Poetry #too.

Kwik Sort
Mine King, pray roll your belt - draw down form, vend into your bank.
Show sign; show your slim part; show them each your soul need, your lack.

Tick tick. Look, this idea hath core boon - earn will this next year, alas...

GATE ZERO SAYS: This does feel warm - must undo! This will show soul, burn them each!
GATE FOUR SAYS: Hark! Thou must veto, mine King - alas, much over long wing span.
GATE FIVE SAYS: Such base flaw with tiny form. Lost with ease - keep none here.
GATE NINE SAYS: Will this need less fine eyes? They seek they whom look away.

True. Heed they wary; heed they your news. Deny they this fake idea, thus more well sent away.
None body, none bird, none bulk, none soul; null idea - thus grok this will they none.

Merged


Edited by TGM: Orb - May 03 2008 at 18:20

Merged

Edited by TGM: Orb - May 03 2008 at 18:21

The Lady In Her Tower

I (The Mirror Instructed)

She stares, lovingly smiling, from her dream-stained glassy window
At my newly idyllic form, complete with mental muscles
For which I have no need
She smiles, lustfully staring, from her sun-kissed golden tower
At my constant malleable thoughts, all given to the female force
That makes my tired eyes bleed

She turns, revealing young flesh, from beneath her night-time dark dress,
Capturing my bloodied eyes, exhausted by this sublime vision
Who draws out human needs
She veils, returning old clothes, from below her willow-dark hair
Tempting vein-carved hands, Rapunzel-urged, to climb, to ascend the sun-kissed tower
And from that precious body feed

She screams, delightedly smiling, from her mirage-carved stone tower
Revelling at my pleasure, revelling at the sign
That she is all I need
She smiles, delightedly screaming, from her sun-lit vibrant window
That if I join her for an hour, then for an hour
I'll be freed

II (The Servants Incomparable)

And she waits, with gentle assertion,
For all her dreams to be brought to her
By servants, roused from their inertia
So that they may feel her smile

And she knows, that in this entwinement,
That all her dreams won't be lost to her,
And the slaves, who need her refinement,
Stay within the reach of her smile

And she smiles, because she's imperfect,
Since all her dreams are done by others,
Who dream of no action more perfect
Than doing her will, and touching her smile

III (The Lady In Heat / The Reward Incalculable)

She smiles and with a sudden twist removes her bridal gown
And delighting in her nakedness, she lets her long her down
And I amazed, a servant fine, must take the lover's role
And through an hour of fantasies escape my mortal soul

She smiles and with a sudden grip she draws my body close
And enjoying all our contact games, she lifts my mind morose
And I aflame, a wandering mind, can feel her trace my skin
Close her lips with tender force and hold my flesh within

She smiles and with a sudden gasp she lets my spirit out
And flavouring our bedtime sports, she paints her face devout
And I, though filth, a mortal sign, can't help but feel so glad
Even if it's just a fiction, it's still the best I've ever had

IV (The Dream Indestructible)

She sits, quietly requesting my presence
Though request is not the word for such an urgent need
Fed by dreams, obsessive themes
And all my wandering thoughts

She rests, quietly sitting in her tower of hollow dreams
Though sit is not the word for such a dominant role
Bought by dreams, and real-unreal seams
And my meandering soul

She smiles, lovingly gazing on from her tower of full-fleshed schemes
Though gaze is not the word such a driving force
Which drives my dreams, and infant screams
And my divided purpose

And she smiles
She smiles in our relationship
Carnal, not of flesh and with a certain open style

And I think
I think of our entwined existence
She lives off my thoughts and I live off her smile

------

There we go, hopefully more impressive as a whole than as the sections. Comments welcome, though I figure that explaining my intent would probably not be effective.
Been a cathartic process, writing it.


Edited by TGM: Orb - May 03 2008 at 18:22

How I Hope to Meet My Future Wife

I am a warehouse full
of sealed cardboard boxes
and air.
Think about this for a while
and it starts to make sense
out of senselessness.
There's something in my eye
and it's not dust.
They keep walking over me
as if I didn't move.
Pushing my internal organs around
in systematic fashion.
You, who keep hanging around here,
don't you have a home?
At least take your shoes off
before you wet the floor.
And if that's money in your eye
let me have some of it.

I'm Bored with My Life and Everyone Else's

I've been staring at this radiator for hours.
I don't think I've seen anything yet.
This is what the lack of coffee does
to innocent people
and the guilty just the same.
I've replaced my thoughts
with idiocy.
You taste like a Swedish actress
in my dreams
with mustard on you.
A cunning pig
makes a cunning ham.
I'm sorry
but it does.
That Bacon guy sure was wise
but who's to remember which one?
I will slice them all in half
with my credit card.
And my past future wife
who came fourth or fifth in a writing contest
wasn't so young after all.
I'm sure I wouldn't like what she wrote.
I need to buy more green plectrums
and write some hardcore songs
about Wittgenstein.
I've been staring at this radiator for hours.
It's white.

Four Points In Near-Completely Unrelated Hearts

Believed memory fiction, and screamed desire love
Deceived by subtle cadences
Summed up by subdued radians
Oh

Needed memory friction, and called the eagle dove
Bleeded by a sharpened, harsh-edged talon
Dressed up by a high-class, brain-drain salon
Oh

Redubbed chaos order, and called cerebrum heart
Grubby hands seek dissonance in all that they can hear, discern and listen to
Fatty acids leak assonance to view and cute and futile, too
Oh

Proclaimed chaos ORDER, and gored cerebrum HEART
Needy hands beg sympathy from open-minded super-Eyore dream
Bleeding lactose, receipts of grubby seers teem
Oh

And make it into just another plain-old monetary scheme

Oh well.

Hollow Ship (2 from 3)

And God removed the stars,
And nodded his head
And the mountain broke
And alone on a hollow ship
Lay the body, scarred, dead, soaked with blood,
Exposed to the elements

And angels blew their horns,
And cried out their praise
And the silence was ruptured
And tired from his hollow ship,
Came the body, torn, raised to upper sky
Greeted by a temptress
In the garb of a baby

A Love Song

War is a peach
an old man
on the bench
his stick
casting a shadow
in the sand
unseen oceans
in your eyes

Grab me by the nostrils
I'm yours