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Rust View Drop Down
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 19 2006 at 02:03
A metal marsh mshrumpbtions.
 
the symptoms. dont get the symptoms.
the symptoms - that drip like wax in the back of your mouth.
spheres.
It gets hard when you don't trust anyone, thier faces hold truth.
learn it.smile
More, knowing more than not wanting it you use it.
See.
 
Do it.
 
 
We got to pump the stuff to make us tough
from the heart
Its astart
What we need is awareness we cant get careless
Mental self defensive fitness
Make everybody see in order to fight the powers that be
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 19 2006 at 02:08
Originally posted by The Wizard The Wizard wrote:

 
This is a recent work of mine.
 
Please tell me Wizard, what inspired this magnificent piece of work?
We got to pump the stuff to make us tough
from the heart
Its astart
What we need is awareness we cant get careless
Mental self defensive fitness
Make everybody see in order to fight the powers that be
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 19 2006 at 19:22
Originally posted by Rust Rust wrote:

Originally posted by The Wizard The Wizard wrote:

 
This is a recent work of mine.
 
Please tell me Wizard, what inspired this magnificent piece of work?
Not drugs. It was a euphoric feeling of happiness that overtook me almost randomly, without and virus from an outside entity to such such an occaison. It seems that the really good poets I know (like you and Trouserpress) are the ones who appreciate it the best.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 19 2006 at 19:25
This is a cut up poem from a somewhat popular book about aliens:
 
prisoners indifference
second rate, natural by temptures
insectlike indepependent think
something ignorable stems control
not haunting in contempt
remember well founded intellectual olympian sense
rooms stiff or man-mind uniforms
a universe deeper
 
The book is 'Communion' by Whitley Streiber, I just thought it an interesting idea to use it for a cut up poem.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 19 2006 at 21:48
Originally posted by The Wizard The Wizard wrote:

Originally posted by Rust Rust wrote:

Originally posted by The Wizard The Wizard wrote:

 
This is a recent work of mine.
 
Please tell me Wizard, what inspired this magnificent piece of work?
Not drugs. It was a euphoric feeling of happiness that overtook me almost randomly, without and virus from an outside entity to such such an occaison. It seems that the really good poets I know (like you and Trouserpress) are the ones who appreciate it the best.


Excuse me? Angry

I'm a good poet, shut up! LOL
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 20 2006 at 10:41
Originally posted by The Wizard The Wizard wrote:

This is a cut up poem from a somewhat popular book about aliens:
 

prisoners indifference

second rate, natural by temptures

insectlike indepependent think

something ignorable stems control

not haunting in contempt

remember well founded intellectual olympian sense

rooms stiff or man-mind uniforms

a universe deeper

 

The book is 'Communion' by Whitley Streiber, I just thought it an interesting idea to use it for a cut up poem.


I like the line "something ignorable stems control".
    
My website
Signatures are for people who can think of anything to put in their signatures.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 23 2006 at 11:41

goof inovators dissapointed

blowing the complex mouthpiece

mused, stampling technical exuberance

sharkskin sweating to ragtime

glittering horizantal anxiety

contemplatve birdlike jazz

boys women hobos

dooorways vigourous downtown

hitching casualness, cutting saintly music

written money for the tenorman

mad cadillac glowed in tinker

instruments flapping meticuolously

brown sidewalks circle hordes

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Direct Link To This Post Posted: December 27 2006 at 00:59
here just some random stuff i wrote months ago...

A Comedy Called Life

Welcome, welcome
to the greatest show in the world
a comedy called Life

It's a show of life
we're all in it
we're the main actors and actress

And the people will see
things that you've done
things that you do
and things that you'll do
and they'll laugh
at everything
cause life is a comedy, a show
a show that we'll perform
for the rest of our life
'till we meet our death

Did i play my role well
in this comedy called Life ?
Only God can tell

Applause please

PS:if you watch the movie 'Augustus'(the roman emperor) maybe you'll recognize the last paragraph
The devil we blame our atrocities on is really just each one of us.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 03 2007 at 23:18
Thoughts
 
A curse out loud,
abrupt and almost uncontrollable.
For no reason they hatch from within.
A distraction.
Stories of questions ready to enlighten us against the top hat of secrets.
Only utter impulse stemed from instinctive nature.
Swarms of lotus eating your crops.
"Answeres to all your problems!" 
Answeres are the problem.
They are internal tellemarketers trading control of seeds from our fathers.
Their subliminal conversations are the personal conscience.
 
Then I give in in the middle of the
and I think.
 
I think that I think too much....
I know.
It's a good thing belief isn't knowlege.
Believe me.
 


Edited by Rust - January 03 2007 at 23:36
We got to pump the stuff to make us tough
from the heart
Its astart
What we need is awareness we cant get careless
Mental self defensive fitness
Make everybody see in order to fight the powers that be
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 05 2007 at 16:49
cutting shearing seperating thrashing
through my infected home
cauterize the wound, massacre the screaming
steady shattering, noize with pattern
spectral chaos, phantom madness
plastic supernatural destruction
wailing in pain, washed away in the tender rain
dark matter filling, replacing oxygen
feeling electric, flesh buzzing spastic
all is cut to pieces
sheared into oblivion
seperated from all good
thrashing the remains
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 06 2007 at 17:17

floating dream kingdom telepathy
skull wept, hullucinating salvation
sweet vibrations that hullucinte gas station cigarrettes a humurous postcard of the conscience
snatching seraphim, smoking illumintated crack
supernatural sex dramas of naked innocence
brooded nightmares of disgorged children
the womb gymnasiums butchered hysterical
alchemy intoxicates the soul chlorine
taxi-cabs delight the cemetaries

electric is the atmosphere
ejaculating charges
automating sewers of blood
vampire convultions haunting the air
while delerium strangulation lacks boiling thoughts
a network eaten by dreams
neon clouds, decapited orgasm

flesh-dirt penetrated by a flag

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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 07 2007 at 00:21
I was once a metal ham
I once was a mental ham

I got better.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 09 2007 at 06:16
Rising (up)
 
Silent dreams a new-born reads
While it's time to sleep.
The end in every day I see.
 
Smouldering chimney embers
Slowly drift away.
Black smoke sleeps inside of clay.
 
Allergies can catch a cold
In the month of May.
Water infected with rain.
 
 
Great job Wizard with you DADA styled poems; and great job to everyone else for their highly entertaining poems. I'm sorry I don't have enough time to congradulate everyone individually but I really do appreciate reading all of your contributions.


Edited by Rust - January 09 2007 at 06:40
We got to pump the stuff to make us tough
from the heart
Its astart
What we need is awareness we cant get careless
Mental self defensive fitness
Make everybody see in order to fight the powers that be
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 09 2007 at 18:57
Originally posted by Rust Rust wrote:

 
 Great job Wizard with you DADA styled poems; and great job to everyone else for their highly entertaining poems. I'm sorry I don't have enough time to congradulate everyone individually but I really do appreciate reading all of your contributions.
 
Thanks, I'll keep up the good work. Smile
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 10 2007 at 23:07
I confused my confidence for pride.
Responsible it seemed.
Ignorant of reasons that did not sum.
These wants become those dreams.
 
I listened in trial and error resulted.
You fixed tools too basic to break.
Assembling then racing engines while race is halted.
 
I helped my habbit for happiness
with misdirected sorrow.
I sympathised so low.
Why did I fear ever feeling less?
At the time I didn't know.
 
The predestined wall crumbled upon
The unsure grounds beliefs were built on.
The dusty residue left after,
as free as a lifted feather.
 
Epiphanies with fraud faces.
I've seen that face before.
Letting free the comfort,
A necessary sore.
 
I can televise the weight of fiction,
Blind your eyes with dense sedition.
I can fake the pheremones you love.
Build a wall for you to crash.
We willl Always be above! 
 
It was still to late to cough up all the spoonfed lies
I once felt the obligate to believe.
Feeling is only temporary.
My insides should not be cold like the air I breathe.
We got to pump the stuff to make us tough
from the heart
Its astart
What we need is awareness we cant get careless
Mental self defensive fitness
Make everybody see in order to fight the powers that be
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 11 2007 at 21:45

they shattered their spirit against the swarming jellyfishes

skeleton nightshift corridors echoing in plasmatic key

Prismatic elevators are bending to my knees but still...

elevating my poetry through the blood of the fallen

exposing what i find in the illuminated alcoholic newspaper

 
 
 
Me and Bern wrote this together.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 12 2007 at 10:40
Silence, solitude and sequencing
 
V
 
A flower in desperate despair
Looks so much better than
The colours of blossomed petal
And sharp metal.
 
Of life?
Afraid it isn't what we dream for.
Of taste?
 
Good is
        confident
for broken-down minds;
        experience like a novice;
smile and shudder
        like
 
        a fool
        of glory
 
weeps.
 
My devil dies in my hands
    just when dominating my instincts
And made me sniff the smell,
    the perfume.
 
We made love under a dark shadow
   casting light.
No, not with my devil.
With my angel, who so came in me
twice my face shooked.
 
I'm scared.
Thy demons.
Never awake
But there
In Life.
 
Saturdays with their
       sheltered book of living
       lifeless creatures ready
       for forgiveness
Are excellent to sell
      that part of the sky
      which, by looks
Is dotted by evil.
 
Can't you think of anything
amazing at best while searching
for the sprout guy and
his sprout poison?
 
First impression after leaving the doorless room:
the gasp of the
nightingale maniacs, the crumble
of tired chains, the cry of my
desperate being.
         Imagination serves
Hope deplores.
 
Is it okay to take
my overdoze
now?
       Mr. Morrison?
 
The song speaks of pleasant peasants
       ready to work their way
       through the lime wire
       in a coma-resembling breath
       in a coda-frightening watch.
It's a weak one.
The song speaks of Philip climbing
     that wall, while Andre dies through
     it and someone else rests unknown
     in eye-flickering patience
     in eve-dropping silence.
It's a similar one.
The son speaks of music, speaks of
     real music, made like a churned
     radiance out of glass bed drops
     ready to collapse
     ready to make it
     in tempus fugit
     in tempus morbid.
The song speaks about signs.
 
The song is simple.
 
My angel burst into flames
Once fingered down deep and under
     she clims in her climax
And leaves me speechless.
 
From what it's real
I killed the seraph as well.
Shot the huge light bird
In its moment of birth.
 
I like this momentum spent
in the clouds of line
loneliness.
            No, you hate it.
            You want out.
            Did you forget?
Abous us, who are old enough
     to lose ourselves?
          Did you forget
my name?
         Did you forget
that you are losing your life
in a doorless room.
 
 
Your name
       is a birthmark
your name
       is Ophelia.
 
Where are my friends
     what do they dream of me?
Why don't I like them so
     to live without repent?
Why don't they sing no more?
Why don't they laugh of me,
     even that, even less...
 
Your name
             is Ophelia.....
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 12 2007 at 10:53
VI
 
The longer you'll keep hurting me
The more I'll never get over
           the hate and
           the utmost love
I share
          We share.
I have for.
             You left it away.
Back then
       It was the only
Un-trammered.
Song.
       ever played.
Back then, I repeat (it to)
       myself, I was happy.
 
I miss being happy,
It was an almost life-telling
Miracle to smile and
To shine in your hand
     your hand, your hand, thy
Hand working towards the
Sunlight dawn, in a day to be
Loved, liked, lived,
Leave. Being happy is
Insane.
 
It's a winter with a wet attitude
And the night divides the day,
          (brave eagle's words and symphaties)
On the fields of sashes
I can't stop dreaming.
 
Up the utmost roof of buildings
       the twentieth level
Lives a star.
 
The class is about empty
      my friends have gone all
      evil (and that wicked)
It's a small world
Of ugly coloured walls
Of dust and markings
     with a game of "I hit you
      I DON'T hit you"
     heing played in the minds
     of blackboard people.
Nice painting hang high
One was stolen by a shadow.
     with a note: 11-01-07
     "Memory of a dezastrous
     friend...and curiosly
     more"
There's saddeness of the deepest sincerity
And Van Gogh still says it better
     painting his clique.
Trying to write the unthinkable
So such things come again:
         people are strange
         life (could be) is (will be)
         i'm lonely (above) (among)
         he (uns)(it) writes times(z)
         loved, liked, lived, leave
         hard shell sunshine
         (great)(ly) reasons
         dark (dead) pop art
         ink thick stench stain
         black goth shock rimel
         an image of images
         (type)(-typos)(typings)(tape)
         characters
         radio sound stream (silk)
         [(] ------------------------->
         we're in the vile (voom) presence
         I am here (hear) (hoor)
         ad infinitum
I am mad;
still you can't imagine
how my music sounds
how my world revolves
        happy
        homeless
        sheety
I write the harmless
          the flick
          the end of...
 
the song weeps "ho-sanna,
     hey-sanna, sanna,
     sanna..."
wishful string by the morphic melody for
    the lucky ear
sanna, sanna...
 
still you can't understand
       the values I love like an
       ingrate passionate, to which
I'm worthfully angry
       and diseased
I can, you see, choose
       the best and the sweetest.
But can't keep with the will.
 
Class is over
      my friends returned evil;
      the face has no sign
Of nerves; foul &
               fuol.
 
The walk to home
         is childlike,
any way you feel it,
you're heading to the house
that knows you by everything
     friend, fiend.....
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 14 2007 at 11:38

Shiver Down My Spine:

Only Some for Who you Truly Care
As soon As they Come, They Vanish into Air
She Stares In My Eyes Through The Night
Some Sort of Window To My Right
Only One Who Knows What I Can Do
So She'll Keep Pushing Me Right On Through
I need to Last to Make the People Know
The Pain It Takes to make the World Still Go
Push me As I Say "Sorrow Will you please let Me Be
Finally from street bounds I'll be Free

She Stares In My Eyes Through the Night
Some Sort of Window To My Right
And all the Sudden No One's Around
She's Left You
And In The Last Moments before I'm found
Well Heaven Still Exceeds Me
The essence of Earth, the Last I See
The Howling Winds, The Moving Sea
And all The Sudden Every thing's In Line
A new sort of shiver down my Spine

Finally From Street Bounds I Am Free
The Howling Winds, The Moving Sea
A new sort of shiver down my Spine
A New Sort of Shiver Down My Spine



Edited by Floydian42 - January 14 2007 at 17:56
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: January 17 2007 at 12:28
a life on the ocean wave
burly, dozing humble-bee
i love to steal awhile away
so fallen
we who stood
do the boys and girls still go
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
good woman
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
the sky
Proud to be an un-banned member since 2005
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