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Poetry, prose poems, haiku...
Christian in Gomorrah Do you love me? She said as she rested her head on my shoulder. The party behind us, her eyes soft and lustrous; beguiling, concealing the truth of her feelings; heart of ice that would only grow colder. An angel of death sang enchanting refrains, while she whispered soft promise of free love and the sound of the rock band; rhythmic, pulsating, an abyss awaiting ...
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear: `My name is Ozymandias, King ...
Never tried it, but here we go. (Oh, and the statue is from Ozymandias) ------------------------ SOC(k) My brain is a hunk of beef trapped in a ziplock bag. It floats in a bowl, filled to brim, wrapped in the plastic sack. My brain will kiss the slab tonight its red but soon Ill burn: My coke-bottle love, my linguini-haired friend excuse my brash interjection, ...
I feel I create too many topics. I'm going to start posting most of my new poetry here so that others get the attention needed on the boards. ------------------------------ Untitled Her tender frame slick and shaped like the personality of a cursive s. Her shoulders, as I saw them, tickled with light, spaghetti hair and breathing naked in the ochre, July air. Distance ...
in Just- by: e.e. cummings (1894-1962) in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame baloonman whistles far and wee and eddieandbill come running from marbles and piracies and it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful the queer old baloonman whistles far and wee and bettyandisbel come dancing ...
Updated 07-11-2011 at 11:22 AM by Squalid Glass
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