Rate Thread
  • 0 Vote(s) - 0 Average
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Ramblings of a man who should not have a pen
Thanks for the feedback folks. =) And OrphanPip, thanks for all the useful info! I'll think about going the uni route in the future, though I have no plans to attempt any form of publication now. This stuff's just too raw and unpolished.

A lotus a field an ocean dried up
The sky is the limit but the fuel is used up
Dried and shriveled unspeaking flower
Gathered together the funeral hour

Speaking in tongues to your darling babe
Compass collapse into astrolabe
Still navigating from sand careen
Into oceans so stop-dead clean

Drowned at the door shoot from the hip
Breaking away on to songwise trip
Too leavened too ripe in this ocean crisp
Like children deaf we see earth reflect wisp

Bastard crowns you kiss their steel
Cannon clapped up too real to reel
Open the cryo then run back to Io
Callisto to daydreams peel

Hoping miracle coping
Shuttering your dream's open
Moping or interloping?
Shuddering you've misspoken.

-Untitled, yet again

His cocktail of pills in hand,
He cruises through each scene
Give me a mother of a workout!
He shouts to a pop-up screen -
(Well he must be kid clean.)

Flash the line, light the fuse
Give me the Salvinorin' Blues
Salvadorian news
Dolorean cruises past the
---Nothing I play is relevant
---Nothing I say is eloquent
---Enough to build on what's come before.

Faceless totems tower in a
(((silent))) circle.
Was that chance brushing-by now
Just an accident?
Was that solitary stare down there
Just in jest?

(He checks his pockets for the pills
He needs till he's done with gestation.)
Should I take a flighty French dip
Or light a cigarette, just one more?
Sure just after I've lit all the rest.

Anything to be wanted
Give me something worth wanting
What you can do with a brush
It's haunting...
Turn blotches into mountains
With just a single stroke,
Turn mountains into molehills
With an off-color joke.
It's haunting it's haunting it's haunting...

He tosses himself through bathroom door
And his glasses fog up
Rueful tear-seared eyes galore
While inside all clogged up
Not too becoming a purebred, huh, pup?
Pop pop pop pop pop pop
Tilts his head back
He can run over heartworms
But can he stop an attack?

To turn someone he wants
Into somebody who wants him
(Synesthete, virgin)
Well I'd be better with a camelneedleeye
Than to try to pry the fingers of the father lost in time
Or the mother, fate more grim.

Heart flailing against its bony cage
In wailing nostril steam, forgotten haunt
Six little buddies here to snuff out the rage
Pop pop pop pop pop pop
Twist off the cap and suck
Dolorean in neutral, so with some luck
Best to turn someone who wants me
Into somebody I want.

Forum Jump:

Recently Browsing
1 Guest(s)

© 2002-2024 GaySpeak.com