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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 3:48 pm
Entry One: razz oetry
Ocean Breeze
Saved from the cold desert, I have been. Stolen from the dead darkness, I have been. Now I wake and I see the light of Day. Instead of that awful, drowning gray. You pushed it out with your radiant light, As if my dark heart was shadows in flight. All because of you, I broke free, wings broke free. High I fly...take my hand, come with me. Onto this beautiful beach, by this gorgeous sea. You said you'll get me through this, we'll do it together You're right; that's the way it was, the way it shall be.
Looking out into the shimmering ocean of blue, I couldn't have gotten here without you. So high...together we fly. Never again do I want to die. For I soar for the now-visible Sun. No more do I feel numb, For I feel your thawing love on the breeze; Your love for me on the Ocean Breeze.
Repaired are my broken dreams, Gone are the demons from your bright Sunbeams. Rid me of pain, rid me of sorrow. I want to live for you, live for tomorrow. Never again do I want to breathe the night, Never again do I want to feel nothing. Everything about me, you've been right, And now my weightless heart can sing.
Looking out into the hopeful ocean of blue. I wouldn't be here if not for you. So high up I fly Into the sky, don't let me die. Here I soar to the reachable Sun. Shunned away is the feeling of numb, As I'm touched by the dancing leaves, Whirling, twirling in the Ocean Breeze.
Forever on the beach, I'll stay with you, Soaring with clouds, you feel it, too. The trees in sway, The Breeze of Day. The water in motion, Shows the Breeze of the Ocean.
Lying on the sand, in the ocean of blue. I'll never be lost if I'm with you. Lost of the cold, now an everlasting high Found in the sky, I cannot die. My nightmares burned away by the Sun For a long time, I haven't felt numb. I feel your care saturated in the seas, As the waves are pushed by the calm, warm breeze, Touched by the dancing of the leaves, Dancing, dancing in the Ocean Breeze.
~ Mt Ocean ~
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 3:55 pm
Entry Two: razz oetry
Gray Death Snow
Running, but going nowhere, through this dead grass Struggling to keep up, enclosed in air’s dead mass Trying to break through the everlasting dead night Trying to see with the dead moon’s light The dead senses feel nothing The dead senses hear nothing The dead senses smell and taste nothing The deadened senses see only black and gray Of the dead, dying snow that starts to fall All around, All around No more running, begin to crawl
Gray, gray, gray is the color of the dead snow Even alone without the symbolic death crow That blends into the black landscape. Shouting wordlessly, “Will I ever escape This dark metaphoric blow Of my life suffocating in dead, gray snow?”
Black, up above, the death sky haunts Gray, up above, the dead moon taunts Black-gray clouds continue to cover Birthing dead, gray snow that causes to shudder Cold with numb and numb with cold Never been with a personality so bold To extend heart or hand to the light Of the Sun of Vive for any right Stumbling out of this dead place There’s only one way to end this race Stop running, stop trying, just let go And soon be buried underneath the snow Cannot outrun the thick, numb snow Cannot escape the dead, cold snow Once it starts to fall
Gray, gray, gray is the color of the dead snow Even alone without the symbolic death crow That blends into the black landscape. Shouting wordlessly, “Will I ever escape This dark metaphoric blow Of my life suffocating in dead, gray snow?”
Gray clothes, gray hair, sink underneath, Desperate for color, my gray skin, dig teeth Until a rich red poured And into eyes it bored But more snow came and slowed breathing Yet feeling red anger, still seething Memories of an abusive past Until gone, they were, when buried fast Then slowly a new, restricting, silence sounded as all was dead Suffocated and choked under a pile resembling lead Tomorrow now would never be today As the red turned into gray So nothing is gained And nothing is stained Of the color of the deadly snow That fall and numb and whip and blow The color of the gray, death snow
~ Mt Ocean ~
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Strawberry Bunny Magician
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 4:02 pm
Poetry
title: Happy All Holidyas!!
Merry Christmas To Gaians Fill Your Heart With Such Spirit Be Thankful For What You Get Without Pitching A Fit Fill Your Basket With Eggs From The Easter Bunny Play Pranks On Your Friends It's Super Funny Put Arts In The Sky And Hear The Sound Boom Get Some Spooky With Your Mind And Fly With A Broom Let Your Heart Grow And Fill It In Anyway IV'E GOT ONE MORE THING TO SAY!! HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO GAIANS IN A CHEERFUL WAY!!
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 4:18 pm
@ Crazed: Brilliant! I love this story in it's entirety. You did just about everything right in this. I loved the story. The clear story line, the painful emotions, the astounding true love. I'm simply amazed.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 6:50 pm
BockiBear @ Crazed: Brilliant! I love this story in it's entirety. You did just about everything right in this. I loved the story. The clear story line, the painful emotions, the astounding true love. I'm simply amazed. Yeah, I couldn't believe how much I had to cut down my original plot just so I didn't do about four post and fill up three pages. Lol. I just tried putting the main points in. Thank you. <33
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 6:53 pm
Crazed Misfit BockiBear @ Crazed: Brilliant! I love this story in it's entirety. You did just about everything right in this. I loved the story. The clear story line, the painful emotions, the astounding true love. I'm simply amazed. Yeah, I couldn't believe how much I had to cut down my original plot just so I didn't do about four post and fill up three pages. Lol. I just tried putting the main points in. Thank you. <33True, true. But still. You did a fantastic job my friend. ^.^ heart
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 7:25 pm
how long can our short story be? and can we take it from an rp?
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 7:51 pm
P O E T R Y # 2
Jump
Sometimes I want to jump. Not for pain, or death. But only for that feeling. That second of slowed motion and time, Where I am soaring, Floating. Almost... Flying.
But, then the ground hits. And time speeds up to make up for the loss. And I have to remember all I wanted to forget. Everything hits me. And then I yearn for that feeling of flight. That feeling of superior wonder. Of floating.
So, I say jump. Jump up to the stars. But don't fall. Hang on. Stay suspended in a dream. 'Cause reality is the ground, And the ground hurts.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 8:34 pm
Crazed Misfit BockiBear @ Crazed: Brilliant! I love this story in it's entirety. You did just about everything right in this. I loved the story. The clear story line, the painful emotions, the astounding true love. I'm simply amazed. Yeah, I couldn't believe how much I had to cut down my original plot just so I didn't do about four post and fill up three pages. Lol. I just tried putting the main points in. Thank you. <33
Your story made me cry. D:
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 10:07 pm
HaNaYaH Crazed Misfit BockiBear @ Crazed: Brilliant! I love this story in it's entirety. You did just about everything right in this. I loved the story. The clear story line, the painful emotions, the astounding true love. I'm simply amazed. Yeah, I couldn't believe how much I had to cut down my original plot just so I didn't do about four post and fill up three pages. Lol. I just tried putting the main points in. Thank you. <33 Your story made me cry. D: D: Is that bad?!
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 10:19 pm
I have to say Misfit, that story is brilliant.
POETRY: I wrote this during a very chaotic time in my life, homeless and living between friends who were kind enough to let me share their space.
UNTITLED
Ghosts of this house Climb into these old veins Laughing as I squirm against life Intoxicated on an unfamiliar bed Green light from a fish tank Swirling behind my eyes Dark wind swollen with a masterpiece Leaves and dust, notes stepping out of their sugar cocoon Wet pelts of a myriad sin Weigh me down, bloated sponge Dragging my spirit around by it's scruff Across frozen winter fields I stare at the lights above and beyond me Wondering If this world we created Was worth all the atrocity All the suffering and young tears Saturated on hallowed ground, sidewalks It was once said "White man bring only bad news"
(( I'm wondering, can I also submit a short story? ))
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 10:34 pm
Necrowing I have to say Misfit, that story is brilliant. POETRY: I wrote this during a very chaotic time in my life, homeless and living between friends who were kind enough to let me share their space. UNTITLED Ghosts of this house Climb into these old veins Laughing as I squirm against life Intoxicated on an unfamiliar bed Green light from a fish tank Swirling behind my eyes Dark wind swollen with a masterpiece Leaves and dust, notes stepping out of their sugar cocoon Wet pelts of a myriad sin Weigh me down, bloated sponge Dragging my spirit around by it's scruff Across frozen winter fields I stare at the lights above and beyond me Wondering If this world we created Was worth all the atrocity All the suffering and young tears Saturated on hallowed ground, sidewalks It was once said "White man bring only bad news"
(( I'm wondering, can I also submit a short story? )) If I understand the rules correctly then yes you may also submit a short story..just be sure that you title it please
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 11:19 pm
Necrowing I have to say Misfit, that story is brilliant. POETRY: I wrote this during a very chaotic time in my life, homeless and living between friends who were kind enough to let me share their space. UNTITLED Ghosts of this house Climb into these old veins Laughing as I squirm against life Intoxicated on an unfamiliar bed Green light from a fish tank Swirling behind my eyes Dark wind swollen with a masterpiece Leaves and dust, notes stepping out of their sugar cocoon Wet pelts of a myriad sin Weigh me down, bloated sponge Dragging my spirit around by it's scruff Across frozen winter fields I stare at the lights above and beyond me Wondering If this world we created Was worth all the atrocity All the suffering and young tears Saturated on hallowed ground, sidewalks It was once said "White man bring only bad news"
(( I'm wondering, can I also submit a short story? )) Thank you very much. <33 And yes, you may submit a short story and a piece of Poetry. By the way, your poem has a lot of feeling to it. I like it.
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Posted: Thu Feb 05, 2009 6:26 am
Poetry
Written after a night out at a local open mic (The Spoken Word) dig. Mostly college students and I was affected on several levels! It was bittersweet... I felt my age and was hit in the face with generational differences. And learned from it!
Open Mic at the Silver Palm An Audience of Just-Another-Face-In-The-Crowd
Perspective
Virgin territory (for me), I thought – but then listened to the real virgins. This smoke and spirits modern-conventional hang-out for poets in a Spoken Word temple is flipped different. Being accustomed to the flower child and hippie coffee houses of a long time ago (when the smoke was not tobacco) gave me pause, even with the no-eye-contact avoidances and deaf-eared refusals to acknowledge. I sat back to absorb the sensory affrontals, mentally crossing my arms over my ancient chest. "Runnit. Yay, clap, clap, clap, w00t!" Generational punctuation made me wincewincewince, even though I did smile at the hazy memory of snapped fingers and internally-reverberating foot stomps from my Olden Days.
Good times.
So young, this new wave. "What happened? What is it? I love you. Strong Woman. Alphabet soup. FU. MF. F, F, F, F, F…" I had to physically shift in my seat before I was able to let the words roll past and flow into… somewhere else. Other levels, I thought. Different lives, worlds, planet? Different everything?
I heard the words, saw the expressions and gestures, fought to keep the facade tightly wound around. Sounds found… only the crumbling bricks and mortar of my soul. Flung from the spittled lips of Old Spirits… perhaps. Jaded wit and wounded-knee reflexes kicked and screamed glory… All the way to the Bank (I mean Bucket). Funny that she passed me right by with my little seven-dollar intention.
Black bits of paint on previously white sand grey matter… and gashes and slashes on the red, white, and blue… AS WELL THERE SHOULD BE, I agreed, but could only scream such emotion on the inside. Again. They do have a point. More than one, seems to me now. Eek-jerk! More "w00t w00t w00t" as alarms went off from all directions into the shrinking-expanding smaller space that had been my… Open Mind. Ha.
I concentrated to absorb the muttered, stuttered, drunk-spewed dictionaries-in-progress. Whatever happened to sober enunciations? Tender-fanged embracings? Non-catastrophic punches to the intellectual gut? Heart? Blue on Black… again? (I stole that, and more!)
In between the questions and concrete-hard O-Pin-Ions (etched in stone, are they?) I Saw the Light! Decadal ups and downs use the same teetertotter, looks like to me. Bridges are still built to be crossed or burned or both. Rules are still made to be broken. All such fine Clichés.
It’s all a matter of perception. It’s all a matter of perspective. Everything depends. Everything MATTERS… It’s not a Tsunami or even a ripple on a wave – no hair on the wart on the frog on the log at the bottom of the sea false-mentality that was drummed into childhood brains! Ohno… there is no rift in the space-time continuum from ME. More like a lint on a thread through a needle LOST in a HAYSTACK! Feeling each wrinkle, age spot, scabbed emotion and fever-pitched (but silent to the masses) banshee wail jabjabJAB.
They were good, this new breed. They had something to say just when I thought I had heard it all, some way or another. They had ideas and raw energy. They had their own eyes. Billy Holiday blues and all. Train coming… I feel it in my bones. Acorn… and honey-sap.
I thought it was funny that behind all their words there were also lies-to-themselves. Looking through concrete. I wonder if they listen to their own hurled, pre-whirled, giant impacts. It’s alright to be invisible. Fly-on-the-wall envy and all, you know what I mean… hair of the dog, wart on the frog (after all), add to the smog. There is no reverse. And the brakes are starting to complain. Loud and long.
Bombardments to this one-person shadow left shed skin and tears, BUT! The poet with the website, the one who entreats women, the one who memorizes dictionaries, the one who accepted a gift from another and made us all laugh because we just KNEW. The ones whose gestures were their own form of punctuation and graphics, the one who counted change and made valid associations and rose above… the ones (all of them, you see…) who forced realizations and slapped my face with sting, sting, sting – I had to look in the mirror to see if they actually left any hand or fingerprints – and was honestly shocked to see nothing visible to the NAKED eye. And then to go back and look into the void when such refusals to connect force you to re-evaluate everything.
In ninety seconds. Or less.
Multiple choice, and all, being what it still is. Revelations at best, Guesswork at worst. Attempts to reflect on their messages leave me tarnished and polished, bruised and healed. Exhausted and exuberant. Famished. And sated. Getting past the same ageless angst, no matter chronology. I did find treasure in the digs, gems not so rough. Among other things.
Selfish me.
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