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FromNothingICome's Journal



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1 entry this month

 

21:18 May 17 2006
Times Read: 529


Okay, I suppose you’re here for some great poetry. That’s really unfortunate, as I have only my verbal psychosis to share with you. After the first few entries, most of the stuff here will be published here for the first time. The first few entries will be a mix of VR Exclusive material, and some of my favorites from my livejournal. Speaking of which, I like the opening over there much better. I wrote:



Okay, welcome to my little corner of the internet. Here I will be posting some of my crappy poetry, so you can read it and send me death threats when you think it sucks. But seriously, any comments are welcome. Those whose religious sensibilities are easily offended, or those offended by erotic imagery, or words like "fuck" should just leave right now. I'll be posting newer stuff, as well as some old. That being said, a word on my work:



I dislike the way I write sometimes. I think that when my stuff rhymes, it sounds very juvenile. In my opinion, if Dr. Seuss was depressed and took far too much acid, it might sound something like this. Ready?







In the Valley




Death, around every corner but yours;

in every valley, save mine.

And we drink from the cup we are given.

And we eat of the fruit, never tasting the vine.










Currently Untitled




I let your name roll over my tongue like ripe berries.

You were the sweetest taste of a future memory.

The all and the only--you became grave and open sky.

Deceptively finite: you were the ending I never knew.

Understandably void: I merged into your spaces,

and was lost.










Affected




My foot is firmly in my mouth.

My insides are still coming out.

I scream a smile but you pass through it.

And never know what to do.

My best friend Exacto grins metallic from the dresser.

Maybe he's laughing too.

I'd sell my soul for friendly eyes.

Sell my soul for loving arms.

Maybe I'm just that desperate.

Maybe I'm just like you.










Simian Pageantry




Simian Pageantry:

We strut around like peacocks-

Our feathers unfurled

for the approval of others.



Donning our oddish coiffures

and calculated expressions

we pace the sidewalks and mega-malls.

Waiting for others to notice.










Cold and Impartial




Falling snow not unlike

dying angels

hits the ground

like hammers

cold

and impartial

beautiful

short-lived

cold and impartial.










Angry Words




I know something of angry

words...

of the gruff retort to fevered oral masturbation.



What is said with a

smile

is often wrapped in bitter blankets--

kept hot for the explosion.



Your painfully facile

utterance

is worth but a pound of nothing,

from vacant mind to wounded ear.



Amidst the heartstorm, our

egos

expend such injurious effort

simply to scar one another.



I know something of angry words.










The Playback




Sift through the blue kickback. On playback it sounds like a melody. A memory. A means to wash away. On your hard back on hard soil, drifting to the black--sweet and syrupy. Passing through phases like phrases you repeat just to know you're alive. Laughing, you're nameless and faceless and painfully swept under some kind of rug. And do you love? Tangerine and cherry blossom, scarlet slashes fill my vision. Who said life could hold a rhythm? Who is the architect and confidant, the commandant? Alpha and Omega... I listened to the playback. The melody. The memory. Fade to black. To nothing. Nothing.










Life in the Void




The halogen light

casts conspicuous glares

across grasses and rooftops

amidst the rain’s falling.

Betwixt winter and Autumn

I’m looking for patterns but--



Structure breaks.

And I’m left without season.










Men of God




The population police shall come

swarming round your door;

and without ever knocking,

will go rifling through your minds.



God bless those predatory gentlemen

in suit and tie chicanery.

Perfectly manicured hands,

perfectly suited to hold you down.



You’ve become both sin and felony

with your contemptible cries---

and so will come these men of god

with stake and kerosene prosecution.










The Darkest Embrace




When death kisses me long and deep

I hope it won't feel like this.

And though I know she won't be sweet,

I'm sure she'll taste just like you.



I know she'll be just like you.



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