TL's Guidance for the Depraved and Lascvicious
 

I'll post a poem or haiku here every so often. . .
Criticism is fine and so is insults, I'm just stretching my tendrils.



Cry in the Bright

Walk as we will, drag as it suits

Cold is the air, twisted table sheets

Bird frozen on the pike, vomit grown to roots

Told is the wind, chalazion teats

The dusk is dead, the dusk is dying

The screaming sun sits spooling

I hear the prickled timer gasping and frying

Mad love of the dark, laughing in tremolo

The bird thaws sipping deep downs

The twisted eye of pragmatic below

We are not here, I am within . . . within

It is stabbing, it is burning outside

Twist and cut downwards, split the air into a scream

Perplexed by only the sound of deep crying.




One done more at another time.

An amazing opening. :beer:I'm jealous. The rest is hit and miss, I love "laughing in tremolo" and don't understand" The twisted eye of pragmatic below" :confused:All in all I think the bird imagery is what reminds me of Roland The Gunslinger. Something Stephen King would've written, maybe King would've used something else besides"I hear the prickled timer gasping and frying":usehead:

Haiku for today.

Bull**** comparisons?
Where is the solid ground,
In their faceless claims?

:thumb:

This is actually pretty good. Starts off well, then it kinda disintegrates a bit as it goes along.
I like the tone, although the motive becomes obscure halfway through.

I'm really ****ing sick of everything

Sleep clings like the crabs as I leave my box
clock sluggish, streets with feigned greeting
make little noise, gaseous air works like detox
people swim through people, flesh in fleeting
I'm sick of ****ing rhyming . . .
I walk up the street light, a man with a goat's head tells me off.
Dark Tower reference?
The fans should **** off.
He nods and offers a drink, potion in hoof, cork in teeth.
I decline and walk off, cars pass through whitening space
Men in grey face paint climb women and stairs with clubs
Black-hatted albinos sit in circles with jams in dubz (Yes I wrote a ****ing z)
All the poles have speakers.
All the childrens have ***** shaped ear wear.
All the stars have eyes and swollen phalluses that drip when you stare long.
I walk to the point of the hill, where the dawn meets the pale ain soph.
And I see you standing there, so concordially I stick you with a Freundlich.

As much as I hate double-posting. . .
Haiku for the day.

Calypso rowboat.
Perspirating the etching glass,
in the resting summer eye.

isnt "laughing in tremolo" awfully close to the cars ..Moving in Stereo...
Lifes the same Im moving in stereo
Lifes the same except for my shoes
Lifes the same youre shakin like tremolo
Lifes the same its all inside you

You tell me, was the faerie **** in your poem awfully close to Tinkerbell in Peter Pan?

Another ****ing haiku.


Woke up,
My feet are ****ing cold
Where is the ****ing ceiling?

Late night haiku

Closing threads
Unfocused ideas dripping
Into the oblivion of squabble