And that is quite possibly the most unnecessary and most idiotic post I have ever seen. Let's see your input into this thread, shall we? And if you looked at Joshmay's other postings(songs for example) they are very, very good. Very original, creative, and deep.

He's just having a little fun, so leave him alone. You are the exact reason why I should be allowed to carry a gun:).

[QUOTE=gaslight]It might even [i]beat[/i] mine.

:amaze:








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

Ahahaha. Good one...







:lol:

3rd grade had just finished
I walked home from school
with my care bear doll against my side

I met Christie in the park near my house
Wandering around as we began to talk
About the episode of power rangers on

And then with a endearing phrase
My breath was taking away
she said "It's a beautiful day isn't it?"

and i began to say "Yeah but.."
but was cut off with..
"Why ruin it?"


..i don't know if it is beat poetry or not..

thank you very much trail :D

too bad he saw through my plot of posting metrical punctuation to get people to think im artsy! *drats, now how shall i achieve my plan of world domination?*

[/evil laughter]

and yep, i have to say that guy is, if not an idiot, very immature and uninformed.

:-* to all my lyrical buddies, i love you all :)

This thread did pick up pretty nicely over time :thumb:.

Pixiesfanyo, I don't see why it wouldn't be.

[QUOTE=joshmay41465]thank you very much trail :D

too bad he saw through my plot of posting metrical punctuation to get people to think im artsy! *drats, now how shall i achieve my plan of world domination?*

[/evil laughter]

and yep, i have to say that guy is, if not an idiot, very immature and uninformed.

:-* to all my lyrical buddies, i love you all :)[/QUOTE]


pfff just because I don't like your poetry means I'm immature.

I thought gaslight's was good, I didn't really like Thevermiciousknid's though.

I mean honestly, what were you trying to accomplish with that puncuation poem of yours?
all it was was "flow, go, there and everywhere" with a lot of puncuation marks.
you could have at least attempted to write something slightly poetic, or used half-words or sounds or anything besides some line taken out of a grade school poetry assignment. Ultimately that poem has no soul to it, and that is why it is bad, and that is why it seems fake (poserish).

The Face of Masochism

he burns
like rhetorical statements that you don't understand
he seizes your face by the other's demand.
you build your own pyre, stack the stones up so high-
the provoked fuel inflames, engulfing the sky.
memory of melodies saturate your thoughts
and past grudges blister the mercy you sought.
insolence, not innocence, has brought you this end
he stares twisted, the deviant guise he bends.
too many times have you been victim to his lure-
and now; now he is laughing with utmost rapture.
your skin is screaming, but not louder than your heart
though silently you wish you could take back your part
"too late, it's too late!" he murmers in your ear
his whispers become your screams- it's the only thing you hear
it's flowing out from in you, your life spilt before the flame
your lungs churning from the toxin though they try, could not tame.
the smoke in your mouth quickly scalds your tongue quiet
the others heard the words, but they refuse to buy it.


it's not really finished, but there you go
-bek

[QUOTE=lulled_clone]pfff just because I don't like your poetry means I'm immature.

I thought gaslight's was good, I didn't really like Thevermiciousknid's though.

I mean honestly, what were you trying to accomplish with that puncuation poem of yours?
all it was was "flow, go, there and everywhere" with a lot of puncuation marks.
you could have at least attempted to write something slightly poetic, or used half-words or sounds or anything besides some line taken out of a grade school poetry assignment. Ultimately that poem has no soul to it, and that is why it is bad, and that is why it seems fake (poserish).[/QUOTE]


well i appreciate your opinion more, now, but the poem was to convey a sense of mayhem and movement, and if you notice the patterns in the punctuation, but yet how they constantly change, and then the way the words seem like they are running away from you as you read them, i feel it establishes a mood of being on a new york city sidewalk during lunch hour.

thats just my interpretation. no need to be so harsh if you disagree.

These wings are made of construction paper and duct tape
Suspending me high above my pain with piano wire and razor blades
Flying, soaring, over the fantasy worlds in this makeshift fairy-tale
My happy ending comes with slit wrists and a bloody love to call my own
Bombard my world with tears and valentines full of day old chocolate
I knew your love could never be fresh and new...
But I don't hold that against you...
Marching on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on
Will we ever stop? Or will we continue to climb for our highest peak in which both of us are smiling?
I don't ever think we'll see that sun, or sleep beneath that moon because we're too different
You're life
I'm death
Although we go hand in hand we could never be together...

the wall
the fall
earth came crashing down
with a bump!!

:)

i havent checked this in ages, and the wonderful poetry just keeps tumbling in. I have been working on post modern poetry on my own, and i'm posting some of it (seeing as its all about 10 lines), although it might not really count as beat poetry (gaslight, does it?)


shimmering veils, that are hands
or formally clenched fists
if you knew them
unjeweled
would you still give them life.
dark coats in closets,
are carcasses from the feast
filled with the stuff of all-
the wolf's milk,
suffered onto the two trojans
who arms ached for her patterned fur.
but they were simply being
fattened

thats one, if it counts, I'll do another

'nother bump, I should have another entry tonight. HOPEFULLY.

[QUOTE=joshmay41465]well i appreciate your opinion more, now, but the poem was to convey a sense of mayhem and movement, and if you notice the patterns in the punctuation, but yet how they constantly change, and then the way the words seem like they are running away from you as you read them, i feel it establishes a mood of being on a new york city sidewalk during lunch hour.

thats just my interpretation. no need to be so harsh if you disagree.[/QUOTE]

ok, but isn't New York loud and busy.. I wouldn't think "flow" and "whim" describe it very well, but I guess I could see how the punctuation could create a feeling of chaos... but quiet chaos.
It seems like it would be better if you used that to describe a scene where everyone is unsettled or startled or offended or something, but no one says anything about it... like maybe if a preacher said something offensive during a sermom, but no one wants to say anything about it.. (you could use the poem to target the close-mindedness of a certain religion... and how no one says anything for fear of being labeled as a non-believer or something like that.. I don;t know)





meh, it's your poem

i love you now! :D

you put into words what i was trying to say...haha. an uncomfortable shifting...yes. i couldn't describe it like i wanted to....you did. good job.

Bump, **** not being able to have time to post another!!

If anyone missed it, Joshmay is our new mod.

Beatnik Party

:chug:

congrads, and a bump

I write beat poetry.

It looks better on paper than in real life,
The story of my life,
Cut this message with a letter knife,
Lord,
You've put me through so much strife,
So many interludes,
And stop-start patterns,
All these hidden clues,
That drag out and flatten,
Dim the lights so I can see the river flow,
Praise you with my lifeblood,
If I could only be allowed to grow,
And you and I, we have the kind of silence,
That begs no applause and feeds no violence,
To soothe the aches in eyes of those who've been trying,
Too long,
Tired of dying,
Being reborn just to hear,
The angels chanting the same songs,
Strutted in the gardens of lordlings,
Caught the breaths of pixies,
And the strangest things,
Of these I sing,
Of these I've heard,
When all your fairytales come true,
Don't waste me, doll,
I'll be waiting,
If not for you,
I'll smile and pretend I do,
I'm good at that,
I know you know,
Stories chatter,
Phone calls interrupt,
I'm drunk on words, yet I can't think,
Relocate a single vowel,
Split ends tore to make a point,
Leaving souls disemboweled,
Crawled out from under rocks was my style,
Now we travel,
To a different end,
A different need,
To a thoughtless start,
A sprouting seed,
A circle of friends should be like a shrubbery: close-cropped and ornamental.

The sparrow comes flying in whispers,
Of wisps in the willows,
And squalls on the crystal pond.
I am the superfluous subterfuge that blankets your rhyme,
I am clouded in message,
Accusation,
Unholy,
Has splintered will call now,
And sing us a song,
What ran,
Stakes,
Along,
In hours of oceans in eons of sleep,
Will plan out erratic and fall on its face,
And clocks in these poems,
Like plastic produced,
Misguided, misused,
Like lies where they fused,
This young here be old,
Come on, cane down and look at me,
Spectral like a land claim,
I am veiled in scorn.
Static pastiche in kitsch,
And blue-eyed is wrong again,
These murals are songs again,
When the new here comes back,
And the new spirit fades,
In juke joint bars,
And castle yards,
Prefix this threat with a valentine,
Suffix this blessing with a knife.
Fatal all I ever was,
In times of turmoil,
Alliances of passive stance,
And tuned the war drum,
Pitched in graves,
To make up a hymn to rally the slaves,
And stake them high on cerebral lies and celebrity names,
To raise the common to credited streets,
And golden sidewalks stare again,
Shut the **** up and sit the **** down,
Drains lurk freeways,
Skies too much,
So just look to the ground,
Hope will engulf itself,
But that and oxymoron,
For hands of strength to shelter you,
And lights of life to guide you,
It's written in blood upon the tabloids.

we're only one bullet away from making the front page
we could be the Romeo and Juliet of the 21st century
poison replaced by bullets and swords replaced by guns
TV monitors arcoss the nation can watch our public display of affection
gather the family round, folks, for something you won't soon forget
one kiss for me, one kiss for her, and two shots to the head
pass the round and then the body bag
let's play russian roulette and blame our deaths on cupid
rest your head on my shoulder amd I promise everything will be alright
maybe I can catch the ricochet of your shot and won't have to watch you die
let's throw caution to the wind and our heads to the side
backlash never looked so appealing as it does right now
rest in peace beautiful, I'll see you in Heaven

one I used for my english project (my teacher brought in his bass and played it while i read, too cool :thumb: )


whispering through cocaine, to dribble
slurred, unheard words on the mushrooms
that sprout from the
dark moss that litters the said rocks

or had they been said, or chalked into places
where the beady eyes of a inquiring wander can look

"by god! he has no feet!"

[I]thats right,[/I] says the man with no heart
and they ponder, swirls of their own pain
rise into a crushing waze, thats slides
out, into a sea of contempt

he can only lie, binded with his lacking
while a blue reminds him who led to his
death, one that was also held into place
but not yet by the chock

"how can these skyscrapers hold themselves up?"

[I]well they don't[/I], its the borrowed money and
ashes, that stirred will be a cloud
one we rememeber as fish n chips

unallowed, when pieces of coloured glass, shatters,
lines the bowels of the empty heart
they will replace life
so that our feetless shapes, curved
shall rely on our growing
enthusiasm

for our lovely mushrooms


good day :wave:

what kind of bass did he play along with it? i might be interested in doing some stuff like that...:)

it was a fender p-bass, and he was just playing some jazzy stuff, i think, but im not quite exactly sure, it was in the key of D minor...it was kind of like stray cat strut

yeah, i meant the style of playing :)

thanks though. i am guessing that you just do some nice walking improv.

he played a jazzy walk, i think halfway he just started hitting a d over and over, then went back to the walk

he was definatly feeling the vibe...(does funky hand motions)

awesome.

i figured one could do some little fast fills at the end of certain lines, for emphasis. :)

I'm going to buy mongos for micious' idea:)

mongos? you mean bongos? i play bongos/djembe in a band. i love ethnic percussion. would go great at a poetry reading too :)

i begged the music teachers to let me borrow bongos for my presenatation, but the cool music teacher (a jazz artist) wasnt there and so she wouldnt let me use them. :upset: I thought trail was talking about mangos, not bongos, goes to show how tired and blind i am. :p

...although mangos likely could be used as an instrument..hm..... :rolleyes:

^ A guy in my Extension English class used bongos in his presentation :lol:.

He read a few lines then would hit them, and at the end went nuts hitting the bongos and the whiteboard.

great great fun, my friends :)