fear,
or hence would consider
a day without shadows a day.

 

[flagreen]

Excellent fool!

 

[fool]

Thank you very much indeed Bill.

 

[Groltz]

Nice work, fool. Thank you for sharing it.

 

[fool]

Drunk again, poesing postetry again.

Ate up Wondering.

There’re seven cuts that bind. Sixteen
states of mind. Five senses
keening for your name, fourteen
ways I could have asked you to stay. three
days in which to have affected a change. Twelve
fragments of perfection in your gait, and one
lifetime in which to would that
it were not too late.

 

[fool]

Oh, and also I was wondering if merc had written any more of the “mechanoid assassin” thing.
( so much on as to why I was being Mr. thread resurrector.)

 

[ddrueding]

Very good, fool. As I am presently in a similar state of mind, your timing seems impeccible

 

[Mercutio]

Oh, and also I was wondering if merc had written any more of the “mechanoid assassin” thing.

Nope.
Someday, maybe after I work myself into what Coug assures me will be an extended hospital visit.
I tend to overanalyze my prose and not write unless I'm SURE of what I'm putting down. I do not revise, other than correcting spelling errors or typos.

Which is exactly the wrong attitude for a writer.

I think your poem might do very well as a song, fool. The sentiment certainly fits in any number of genres.

 

[fool]

Held.

Rain,
Hits the roof so hard I can feel
it bounce, Inches from my head.
Which I incline to see the storm
crowd the window by my bed.

Wind,
Keening so fast through the eaves,
I, with every gust matched breath,
leave successively less space
separating duvet and flesh.

And if I ever felt safer,
more cherished,
It can only have been
whilst still in the womb.

 

[Howell]

We want more! We want more!

 

[Howell]

I little haiku I wrote.

Dream big or don’t dream.
Live life, have not one regret.
A waste dreaming small.

 

[Mercutio]

Is it really a waste dreaming small? I'd rather want something that I might actually get than have a want that will never be fulfilled.

 

[mubs]

No it's not. But it's fun to dream big.

 

[Howell]

Shoot for the moon I say. Even if you don't get it, it'll be better than shooting for what you know you can get. Desires are small and within reach, dreams are big and seemingly unattainable.