LetsBringThisUnderground
New member
I've never been taught how to write poetry
Never seriously read any poetry
Never been encouraged to develop any of my talents
But every now and then I write things, especially in my journal when I'm feeling down, and I would like to see what people think.
Judging from these splashes of crap would you encourage me to develop my writing? Or just laugh at and not think seriously of it?
Honest answers will be really grateful
...
In no particular order:
As darkness falls,
Upon a foreign wall,
A place that once was mine,
I follow the deep dark path through
The gates of my own mind;
Though the music of its rusted hinges
Sings of forgotten times
The horrors ‘neath my turbulent seas
I soon expect to find.
And it is dark – yet not quite dark enough
For the candlelight above my head
To wander – lighting hallucinations
Like a fleeting spirit, that shows only
Frightened carcasses of disfigured flesh:
Dead trees that lay dead:
In a wooded coppice, ‘neath the sea bed.
Gone are the days when
The summer would rent a house
Within your memory
Lying beneath a willow
Dreaming life away
Visions of
Glistening stars that your future
Would wrought into crystal
Before raining them down across
Your silk-satin face.
And smiling
For being drunk upon
The sweet honeydew
Of childhood bliss.
Thunderstruck burnt wind
The ravaged innocent heart
Crumbles into dust
Is this the last time?
The blood runs through my head.
Is this the first crime?
Quivering mass of flesh.
Never been ill, just ceased to exist,
To understand means to severe
The chords of your neck,
To disembowel your gut feelings,
And substitute false-talk
With amusing irony instead.
To keep your passions well fed,
And sleeping night-crawling dead:
In your head:
Only to be released in a second
Unknown to the beholder,
Like the bullet that flies out the revolver.
A smile as sweet as darkness,
With the moon inside your heart,
You came when the night-time came,
And stole away my love.
Winds were frozen, dead still,
Yet the tides turned inside.
And the sun in the sky uncertain,
Soon begins to cry.
The poison feeling bubbles,
Through the bones inside my my mind,
Through the crevices deep down,
Of what’s been left behind:
Broken dreams, shattered memories
A fever of long lost time.
Blind – we are borne upon
Crumbled pillars
Of flesh and bone.
But within our lake eyes we see:
Man: In perfect harmony;
Blessed by the daylight
Un-misted by love or strife.
Yet under the moonlit moors,
A nightmare pavilion where silence talks,
The blood-drunk beast resides,
As an advocate of our pride;
And he - to our tar-stained eyes - presents:
An acrid and rotten fruit:
To satisfy our desire of truth,
Like bleeding a heart of all its juice,
Or boiling a brain ‘till its numb,
To all the beauty beneath the sun.
And it’s easy to see,
What we’re destined to be:
Shadows – doomed to the twilight.
Expression is distortion
The wind seeking its way through your veins
It's a heartbeat that's electrical
A wild beat untamed
Back in my dreams a little while
I saw your ghost play my tambourine
Your hands were so cold, but your sheets were so clean.
And you hurt me - with a smile – but then again I was only a child,
Now I’m shedding my skin, seeking where the answers begin.
And there’s a ticking in my veins,
That I really can’t explain,
Yeah, sometimes it drives me insane,
“It’s not real, it’s only pain”,
… I heard you say.
I’m staring at a face through frosted glass
I’m sitting, waiting – for the time to pass;
My tears have never been so hot before,
As I watch them hit the bathroom floor.
When I stare in the mirror I just grow older…
And it’s so cold…
I dropped my heart into snow,
Watch it get eaten by the crows,
Morality makes me choke,
Mortality seems a joke.
Looking at life in black and white, just like
Figures behind a Chinese screen,
Things are never quite what they seem.
I can see this jagged jigsaw I still don’t know
What the hell it means, but I guess it means a lot to me:
Because when I look closer
It’s a head full of rain,
It’s a heartache I just can’t explain,
It’s a fools game to play –
But I play anyway.
This song was never meant to be sung,
I never seemed able to find words kind to enough to dance.
So next time you send me your kisses,
Please send them without your best wishes,
‘Cos I’ll be gone for far too long,
Stuck in my own Alcatraz.
Kudos if you actually managed to make any sense or enjoyment out of it...
Never seriously read any poetry
Never been encouraged to develop any of my talents
But every now and then I write things, especially in my journal when I'm feeling down, and I would like to see what people think.
Judging from these splashes of crap would you encourage me to develop my writing? Or just laugh at and not think seriously of it?
Honest answers will be really grateful
...
In no particular order:
As darkness falls,
Upon a foreign wall,
A place that once was mine,
I follow the deep dark path through
The gates of my own mind;
Though the music of its rusted hinges
Sings of forgotten times
The horrors ‘neath my turbulent seas
I soon expect to find.
And it is dark – yet not quite dark enough
For the candlelight above my head
To wander – lighting hallucinations
Like a fleeting spirit, that shows only
Frightened carcasses of disfigured flesh:
Dead trees that lay dead:
In a wooded coppice, ‘neath the sea bed.
Gone are the days when
The summer would rent a house
Within your memory
Lying beneath a willow
Dreaming life away
Visions of
Glistening stars that your future
Would wrought into crystal
Before raining them down across
Your silk-satin face.
And smiling
For being drunk upon
The sweet honeydew
Of childhood bliss.
Thunderstruck burnt wind
The ravaged innocent heart
Crumbles into dust
Is this the last time?
The blood runs through my head.
Is this the first crime?
Quivering mass of flesh.
Never been ill, just ceased to exist,
To understand means to severe
The chords of your neck,
To disembowel your gut feelings,
And substitute false-talk
With amusing irony instead.
To keep your passions well fed,
And sleeping night-crawling dead:
In your head:
Only to be released in a second
Unknown to the beholder,
Like the bullet that flies out the revolver.
A smile as sweet as darkness,
With the moon inside your heart,
You came when the night-time came,
And stole away my love.
Winds were frozen, dead still,
Yet the tides turned inside.
And the sun in the sky uncertain,
Soon begins to cry.
The poison feeling bubbles,
Through the bones inside my my mind,
Through the crevices deep down,
Of what’s been left behind:
Broken dreams, shattered memories
A fever of long lost time.
Blind – we are borne upon
Crumbled pillars
Of flesh and bone.
But within our lake eyes we see:
Man: In perfect harmony;
Blessed by the daylight
Un-misted by love or strife.
Yet under the moonlit moors,
A nightmare pavilion where silence talks,
The blood-drunk beast resides,
As an advocate of our pride;
And he - to our tar-stained eyes - presents:
An acrid and rotten fruit:
To satisfy our desire of truth,
Like bleeding a heart of all its juice,
Or boiling a brain ‘till its numb,
To all the beauty beneath the sun.
And it’s easy to see,
What we’re destined to be:
Shadows – doomed to the twilight.
Expression is distortion
The wind seeking its way through your veins
It's a heartbeat that's electrical
A wild beat untamed
Back in my dreams a little while
I saw your ghost play my tambourine
Your hands were so cold, but your sheets were so clean.
And you hurt me - with a smile – but then again I was only a child,
Now I’m shedding my skin, seeking where the answers begin.
And there’s a ticking in my veins,
That I really can’t explain,
Yeah, sometimes it drives me insane,
“It’s not real, it’s only pain”,
… I heard you say.
I’m staring at a face through frosted glass
I’m sitting, waiting – for the time to pass;
My tears have never been so hot before,
As I watch them hit the bathroom floor.
When I stare in the mirror I just grow older…
And it’s so cold…
I dropped my heart into snow,
Watch it get eaten by the crows,
Morality makes me choke,
Mortality seems a joke.
Looking at life in black and white, just like
Figures behind a Chinese screen,
Things are never quite what they seem.
I can see this jagged jigsaw I still don’t know
What the hell it means, but I guess it means a lot to me:
Because when I look closer
It’s a head full of rain,
It’s a heartache I just can’t explain,
It’s a fools game to play –
But I play anyway.
This song was never meant to be sung,
I never seemed able to find words kind to enough to dance.
So next time you send me your kisses,
Please send them without your best wishes,
‘Cos I’ll be gone for far too long,
Stuck in my own Alcatraz.
Kudos if you actually managed to make any sense or enjoyment out of it...