Writers Challenge #11

Discussion in 'Poetry Realm' started by Mind~$oul, Mar 23, 2004.

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  1. 1.)

    I wish to kiss bliss
    avoid the venom kiss
    in lucifers mits i stand and resist
    and fall bright over the eclipse
    My wish is to sip, each portion of life
    My wish is yours to reignite
    my wish is for god,
    I give my wish to him
    and help him
    as he helps me say

  2. ~Eloquent

    ~Eloquent Narcissistic....

    Feb 20, 2003
    #29 Mental Illness

    So deeply i comtempate the meanings of understanding...
    a way to connect with another,on an emotional outstanding
    charge within i never felt before,
    if i could express my deepest passion,
    time and time again...
    to such a beautiful heart,someone whom i can mend with...
    but the complexity of a speech impairment is what declares war within my inner mind..

    i keep tellin myself someday that ill be able to open up...
    but tommorrows come quicker than what was always expected..
    they suggested i pursue therapy,
    but if i feel comfortable towards a warm heart,for me is that out of the ordinary?...
    than return to the cold world,where people form a grudge against your natural ways,
    cuz they couldnt absorb(and respect)...your theory?

    we coexist with those that block out all means of love and warmth..
    and become signatures of hate,but always was a victim to no escape...
    barricaded against our hearts will,but is our minds one command...
    still tryin to escape this isolation, in to deep though,
    sometimes im very volitale...
    but i feel so alone,just to define whats not impossible,
    whats not improbable...
    keep in mind my hearts strength could never be measured...
    i take pleasure in the pain,
    my veins inflamed, my main successor
    is will will to persevere,my lonlieness causes a cold as ice feeling,while inside the fiery pits of hell...

    i dwell on every second sometimes...
    the depression is my best friend,
    the anticipation of a warm heart,
    that could finally end the threatening nature
    inside my inner hatred,
    something i have learned,matured to attempt to escape it...
    still tryin to have patience,
    if only to gather i slight bit more of strength
    to attempt to find someone to fulfill my natural needs..
    my life could be a masterpiece and i could finally put an end to my inner tragedy...
    i got a strategy to persevere,but my tongue's deprived nature is what holds words back...
    shyness took a toll on me,now it seems that years ago,just blurred past...
    still tryin to grasp the seriousness of my depression, and my loner nature and selfishness...
    so close to freedom,no way i can stop developing...
    a rush from my veins when i grasp a pen and write so furious...
    matured inside my heart now,ready to fight for my nourishment...
  3. iamnotadigit

    iamnotadigit i

    Mar 13, 2004
    angels have legs too/i don't know what this is


    I met her somewhere on the road to Georgia three nights ago. Her hips said hello before she did. Neither of us was going to Georgia. It would be a long drive.

    Three days later. I still don't know her name. We communicate with grunts and gestures. This is the way man was meant to be. Somwhere there's a wave calling my name, but I'm waiting for this one to end. They always end.

    I point to the glove compartment and eye the bottle of Jack in its center. A nod. It's her turn to drive. We barrel down the highway with me blitzed out of my mind in the backseat, howling at the moon. This is the shorthand of the human spirit.

    In the distance I hear the Tallulah singing on its banks. Ella & Duke are playing in my head. It don't mean a thing. From the look in her eyes, she hears it too.

    There's an ease between us now that I can't understand. Still no words. We don't need them. I can't stop looking at her legs. She won't stop looking at the road.

    In the daylight I can see that she's Jewish. Mazeltov. I think seriously about converting for the next six hours. I am not religious. Neither is she. There's a motel ahead.

    I imagine myself between her thighs - my body pressed neatly against hers. There's nothing but sweat between us. I let the scene linger too long in my mind, before I stop myself. She's too young - just a kid, really.

    Neither of us have eaten in three days. I feel the liquor burning a hole in my stomach. She has no money. I have too much. This will not do.

    Apple pie. Coffee. This is road food. She eats an omelet. Vegetarian. She doesn't know how to eat on the road yet. Poor kid. I'll have to show her.

    We look suious. They try to charge us by the hour. The floor is hard. The sheet is not warm enough. This was not the plan. She snores on the bed. Alone.

    The morning comes quickly when you don't close your eyes. I let her sleep. She needed it. The road will come soon enough.

    Her name is Shirley. Breakfast was breakfast. I was hungover. She sat too close and talked too much. We both stayed away from the bacon. This is the way the world works now.

    It's been two months now. She was supposed to get off in Vegas. Money is running low. The road is cold, unforgiving.

    I lost myself somewhere in Georgia. Found myself in Utah. The mountains spoke and there I was. There she was. We're on our way to becoming an island, if time will let us.

    At night I hear her whispering. Her lips never move, but she speaks volumes. We'll get married. Raise kids. I'll leave. We'll hate as much as we love. I want it all. Tomorrow will never happen, but I'll be there anyway.
  4. InTheStars

    InTheStars Reflective

    Feb 13, 2004
    #29 Mentally Challenged (Illness) This touches home because my father is bipolar/schizophrenic and no matter what I will always be a daddy’s girl. (Just a few quick thoughts)

    My father is wonderful
    And I swear to you he is the strongest man in the world
    The smartest man
    The greatest man
    And I know he screams and yells
    When no one is there
    And call me names without thought of pain
    Be he doesn’t know, so he is not to blame

    My father is amazing
    And he is the funniest man to me
    The happiest man
    The most eccentric man
    And I know that he thinks we conspire
    To trap him and lock him away
    And I know he doesn’t remember
    When his hands become fists, and he sits in the corner and begins to sway

    Each day I awake with tears held back from prior days
    Each day to go forth to see only his good ways
    Trying so hard not to let me down
    So all I can do for him is the same
    Watch after him, on the days that aren’t so sane
    Keep all calm
    And remain
    His daddy’s girl
  5. Infonation

    Infonation Info for the Nation

    Jun 3, 2003
    This shit that's written in here is off the chain.
  6. Anaphora

    Anaphora was here

    Jan 17, 2004
    Hmmm.... I never really came in here... but why the fuck not eh? A chance for some on the spot poetry... and I kinda wanna write right now, so I'll do..... #20 Death bed, no one's done that yet.

    The room is cold, dark
    white walls shadowed
    making them a soft blue.
    There's a lump in the sheets.
    It looks a lot smaller than a body
    but I know that its him.
    It was the first time I saw
    how small he really was, physically.

    This wasn't my grandfather.
    The man who lived through a war
    or even the one who held my hand
    as we crossed the street
    to see the science museum
    only 4 years before this meeting
    when the bus left me at home
    crying that I would miss the reptile exhibit.
    I was 11 in that room, and understood
    so very little, and yet so much.
    I didn't cry.
    I didn't think it was permanent.
    He would get better I thought of course,
    He was my grandpa.
    He was my grandpa, he couldn't die.

    So small under the sheets,
    shallow breath barely moving them
    I saw him twice in those three months,
    slowly shrinking away, though
    it could have been the bed growing
    so that it could fully encompass
    his legacy,
    and the task at hand
    of being the final resting place
    of a giant.
  7. Anaphora

    Anaphora was here

    Jan 17, 2004
    Same deal, still wanting to write, so I'll do #30 this time... voices in my head.

    They tell me things.
    Usually, its just me remembering:
    "The keys are in the drawer"
    "Don't forget to lock the door"
    "Blockbuster's the next exit."

    But once in awhile, they get weird
    "If I opened the door
    and dove out without slowing down
    everyone else in the car would freak out,
    it would be priceless."
    Then another would chime in
    "I bet they would freeze,
    wondering what the fuck just happened,
    and no one would grab the wheel
    until it was too late. ha. ha. ha."

    I'd start reaching for the door handle
    when yet another voice would speak up
    "It would be funny, but road rash
    would not. You don't have health insurance,
    and there would be numerous broken bones
    that a ruler and duct tape won't fix."

    I guess you'd call that reason,
    or in other cases,
    when a random baseball bat beating
    is humorously suggested, conscience.
    But I don't like the last voice.
    He spoils all the fun.
  8. kyza soza

    kyza soza This way up.

    Jan 5, 2004
    4, the addiction....key's...enjoy yo


    The shakes, twiches...jus one more time
    needing to fix, bringing another state of nirvana
    dreaming of the feelin
    when is travels up my arm
    flowing effortlessly towards my brain
    till im numb, oh how i long

    for moments the feeling...
    takes away the pain and hurt of this hienous world
    makes me feel like a puppeteer
    except i have no control of my body
    im floating in the stars
    i didnt even planet...

    my lips stating to quiver...
    shakin, i hold no control
    i feel the colour change...
    my mouth's as cold as the world
    phlem fallin...like winter leaves

    envisioning the plains...
    the thin line of denial, that is...
    the one that seperates heaven from hell
    feels like i weigh less than a feather

    this is only one possible outcome...
    holding an evil so bad the devil looked away
    i dont need a dictionary...
    to know that an addiction's very...


    finished 4:08am
  9. Cigma

    Cigma Maxwell's Demon

    Apr 5, 2002

    This is dope. I should have seen that end coming... *grin*
  10. nathedawg

    nathedawg New Member

    Oct 14, 2003
    Number #32 being blind
    it would be hard as fuck for real

    day one....
    loss of sight
    always night
    walking and talking trying to keep busy
    not knowing where
    people start to stare
    i can feel it in me
    just because i cant see
    not everything is free
    the breeze hits my face hard
    my response is keep on
    im not interested in this whole night vision anymore
    somebody turn the fucking lights on
  11. Clarksvegas_Dan

    Clarksvegas_Dan Registered Voter

    Apr 13, 2004

    Everybody dreams it seems
    but does everybody dream what I've seen
    I have flown above my city
    Up and Down, emotionally bound
    Soul travels do astound
    picture your feet floating off of the ground
    you try to hang on
    but your handles are gone
    Nothing to hold
    except for your soul
    My soul is beautiful
    but it's easily scared
    Flying was fun
    but fear puts me back in my body when I'm done
    I awake with a pounding heart
    This wasn't the first time
    but when did it start
    When did I learn to pop out
    When did I first start roaming about
    I was just a child when I heard the Voice call me
    It came from my bedroom wall
    Most folks can recall a dream where they took some big fall
    Why should mine be different
    My palms are itchin
    Should I be superstitious
    Will I really find the riches
    Perhaps my dreams will lead the way
    I pray that they never ever fade away
    that's all I have to say
    about dreams
  12. silent assasinx

    silent assasinx DA ILLEST PRODUCER

    Apr 18, 2004

    The Background theme in the movie of life itself,
    sometimes personified as a way of escape for the troubled minds that todays youth uses to block away the everyday burdens that one would encounter throughout his or her life,

    also part of my life,
    possibly a god given talent or a curse i can never decide on which one.
    i eat it
    shit it
    breath it
    live it
    i love it
    take it away?........then im nothing.
    the one true love that would never betray me and that would always be there for me when i needed it.
    never worry about it running off with others because i knew it would always be there.
    The only true love that can please any soul of any kind whether it be hard as a rock or soft and sweet.
    I praise it for its existence because i cannot imagine myself living without it.
    images of louis armstongs trumpet blaring from vintage radios subsitute the mental images of coporate hacks preaching false information over their podiums in hopes of being chosen by a higher branch of government to pursue their jobs as puppets in order to assure everyone that music is what you will all need later on for what comes later on in the year is only the worse in the financial well being of indiviuals.
    whether it be good or bad, fast or slow, for the short time you listen to it, you are free, and thats what counts.
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