Another Artistic Thread - POEMS

[S-uper_T-oast]

blackfooted patterns of artists rendition
prediction of simple footprints
towards the sun as the sly
fortune like one
spun re-sun under the trial
to plunder, flounder with elation
desert your per-sian

[ryan]

In my head the static creeping
But in darkness I am weeping
Because I'll never truly know
Answers that the ether holds

Truth it comes from all around you
At least that's what they say
Small things make it all seem honest
But everyone gets paid

You fill my head with all your thoughts
And I hate the thought of that
So take your words of vile untruth
Do not make me your rat

And let me go from in this cage
For I cannot bear much more
Each passing day I spend in here
Is one too many to endure

[S-uper_T-oast]

chock back your ambitions
into a procelin basin
as your dreams vomit out
in techni-colors swatches
jump into your own
sort of prediction
that as your smiles don't
yet rate as anything
more then dazed faded
state
and say
ney

[S-uper_T-oast]

I knew my life was going to be interesting
the day time traveling assassins started coming by
at least it kept me from worrying about cancer
but it made me try to re-think
what exactly I seemed to be working towards
each day, I never seemed to know
I was tortured by my own unknown, that seemed
to disown my own sense of self
I was not a person who defined anything
Just a viewer of this cosmic game
a long stretched out band that writhes
and glowers at me if I even try
to make anything seemingly specific to me
defining myself as a person
I hate myself
knowing that I become me
no matter what I do
I can never break out of this box
that isn't even a damn box
maybe I'm not too different
from Schrodinger's pet cat Enrich
who also seemed to be stuck under
his master's malicious will of scientific discovery
I want to know what happens when that band breaks
Fuck causality
I would snap the entirety of reality
just for a short burst of
"Fuck you-ality"
Isn't that the funniest thought of all?
Maybe that is what they came back for
after all

[S-uper_T-oast]

gradually I wish to find my own simple
resolution to my self-prostitution
etc. etc. etc. a letter definitively
just another soulless idiot
trying to make a pieced mine
mind, carbon copied aligned
a new face of the same case
reincarnation, of an inevitable kind
there are only so many general options
to define a person as:
no matter how hard again to try, we can all
be simply quantified
some occur more frequently, less like to think
some, more sporadically?
refreshed in each specific hue clue that does
make sense to define each individual one
blah blah, canvas art etc. etc. etc
more definitely
exquisitely unique
and a new lighted lividly
which means?
uhm, that is the part that is missing
not sure what that part even is though
so maybe it's not too missing after all
doesn't matter at
all
sour grapes blown out of proportion
that want more attention then they even assign
it'll either be blown, or be blossoming
twenty years from now
this world we fly upon some how
no matter what choice we can possibly make
to break and chase
humans are the only expendable candidate
our intelligence might destroy us
but again, it of course can improve our certain situations
etc. etc. etc two sides of the same coin, join
more intricate syllabls into litty twitty metaphorical
perchance to grace upon some thought
to definitivise
explicitive deleted
and it doesn't really matter what we try
there are an infinite and one others
that will do things so different
then you can ever possibly comprehend on
such an impressive scale of outright chaotic
sparsity
so I'd say relax, and leave it all up to me
but you'll do what you want
so just keep going what you need to be

[S-uper_T-oast]

maybe the snow flakes make
a good point to focus aggression against
I really don't like those frozen
little bastards
whenever they start showing up
and turning my breath into them
in such a slightly
bone numbing way
so gloomy they seem to make my skies
darkened, dreary
lost sun this seasons eerie
fucking spring, I need to get that time machine
to run

[S-uper_T-oast]

would you all calm down please
you all shout so loudly so many different things
wishes and prayers, hopes and fair
I'm sorry I'm not better
what else can I say?
every single day before has built up
the next today
you all shout, so wildly
vivid promises and lash apparitions
time marches, exactly at this pace
that for some reason, is beyond all choice to place
I'd like to skip ahead, and have my task be done
so we can all then just so softly last
wasting away in our paradise sun
but I can't make things go faster
then this slow, slow, slow pace
that time trickles down upon us
we are so close to cresting that hill
that makes, life actually fun
if you want a glimpse at the big picture:
here is what ultimately will be done
mankind disconnected from our evolution inspired
design
breaking out of this mold of selfish genes
and sordid affairs that dictate our state
it isn't a day too far away
when all our work will be done
eclipsed by the setting of the universe of suns
splayed, belayed across our own besmerched
ways
humanity as it is, can not survive as a universal creature
the power inherent in dictating the stars, instantly will
undo it's holder, a sort of macbeth's law
illustration required:
the power to create and define life
will undoubtedly decreate itself
selfish desire, infinite transpire
entropy is the listless desire
that we all place beneath outer
chase

[S-uper_T-oast]

Begin again
to keep egging on personal definition
into placid ambivalence
strands of each possible peculiarity
a certain form of irregularity
Write as much as much as much
as much as you can and maybe the volume
will define something more enlightening
then the individual squabble
scribble, a dribble of thought that
falls into the glassy ocean
swept up in the tide
burrowed beneath the deep dark depths
that lurk in each bottomless trench
these deep parts which seem to like to hold
their own peculiar surprises and enjoyments
the weight of pressing discovery
thwarts all but the most insane attempt
at bringing these bottom dwellers
up through the waves and let them
into the clouds, through rivers and lakes;
and a thousand hours falling freely through the air
until slowly, steadily
it retreats back to it's shapeless enclave
another drip of salt
in a sea so far to see
of each drop writhing for it's own chance
to be that one meaning that trickles through

[S-uper_T-oast]

begin again
that aching desire to transcend
and pretend, that none of life can end
Keep running into the wind
and feel the rain soaking into your skin
sin derived, alive;
break off a bite sized chunk
that seems to choke you still
gulping it down with cold breaths
Heimlich manuever?
it was invented for a reason
just like the changing seasons
that the next step on your path is already
ahead of you, to walk, and talk,
to lie awake and dream of nothing
in particular
spectacular sensitizations, of specialization
in personalization, personified
as a life well led
don't think that one day you'll be dead
just think of what might be said
tomorrow, worst better all the same
just more interpretations
of a delusional insane
fundamentally, identical identity
as a personal entity, in a manifestation
of humanity
we can't transcend
till we define it as a certain, Earth-anity
a sense, of global sanity
but then again, all it takes it one
certain human
to stretch their wings into the stars
and define this entirety, a universal identity
more then just axes buried in the sand
so many civilizations
have already buried themselves in the dust
of long lost memories that never where
written down quite correctly
let's hope our Earth, has more in it
then leaving behind funny laughs of fossils
and long left behind TV reruns flying through space

[ryan]

Endings come in empty silence
Vain attempts to verify us
Love can never leave behind
Memories to mesmerize

[S-uper_T-oast]

loosely superstitious
the simplest things can mean
something like a petal
floating on the breeze
of outcast sunday morning
rightly superficial
the world is but an object
to explore and define
by opportunity and spontaneity

[S-uper_T-oast]

demeanor makes a compromise
that promises to make forth
coming a certain peculiarity
of motivation
fingers singed from handling
things that they don't seem
to be willing to appreciate
veiled in their own
simple capacity of verbosity
flowing thoughts that make
little more sense
then losing a faded sense
expensive, yet acceptably speculative
receptively unexpected though
verbosity, it's own white spaced desire

[S-uper_T-oast]

what's the point of living
if I never will feel alive
more then these miserable transgressions
that filter through veiled perceptions
to tease and taunt with hope and progress
and this distinct sense of life as self
relegated to a speck of a fleck
what is the point of defining
one bug from the swarm?
I bet ants have existential dilemmas
or maybe it's more subtle then that
It seems humanity is caught
in it's own trap of self-worth and scale
leaving me screaming at the sky
as nothing more then a function of the earth resonating
why try to sugar coat the thing
identity not just confined
but outright defined by happen chance
quantum dance
that shouts till the air itself grows
weak
what's left to speak
when the life I so desire
is so tragically bleak

[swingdjted]

When the dust just won't settle,
leaving you alone and abandoned in silent exile,
the ice cold bitterness just won't melt,
and the impurities seem to linger despite all you can do to rid it all,
along comes the rain.

I watch as the people cringe and hide,
running, even in front of traffic to get away.
They become depressed, bodies aching,
yearning for the end to come,
as if threatened by the warnings of Noah.

But I welcome the rain.

I stare at it's source
tasting it's power
each drop a relentless soldier
united with the others in an army of flood

settling the dust
breaking the silence
melting the ice
cleansing the impurities

I am one with the rain
rain that won't step aside because I am different
immersing me in its acceptance and love
ridding me of all that I hate
and of all that hate me

rain the bringer of peace
rain the source of life
rain the companion that understands rejection
rain the reason to be

rain

then partly cloudy with a high of 37F. Overnight low of 11 with a wind chill factor of -15. Wind advisories are in effect for Mahoning and Trumbull counties until 6 a.m. Stay tuned for FirstNews Sports, coming up next.


General Copyright Notice: Those who distribute my work beyond this post without my permission will be hunted down, tied to a remote tree, and mutilated with a cheap set of infomercial-style knives.

[S-uper_T-oast]

little lies
mistake
even to breath
a web to weave
know you don't
pretend
I know I don't
know

[S-uper_T-oast]

lucid destiny
outside constructs
of flowing
eddies and pools
that settle out
from such changing
ways that backgrounds
play wills on waters

[S-uper_T-oast]

essence of some elation
defense of condemnation
fuck the lies begin to understand
devestation
erasure, complacancy
something just exits in we
to deny our own exceptionality
distracted in our factuality
splintered, in a mas of apathy
stare at the sky
and ask yourself, why the fuck
we can't try
_S deleted
so this is the pieces?
left behind into a predictable design
consinged esoteric
what the fuck is happening
everything seems sublime
yet nothing seems to exist
or something seems to persist
in the wasted thoughts
that bind our pasts into our futures
holographic assumptions, consumptions
presumptions and gumption
to just, stop wordse

[FaeGiN]

And some are not...

[swingdjted]

holy cow...

I just realized that we have 3,000 posts in this thread.

FaeGiN's post doesn't seem to make sense because a post above was removed. It was from the user "webmaster705" who posted:

Very interesting read....some of the poems are really worth reading...

My curiosity is, which are really worth reading according to webmaster705 and which (other than my sorry-ass-shit) aren't worth reading according to FaeGiN?

[S-uper_T-oast]

resisting simplistic failure
is a not so fascinating reailty
might be more applicable
to be some other aspiration
inspiration is such a fickle
wishtress of misplaced ambition
yet it isn't so accurate
to forget personal existence
in a quest of aspirational transendence
dependence is relentless and fearfully
oppourtunistc but optimistic
gleefully spiteful and aptly, slightfull
acting as if everything is just delightful
for a certain blissing listing
glistening
crystalizing species fortuitous
gibberish
split wished atrophy caskets of last flee
free fees and astro spine desentwine
glassy spastic now trapped fish
splashing into your spastic
enviromental spastic, crashing lastest
blast this, enchanted to my own attempts
relentless defense, it's just my lost common sense

[S-uper_T-oast]

especially remitted
aquitted forest this seems to be
stretching between falling trees
rising leaves singe
off smoken routed as they seem
beneath their own sort
sum foe concentrated
chasing each twine with such
longing spine of line in rewind
favoring so much less as
as their own sort of anti-content
these leaves all leaf
wreathing torrent of abhorent
roaring disorrient astral
project a spying spice
of simplest delight
amidst bestranged strange lanes
common spense dispensed

[S-uper_T-oast]

[edit - Moderation]
this post was in reply to now removed posts

Thanks.

Art is such a relative thing, it's not really worth getting caught up trying to create something. If you like it write it; if you don't like it, write it. It certainly is nice to have someone else regularly posting here in the thread, it has gotten quite lonely at times. I know I like anything you post, not just because it's a post in the thread either . Your way of stating things it uniquely eloquent and interesting so don't worry about that. (same goes for you ted if you are still lurking around here )

Free form is so modern/trendy/stupid. It gives you too much freedom to just write whatever random words come to mind and just leaving it for your reader to sort out and make meaning out of. Which is my main problem with my poetry, I often just train wreck into random words thrown into gibberish, but from a different angle, that is just part of the poem. Metered and rhythmic styles seem too constricting and restricting, yet at the same time that is their strength. Taking the extra time to craft your words into a form gives the overall thought more depth and impact. It has more to do with what you are saying then how you say it, and that is what poetry is (or at least what I'll call it for today)

ps: my method of writing poetry-
1. Smoke bowl
2. Try to find laptop
3. ....
4. Profit!

[S-uper_T-oast]

blistered fingers make
webs from winds bleakly blowing
my own self respect a plaything
for eddies and adulation
arduous and anticipated
yet downright constipated mouth
at another flash of sordid pasts
you just won't let die
these mornings always seem to
make the sun a little dimmer
yet the clouds a little less thinner
as this endless obsolescence coaleseces
into some scene of you with a knife
stabbing me on my birthday at
unknown time and space
it wants to define itself rightly
but we can't let that happen now can we?

[swingdjted]

I enjoy poetry mostly by reading it or hearing it read, but not so much by writing it (which explains the lurking). I love this thread for that reason, but I don't often show my appreciation for your submissions and I really should (that goes to all poetry authors here, whether they use form or not, after all, if they all were free, or all within a form, it wouldn't be as interesting or diversified).

Quite frankly, I make a bad poet, because for one thing, it isn't often I have the motivation to try to create poetry, and when I do, I rarely want it shared much. Plus, it's not something that would impress critics much. It's more just an occasional release of reaction-to-experience through non-prose text. Sometimes it's meant to be serious then humorous like the one on post 3001, which is a rather abrupt and unwelcome change when compared to most poetry.

For these reasons and others, I like to lurk rather than post for the sake of reading and enjoying others' poetry, so keep it up! I really do enjoy it.

[S-uper_T-oast]

starfully artful portrayal
of a stunning sinful find
that makes a challenged throb
amidst cloudy blasts afterward
punctuated and perforated
peculiarly procrastinated
to seem to have infinite time
or infinite space
that makes a simple design
possible to portray
a difference of personal says
passe antinque, that defines
itself unique
yet edited and copied
blended and trended to begot
get into it
at a spiral catastrophe
inforamtion overlord:
universal defined implode
unfortunate predatory barrier

[S-uper_T-oast]

reaching off into some sort
of infinite horizion
that echoes our own calls of emptiness
back to us with spashing
dreams and flashing lights
to pollinate the skies with some wishes
ticker tape parades that glitter back from a
hollow echo beneath between believing
that the space we live in
is something more then an empty
computation reverberating with such
sorry dissonace patterened from chaos
the starlight in the machine
as teeming espousal of reprisal
intelligent relinquence of abjection
deliquent minds that blind the occlusion
as masterpieces and vandalism
of intergalactic noise pollution
replicating in it's fractual patterns
of some sort of logicical creation
spaces to space of lasting fascia
racing back against the crashing edges
of the universe of purpose

[S-uper_T-oast]

ministry in action
an act of protraction
racking a brain to elucidate
percolating symphonies of sirens
silent phases of erasure to censor
outright dementia of a sort
retorting be spy deny as for
with held after left went worth
challanged and spaned
planned fortress especially
ex-specially relenting
watch the words dance
into their own self sighted chance
some meaning some fade
lines that line the page
borders and structure and sorts of
restructred baselessly spacially
yet fortuitously sized and divided
square by square into manageable pieces
that are much easier to lose
then the whole they represent
all the better to phase them away
laugh as the lines
space as say the gray

[S-uper_T-oast]

master says not to say
when the trials start or
end up in their own completion
respectfully: serenading the crash
after lashing back at the fortune
found inately relatedly
condesceding all kinds of simply
tinted spare to care with aspirational
has been and never ways
plastering the flushing
swirls about the errors
kindly reminded to err on the side of caution
for photgenic simplistic
castles of music bemusement

[Jedi Gemstone]

Hello my darlings, thought I'd pop by =)
I really need to get my arse in gear and write something sometime, very much out of practice, and I've been so busy with university I've not had chance to sit down XD

I very much look forward to when I can write and illustrate something.
Perhaps one day we shall make a book! We have enough material XD

Has anyone heard from Lee lately? Or Izzy? I sure hope they're okay xxx

Liking the poems so far though guys xxx

[S-uper_T-oast]

burning away minutes of
entropic smoking rings
to measure the gravity
of the infantile irrationality
this harsh reality
spires flyers that dictate
sighing liars firing the blast
open wages and cages
to line their own designs
simply saying that nothing is
worth relaying into individualized
portions that should be rightly
grouped into a grander design of larger
proportions
emotions break apart fracturing
sensationality of sense into fences
whence forth: be a seperate sort
fortiude duely stolen in
sewn in, by fucking chance
to give infinity a time to dance

[izchan]

:: Much ado about man ::
It aint easy being me
or being her
or being alive
a little bit of patience
a little more of truth
and things starts to shimmer
between light and sooth
I sometimes wonder
why is it we persist
that we are civilized
when all indication says otherwise
Just because we can write poetry
and we can enjoy the sunset
merely means we are beings that pay more attention to fickle notions
than actual real world needs
is it any surprise that we rule the earth to extintion?

Its been a while.
But I am alive.

[S-uper_T-oast]

nice to see you iz. things still seem to be alive in here somewhat.



knowing one percent
of one percent of nothing
seems to be a good enough stepping stone
to latch onto endless fractions of a percent
towards some unknown goal of
complete assimilation
of statistics, mysticly devoid for
thoughts and reasoning unstepped
bereft of garaunteed sense

[swingdjted]

Originally Posted by izchan

Its been a while.
But I am alive.

That is good news. It's good that you came back, even though you were probably most active before I showed up here. People always seem to come back to Winamp Forums. I hope you stay a while again.

[S-uper_T-oast]

loops and curls of hair
stranding back into knotted
weaves to play upon as our lives
lead off along split thoughts
and ends of irony delivered
deliberately in such a devious
fashion that masquerades ambiguously
infinite sparse dyes of hues and tones
fade back into their same shade
after years of blissfull indignance
dissonant indifference shattered by serene
empty foils of futures yet spun into
the clippings that wash this
oily sheen into some more conentrated
yet sinister form
warned of our own obsolesence
try to fucking give up already
to stop the tearing tears that apostrophe
your own soliloquy of relativity
obstinate little devils aren't we?
meaningless in our outright miniscule
sore true chartreuse loosely
painted plyingly, outright lyingly
finally, something to actually gamble on
incorporate negativity to maximize
possibility into serenading dystrophy

[S-uper_T-oast]

elevated sense of platform
concentrating as a smile
around and round the circular
spleen leaning after forthwith
elevated space of time
to mind through wind thought provoking
windy spinning out of
blustering forth blasting across
elevated once meaning
protracted delays, relays
belay

[S-uper_T-oast]

her hair just seems to hang their
motionlessly elegant
serendipitously decedent
a radiant toast to each breath
that slips by their curtain like
sheen lights flickering on opening night
effortlessly it waves without slipping
by a single secret that they
lock behind script rewritten and
reviews not yet argued over
what smiles lurk in audience
on stage in their own reluctance
to enchant one another so relentless
act on says the sorry wager
ticker tapes as ticket wastes

the world seems to move so slowly
when the future slips as strands
molten glass that singes clenched fist
sent forth to retrieve just a piece
that tastes away obsolete
shattered down around
painlessly the time flows by
around the eddies and actions
to reminisce upon every future moment
to miss

time seems to move so elegantly
as enchantment and relentless circumstance
dances across missing sees
to lead on the central stage to wage
much more then says
said more and less the same expense
defensively opulent
decidedly, wrong again
buy the ticket express less sense, expression
is it's reward

[S-uper_T-oast]

for the longest time my creed has been
to face the meaning of life if I don't feel alive
after so many failed assumptions and reckless attempts
in that pursuit, I think I have begun to understand
a more fundamental truth that there is no
point to living even if you pretend to be alive
a simpler solution to this existential pollution is to just
survive and strive to not lose touch with
the expectations bombarding yet this even leaves such a hollow
void of substance as to be more meaningless
then the previous failed perceptions
listfully we glance at this sliver of transience
through some kind of transcendence
but the cost seems to be giving up what I originally strived for
leaving me with some new infinite question
what is the point then of living if I'm not alive?

[S-uper_T-oast]

so sorry to let the time slip by
evidently, my sense of punctuality
is well lacking my need for spontaneity
flashy moments that begin to draw
a jagged line connecting this
things called birth of consciousness
towards an always looming disconnect
point a to point b
each moment derivative of some other
whether to decide which scale to
analyze directionality and enjoyment

[S-uper_T-oast]

arrogance seems to be my best trait
if it can be taken as such
air of reason that decides
what most of myself to place
dexterity elation of obstinacy
a fair choice between nothing
less of course the required depth
to meet the target
that seems to always be drifting days
and days away
further and angrily such
it recedes from our intended determination

[izchan]

::Concussion Dreams::
For those who still dream the dream
remember these words I say
everything is but an illusion
in all that is but a lie
don't be deceive by the glitters
and stop looking for a way out
be practical and just open your eyes
peace awaits for those who wants it
no miracles awaits these tired legs

so sleep now my fallens
forget it all when morn comes
Another trial begins

Not rythmic but its me.