Someone write...

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  • Nast
    Nast Posts: 127
    "Once divided, nothing left to subtract,
    Some words when spoken, can't be taken back."
    The king of run on sentences...
  • Nast
    Nast Posts: 127
    Sometimes cliche is ok...
    The king of run on sentences...
  • EvilToasterElf
    EvilToasterElf Posts: 1,119
    Ok, it's not first person, there's no other people, there's no angsty I hate humanity, pop-culture sucks kind of tone - it's not a great poem but I like it

    The civilized basement

    A collection of spent cigarettes
    gather in the corner of a basement.
    They whisper to each other
    in the language of ash and footprints.

    They speak as the small brothers of volcanoes.
    They join a conversation
    in the bubbly tongues of beer caps,
    a language of beings beyond five cent redemption.

    The cigarettes are convinced
    in the absence of God
    when they build their lecture halls
    of dust.

    They writhe about like severed fingers
    among the mold,
    under the savage death throes
    of boilers and aging pipes.

    The bottle caps grow restless
    and steal away ambitious cigarettes for axels.
    Two caps joined by a cigarette
    roll slowly away,
    metal against concrete.

    Some made pacts with the bloated spiders.
    Others fed eternally,
    on their reflections in the puddles
    dripped by the water pipes.

    They lived immune
    to the bursts of dawn outside.

    While weeds and vines crept
    through the crevices of civilization
    they passed stories,
    in the languid dialects
    of creatures unhinged.

    Unburdened by the destinies of procreation
  • Nast
    Nast Posts: 127
    Ya I like it! =)

    -D
    The king of run on sentences...
  • olderman
    olderman Posts: 1,765
    i'll give it a try..

    we met as lovers meet in a shadowed moment of deceit,
    oars dipped in the mudddled waters of lake pontchatrain,
    down in new orleans.

    our base desire was king for a time in that time,
    she was my despised queen, royalty's bain,
    somewhere back in new orleans..

    she grasped the moment and clung to me,
    as peter instructed in his letters,
    she considered herself in new orleans.

    i dove into the moment,
    the silent lust of lament,
    for as soon as it is over,
    you know you have no lover..

    down in new orleans..
    Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
    As she slams the door in his drunken face
    And now he stands outside
    And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
    He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
    What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
    Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
    And his tears fall and burn the garden green
  • EvilToasterElf
    EvilToasterElf Posts: 1,119
    Olderman I really like the style of composition here, but I'm going to do what I wish people would take the time to do to my poems and critique a little)
    In trying to make the scene mysterious it seems it becomes too confusing.
    seriously though this is very close to be excellent poetry, just tweak it and read it to yourself and make sure everything that's in your head is on the paper

    olderman wrote:
    i'll give it a try..

    we met as lovers meet in a shadowed moment of deceit,
    oars dipped in the mudddled waters of lake pontchatrain,
    down in new orleans.

    our base desire was king for a time in that time, (the two "times" a little too close)
    she was my despised queen, ("royalty's bain," this seems a little excessive too)
    somewhere back in new orleans..

    she grasped the moment and clung to me,
    as peter (who, what?) instructed in his letters,
    she considered herself in new orleans.

    i dove into the moment,
    the silent lust of lament,
    for as soon as it is over,
    you know you have no lover..

    down in new orleans..

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