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Tsotha said:
wandering, lost
core that gathers
pain, and misery,
rolling downhill,
growing bigger,
bigger still,
breathless deep down,
no longer visible,
or remembered,
breathless
as it speeds into the abyss

dread feeling,
in darkness surrounded
silence, estrangement, indifference
breathless

beaten, it soul-bleeds
it drags itself on its knees
and seeks,
a thing gentle,
to lay its head upon

trust, when it needs most,
trust, why won't it?
trust — to berate, to accuse, to betray

lip sealed,
a self-mutilation
and drip, drip, drip
quench that thirst
and drip, drip, drip
far too red and raw
Click to expand...

..
Wash your wounds in sweet water
get some knee pads for crawling 'round those rocks
gloves for hands ill used...

Breathe, find your center, focus
the jewel in the lotus becomes an eye
see yourself, be...

Rise from the darkness, seek light
look around at what you've found
beauty, truth, absolution
 
Tsotha said:
Fragile
as silence
lost
as sanity
drips, drips, drips
into a warm pool
Click to expand...

the tight focus on this, the lack of external sound, general movement, absence of thought... serves to make the reader see/hear the movement/colour/sound of the drips as they fall through the silence and into the dark red pool of draining life-stuff.

fragile - yes, the perfect word for the tenuous and failing hold the person has on life, physically and emotionally.

this poem is awful - in the way of the best writes, because it places me there, both as observer but, more intimately, as the person whose existence is ebbing away. which is awful.

strong strong write imo.
 
Big round cord
big round knobs
bigger than a bread box
plug it in
nothing at first
looking down in the air holes on top
tubes glow amber
the smell of burning dust and
hot oil
crackling static from the speaker
tuning, squelch, gain, volume
static getting louder
and then a voice
'know yourself, know yourself,
KNOW YOURSELF.'
 
HarryHill said:
..
Wash your wounds in sweet water
get some knee pads for crawling 'round those rocks
gloves for hands ill used...

Breathe, find your center, focus
the jewel in the lotus becomes an eye
see yourself, be...

Rise from the darkness, seek light
look around at what you've found
beauty, truth, absolution
Click to expand...

Breathing,
in, and then out,
feeling the world go
'round

Beautiful poem, Harry. Three stanzas really well wrought around their ideas, and the punctuation fits perfectly.

butters said:
the tight focus on this, the lack of external sound, general movement, absence of thought... serves to make the reader see/hear the movement/colour/sound of the drips as they fall through the silence and into the dark red pool of draining life-stuff.

fragile - yes, the perfect word for the tenuous and failing hold the person has on life, physically and emotionally.

this poem is awful - in the way of the best writes, because it places me there, both as observer but, more intimately, as the person whose existence is ebbing away. which is awful.

strong strong write imo.
Click to expand...

Thank your for your comment, butters. :rose: I was worried it would come through too raw, balanced more on what it is saying than on poetry, itself. It's important to hve a balance, I think. I'm glad you found it awful, means I did something right. ;)
 
fingers arch
spread above keyboard
wait
wait
on an exhalation of breath
lower
feel the warm responsive keys
inhale
focus
fill with the moment
the images
but more than that
the poem
its essence
feel it
breathe it
become
now express yourself
as fingers find their way
 
in the room
tv on mute
moving pictures
mobile faces
the off on burst of click click clicking
from the keyboard in use
the other one
not this
this is a muted ook ook
negligible
an undistraction
the rain has stopped
but through the open window
the sounds of an asian celebration
and the passing through of jets
out of sight above the clouds
clouds that have cut me off from the sunlight
and now the moon
fixing me here
laptop on my thighs
tasting the orient
even as strawberries and ice cream
still linger on my tongue
 
butters said:
fingers arch
spread above keyboard
wait
wait
on an exhalation of breath
lower
feel the warm responsive keys
inhale
focus
fill with the moment
the images
but more than that
the poem
its essence
feel it
breathe it
become
now express yourself
as fingers find their way
Click to expand...

apples, oranges, plums
whichever I choose, it's
my choice to reach for
a thing, or to avoid; or
perhaps it's desire, and
no choice, no choice in
what gives, what takes
and that which stays.
 
Tsotha said:
apples, oranges, plums
whichever I choose, it's
my choice to reach for
a thing, or to avoid; or
perhaps it's desire, and
no choice, no choice in
what gives, what takes
and that which stays.
Click to expand...
ahh...

perhaps you're just a better architect of words than i am, and i'm sure 12 would agree with your 'it's my choice' - perhaps my choices are more internalised but still mine. i don't know *sigh* i just listen, feel, write. :eek: conscious choice comes in the editing process :)
 
butters said:
ahh...

perhaps you're just a better architect of words than i am, and i'm sure 12 would agree with your 'it's my choice' - perhaps my choices are more internalised but still mine. i don't know *sigh* i just listen, feel, write. :eek: conscious choice comes in the editing process :)
Click to expand...

Absurd. Sometimes we choose, and design, sometimes we are compelled. It depends on mood, inspiration, inclination. Sometimes good things result from letting go, sometimes they result from enduring in intent.

There hasn't been much "design" to my writing these last couple months, which is why I ultimately stopped posting here. Some balance is needed (in my case), to prevent a total horror show. But there is room for both ends of the spectrum.
 
Tsotha said:
Absurd. Sometimes we choose, and design, sometimes we are compelled. It depends on mood, inspiration, inclination. Sometimes good things result from letting go, sometimes they result from enduring in intent.

There hasn't been much "design" to my writing these last couple months, which is why I ultimately stopped posting here. Some balance is needed (in my case), to prevent a total horror show. But there is room for both ends of the spectrum.
Click to expand...

yeah :) to be ruled by the words rather than rule over them isn't the best. co-operation, perhaps, is the balance to strive for :cool:
 
Twilight dunked the sun
below the horizon,
Even straining my ears
for that last sound
brought nothing.
Not a tyre squeal
to betray your leaving.
Far away a vixen screamed
for her mate, likewise
my heart, forlorn
forsaken.
 
Life, flowing onward
to give life, to move
forward, to be, to go;
but soon, it's time
to let go, for when
things flow in the wrong
direction, death comes.

This thing, that keeps
pumping, grows; it rises,
in strength, in despair,
grasping for life, to be,
to go. To let go. By growing,
it dies, life flows both
ways, toward life, and death.
 
Tsotha said:
Life, flowing onward
to give life, to move
forward, to be, to go;
but soon, it's time
to let go, for when
things flow in the wrong
direction, death comes.

This thing, that keeps
pumping, grows; it rises,
in strength, in despair,
grasping for life, to be,
to go. To let go. By growing,
it dies, life flows both
ways, toward life, and death.
Click to expand...

sometimes
sometimes
death is not death
but rebirth

and sometimes death is
release
a sigh

now between
death and birth
that's the interesting place

we have no maps
maybe it's the stuff of myth
it's certainly a mystery

for me
when bones slough off their need to
carry loads
i wish for

wait

i used to wish for
simple cessation

now
i'm not so sure
 
butters said:
sometimes
sometimes
death is not death
but rebirth

and sometimes death is
release
a sigh

now between
death and birth
that's the interesting place

we have no maps
maybe it's the stuff of myth
it's certainly a mystery

for me
when bones slough off their need to
carry loads
i wish for

wait

i used to wish for
simple cessation

now
i'm not so sure
Click to expand...

:rose:

In this case, death is just death, butters. What bothers me is having to choose — again — for one that cannot choose, except to live, in pain.
 
butters said:
sometimes
sometimes
death is not death
but rebirth

and sometimes death is
release
a sigh

now between
death and birth
that's the interesting place

we have no maps
maybe it's the stuff of myth
it's certainly a mystery

for me
when bones slough off their need to
carry loads
i wish for

wait

i used to wish for
simple cessation

now
i'm not so sure
Click to expand...

:)...
 
Tsotha said:
:rose:

In this case, death is just death, butters. What bothers me is having to choose — again — for one that cannot choose, except to live, in pain.
Click to expand...
if this is about your email, pain is not an option. it's hard, but i see no other choice. :rose:
 
a slow, grey mob
stir dust as they deliberate
along well-worn paths
shorter legs hurrying
in and out of thickset boles
adults on the quest for water

now
to be inside the head
the mind
of any individual there -
what a trip that would be
led by the nose
 
butters said:
a slow, grey mob
stir dust as they deliberate
along well-worn paths
shorter legs hurrying
in and out of thickset boles
adults on the quest for water

now
to be inside the head
the mind
of any individual there -
what a trip that would be
led by the nose
Click to expand...

I thunk I saw an Ellie Funt or suppose it was an Allen
lead me if you will but please don't use the nose. :D
candid
 
butters said:
a slow, grey mob
stir dust as they deliberate
along well-worn paths
shorter legs hurrying
in and out of thickset boles
adults on the quest for water

now
to be inside the head
the mind
of any individual there -
what a trip that would be
led by the nose
Click to expand...

Elephants?
 
butters said:
if this is about your email, pain is not an option. it's hard, but i see no other choice. :rose:
Click to expand...

Yes, you're right. Of course. But the pain isn't constant. It wasn't even frequent, a week ago. So when? Now? There is nothing wrong, right now. Right now, it'd be murder. So maybe tomorrow morning? Maybe it won't be necessary, if I wait that long. *sigh* Sorry, disregard this...
 
She says, really, what a simple
creature! But really — what
is so simple about losing
your way, constantly
lured by invisible fire,
snared in strange magnetism?

About having eyes easily
bribed, drawn by sights
swaying, oh. so. sweet. — that move
not beyond, but before control,
and linger, linger too long
thus soon caught by her eyes?

About being in a body readily
announcing secret thoughts,
roused for her to see?
Woe me! No — wooing won't be
necessary; I will gladly throw myself
in the trap, as long as it is sweet.
 
HarryHill said:
I thunk I saw an Ellie Funt or suppose it was an Allen
lead me if you will but please don't use the nose. :D
candid
Click to expand...
:rolleyes: :D

Tsotha said:
Elephants?
Click to expand...
yeah. documentary on tv. just raw ideas. maybe one day i'll come back and do something with them. maybe. :eek:

Tsotha said:
Yes, you're right. Of course. But the pain isn't constant. It wasn't even frequent, a week ago. So when? Now? There is nothing wrong, right now. Right now, it'd be murder. So maybe tomorrow morning? Maybe it won't be necessary, if I wait that long. *sigh* Sorry, disregard this...
Click to expand...
pming you :rose:
 
butters said:
yeah. documentary on tv. just raw ideas. maybe one day i'll come back and do something with them. maybe. :eek:
Click to expand...

Oh, now I feel like writing about elephants. I might return to that, later.

And ugh... resist... temptation... to edit... Give me strength, smithpeter.
 
periastron23 said:
Big round cord
big round knobs
bigger than a bread box
plug it in
nothing at first
looking down in the air holes on top
tubes glow amber
the smell of burning dust and
hot oil
crackling static from the speaker
tuning, squelch, gain, volume
static getting louder
and then a voice
'know yourself, know yourself,
KNOW YOURSELF.'
Click to expand...

I still have one, in the parlor of all places
where Howdy Dooty challenged Clarabell
to silly marionette races
on a 13" screen
phonograph above and loved
playing those old 78's
Thanks for the Memories
 
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