Challenge 105: Revolution - Ends 28th March
 

[b]Revolution[/b]


Orbital motion about a point, especially as distinguished from axial rotation: the planetary revolution about the sun.
A turning or rotational motion about an axis.
A single complete cycle of such orbital or axial motion.
The overthrow of one government and its replacement with another.
A sudden or momentous change in a situation eg "the revolution in computer technology."
Geology. A time of major crustal deformation, when folds and faults are formed.

The Art of Becoming Lifeless
 

I’ve never seen such make-up smears
On such a dolled up silver screen beauty.
Here you go Hollywood horror,
Fear not, for all you need is this compact,
And mirror to apply some personality.
So, modern artist for the hiding of feelings,
Is that what you call happiness?
The ability to mask what others won’t accept.
Paint me a portrait over burnt canvas,
With today’s form of brushes and paint.
After all, you create a masterpiece every morning,
And I’m just asking to see your face.

Jackets over puddles and spaghetti string romances,
Are embellished to the point of surrealism.
And when I frequent these ballroom dances,
I can’t help but excite the chance this might,
Be the effects of some inhaled hallucinogen.
But the only trip I feel is the one I’m hearing,
Through a slur of exhaled sounds and syllables.
Roll down the red carpet and number these tables
Because we need guidance like we need labels.
And when my mouth fills with blood and saliva,
Maybe because I can’t help but salivate when I think,
How sour life can be plus the hole I chewed in my cheek.

Silver screen beauty, shed your tears,
And your fears will go along with them,
In tumbling revolutions halting at your chin.
Find comfort in the lack of understanding,
For, healthy hearts must realize the world is a tomb,
For the dead that never stopped breathing.
Skyscrapers are just enlarged mausoleums,
With doors for the blind, but curious spirit.
Dig up a cemetery and construct a museum,
God forbid we don’t document our downfall.
Fear not, my silver screen beauty,
Because sooner or later, we all go numb.

[b] - Please Understand That My Motive Wasn’t Clear -[/b]
I’ve spent these past days wondering
How long you’ve been hanging upon
My southeastern winds.
How long have you been looking for a stop to
The painful revolutions in your head?
Seek me out in this time of
Blackouts and stakeouts;
I swear I can make it worth your while.
[i][Please, I understand the hesitation.][/i]

And I’ve spent ages trying to recreate the way
Your fingers used to scribble
Profundities across my back.
And the way the heart-stopping blue of
Your eyes seemed to allow me to
Believe that once,
We were stardust.
And that once,
An angel fell, desperately
Trying to grasp what remained of her sun.
And to feel so desperate
Would be the loneliest feeling.

[b]What things fall?[/b]
[i]Once, an angel and
Once, a man…[/i]

I’ve spent these past days locked away in the dark,
Suspended by the belief
that you will
return to
me.

[b]Dollars and Sense[/b]
Thirty eight dollars and my wallet's clean.
So put your cards up, darling.
Two Kings, an ace and a diamond queen.
One card short- you should be crying.
But mascara doesn't run
Like blood after the smoking gun.
You've got bigger fish to fry,
You've got more important lies, tonight.

Don't bother faking how you feel about me.
If I wanted to ditch you,
It would have happened long ago.
I am not aching for the touch of your scent.
This is my revolution
I'm done waiting by my window.

Ten thirty eight and my alarm clock's ringing,
Please turn the light off when you leave.
Instead of talking in my sleep I'm softly singing.
I know my heart is not the only one on your sleeve.
So why bother to hide it?
I'm not forcing you to admit-
But false deceptions get kind of old,
Especially when they're as poor as all of yours.

But I don't blame you for playing the game-
If you cheat the way you gamble-
I guess you're lucky that the press don't know.
And I don't care to hear the names,
Of every man from every scandal,
Or how every second guy is, oh, so shallow.

Don't bother faking how you feel about me.
If I wanted to ditch you,
It would have happened long ago.
I am not aching for the touch of your scent.
This is my revolution
I'm done waiting by my window.

[b]…and they named him with defamation[/b]

Traitors and fiends, seemed devilishly hungry for
Literatures protractible and ever so distracting,
The secrets they held under bottle-caps, atrociously
Esoterica hides, the long-sweater handcuffs drape…
Venetian blinds over a stick-figure parody of mine,
Revolution corpse burns my fuel for a moment;
Like a loving vampire of discarded skin…

My precocious precious…
The night is tired, trialled and court-marshalled,
For the morning, I’ve become so drained
And un-belonging…

This movement of my seams and junctions
Has become unpredictable, tremendously certain,
I’ve left the curtain, and fallen on dementia.
Worn-out and lurid,
The battered character lets loose a final storm.
A cloud to hang from the rafters of…

Unimportant rooftop estates...
There snaps the neck, three musical pieces;
It’s last sound so silent.
One final performance for the empty crowd,
[i]Then you can go home to an abstract art form
that lingers in the air of uncertainty…[/i]

[b]A STANDING TOAST TO BALLS AND BALLADRY[/b]

There are always heroes, no matter the age
They are born on a wave of misery
Brought forth by a carriage of their own two feet
Crafted and cast whenever god blinks
They burst out like a traitorous shot
End toasted in all our slyest slurred drinks
Remembered by amnesia, mossy stone and the worms
Who crawl in redefining on their own hungry terms

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With petrol-soaked rags and swords gone awry
Talk and plan anticipating the adrenaline high
From being part of the revolution when

We'll take a match to the blue touch paper
Of avenging warfare and ravaged anger
We'll storm the stale offices of oppression
Where breathing ruins lie trapped by a soulless chore
Plant explosives and run screaming with laughter
Down the staircase with the rescued at the fore
Through glass, breaking walls and executive toys
Riding stolen chairs and intoxicating joy

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With repainted flags and apocalypse nigh
Talk and plan anticipating the warm sigh
From being part of the revolution when

We'll stand as one and block the road
And look up with transfixed wide-eyed wonder
At the beauty of smoldering arcs of destruction
Of what used to be our lives, used to be our cell
And say "How could I have lived without seeing this?"
The burning and flowing of a blown-out hell
Listen to silence which through the dust has risen
And dance in the snow of what used to be our prisons

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With new symbols and old reasons why
Talk and plan anticipating the open sky
From being part of the revolution when

We'll say "I saw war" and "I saw peace"
"And there wasn't really much difference to me
Except in one the boredom was more intense
And the excitement was cheaper in a way"
We'll shake the streets until the cracks fall out
And stomp them all back into the clay
Play with abandon childlike in the debris
Shift and shout with anarchic euphoria free

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With sketched out guitars and footsteps to defy
Talk and plan anticipating the badge of blacked eye
From being part of a revolution's gambling den

With now empty glasses broken on the floor
We'll eulogise anecdotes of every infamous lost war
And we'll wake from weird dreams on a beachy distant shore
Wipe our wounds, say "I'm fighting again never"
But it's a joke, it's a joke, we'll stay 'til our songs are smoke
Condensing with the steam, scratched into oak
Burnt in a home-made drum to warm the hands of folk
Written in the well, printed in endeavour

Singing, fighting, running drunk in dark woods of now whatever
Laughing, brawling, stumbling drunk in dark woods of then forever

Gah, mine sucks *** compared to the ones you guys have submitted.:(

[B][U]Revolution[/U][/B]

Lives lost for oil (They think we don't care)
Laws broken for self-gain (How much more can we bear?)
Most of the world hates us (We must prepare) for a

Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
It's not like an apple that's ripe and falls from the tree
We must make it fall (We must make it fall)

I hope I'm there (When the first shot is fired)
I hope I'm there (When the dictator is retired)
I hope I'm there (When the system is rewired)
I will be there (when we start a)

Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
It's not like an apple that's ripe and falls from the tree
We must make it fall (We must make it fall)

I'm lost in a land
polluted by it's own
killing off one another
like a dog killing for a bone

we won't last much longer this way
change must be at hand
if they won't step down themselves
we must take them down

Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
It's not like an apple that's ripe and falls from the tree
We must make it fall (We must make it fall)

[B][U]So Foul And Fair A Day I Have Not Seen[/B]
[/U]
Cubicled into feeding trays
Choking on 19th century linguistics
A glue stick sphinx recites banal riddles on a cement floor
Amid revolution hanging on the lobes of my ears
I can’t pull my gaze away from the pain
But I hear a sniffle

[B]Lean Down, Maybe Left, Just Bring Me The Trash[/B]

The old man has still got pride,
Wrecking tattooed on his side.
Still gives.
Makes live.
He did it to help,
Red, Blue,
Death clue.

We’ve got bills in our pocket,
Homes made after busted locks.
Let loose.
Grabbed loot.
We do it for fun,
The thrill,
The kill.

Bring them a smiley,
Sticker them up.
Mishap, toy aisle,
Give them a mop.

Bring me, lead me, I want this,
Revolution would be bliss.
For us,
We flush,
See it go down smooth.
There lives.
There wives.

Bring them a smiley,
Sticker them up.
Mishap, toy aisle,
Give them a mop.

SITTING LONELY

Solitary the crow fades, taken to the wing
His haunting cry wafts, an epitaph
Looking down through slanted feeble light
Barred windows mark the borders
Beneath the gallows piercing glee

Deep in the marrow, of
A thousand sleepless nights
Prisoners hug the stones for warmth
Their wounds are open and grievous
Eyes of passions past, extinguished

A change of heart, A change in season
Who can force the world’s hand

The tall grass bends, regardless of the wind
Yet deftly it still stands

Pawns of a grandeur scheme
Flicker your souls to the wind
The days will spin without you
Revolutions you’ll never see
Hallowed are the deeds of men

Many years and many miles
Now sitting lonely in disbelief
New eyes burn to make their mark
I’ve dreamt these fettered dreams
I’ve walked the road you seek

Just wrote one, but since mine have a way of sucking after I post them, I'll see if still looks good in a day or two...

Hmm..doesn't look too great, but I may as well, already wrote it...

[B]The Miracle of Life (and Death)[/B]

As you sit, dejected,
swimming through this recycled new year
with gleaming bars like burnished stars,
wrap your homemade prison around you like a blanket,
damp stones glisten, with perspiration born of desperation,
iniciation by saturation, the shattered thoughts of
a broken nation

So scream into your pillow, bang your fists against the wall,
hurtling through and endless pit, a never-ending fall,
stretching for the cosmos, fingers caress the sun,
with every revolution, our journey's almost done

And we've been running off fumes since the day we were born,
but logic is a poor excuse, shaky as an orchid in a hurricane
archaic as our endless search for
artificial paradise, trite tones, plastic trees and orange tans
as we bury our heads in the sands
of time, the winds of change, we're all deranged...

so scream into your pillow, bang your fists against the wall
hurtling through an endless pit, a never ending fall,
stretching for the cosmos, fingers caress the sun,
with every revolution, our journeys almost done.

[I]Was it worth it?
-No
Would you do it again?
-In a heartbeat.[/I]

Perhaps perhaps

P.S. Looks like a ripped you off a bit, Bob. Sorry, din mean to.

[B]A song for the fifth day[/B]

Let it be said that sound is a single word, stretched
unto the skin -My tongue is the image
of your life. I am your secret verse
surfacing a Persian moon. This Rubaiyat is a treasure
that has no outward key.

Let it be clear that my blood flows in casks, my flesh
still weak. And my wisdom is a child on a street
without a heart spilling a stranger's soul on this March
day of fools. Still I return, my tongue commands me,
bid me rest under a vineyard gaze.

For the lives of the martyrs are written on labels of gold-
Like tongues, they rise and ease my hurt.

Pale I have cast my shadow unto your earth.
I've tilled the skies with the scent of your love
and though it rain nightly with the fruit of your touch,
must I seek the courage to find an answer to this tale?

Thus it has been for a lifetime of rust
my revolution is without a cause. I rise up
against the shades and with you, I shall have
conversations about the light.

[CENTER]I want to write something meaningful
Yet minor details hinder me

Hours of failed attempts
To blossom poetry from wilted prose
Leave me with disjointed fragments
And my computer mocks, “Consider Revising”

And many nights have spawned
a moralistic war
Over whether to capitalize god
Oh, how ignoring the shift key
Can give life to such disrespect

Yes, I want to write something meaningful

Revolution.
Our [B]words[/B] carve our names into monuments.[/CENTER]