Dragging my feet as I walk I scrape my pen along the dirt and kiss the breeze that beckons me
I find the neartest branch and the sharpest thorn and sit beneath the shade and declare myself a king
Crown of thorns, shadows cast horns, I've come to save all that will listen with this pen
I'll spell out salvation in the dark and illuminate your heart with my neon halo that reads 'Welcome'
This is the place to stay and I shall never close my door if you're willing to listen
If you're not afraid to hear my story
A story about love and dragons and a king who gouged out eyes because he couldn't bear to watch his love leave
But his love didn't leave, you see, and he found once more
Crucified to a tree, and he said 'I love thee', and kissed the feet of the bleeding meat
Everyone come and take a piece and call it his body but don't forget to bring a pen to write a lovely thank you card
It's all he asks, I'm sure, is that you leave him with a parting gift
A smile, a wink, and a warm gesture here and there as you watch him hanging and crying
He's not Christ, this is not about salvation or heresy, just open your mind and see your inner-self
Your lack of understanding is what is dangling upside down and by the feet
Blood rushing to your head, eyes swelling, your face goes red and you blur out
If you rock back and forth silently enough you'll just sound like a twig in the wind...mellow...calm...forgotten...God bless





As a whole it may suck, but I think it is a good example of beat poetry...I just sat there and typed, not really thinking :thumb:

[I]the last one was really well done, lemme have a go:[/I]


"move past me" remarks the the thousand demons shimmering at the end of her smoldering cigarette, a smoldering dream.
yeah, we knew each other once, but train tracks threw us apart, and the rusted hinges couldnt roll again, again across fields.
the fields, places where smiling fawns through blankets over our eyes, when we did move past them, and the thought only of their dance.
so in love they were, with the clapping of hoves, on the hills, laced with the earthy musk of your unlit ashes, of my innocence.
but like the sun, innocence had its brother, the moon and naivety, and that was when brush fire took our fawns, took them.
now they refuse to dance "not with the sun in our eyes" they demand, not with smoke in our lungs.
coughing, you slip me a note, crinkled as my soul, lashed by tormented lonliness, left were windy sidewalks start.
the letters can't spring, broken ankles, doctor's trips leave them lifeless, like you, and oh so many cigarettes.
coughing, you fake a smile for me, "we were young". ya, but it doesn't mean we danced with someone elses' feet,

does it?

[I]there, thats all i got
.....i wasn't even thinking, my eyes were shut the whole time[/I]

bump...this thread definitely needs to stay at the top and I'll have another beat poetry entry by this time tomorrow night.

I love Beat poetry and I try to free-associate sometimes (writing) but it's not as easy as it looks. It requires quite a large vocabulary and flexibility, or else you wind up repeating yourself over and over with no forward movement.

The key really is not to think - improvised poetry is done subliminally.

^true, true. its a challenge, indeed.

Hehe hell yes the thread is working.

:cool:

Bit of a bump here.

a bit of a what? bump? :thumb:

Who said bump??

did i just hear someone say "pmub" backwards?

now, I'm promising I will post another today :p

cant wait mr. trail, i liked the other one very much...i'd like to hear you read though, that would be awesome...with some old guy with his double bass and another jamican guy with bongos or something

And I'll make this final my stand my greatest with three rounds to the head
Another two the chest, and soon you'll fall dead
Marching through the winter's forests an army of nameless, faceless ready to die
Ready to bow to my every whim, indeed, they'll die this night
Our final stand, in the snow, in cold blood and snow boots, for a lover's heart
I shall gladly slaughter every new born for your love, or the love of someone like you
I shall march an army for you, in the rain, and in the snow, and beneath the sun
I'll bomb the stars right of the sky and I'll pierce your flesh with a firefly to illuminate the scars in your eyes
Everything glows red and gold for you tonight, in the fold and behold, you're in a different kind of light
Hopped up on love and snorting the dust of crushed angel wings, a mass of Heavenly Kings help me fight for your affection
Raped by the beast of this dramatic love scene, I'm brought to my knees as my heart is washed clean
Scraped of all the smiles, injected with lies from the silver barrel
My time to suck it up and take it like a man to see one more smile across that pretty face before I shove it through a window

Two and two are
formed in the mindless ramblings of incoherent slumber
never to remain whole
neither to fall apart
to change
is now little more than a footnote on the memoirs of human existance
why adapt
when surroundings are altered at the click of a
buttoned down formality

where once sat the mind now sits this
blind instablity
lurks behind a representation of the heart
felt cries of the wanderer

in compacted prose meaning is expanded ten
fold your clothes
pack your bag
re enter the artistic exhibition of grey
mono
toned down

mark your territory and revert to sleep
for irish eyes smile without comprehension
to the unaware
a rose
a rose
by any
other name

BUMPer to BUMPer Driving!!

ignite the flames of passion inside,
for i promise this is all i have to say tonight.
a hounded point of existence is all i've ever found,
and i've seen the likes of the very edge...
"come feast at my banquet," he says, allowing us to cope with what we have,
or to say goodbye-
and remain nameless and blessed outside of death.
take your pivot as you move up and down the stairs of the saga we take our very breaths in.
your's and mine, our silhouettes stare blankly on toward another direction.
what if it was to be the right choice?
you are hit like another shot of vodka, that intoxicates to the drinker's death. it deadens the toll, just to reap it's ugly benefit.
they laugh at this comedy;
but you are ashamed, because this comedy -
is your sanity.


eh, whatever. I love beat poetry though.

very nice stuff. i really like this thread.

the work on here is in many ways much much better than all the lyric stuff
maybe it has to do with the whole "free your mind" stuff that gaslight is talking about

[QUOTE=Thevermiciousknid]the work on here is in many ways much much better than all the lyric stuff
maybe it has to do with the whole "free your mind" stuff that gaslight is talking about[/QUOTE]

So...do you like my second one?

i like all of your work alot. how about my second one, the experimentation with punctuation?

If you're referring to Whim On!...it messed with my head, dude. I honestly couldn't follow it:(.

:thumb:

well it is meant to just be a mood poem...what general word describes it? and im sorry if it wasnt true beat poetry. :D

TrailofTragedy: I thought the ending to the second one was so awesome, as was the rest. Did you read any of mine? was it any good?

[QUOTE=Thevermiciousknid][I]the last one was really well done, lemme have a go:[/I]


"move past me" remarks the the thousand demons shimmering at the end of her smoldering cigarette, a smoldering dream.
yeah, we knew each other once, but train tracks threw us apart, and the rusted hinges couldnt roll again, again across fields.
the fields, places where smiling fawns through blankets over our eyes, when we did move past them, and the thought only of their dance.
so in love they were, with the clapping of hoves, on the hills, laced with the earthy musk of your unlit ashes, of my innocence.
but like the sun, innocence had its brother, the moon and naivety, and that was when brush fire took our fawns, took them.
now they refuse to dance "not with the sun in our eyes" they demand, not with smoke in our lungs.
coughing, you slip me a note, crinkled as my soul, lashed by tormented lonliness, left were windy sidewalks start.
the letters can't spring, broken ankles, doctor's trips leave them lifeless, like you, and oh so many cigarettes.
coughing, you fake a smile for me, "we were young". ya, but it doesn't mean we danced with someone elses' feet,

does it?

[I]there, thats all i got
.....i wasn't even thinking, my eyes were shut the whole time[/I][/QUOTE]



Don't know about the cigarette references...just doesn't seem, I don't know, right?

"yeah, we knew each other once, but train tracks threw us apart, and the rusted hinges couldnt roll again, again across fields."

Definitely my favorite line.

"but like the sun, innocence had its brother, the moon and naivety, and that was when brush fire took our fawns, took them."

Good stuff too :)

bump this shizza, yo!

We need more input into this thread, people!!! Hopefully I'll have another up by the end of the weekend.

I will be posting something later tonight.

It's a shortcut to getting my English Extension Assessment done :p.

This isn't sure enough
The way we move in the air
It makes me clutch at my chest
And doubt gravity

Sure enough
We align ourselves between the flight paths of telegraph wires
And dotted lines on highways that pattern this city
Streetlights that hang their heads low
And weakly collapse their light onto cracked pavements
As our footsteps fade
And every dying footstep takes a person with it

Somewhere, sure enough, redbrick walls are bathed in grey
And beneath an attic window there's a room that you've seen in your dreams
And even if romanticism is nothing but the fantasies of lonely minds
Logistics state both that it must exists and that you'll never know for sure

[i]Short but I'm tired...[/i]

Gaslight, that was nothing short of amazing! I'm turning this into a competition of sorts:p. My next one will, hopefully, top yours, hehe.

It might even [i]beat[/i] mine.

:amaze:








[size=1]I'm very sorry.[/size]

[QUOTE=joshmay41465]:thumb:

well it is meant to just be a mood poem...what general word describes it? [/QUOTE]

crap



quite possibly the poorest excuse for poetry I have seen here so far.

Are you trying to trick us into thinking you're artsy or something?