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distracted

A poem or 2

97 posts in this topic

Ode to a lump of green putty

I found under my armpit

One early summer morn.

Vogon poetry in its purest form.

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nice thread.

gen :)

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Like them, Distracted. Second one in particular.

Edited by distracted

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Like them, Distracted. Second one in particular.

Cheers...... I wonder or worry that what makes sense to to me is gobbledegook to someone reading them, maybe that's not important.....in school we were told what a poem meant according to the teacher not the writer..... Over analysis though I suppose feeds pontification, like some of the idiots that comment on modern art..... I have a lot more, many are about alcohol though and I'm not that comfortable about going into those emotions again.... but I suppose all writing with feeling is based on strong emotions like love, lust, hope, despair, self loathing, aspirations, melancholy, idealism and self examining painfully raw realism.... Love, lust and intoxicants sums it up for me, but I'm pretty shallow!

Edited by distracted

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In the corner of my eye is a shimmering shape
It fluxes and flows from black through to grey
Sometimes I hope that the shade isn’t real
Mostly I fear though the truth gets too near

I look at the brightness of youths on the telly
And wonder if my glow is getting less steady
But the focus tightens, as time slowly slides
And the darkness rings a life still quite bright

I don’t think there’s a master, a creator of all
Although the design still fills me with awe
I see life around me and the beauty it holds,
My wonder will live till the lids finally close

Edited by distracted
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wow :badass:

e2a lol

Edited by OG refugee #24601

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Shattered dreams pierce the mind

Shards of hope with despair entwined

Frustrations utopia, hatreds source

Heart sad dwelling takes it’s course

Indulgent reverie slowly displaced

The ring of a phone making the case

To lift up the handset and put on a show

Smile and be cheerful to all but your foe

“I can’t go out, I’ve things on my plate

Be working I’m sure until it’s quite late”

The honk of a horn distracts for a second

The caller waves and other mates beckon

Crammed in the back, hurtling down lanes

Toking a cone to thoughtful refrains

No discussion required and nor is it given

Sometimes you need just to be driven

Edited by distracted
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Radical...

Some of this is brilliant, i really like

Face Alabaster, dreams so Nice!

Mankind's Master, or his Vice?

Excesses in All!

Inducing the Fall?

Breath taking!

Death making?

Fun!

Done?

Hardest thing about art is showing it imo....respect.

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Thanks OG refugee #24601, thanks Archangel, I have loads of the short stuff Archangel, just rhymes but I like them like that

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I saw this topic a while ago but not contributed as yet, Im not really a writer of anysorts, and its only when i have my 'dark times' :rofl: i seem to be creative although in a dark sorta way. dunno why its just me :wink:

anyway.......

SLEEP

What can you do there's nothing to say

Sat alone in your room full of dismay

Everyones there and you're left out

Its been like this most of your life or just there abouts.

Ones in the room snoring out the noise

The rest they are there, or atleast on the edge they are poised.

Thoughts of frustration fill up your head

You wish your grey matter would mimic the dead.

Out of your window as you try

Nothing to do as you look at the sky

The worlds almost silent - I wish it was like this all of the time.

Yet if it happens in daylight, life passes you by.

How can you sort it?

Will it be for the best?

Part of my individuallity - not like the rest

Tell me what it is this illusive thing you seek.

I'll tell you another time

Just let me SLEEP

:ouch::unsure::rofl:

Peace T

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and the words of the prophets are written on the uk420 walls...tenement halls :rofl:

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I like it troopa, got any more?

Im not really a writer of anysorts, and its only when i have my 'dark times' :wink: i seem to be creative although in a dark sorta way. dunno why its just me :wink:

Funny but my stuff has always been written in dark moments of my life, many are too melancholic to post, I'd say "self-indulgent" but that would be unfair on myself... the two I posted this week were written this week and that's been bothering me as I feel OK... went as far as asking a m8 why I would be writing poetry when nothing was wrong, forgetting that none of my m8's know I write poetry so I just ended up getting the piss taken out of me :eek:

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Just Another Cliche

"The biggest killer on the planet is stress and I still think the best medicine is and always has been cannabis." - Willie Nelson

"Why is marijuana against the law? It grows naturally upon our planet. Doesn't the idea of making nature against the law seem to you a bit . . . unnatural?" - Bill Hicks

Neuroleptic malignant syndrome (NMS). NMS is a rare but very serious condition that can happen in people who take certain medicines for mental health problems, including ZYPREXA. NMS can cause death and must be treated in a hospital. - The Official ZYPREXA® (Olanzapine) Site

People say I'm mad,

reason that it's because

I take certain substance

from the earth:

well, for what's it's worth,

I disagree, would say

I'm just an organic

form of life,

seeking sustenance

not simply subsistence

or self-substantiation

but an escape from stagnation.

I try to remember the last

time I span in a field

arms flung wide

in wild parabolic orbits

to make myself dizzy

with the tumbling sky,

to fly with the clouds

for a few sickening seconds;

or hunkered down,

hyperventilated

put my thumb in my mouth

stood up and blew.

I wish I could do that now

but I would be marked mad

and taken away.

So I take the tablets, fail

to complain or show

a sign of disdain

for their regimen-

no history behind these pills,

no childhood spills

from which to learn-

and no good complaining

otherwise you're easily labelled

mad or bad or plain insane,

just another cliche.

Edited by L'Emmerdeur

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Here's a short one. I wrote it and couldn't really follow it on. I tried but failed. So I thought I'd leave it as it is because it tells enough of a story as it is.

Defence of the heart

So brutally sustained

A heart ripped apart

So only pieces remained.

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Pent-up

See, the heedless Queen

bee dreams, as drones quickly pack:

this hive is moving.

Edited by L'Emmerdeur

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