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Does anyone have any poetry they like to share? Here is mine...
Medieval End to a zealot Religion:
Where in the books of life, in the hands of faith has others been fated. Mentality of human nature, guided without cause we see our soul All that we thought it, all that we thought without it, all gone
Now naked in a field of fire the goodness of what we were vanishes Demons preached by drunken pastor, his mind of his own The rivers of blood swam by the condemned
There is no justice; there is no strength, a collection of a cult A million people of one tyrant, of one power When there is nothing secret nor safe in its destruction it will destroy its own, itself
To betray and be betrayed and the heart of the golden man, Through time, it has ended what goodness it enclosed And now sights are blurred and battered and its old rule all but fading
For Myself:
The heart of the forest misty and dark, Lesser than a heart of warmth It is cold and frail, the glass that surrounds it of no reflection Which the cloud denies
When in sudden light there is a burst of sun, a shred of hope, To the forgotten one, I see myself and for what its worth, there is only fear and spite that feeds my hate
What I can’t find I might never see, that which is gone from me is never free, If its heart comes to me, it will only fuel what I hate in me
Than there is darkened flesh, More of beast than humanities most faithful test, If its consumption is too much to beat, I will be alone bitter in despair,
The countless days of waiting all roll through to one painful moment of asking. Everything surges through the brain of a mortal. For a split second the world is bliss.
--Then she says "No".
"We don't make movies for critics, since they don't pay to see them anyhow."
I don't know too many guys who can write poetry about themselves like you have just written. It requires a certain combination of skill and raw emotion many men either just are not gifted with or simply cannot relate with inside themselves in the way you've expressed, as it tends to be more of a feminine than masculine quality. I do applaud your talent.
While what I say you may find disagreeable, this is solely what I take from your words. I apologize but I tend to read people by what they write, so please stop reading now if you don't wish to read my interpretation of what you are trying to say. Or you are not looking for an interpretation, rather just compliments on how beautiful it is. It's quite beautiful.
To me, it reads you use your poetry to convey your need for human interaction. You crave it but you will say it does not matter to you. You mask your loneliness by comparing yourself to things that are dark; this is your method of seeking attention. Internal desires you supress and your perception of self.
But when you feel you have received what you seek, it becomes your sky, moon and stars. It makes you feel...elated because you like you finally have that connection. They make you see inside yourself. Those aspects you despise. Those you think you can never make go away.
Here. I will submit something I wrote for you. It's entitled "The Memory of Mountains".
The memory of mountains spreads anger like fire through my veins like wind through empty passes birds fill crimson skies devoid of clouds I sigh and think of coming rains when all will not be so well
I’ll remember I cannot swim and let currents carry me downstream, until I cannot help but flail my arms and cry out in vain
And maybe I will catch a limb, or a drifter will come to my rescue and I will convince myself they were waiting all along, waiting for my floating form to pass waiting for my burial at sea
On my back I am thinking, if only it didn’t hurt so much my head toward the sky making faint shapes of weather beaten rocks
My eyes half closed
Water fills narrow channels carving paths along my misshapen nose it’s longer now
I imagine it won’t always be like this dream life impending
I wait for the day when one morning I can wake up and think of absolutely nothing at all.
"I dreamed I was a pure white falcon, flying up a mountainside, with a quiet sea beneath me, and bright stars above me. I was holding keys tightly in my talons. Then I heard your voice, as you said, "I'm with you, Buster, hugging you as we sit on this rock." Then I reached the top of the mountain, and became a boy again. I was six years old, maybe seven. I was wearing white robes as I drank clear water from God's fountain. Then I jumped into a scarlet robe, ran to a cliff, and looked at angels; they wanted to wash my feet, but I assured them I could do it myself. So I washed my hands and feet, and then I woke into this BETTER, MORE PLEASANT dream of you being here to love and protect me, to teach me about the world. I love you, mom." -- BUSTER CHAN
I'm considering adding the following song to a future edit of the scene where Banana talks with her friend Adam Sprite...
When ADAM SPRITE calls BANANA his NIRVANA GIRL, Banana asks: "What's a Nirvana girl?" Adam holds her hands, looks in her eyes, and sings:
Everyone's comfortable because of your love; they smile with comfortable certainty, knowing that they'll always see your smile. Everyone who feels loved because of your smile, feels so loved that they smile! Your smile makes them smile -- it makes them feel loved! You make them feel loved. You are good enough to defend good or bad from feelings that are sad. The un-free that are free because of your smile are countless innocents! You make the guilty innocent! You free the un-free! I feel good enough to see the one who smiles! I am good enough to see the one who smiles! You are good enough to be the one who smiles! You're my Nirvana Girl.
Banana says, "Just so you know: I already have a boyfriend."
Rebirth of death unto its former shape, Whose icy tentacles will soon perish, From vanquished, burst forth new green forces draped, Budding life replaces the nightmarish.
Where tiny alabaster icebergs clear, Meld with branching seas of envious hue. Then Winter's fangs shrink to degrees obscure Whose translucent blood nourishes anew.
Windy howlings cease to pierce the aether, The chattering of feathered kin will sound, Hoary rays of sunshine tempt the meeker, And cerulean canvases astound.
Then what was once, will then come once again, But metamorphosed, filled to edges brim.
To whisper that love is a garnet rose Of virtuous temperance and radiance That, weary minded, forgets all our woes To dare to emanate some brilliance
Whose hands of ancient carved you in soft jade? Heavens bright beacon to bay at the hounds That none born in hell could tempt her to fade Whose breath doth breathe Natures wind in sweet sound
Cascades of amber gracing the flawless And eyes the tempting shade of summer skies Possess ange'lic grace of trapped enchantress And with a single touch lifts souls on high
Mere smile with brandished, marring elegance A mortal goddess gifts her mortal realm Wielding pureness of earthly permanence A laugh a tempest to uproot life's helm
To clutch with a stuttering hesitance Bleed away our souls with a flowers thorns Virgin wounds opened in anxious presence To be near, to touch, and in dreams adorn
Withering as soft petals of virtue No kind words, no phrase of some assurance No joyful hori'zons for to follow you Only sorrows sad endless occurrence
Reminisce of lost times and last chances Face Fate and turn your back to the expanse