Imago said:

..hello...lol i guess the first time you utter a word to me..
now about my poem..
[Edited 3/24/06 20:50pm]

weepingwall said:

reaching the gaping whole,a fixture of desolate in the eyes.
a wanting desire to escape loud dirty streets.
tired of the manifesting in discreet atributtes
and if the hunger gets to your limbs,then lies
should be easy to convey.
with ardos delight a lingering thought arises
and then you vex the reality of that! desires are only left to the mind
but curiousity of man cannot hold them to the prey intact!
and as of matter of fact the journey to happiness is pretty long..
grip on the pavement
a fixture of desolate eyes wandering downward
awaiting for the train wind's to past.
a glee of joy reflects the dirty window
as you leave the busy streets of your mind and of your reality.



You're talking about a paramour

Here's one I just wrote:

Mound of Venus
Traps me round;
Dan's penis
Do whose lips fly around?

fin.

Imago said:

a what?

2the9s said:

He writes simple sentences, but they feel so much longer,
2the9s, and orger banned who lived to tell the tale,
And returned with a vengance, quicker, angrier and stronger,
but I still think he'd get his ass kicked by evil white male.

i think i've posted some of this before. it's a new kind of experiment
i did, spanning journal entries from a "relationship" that lasted about
two months. it's weird to read it back since some of it turned out to
be very prophetic lol.


Prologue:
At the start of all this
I thought
-or perhaps just hoped,
that Sophie Entz’ great son had
kissed my childish dreams goodbye
and found me a solace
a living, breathing solace
in the image of you


Rule # 1
a promise = a promise
until something better comes along
i miss you *iallreadyforgotyouwho?*
and here comes
Blond Avenger – I’m stuck in Thomas’ belly
Thomas’ fluorescent belly
Filled with demi gods and thick air
Confusing me
Making me forget The Minotaur
And my promise that was not
A promise as such

I’m tired, very tired
Dreamt a 15 hour dream
And found more sleep at the end of it

Observation # 1
I’ve been talking to myself again
the voice is still the same
though perhaps a little older
A little more disappointed

I still lie to myself
But i’m doing it for different reasons now

My Kidneys ache again
probably tired
from trying to filter
The resentment from my body

I shall wear mittens
and a scarf of misinterpreted beliefs
I shall wear them proudly
as I wait another 12 years
on this narrow ledge you’ve cut for me,
above the masses
In those days when i still woke
with your voice
deep in my mind
Burning – like an ember


Each night I’ll meditate
hovering above the sea
And try, try, try

PS:
In paris, quite unexpectedly
I walked into The Minotaur
he seemed preoccupied
But so was I
and so – I think – were you
wherever you were
at that particular moment

Dream # 2:
I dreamt about calling you
- like I did so many times

You picked up the receiver
And as you spoke
A silver haddock
Slipped out of your mouth

I nearly drowned today
twitching in the bath
as I finally remembered
the crawlspaces
the lipgloss whores
the tantrums
and the photographs

It’s all waiting
wanting to be filed
as soon as I can let go
of the image that I’ve
built around you

I dreamt about calling you
- like I did so many times

I picked up the receiver
And as I spoke
A silver haddock
Jumped into my mouth


Resolve #1
I found myself in Babylon
with saintly aspirations
sat upon a stool
I poured
weightlessness into my mouth
exhaled a toxic cloud
and thought
“I’m grown now, I can do this”

Stared into the fire
the once so godly flame
confined to domed glass domicile
humming with resentfull rage
I felt it feel me catch it’s eye
contemplating me
I thought
“Perhaps I should not be here”

Got up from my stool and walked
Toward the rite of winter
conducted on a blacklit floor
by bold, but unjust pupils
I Saw a guard and seized his wrist
Let go of it
And turned around
-poluting my own well


I’ve told you time and again,
I’d sell my country for a dreamless sleep


Resolve #2
The metronome inside my veins
was pounding gently as I left
the well and heard your voice
granting me permission
to abandon my stations

But waiting seems a game you play
with surgical precision
I’ve drawn a tree with pencils
-every branch a passing minute
-each leaf a self inflicted curse
I’ve named it Nine
And dream about
The things I still regret


Epilogue
Now you've run off with someone else
quite justly
and quite as it should be
And I too, ran off with someone else
quite justly
and quite as it should be

But I looked back
and saw you laughing
at my idle hopes

our merciless child-god
granted me
returning dreams