M'kay, if somebody could give harsh (or gentle, or medium) con/crit on the following poems, I'd be very happy. Some tips to become a better poet would be damn spiffy, as well. I'll post each work in a different color then the last.
Nightmare
This poem is based upon a nightmare I had a few months ago. An explanation will follow.
Treasured nightmare, a twisted dream
Her bloody screams twisting me
Noble once but never again
A man of deception taped with my eyes
I couldn’t understand why
I had no idea why he hated her so
Why he raped her so terribly
Why he held her down,
Tore her open with a tree branch
Ripped her while she screamed.
Held her down, heard her screams
Quieted her screams with his knife
Over and over again while her blood flowed.
Until only her skull and a few teeth remained.
I don’t know why I saw it
This movie I never wanted to see.
I saw her and I wish
He hadn’t seen me.
The dream-
Its like a horror movie, only I was taping it. In my mind, it was something that had really happened. Kind of like one of those horror movies that's based on a true story. When I woke, I was amazed that it hadn’t.
This man was driving a girl, a young blond woman, to some place. She was a contest winner or something, and I don’t quite remember her name. Anyways, he was driving her to the place. His last name was Noble, but I don’t remember his first name. I do remember that he was an older man, with graying hair.
She’s confused when they enter the forest, even more so when they go up a dirt path surrounded with shrubbery, it almost looks like a cross between desert vegetation and a forest.
The next thing I see, they’re in a cabin. He’s dragging a large tree branch, and I know he will rape her with it. I black out. One thing that needs to be understood is that I am half watching, half taping this horror movie, and I don’t want to be. I’m terrified.
The next I see, they’re back in his truck. I think he was raping her, he’s got her strewn across the bench, he’s on top of her. I’m watching through the passenger window, she's screaming and he's stabbing her in the face with a knife. After a few seconds, all I see is her skull. There's only a few remaining teeth.
Life Story
Take a pen
Take your paper
Regurgitate your thoughts
Onto the pages of your life,
With the ink of your blood,
And the paper of your skin.
Paint a pretty story of
Crimson pain with the pen acting as a knife.
So scrape the story of your life,
Of your pain and of your fears,
Onto the canvas that is your flesh,
With a sharpened pen of steel.
Death of Seasons
Inspired by an AFI song. Can you guess which one?
I watched the stars fall around me.
I listened as they sung the final notes of their last song,
Together.
I wept for the fallen stars that night.
I held one in my arms,
And it said to me:
"Never stop singing your songs,
or you will be muted forever.
Keep singing your songs,
Ere the precious lyrics be lost forever."
Then it died.
In
My
Arms.
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