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01-09-2010, 04:46 PM | #1 (permalink) |
Account Disabled
Join Date: Dec 2009
Location: The Eyrie, Vale of Arryn, Westeros
Posts: 3,234
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Tales of Beedle the Bard
I'm in a sharing mood, let me know what you think, I guess:
1. If not today the willow speaks, it’s tales to widows, speak, a madness wondered, branches over thee, once we watch her, here we find her, all but sparkling sinew, and praise, praise would we with this light on our brains made, praise the dust as it lands, pieces of each other, but only harder to swallow. Mother hands grip those eyes of old, we speak. Laughter poured out of pitchers that never held Grace, forward we may march to death of our Selves, only watching for the next version And these hands, we come together To tear each other apart but what do we do, When we no longer bleed? _____________________________________ 2. wipe of yesterday's makeup and act like you didn't hear what he said These sober moments they make me for closer to death as it ever was and I say, hands full how can I know where I am going if I don't know where I've been on nights like this you could slay a dragon, but not walk the straight line. When you laugh in the direction of the wind it comes back as sobbing but it doesn't matter sound can be recycled under glass they come back on wishes and second thoughts you can bear witness to this tangled mess I've made of my life. ________________________ 3. Don't ask me about myself. And insofar no one heeds this warning, and one day a background noise of a man asked me; "What are your interests, what do you do?" And the truth is: I get up in the morning, I wonder if I should. I stretch myself into being and things that be. I think, and I don't know what I think, or what the sun will say.I don't believe in contrived goodness. I believe in being mean, I believe in telling everyone to **** off because they'll always be knocking at your door otherwise asking you to hold their hand on their walk off the next mountain but you know you'd go along but no, no I won't because I listen but I'm not hearing everything, I'm not a bowl or a basin. Oh, it's true as they say I'm sensitive and that my nerves are close to the surface of my skin. I am soft, and as those say, delicate, but I am infinite. I believe in love and force, because I won't watch death because I'm not afraid and sure they'll look at you and laugh when you see right, but you see right through them. I'm unwell, I fold myself inward trying to become small, so very small as life goes through me, but as I become small the worlds fall together, every star could fit in my hand. I sleep through days because the nights are alone, I don't feel this loneliness, and so this sets me apart from you, but I'm more than the I. I am the I, but I am also you. I stumble into funny things with strange plants with no names and I put my hands to the dirt and make them grow into flowers. My arrogance is my salvation. I like to watch the lights and imagine other lights and other places and other people watching lights and cities full, and people and maps. I like songs that remind me of rain. These are the things that no one knows. ___________________________________________ 4. I’m living in the middle of The kitchen in an eighth Of a night of Smack and too many cigarettes The laughing leech in love Has come to eat his words I contemplate this as Mr. Pretentious spews that I’m too good for him and Miss Yes ma’am would rather not Take sides of anything And I say that’s fine That no, really, I’m okay. (but I just make less of more more more) And really, who knows me better than my own bloodstream? But at the moment I want to make up for it By weeping And by begging For something I didn’t really want In the first place. It seems to me that I Am taking this in the wrong direction When all I want to think about is That maybe on a good day Bukowski is my father And my world just might Be a single solitary atom On someone’s a$$hole. -------------- (yes, the last one was really written on heroin, when I was 15/16) |
01-15-2010, 05:39 PM | #2 (permalink) | |
"Hermione-Lite"
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: New York.
Posts: 3,084
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I like your works.
The first one was definitely my favourite. The one talking about yourself started off well but I lost interest. Quote:
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01-15-2010, 08:42 PM | #3 (permalink) |
i write and play stuff
Join Date: Sep 2009
Location: Sydney, Australia
Posts: 239
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nice **** you drugged up gnome
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http://www.myspace.com/chrisneto - tune in to chill out |
01-16-2010, 01:06 PM | #5 (permalink) |
i write and play stuff
Join Date: Sep 2009
Location: Sydney, Australia
Posts: 239
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you bound about with concrete glee and deign to ride on silver stallions, with upside crescents for eyes
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http://www.myspace.com/chrisneto - tune in to chill out |
01-17-2010, 04:56 AM | #7 (permalink) |
art is sold for money
Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: Belgrade, Serbia
Posts: 730
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it took some time to rad it all, but I think it's totally cool
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Last.fm The Music I make http://www.indabamusic.com/opportuni...missions/52856 |
01-17-2010, 12:34 PM | #9 (permalink) |
Music?! Lets boogie!
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: CO
Posts: 215
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You are a writer after my own heart..... well not exactly, but you write in the style that I find enthralling. If you want to refine any of these, make sure to keep the chaotic stream of conciousness feel, but also try to make some of the wandering a bit more consice. Especially the piece about "you" is hard for people to read simply because there is so much fantasticness in there. By making only the very important things powerful, the piece itself becomes not only more powerful, but more likely to reach more people.
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"Not remotely! Because iocaine comes from Australia, as everyone knows. And Australia is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you." |
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