Jan. 2006 Writer's Thread

[Shakey]

Paranoia.
It seems to be my closest friend these days.
All this time, counting the things that I gave away.
One by one, watching them fall into oblivion.
I wish I could say all of the things that I have on my mind.
But I know If I do, it will blow up in my face.
Paranoia.

[Fetterbug]

This is not mine, but I've always loved this poem:

After awhile you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After awhile you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really have worth.
And you learn and learn…
With every goodbye you learn.
Author Unknown

[Shakey]

When this happened to me, i was in disbelief.
My life and everything that seemed to matter falling to pieces before me.
By the time I hit bottom, I was already numbed by the stabbing pains of the knife in my back. I was paralyzed with shock and fear.
My Siamese cat was my only comfort. She followed me around the dirty city for a week with no food and no water. I was almost dead, how was my cat still alive?
You are the one who did this to me.
Shuffling through the streetlight, sleeping on park benches and in condemned housing. River street has become my home. I survive only with the knowledge that one day this horrible ordeal will be over. I have 3 outfits, some CD's and an empty water bottle on a bag on my back. Remnants of a wasted life, or so I thought at the time.
But now, after the passage of time everything is good in my life again.
At least better than it was at the time.
It required :censored:, :censored: and :censored: again but it is finally over.
I used to pray every night that I would someday be able to get even with you for the horrible things that you did to me.
But now, I must actually thank you. You had to rip my life to shreds to give me the motivation to put it back together.
It is back together and things are much better.
Things are looking up for me as I step into the Sun.

[kirk]

"emotional hardship however painful or petty; is the greatest of inspirations"

-cryptic maturity-

the range
of my escapes,
trapse- easy
over colors and pixalated hues
of blue.



the vibe lied
with lines lost
in timing
i thought i knew.



in fact i am
alone
and my cake
is a silent wish
on a broken pedestal
of giant stages
that to this day remain empty



an unphotogenic
fantasy
all gone wrong
no flame no spark

this zippo will remain
cold







- filthy white

[kirk]

This is not mine, but I've always loved this poem:

After awhile you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After awhile you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really have worth.
And you learn and learn…
With every goodbye you learn.
Author Unknown



in a strange chain of circumstance, my father referenced this poem today. apparantly my grandmother (RIP) sent this to him when he was bumming about a tough breakup.


the timing is unbelievable.....life is a beautiful thing as are family and true friends.

[Fetterbug]

in a strange chain of circumstance, my father referenced this poem today. apparantly my grandmother (RIP) sent this to him when he was bumming about a tough breakup.


the timing is unbelievable.....life is a beautiful thing as are family and true friends.


:affection: This made me smile. It reaffirms my beleif that what we do in life is not random, and that we are all just different threads in the tapestry of humanity.

This poem has gotten me through many troubled days, and I'm glad to see it has brought other people some sort of courage/insight.

[kirk]

:affection: This made me smile. It reaffirms my beleif that what we do in life is not random, and that we are all just different threads in the tapestry of humanity.

This poem has gotten me through many troubled days, and I'm glad to see it has brought other people some sort of courage/insight.


today's word is "perspective"

[Chicago]

Lost, alone, and desolate
Desperation consumes me
And my mind is shattered with pain
Hopelessly I cling to your scent

The waspy wisps of lavender on my pillow
You are gone now
Gone to sleep in my enemy’s camp
To make your bed and bedlam there

With those who would seek to steal you from me
While I resign myself to hoping you come back
Ignoring the poison they would whisper into your ear
And grimly preparing myself in case you don’t.

[kirk]

someone in my family put together a collection of poems my grandmother had compiled over the course of her life. it had to be someone other than her as a copy of her obituary is on the last page.

she was a writer and an english teacher. i'm not much in the mode to write at the moment but i've found some really good stuff reading through this.

guess i'll post some of them from time to time....


-an excerpt from macbeth-

tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
creeps in this petty pace from day to day
to the last syllable of recorded time,
and all our yesterdays have lighted fools
the way to dusty death. out, out, brief candle!
life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more. it is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing

-shakespeare

[PaulieWalnuts]

ODE TO PITTSBURGHERS' BEER

Steel Reserve, no Fruit Of The Gods
What does your steely taste do to my bod?
It's part of your name, so it is no surprise
That a steel aftertaste hits me square 'tween the eyes

And later my head! You're no soft bed of clovers
You're swill that costs nil but the worst of hangovers!
So, Pittsburgh, I love you, your steel and your verve
But keep those two things out of Steel Reserve!

[Midnight_Junglest]

Paranoia.
It seems to be my closest friend these days.
All this time, counting the things that I gave away.
One by one, watching them fall into oblivion.
I wish I could say all of the things that I have on my mind.
But I know If I do, it will blow up in my face.
Paranoia.


Wow that's deep....

[kirk]

This poem was written in 1938 by Herb Lipsitz. This was the guy my grandmother admittedly felt she should have married and spent her life with in the village(nyc).

although he's a great writer i'm glad she ended up with my grandpop otherwise my ass would've never come to exist....here's a sample of his work:

"The Gentle People"

I will walk in the rain tonight,
In the soft caressing summer rain,
Past the street lamps, past the town
Where the gentle people live and die,
Here, where the hill and the rain and the sky
are one,
Here, where the hurrying wind pauses to croon
Some half remembered song in the hemlock and
lofty elm,
I will stand in the rain and forget
The sleeping town, the blur of the street lamps,
The house of the gentle people.

Oh, what have I to do with the gentle people,
They who work in the fields and grow old
Seeking quiet graves on the side of a lonely hill?
I am not of them: I have dreams; they, their plows
And a measure of work to be done.
I have dreams; they, the blue and white of wisteria
And the hayricks piled high.

Down the hill to the town where thr street lamps
Flicker before the houses huddled close,
I go, an Odysseus of the night.
Tomorrow, in the shadow of a lonely hill,
I will scatter seed before me
And watch the gentle people leaning on the plows
To dream of the night, and the rain,
And the sighing of a restless wind.

-HL


.......dude was damn skilled

[the sex molesters]

here's a song i wrote called "i have issues."

G | C | G | C etc.
i once was lost in the darkest
shades of grey
i didn't know where to go or
where to play
but now i look in the mirror
and things are so much clearer
so i'm gonna sing this song
today

D | C | D | C etc.
I love you
dearly
yes, I love you
but sometimes i wish
you'd be more true
I love you
dearly
yes, I love you
but sometimes, honey
your such a shrew
yea, a shrew

So off to find the bar
no i won't take the car
cuz i'm not gonna be driving home today
Yes, I must have a drink
Don't want my brain to think
(just so you know)
i might not get home till the next day