IceNine said:

"He's shooting at the cans. He must hate cans. Oh no, more cans."

"Lovesong"
Ted Hughes

He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her

Safe and sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Off that moment's brink and into nothing
Or everlasting or whatever there was
Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap

His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage
In the morning they wore each other's face

A GIRL

by: Ezra Pound (1885-1972)

HE tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast--
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child -- so high -- you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

Fool if you think it's over
Cos you said goodbye
Fool if you think it's over
I'll tell you why
New born eyes always cry with pain
At the first look at the morning sun
fool if you think it's over
It's just begun

This thread is WAY too serious---

Excuse the gas I had to pass,
Thru the mouth,
Or out the ass

The Scared Poem

There once was a scared poem
Shy, sensitive and fearful
It hid in the forest of words
Content to pass for mere prose

It lived a discreet and orderly life
Away from the stares of voracious readers
Only occasionally socializing
With other writings of its kind

The poem lived secretly until its death
Its neighbors were rather surprised
Said one resident, Mrs. Memo
"It didn't even rhyme."

I don't want to be special
Don't want to be the light in your eyes
Don't want to be the one
to make your heart go boom
cause I know
that no matter what I do
I will end up losing you.

Don't want to be the reason to your rhyme
Don't want to be the one
who ends up wasting your time

Just let me be.
Cause pain is a thing
too much for me to bear.

Don't want to feel
the hurt that comes
when my heart rends in two
Don't ever want to feel
the torture of losing you.

by
Mary A. Sylvester
Copyright 2002

http://www.geocities.com/misery_buzz

This is one of mine favourites.

Why should i leave you.

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

Have patience, O my sorrow, and be still.
You asked for night: it falls: it is here.
A shadowy atmosphere enshrouds the hill,
to some men bringing peace, to others care.

While the vile human multitude
goes to earn remorse, in servile pleasure’s play,
under the lash of joy, the torturer, who
is pitiless, Sadness, come, far away:

Give me your hand. See, where the lost years
lean from the balcony in their outdated gear,
where regret, smiling, surges from the watery deeps.

Underneath some archway, the dying light
sleeps, and, like a long shroud trailing from the East,
listen, dear one, listen to the soft onset of night.








mon semblabe, mon frere, mon edit!
[This message was edited Mon Oct 28 17:54:23 PST 2002 by 2the9s]

twinkle... twinkle... little star...

how...eye ...wonder what...u...r

up above...the world... so high...

like... a diaomond ...in ...the ...sky...



deep, deep, deep ppl... yuno? ya feel me?




or as Madonna would say...

star light star bright first star eye c 2nite

star light star bright make everything alright!

Where is Shausler???

ok, here's one of mine:

where i stand

the earth on which i humbly stand and ponder is ancient.
its rocks dictate age and current quandry.
is it organic? nay, it is dead.
However, is its enduring proclivity not proof of life?
do not all that tread thereon and grow therein pass, whilst the earth stands its ground?
but then, so too does a mountain die and leave its pebbles as ghosts.
surely this mound will watch my mortal crawl and ultimately cradle ma as i sleep.

a glance upward reveals a night sky full of teeth, twinkling a knowing grin, as if to show they enjoy the everlasting game being played beneath them.

to the left, the gigantic scar of an old river traces its way like a finger across the brittle belly of this great, venerable land.

beyond my right shoulder, awash in the light of the night's smile, stands the musician; a lone tree conducting a chorus of winds through its slender, balladeer branches.

to the rear, the land offers no explaination as to its origin or purpose.

am i to conclude in that most human, egotistical way, that i am the creator?
that this landscape sprung from the palette of my delights?

or,

am i a mere speck of dust in this great world's eye?

the bounteous deluge of rain on the heels of that question affirm to me that even in absolute desolation, we are never alone.

and so the answers washed me out,

but
did not
quench
my
thirst.

Heaven's Door.
By: Digital Lisa



I woke up in a vission
Lost in a dream
Couldn't find my way out
Didn't understand the means

Fact become fiction
There was love written on trees
the wind brustled in the leaves
And my reality became deceased.

Maybe I'm going crazy
you know loosing my mind
the clock is no longer ticking
there is no beginning in time

All I know is
The day that we met
These words been said before
Is it dejavue, I'm so into you
Or are we standing at Heaven's door?

(c) 2000
[This message was edited Tue Oct 29 2:12:18 PST 2002 by DigitalLisa]

For this is the Wisdom, to love, to live,
To take what Fate or the gods may give,
To ask no question, to make no prayer,
To kiss the lips and caress the hair,
Speed passions ebb as you greet its flow,
To have, to hold and - in - time - let go.

Adoreme x

Here is a great poem
It's very short but highly entertaining nonetheless.


Poo on a stick
throw it at your mum
then you can say

THAT'S STRAIGHT FROM ME BUM

I love this thread!

This is one of mine.


THE DARK


I know you’ve thought about it.

I know I have . . . The Dark.

The Dark that lasts forever.

The Dark that is never-ending.

The peace and tranquillity of non-existence.

The Dark that brings forgiveness.

The Dark that ends the pain.

I know you’ve thought about it.

I know I have.

There’s only one problem;

I’m
afraid
of
THE DARK.

Tinkle tinkle little star,

please don't pee on where I are...