- Joined
- Dec 25, 2003
- Messages
- 24,404
What time is it? It's poetry contest time.
Please review the following conditions for an acceptable entry:
No pre-written material for this go around.
Olé!
===============POEM SUBMISSIONS TO VOTE ON START HERE=================
The horse's kick
In my dream I'm lying softly, smiling happily, blessed, content.
Stirring my bliss-filled sleep, a shadow, a hollow outline of myself
It steals from the side of me, it looms over me.
Menacing me.
Deathfilled grey, dark mist swirling, glints red in the eyes and mouth as it reaches full height,
it takes a swing backwards with it’s right leg,
I watch.
When the pain connects, my life screams a long silent cry.
I gasp and hold my breath as the pain intensifies,
my pelvis has become molten lava.
I'm awake.
Roll onto my back, I'm shredding, the sharpness catches like razor barbs ripping me apart. I look to view the carnage.
It’s not there.
Where is the blood flowing from parted flesh toasted crispy as a devil’s marshmallow?
Uncomprehending I sit, from the bathroom window the gentle morning sun shoots skewers of lightening at me.
They pierce my eyes, pierce my ears, pierce my life.
White hot needles feeding red hungry petals, hot brown melts and white light soothes.
Tears drip from my chin, this unfeeling wetness of the morning.
I sniff hard. Choking on my lacrimated snot I forget the fire in my pelvis, my legs, are they mine?
Downstairs I stumble, searching, not done.
Coffee waiting, my love has left for me in innocence. I sip, my guts clench, I run.
Resourceful Restoration
"Garbage" becomes divine treasure
when your heart is some kinda clever
Artists welcome time and effort.
"the title is my name"
"Maybe I should call the fire department", I thought,
as dire jungle predators patrolled outside my window.
Frothing blood at the sight of my nothing,
wanting more.
Stalking the high water mark of my weakness.
Their vertical eyes sharpened with judgement
more dangerous than any blade.
I've decided it was my Grandmaster blunder,
abandoning the safety of the mediocre river of normalcy,
shifting away from the clutches of the rose tinted
willfully ignorant pollyannas who patrol my perimeter,
no less contemptuous than the jungle demons stalking me now.
I can't fathom what these clowns and beasts want from me,
from this frail little guy.
My nerves are frayed,
my bank is empty.
I've already told them,
I wanted sobriety and a silly little hat.
I need sobriety
and an invitation to the silly hat club;
burnt out nobodies who meet weekly down the street
in some dilapidated church basement.
Tiny frail men sitting in circles,
drinking coffee and eating donuts,
are the backbone of this society.
Do they sell Kafkaesque transformation on the dark net?
Not that I need to add any more convolutions to my
psychotic ramblings,
or my disdain for proper punctuation,
but I'm playing the part of the tethered goat
in some horrifically remixed Jurassic Park sequel,
where the escape from my fate
doesn't make sense to the audience,
nor me.
Motivation rattles around in my mind like a high caliber weapon in heat of battle,
assaulting the war torn ghetto of my psyche.
But for now, just get these fucking tigers off my back,
buy me a ticket for Dirt Crap airlines flying to nowhere safe,
anywhere but here.
Let me bathe in raw sewage with children from Namibia,
let me commune with my fellow blameless victims of the universe.
I've vomited my stomach contents onto my cat from across the room
with an eerie level of accuracy.
My time is short.
I have a bottle with such collected vomit,
I stick a note inside:
"Help me".
Maybe some poor bastard might feel bad for me,
eons into the future.
Right Side Of Midnight
I'm on the right side of midnight just left of the break of day. There seems to be no rest in sight, think I've lost my way. This wasted time goes down like cheap whiskey in a glass and darkness is the sound of my future and my past. And who are all these faces? I can't recall there names. And here, of all the places, they choose to play their games. I thought that I could catch the stars but I guess it's not to be. I can see I'm not that far from my dreaded destiny. The question is go left or right but there's no one here to say. On the right side of midnight, left of the break of day.
Unlabeled
Each neuron that fires
Sparks in my conscious mind
A rebellion of freedom
Dancing on the promise
Of eternal euphoria
Where the absence of bliss
Is just a fading memory
As I run a thousand miles
In every direction
Sour power from under the counter
moves trinkets some baller.
You can hate me cuz I’m taller than my hair don’t care I’m attack ya like a polar bear
sore tear to where the crab begins to learn bel air
and the sandy hand will tear off a band and a piece.
Sour power
Animal Realities
To what extent to attempt to attenuate our adhesion to
Animal realities?
As early as the apple, astringent, eaten by Adam and Eve
All-encompassing emotion attacking the unready airfields of the
Cold calculation that builds skyscrapers, science papers and,
Curiously, compassion
They say revenge is a dish best served cold
But it's usually not
Conversely, mercy is rarely served hot
The worst hurt we have ever made others endure
Arose from those fiery, primitive throes
Invading the brain's glacial-logic terrain
Forging it into a tool to cause pain
What, in the end, will we lose and we gain
As we stray farther from our (As we return to our)
Animal realities?
Though easy it is for some to look down
Shake their heads, "those animals," pity and frown,
When unpoisoned by the hyperrational mind,
Animalness shows its virginal side,
A purity that we have long left behind
No, to our species it is no relief
To see clockwork behind each love, hate, and belief
And it doesn't console the poor simpler souls
That are caught in our dominant, corruptive pull
Often I wish
For the raw innocence
Of an animal's reality
To the cat in the neighborhood that keeps sending people for tetanus shots.
Purr, you say.
Be adorable.
I feed you.
Purr, you say.
Anger, hatred, revenge you say.
Purr, I say.
Anger, hatred, vengeance, I understand.
Purr you say.
You eat.
Purr, you say.
Please review the following conditions for an acceptable entry:
- 34-line maximum
- Entries must remain anonymous until the contest ends
- One entry per user
- Please send them in a private message to @cduggles and me
- It ends 16th September 2022, at midnight PST
No pre-written material for this go around.
Olé!
===============POEM SUBMISSIONS TO VOTE ON START HERE=================
The horse's kick
In my dream I'm lying softly, smiling happily, blessed, content.
Stirring my bliss-filled sleep, a shadow, a hollow outline of myself
It steals from the side of me, it looms over me.
Menacing me.
Deathfilled grey, dark mist swirling, glints red in the eyes and mouth as it reaches full height,
it takes a swing backwards with it’s right leg,
I watch.
When the pain connects, my life screams a long silent cry.
I gasp and hold my breath as the pain intensifies,
my pelvis has become molten lava.
I'm awake.
Roll onto my back, I'm shredding, the sharpness catches like razor barbs ripping me apart. I look to view the carnage.
It’s not there.
Where is the blood flowing from parted flesh toasted crispy as a devil’s marshmallow?
Uncomprehending I sit, from the bathroom window the gentle morning sun shoots skewers of lightening at me.
They pierce my eyes, pierce my ears, pierce my life.
White hot needles feeding red hungry petals, hot brown melts and white light soothes.
Tears drip from my chin, this unfeeling wetness of the morning.
I sniff hard. Choking on my lacrimated snot I forget the fire in my pelvis, my legs, are they mine?
Downstairs I stumble, searching, not done.
Coffee waiting, my love has left for me in innocence. I sip, my guts clench, I run.
Resourceful Restoration
"Garbage" becomes divine treasure
when your heart is some kinda clever
Artists welcome time and effort.
"the title is my name"
"Maybe I should call the fire department", I thought,
as dire jungle predators patrolled outside my window.
Frothing blood at the sight of my nothing,
wanting more.
Stalking the high water mark of my weakness.
Their vertical eyes sharpened with judgement
more dangerous than any blade.
I've decided it was my Grandmaster blunder,
abandoning the safety of the mediocre river of normalcy,
shifting away from the clutches of the rose tinted
willfully ignorant pollyannas who patrol my perimeter,
no less contemptuous than the jungle demons stalking me now.
I can't fathom what these clowns and beasts want from me,
from this frail little guy.
My nerves are frayed,
my bank is empty.
I've already told them,
I wanted sobriety and a silly little hat.
I need sobriety
and an invitation to the silly hat club;
burnt out nobodies who meet weekly down the street
in some dilapidated church basement.
Tiny frail men sitting in circles,
drinking coffee and eating donuts,
are the backbone of this society.
Do they sell Kafkaesque transformation on the dark net?
Not that I need to add any more convolutions to my
psychotic ramblings,
or my disdain for proper punctuation,
but I'm playing the part of the tethered goat
in some horrifically remixed Jurassic Park sequel,
where the escape from my fate
doesn't make sense to the audience,
nor me.
Motivation rattles around in my mind like a high caliber weapon in heat of battle,
assaulting the war torn ghetto of my psyche.
But for now, just get these fucking tigers off my back,
buy me a ticket for Dirt Crap airlines flying to nowhere safe,
anywhere but here.
Let me bathe in raw sewage with children from Namibia,
let me commune with my fellow blameless victims of the universe.
I've vomited my stomach contents onto my cat from across the room
with an eerie level of accuracy.
My time is short.
I have a bottle with such collected vomit,
I stick a note inside:
"Help me".
Maybe some poor bastard might feel bad for me,
eons into the future.
Right Side Of Midnight
I'm on the right side of midnight just left of the break of day. There seems to be no rest in sight, think I've lost my way. This wasted time goes down like cheap whiskey in a glass and darkness is the sound of my future and my past. And who are all these faces? I can't recall there names. And here, of all the places, they choose to play their games. I thought that I could catch the stars but I guess it's not to be. I can see I'm not that far from my dreaded destiny. The question is go left or right but there's no one here to say. On the right side of midnight, left of the break of day.
Unlabeled
Each neuron that fires
Sparks in my conscious mind
A rebellion of freedom
Dancing on the promise
Of eternal euphoria
Where the absence of bliss
Is just a fading memory
As I run a thousand miles
In every direction
Sour power from under the counter
moves trinkets some baller.
You can hate me cuz I’m taller than my hair don’t care I’m attack ya like a polar bear
sore tear to where the crab begins to learn bel air
and the sandy hand will tear off a band and a piece.
Sour power
Animal Realities
To what extent to attempt to attenuate our adhesion to
Animal realities?
As early as the apple, astringent, eaten by Adam and Eve
All-encompassing emotion attacking the unready airfields of the
Cold calculation that builds skyscrapers, science papers and,
Curiously, compassion
They say revenge is a dish best served cold
But it's usually not
Conversely, mercy is rarely served hot
The worst hurt we have ever made others endure
Arose from those fiery, primitive throes
Invading the brain's glacial-logic terrain
Forging it into a tool to cause pain
What, in the end, will we lose and we gain
As we stray farther from our (As we return to our)
Animal realities?
Though easy it is for some to look down
Shake their heads, "those animals," pity and frown,
When unpoisoned by the hyperrational mind,
Animalness shows its virginal side,
A purity that we have long left behind
No, to our species it is no relief
To see clockwork behind each love, hate, and belief
And it doesn't console the poor simpler souls
That are caught in our dominant, corruptive pull
Often I wish
For the raw innocence
Of an animal's reality
To the cat in the neighborhood that keeps sending people for tetanus shots.
Purr, you say.
Be adorable.
I feed you.
Purr, you say.
Anger, hatred, revenge you say.
Purr, I say.
Anger, hatred, vengeance, I understand.
Purr you say.
You eat.
Purr, you say.
Last edited:
Can I have multiples?
How long have you had Sr. Shot Caller?
