| [POEM] Empty Chapel |
[Jun. 11th, 2009|10:25 pm]
cracked-out poets
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The empty chapel
with God's hollow footsteps which
echo his passing. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 4th, 2008|04:12 pm]
cracked-out poets
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holes in my skin
knots in my shoulders
the smell of gin
rain is falling
my head is swimming
smoke fills up my lungs
though the day is still young
tremendous bags form under my eyes
the evidence of late nights
i wonder why i dont feel tired
picking scabs and
polluting our bodies
laying in bed all day
your mom makes us
another peanut butter sandwich |
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| Gorillas |
[Feb. 12th, 2008|08:29 pm]
cracked-out poets
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| [ | Current Mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
Gorilla viz-viz
while they make rough jungle love
that's the stuff, baby.
 |
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| More Haiku. |
[Oct. 3rd, 2007|07:32 pm]
cracked-out poets
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| [ | Current Mood |
| |  blah | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | - - - | ] |
Overlook the beast
Don't bother to dive deeper
To find true meaning.
Notice only the beauty
Find what appeals to the eye
There is nothing more.
---
Silent Hill inspired:
Hungry for this town
Consuming all that it can
Descend the gray clouds
Snowflakes of ashes
Slowly flying to the ground
A coat warms the streets
Forgotten, missing
Only the nightmares wander
Desolate, lonely. |
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| Another Haiku X 2 |
[Sep. 13th, 2007|02:01 pm]
cracked-out poets
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| [ | Current Location |
| | Spi's | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | - - - | ] |
Quickly written, 2 haiku, possibly reviving my poetry writings... more to come, hopefully!
---
The sun's act closes.
The stars start to take the stage.
Here comes the night's play.
The stars take their leave.
The curtain and the sun rise
For another show. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 31st, 2007|10:07 pm]
cracked-out poets
|
i totally forgot about this...i had to write a sonnet for class. good? no. cute? yes.
Gazing up at the blanched white sky,
Dreams of snow in my mind’s eye,
The clouds hover just above the trees
Their swollen bellies poised to please,
And finally down drifts winter’s gift,
And the wind begins to shift
Shaking down fall’s last leaves,
The snow falls harder filling eaves,
And my thoughts chase each downy flake,
The boughs fill up and I fear they’ll break,
The snow falls as though in a child’s tale,
No sounds reach me save for the gale
I watch the sky in the storm it seems,
I’ve lost myself in a storm of dreams |
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| [Sandoval dreams of TV reception] |
[Feb. 20th, 2007|11:02 pm]
cracked-out poets
|
I can feel the static snow
of long lost yester-years
falling on distant shores...
A million cold years,
full of TV Land nostalgia,
and scattered sound solitude
that has prevaded my lost years.
Maybe we'll find our way
again in this dark land
as the static snow
it falls. |
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| i don't want this community to die! |
[Nov. 22nd, 2006|11:40 am]
cracked-out poets
|
have a poem:
Spring is back again,
The green leaves are here,
I envy their death,
Their rebirth every year,
They sway nostalgically in the breeze,
Stare down at us from the hazy sky,
They watch us,
Our fights,
Our lies,
Our midnight and drunken affairs,
They looks down on us and do not judge,
Only sway in the breeze, look down from the hazy skies,
Only to die and be reborn every year,
And watch the same thing
Year
After year
After year. |
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| a sestina |
[Oct. 7th, 2006|02:09 am]
cracked-out poets
|
click here for the definition of a sestina and explanation of form, if you don't already know, my lovely poet friends: http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/sestina.htm
A love that ended only in sweet nothing
Nothing ever ends in love
You and I are just another tale
Of that day, sun pouring down on us in a field
Or us, in a car on an abandoned road
And the moonlight, pouring down in waves
And the wind made the grass move in waves
Then it stopped, the sea of green turned to nothing
The dirt ceased blowing in the road
And washed away, like stale love
And I watched the tall grass in the field
Weave into another tale
And my whole life is just another tale
Of turmoil, like ocean waves
Or petals in a wildflower field
Petals that fly away, and turn to nothing
Nothingness, like out love
Blown away, down the dusty road
I traced back from Rome to this road
This dusty old road
The bitter end of this tale
And old petals, mushy and pulps and messy like love
To clean this mess, we’d need the ocean, and all its waves
To wash it all away like nothing
Mowed down, like the fate of this field
And what lies at the end of this field?
On old dirt road
(And beyond that?) Nothing.
The dirty end of this tale
A purple sunset and waves
Of love
And eventually those waves of love
Break on this field
And the love in those waves
Is lost on this road
At the end of this tale
Is bitter nothing
And this road,
And this field,
Lead to nothing. |
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| hello? anyone there? |
[Sep. 14th, 2006|10:53 pm]
cracked-out poets
|
poetry class we had to pull words on little slips of paper out of a tin and make poetry that:
-made sense
-only used 4 words not on the papers
-you got unlimited punctuation
anyways heres' mine:
the jungle king
has a million azure clouds
he had them shoveled
into a water-proof hole
left only green salt water
sugar like water
water like love
looking like frozen emeralds
or wet green glass
quick!
slap back, the wild ego flood
sounds like art
sun like water
heal the hurt
hammer in the veins
lend them water.
express whatever had gone within
terrible dirt baby
swimming like they do.
i like it, its interesting what words i chose for what purpose. |
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