-
Hey Guest,
If you want to donate, we have a thread with updated donation options here at this link: About Donations
3 poems I wrote earlier today. All untitled.
1.
This morning I found a piece of button
lying on the floor of my hostel room
a mischievous white shell no doubt inching
towards Lost Land while nobody watched
I wondered which useful shirt it came from
that now I must learn to live without
until I can find the friend or neighbor
who for reasons collected needles
and I might have derided on a different day
a crocheting grandmother for the endeavor.
I picked up the little thing- so smooth
to touch, and when I flipped it over
the button-holes were two eyes of a smiling face
full and warm as a buttery cartoon sun.
2.
Once I walked, I won't say too far out,
but far enough to a place of red dust
so much red dust and not much else
where the dust deadened still the silence
about the place like a mat of fallen leaves
on a forest floor which now and then
a wind stirred in rattling the dry grass
like beads or some agile lizard crunched
passing like gossip between the far compounds-
there i saw a boy half-kid and half-dust
no older than ten if over nine
panting down the breadth of his childhood
watched him nose up the landscape
rooting for amusement beneath all that dust
3.
Coming as I am from a place of crowds and some clutter
my senses insists there are spaces missing here- either
too well vanished or too well concealed-
a little boy lost
in the redness of his little sister's maw and curious
of her teeth.
1.
This morning I found a piece of button
lying on the floor of my hostel room
a mischievous white shell no doubt inching
towards Lost Land while nobody watched
I wondered which useful shirt it came from
that now I must learn to live without
until I can find the friend or neighbor
who for reasons collected needles
and I might have derided on a different day
a crocheting grandmother for the endeavor.
I picked up the little thing- so smooth
to touch, and when I flipped it over
the button-holes were two eyes of a smiling face
full and warm as a buttery cartoon sun.
2.
Once I walked, I won't say too far out,
but far enough to a place of red dust
so much red dust and not much else
where the dust deadened still the silence
about the place like a mat of fallen leaves
on a forest floor which now and then
a wind stirred in rattling the dry grass
like beads or some agile lizard crunched
passing like gossip between the far compounds-
there i saw a boy half-kid and half-dust
no older than ten if over nine
panting down the breadth of his childhood
watched him nose up the landscape
rooting for amusement beneath all that dust
3.
Coming as I am from a place of crowds and some clutter
my senses insists there are spaces missing here- either
too well vanished or too well concealed-
a little boy lost
in the redness of his little sister's maw and curious
of her teeth.
ixkitty
Let me be Selfish, just this once.
- Aug 15, 2020
- 313
GarageKarate07
Wizard
- Aug 18, 2020
- 665
ixkitty
Let me be Selfish, just this once.
- Aug 15, 2020
- 313
GarageKarate07
Wizard
- Aug 18, 2020
- 665
Two poems I wrote yesterday. Both untitled.
1.
I met a friend coming out of doors today
and we stood a moment beside the busy road
matching smiles and pleasantries and memories
until what errand had borne him to my side
carried him off again past the reach of words
and there was me all alone in the road
lingering on the minute of our chance meeting
contemplating his promise of a quick visit-
but something in me would also be alone
something terrified of having to talk past wanting to talk
that set me walking to nowhere under the blazing sun
walking past all enjoyment and walking on still
till every step had the sting of penance-
my sister told me when I was home at last
that someone had been around to see me.
2.
he awoke to darkness. no moon
where he woke. no sky
blue or gray in that place
only darkness and a form
amorphous and indistinct as thought
a realization from far away as consciousness
bearing upon him like a blade of axe
upon wood. blade of axe upon his door
knocking reality back into the shape
of his home. life so far.
there was a man at his door demonstrating bitter determination
to tread on his plastic carpet and stand between his peeling walls
to look him in the eyes while he took from him.
he shone a light on life so far
as if to judge again
it was all too paltry too personal
for the greed of him busy at his door
whose stinging bites there threatened his flimsy barrier
against the world of other men, his illusion of sanctity
which every dawn he got up to make real.
all of these occurred to him
in spasms of nerves and instincts
as he prepared. what
he contemplated was this: what
he would find in his robber's eyes.
1.
I met a friend coming out of doors today
and we stood a moment beside the busy road
matching smiles and pleasantries and memories
until what errand had borne him to my side
carried him off again past the reach of words
and there was me all alone in the road
lingering on the minute of our chance meeting
contemplating his promise of a quick visit-
but something in me would also be alone
something terrified of having to talk past wanting to talk
that set me walking to nowhere under the blazing sun
walking past all enjoyment and walking on still
till every step had the sting of penance-
my sister told me when I was home at last
that someone had been around to see me.
2.
he awoke to darkness. no moon
where he woke. no sky
blue or gray in that place
only darkness and a form
amorphous and indistinct as thought
a realization from far away as consciousness
bearing upon him like a blade of axe
upon wood. blade of axe upon his door
knocking reality back into the shape
of his home. life so far.
there was a man at his door demonstrating bitter determination
to tread on his plastic carpet and stand between his peeling walls
to look him in the eyes while he took from him.
he shone a light on life so far
as if to judge again
it was all too paltry too personal
for the greed of him busy at his door
whose stinging bites there threatened his flimsy barrier
against the world of other men, his illusion of sanctity
which every dawn he got up to make real.
all of these occurred to him
in spasms of nerves and instincts
as he prepared. what
he contemplated was this: what
he would find in his robber's eyes.
Two poems I wrote earlier today. Both untitled.
1.
When this cloud of uncertainty veers away
and I'm fitting who I am into my own place
I would own a cabinet of jars
big and small, glass or plastic
however way life is sorted
depending on the purpose of order-
so long as the caps are as colorful
as my imagination of Victorian hats
at a fancy party -and sometimes I would stand
and look in on the jars: their plain sterility
contrasted with the spices they would hold.
2.
heaven did not fall because you suffered
so profoundly. the president
would not leave his Aso parlor
and, not being paid, no one else
could spare the labour to carry you around
off their TV screens into their hearts
1.
When this cloud of uncertainty veers away
and I'm fitting who I am into my own place
I would own a cabinet of jars
big and small, glass or plastic
however way life is sorted
depending on the purpose of order-
so long as the caps are as colorful
as my imagination of Victorian hats
at a fancy party -and sometimes I would stand
and look in on the jars: their plain sterility
contrasted with the spices they would hold.
2.
heaven did not fall because you suffered
so profoundly. the president
would not leave his Aso parlor
and, not being paid, no one else
could spare the labour to carry you around
off their TV screens into their hearts
Nevn
Member
- Dec 23, 2020
- 11
I may post my art at some point, but I think for now I'll post some poetry I've written earlier this year. I should really get back into writing. vent 2 is probably my favorite. Haha
Take away these thoughts of treason,
Whisk away my fear of doubts,
Hesitant, too near with out,
Like a burning summer's day,
Endless though, it still doth play,
The song of reverent fever dreams,
Tossed about as empty screams,
My soul dejects it's final motion,
Begging for some errant ocean,
To toss my feelings in so deep,
The air I breath, too high to sleep,
Wondering how I should ever seek,
To end the pain; I am too weak.
And I'm tired of being sick
The world around me's ending
And I've had enough of it
This shit is getting stupid
And my life has gone all wrong
Like the ever passing moments of another drawn out song
And I'm trying not to drown but you refuse to help me up,
My body is your savior, and I've finally had enough;
use my corpse to stay a float, use my lungs to help you breathe
The ship is always sinking but there is nothing left to bleed
The times with you I'm spending getting hung up on the pain
This emotional regret isn't worth the stupid games
The nights I spend on crying, calling out your wicked name
Leave me numb up in the mornings, with nothing havin' changed
I wrote the book, to take a look, at my longing retribution
I yearned to say, it will be okay, even though I know it's lying
The passing days, that summer plays, reminds me that I'm dying
And slowly now, like ideal hands, my mind begin to slip
Begging for your errant soul, to lead from it's grip
There's nothing here for you it says, in hushed and lonely tones
The message spelled out mockingly, while cutting through my bones
The tree, it whispered, upon my ear, is coming to an end
It's branches old and rotten now, no longer know my friend
Vent - 01
Oh limerick of rhyme and reason,Take away these thoughts of treason,
Whisk away my fear of doubts,
Hesitant, too near with out,
Like a burning summer's day,
Endless though, it still doth play,
The song of reverent fever dreams,
Tossed about as empty screams,
My soul dejects it's final motion,
Begging for some errant ocean,
To toss my feelings in so deep,
The air I breath, too high to sleep,
Wondering how I should ever seek,
To end the pain; I am too weak.
{Sick} |0f| [It]
I'm sick being tiredAnd I'm tired of being sick
The world around me's ending
And I've had enough of it
This shit is getting stupid
And my life has gone all wrong
Like the ever passing moments of another drawn out song
And I'm trying not to drown but you refuse to help me up,
My body is your savior, and I've finally had enough;
use my corpse to stay a float, use my lungs to help you breathe
The ship is always sinking but there is nothing left to bleed
The times with you I'm spending getting hung up on the pain
This emotional regret isn't worth the stupid games
The nights I spend on crying, calling out your wicked name
Leave me numb up in the mornings, with nothing havin' changed
Vent 02
I sent the sea to sever me, with fear and indiscretionI wrote the book, to take a look, at my longing retribution
I yearned to say, it will be okay, even though I know it's lying
The passing days, that summer plays, reminds me that I'm dying
And slowly now, like ideal hands, my mind begin to slip
Begging for your errant soul, to lead from it's grip
There's nothing here for you it says, in hushed and lonely tones
The message spelled out mockingly, while cutting through my bones
The tree, it whispered, upon my ear, is coming to an end
It's branches old and rotten now, no longer know my friend
Last edited:
WhatDoesTheFoxSay?
DoNotBoopTheSnoot
- Dec 25, 2020
- 1,081
Two poems I wrote some time ago. Could've used more fitting titles.
r/suicidewatch... to think I might have run into some of the people here on other forums. Anyone from r/socialanxiety? Very good poems.
Mistake of Nature
A shadow suspended on dust
- Mar 30, 2020
- 159
I managed to venture out of the house and took a walk here the other day. I'd love to lie near the creek and CTB, listening to the birds and the gentle flow of the water as I leave this world, but unfortunately it's heavily populated.
TriggerHappy
In the kingdom of th blind; the one-eyed are kings
- Jan 24, 2021
- 1,298
signifying nothing
-
- Sep 13, 2020
- 2,553
TriggerHappy
In the kingdom of th blind; the one-eyed are kings
- Jan 24, 2021
- 1,298
...just messing around - will not post on other forums as I do not have ownership:
att: moderators - pls remove / inform directly if ownership rights / royalties infringed upon (with apologies) M!GS
DetachedDreamer97
Enlightened
- Mar 17, 2018
- 1,402
FreeAngel
Student
- Mar 3, 2021
- 111
DetachedDreamer97
Enlightened
- Mar 17, 2018
- 1,402
GarbageFactory
Softboy™
- Feb 10, 2021
- 11
So, I like to cope by doing botanical illustrations of flowers. What do you guys think?
Last edited:
DetachedDreamer97
Enlightened
- Mar 17, 2018
- 1,402
WhatDoesTheFoxSay?
DoNotBoopTheSnoot
- Dec 25, 2020
- 1,081
@DetachedDreamer97 I really love your art style! There's something unique about your portraits.
DetachedDreamer97
Enlightened
- Mar 17, 2018
- 1,402
purple꿈
空気のような
- Mar 15, 2021
- 23
although I love drawing I'm still not skilled at it,, I always try my best though
ErnestBeckerFan
Member
- Feb 13, 2020
- 5
Pebeo liquid art pouring. Highly recommend it. Very easy for anyone to do (entry level) and extremely satisfying/relaxing. I've included some close ups.
DetachedDreamer97
Enlightened
- Mar 17, 2018
- 1,402
To be honest, I'd say that's a very impressive sketch for someone who's not skilled.
Oh hey... you're Barchen!
ixkitty
Let me be Selfish, just this once.
- Aug 15, 2020
- 313
Rue89
Visionary
- Feb 10, 2020
- 2,726
