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[Icculus]

it never did anything to her.

Just answer me something, and be sincere, do you feel what I'm feeling when you read these?

Sorry if they suck, I wrote most of them in like 3 days.

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And Remember You By

Sublime and ethereal-
Your footsteps wander through my empty beaches,

Dancing with the salt,
Caressing the soft afternoon,

Glistening in perfection,
Soldered to my soul in ecstasy.

Oh, if they were mine to treasure
And remember you by.

Oh, if I could reach you
And share the sun with you.

But you run inland-
Out of my sight and into my fickle dreams.

What do you seek
That I can’t offer?

Whom are you to bless
With your breathing stare?
Your damp words-
Which no longer find me?
This ocean of passion,
Once as still as the frightened offspring,

Now tosses like a raging mob, like a flame,
Against the wind, against the time,

Absorbing all the seashells of sorrow
And creatures of solitude

With intrepid hands
In the form of waves

As they search for your footsteps on the empty sand-
Sublime and ethereal.

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How Far?

How far are you, really?
How far?
Yes, everything and all isn't
When you aren't.

But when you are,
Oh, when you are,
It all shines
When you are.

How far are you, really?
How far?

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Silence

Do your mute words always reverberate
Through the silence which you have created?
Or is it just my soul, lying in wait,
The one whom your voice has berated?
A god may fall,
A muse may call,
But none of all,
Matter like you.

When the temperature ascends again
My fingerprints shall be seen over you,
Caressing you until your solemn end,
Consoling you until your time is due.
The clock may run,
The days are done,
But none, oh, none,
Matter after

You're gone.

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Somewhere

Somewhere
Yes, somewhere,
Oh, brother,
Oh, sister,
We have fallen-

Somewhere.

We have bled.
We have cried.
In joy? In despair?
We have fallen.

Oh, but you don't father me,
And you don't mother me,
You brother me,
You sister me,
And we fall.

Tell me your sorrows,
Tell me your flowers,
Your papers and loves
And I'll be more than glad to fall with you-

Somewhere.

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Racing Colors Fly Run

And the world feeds.
Lately, where the dust dances with the rains,
Lilacs from the petal plains, fathers and
Lost mothers, and the sharpening of chains
Have let this mold be cast over black hand.
For she knew the name of my salient ship,
Sailing softly over the lip, flailing
Without mast over the butcher's clean tip.
Known to you be the weather and wailing
Of the treacherous shepherd and his sheep
Sailing under the deep, washing his hands,
Scolding his birth grandmother for her sleep
As he sits and he washes his black hands
Until he bleeds.

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Poetry

These words which hover over you, love,
Bathed in the dew of desire and
Digressed conversations,
Are dripping slowly and calmly over your
Face,
Your beautiful face.

Oh, to see these letters meander
Through your canopy eyes, flowing,
Flowing down your firm, captivating
Stare,
Down your lilac, rubescent
Cheeks,
Down your perfect nose-
Where dreams are forged
And
Questions answered.

But, love,
Oh, love,
See now, look now,
How your lips, tender and softer than a thousand moons,
How your lips, flowers to the sick,
How your lips, your beautiful lips,
Have entangled these letters now,
Halting their flow,
Leaving them lost in their
Perfection,
Leaving them crazy for more,
Crazy forever-
As I am.

And there's a message hidden among
These letters,
Yes, these letters,
Raining down your face,
Like pollen from a bee,
Spell out poetry.

----------------------------------------------------------

Day 2

We shall descend to the stars, treading lightly,
Over lonely meteors and stranded clouds,
Our silence rivaled the sullen space
Which chokes us slightly.

We shall descend to the stars, from our love,
Which stands over the Earth and its calloused crowds,
Which stands like a totem pole without a face
Waiting, like a dove.

We shall descend, love, to the taciturn stars,
And steal them, hiding under our warm shrouds,
Allowing time to restore its haunting pace;
Waning, like a scar.

------------------------------------------------------------

For I See In You

Is it that you've heard the groans of the abused dog?
Is it that the hungry kids have cried for you?

For I see in you the happiness of the poor
And the hope of the orphans.
The streets have silenced themselves to attract you,
The shepherd has sent you now the question through
His shy and fat sheep.
The silenced have begged you with their eyes of fish.
And even then, you, in your self-provoked exile,
Hide from all contact, always looking inward.
Looking eternally inward.
Inward.

Have the groans of the abused dog found you?
For violence smiles only at you,
Everything that happens, happened, and is to happen smiles at you
And you cry looking inward.

What is that you stare at? What draws you so?
Doesn't reality suffice for you?
The rifles, anxious to kill?
The bed sheets of yesterday?

Is it that you've heard the groans of the abused dog?

----------------------------------------------------

How Am I To Write You The Letters Of Time?

How am I to write you the letters of time?

The nocturnal visions escape me
When the dawning of night arrives

And likewise your flowers pass away
At the news of your farewell.

Your knittings of calid noons
Go marching through the lethargic horizon

Leaving your vestiges forever imprisoned in
In the surface of choked happiness.

And just like you went around loving everyone
You must bid farewell equally:

Without satisfaction nor happiness some.

How am I to write you the letters of time, love?

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Solitude Of A Stranded Ant

Where terrible solitude and the tears of the forgotten soldier are forged, there I take refuge,
Drying myself with words from languages never learned
From the dew of mornings never born.
Protecting myself with the vigilance of a dirty priest
From the bohemian animals which meander through the dawn,
Feeding off of cold stories, which crazy circumstance produces,
And of inopportune souls who per chance happen to lend some time to pleasure.
An abandoned nest is stumbled upon every corner,
A dripping faucet with the sound of thunder amidst the damp silence.
The migrating waves of an oceans name,
Socializing among themselves endlessly.
And in between such visions of a sober drunk, I fear he who has fled destruction:
His nightmares torment me in my solitude of a stranded ant,
And I cry because I do not know how to flee him who has fled,
And worse, his nightmares.
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[Tacofiend]

The first one's pretty good.
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[Steveo]

as a fellow poet, I will say those are really deep. keep up the good work.
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MY BARF is TASTIER than Yours!!!

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

It looks like you put a lot of effort into them, even in those 3 days.

...
can't say much else, I just don't get poetry.
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Come into my den let me hear you cluck
You can be my hen and we can f(Bu-GAWK)
A bite to the leg, it's time to play
Baby, let me be your egg that needs to get laid.
- CEO Nwabudike Morgan
"The Chicken of Lust"

[Evangel]

I only read the first one, and it's really good. Adding all the rest was a bit much, too many to read

[Sharp]

Poetry is for women. With girly parts.

[RockmanWilliam]

[Evangel]

omg, he callin u woman wit girly hat!!!!11 u gonna take dat d00d????

[RockmanWilliam]

*fucks poetry*
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