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Graveyard PoemOh, ancient pump, How long have you renounced your living waters? There is nothing but the rusty creak and clink Of your crimson body Over, and over, Which denies the parched of your loving moisture.Graveyard Poem
Though the sunrise Twiters and chirps
To the newfound dawn,
There is no solace for those long gone.
by ~PenintheStone
RepriseI gaze at the patchwork of my past. tattered by uncertainty, quilted with rubble, smoke, fire, & the dead.Reprise
I have been wounded, cursed, & spit upon, but I refused to be broken. This time it is no different.
Though my enemies try to shroud me with terror, in the name of safety Though my enemies espouse a stagnant scheme in the name of freedom Though my enemies slaughter my children in the name of security
I will not stumble.
See these shattered monuments before me? They are not symbols of my greatness. They are symb
by ~PenintheStone
Setting the Record StraightIt was a bright autumn day with hardly a cloud visible, and the temperature was brisk, yet pleasant. I was off work for the day so I decided to talk a walk through the park that was a few blocks from my apartment I began looking for a book in case I found a suitable bench on which to rest. I couldn’t decide which book to take at first. It was almost a half hour before my fingers finally rested on Milton’s Paradise Lost. I hadn’t read it in years, but for some reason Milton’s Satan came to mind a few days ago. I was always struck by how much sympathy I had for him. To Satan’s miSetting the Record Straight
by ~PenintheStone
Torver TaterDear Readers:Torver Tater
While waiting in a Greyhound Bus Station on the way home for Winter Break, one of our staff members was accosted by a pale, wiry old man with unruly hair and a scraggly white beard that apparently had once housed a number of birds (judging from the number of twigs entwined therein). According to the staff member (whom we shall call Marla for the sake of anonymity) the man wore a mud-caked t-shirt on which were scrawled the words “ERIS IS MY HOMEGIRL” in nearly illegible script. His shorts were equally caked with mud. Well, one would hope it was mud. He wobbled over, put a
by ~PenintheStone
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Shattered Castle Twisted ChairShattered castle: Twisted chair Glass as FlameShattered Castle Twisted Chair
and Stone as Air. Trees bent in shame while empty sockets gape, as souls left wide fled from mortal shape.
by ~eosandman
DiscoveringAt the very start when different was still frightening instead of needed, I questioned an existence between two bodies that could be so unflawed.Discovering
I wondered if I could ever teach you to read between the way I fragment everything.
I wondered if you could be the soft that blurred my edges into something manageable and less dangerous to the touch.
In doubting, I found that I could only adore the way you licked at my wounds until tongue swollen with cure you lost the ability of speech and had to define your love for me
by ~a-poetry-whore
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Fairfax, VA
- Interests: reading, writing, being weird
- Favourite movie: The Professional
- Favourite band or musician: Currently, Iced Earth
- Favourite genre of music: Metal
- Favourite poet or writer: Allen Ginsberg
- MP3 player of choice: Zune
- Skin of choice: Mine
- Favourite game: Kingdom of Loathing
- Favourite gaming platform: PC
- Personal Quote: Master thyself and the rest will follow. --Ginzy
- AIM: SusurusIgnoramus
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All Hail "Bob"!
--
Everyone’s heard of fallen angels. I feel like a fallen Buddha. Who knows how many countless lives I had to live to get to Enlightenment, and now I have to start all over again. Kinda gives me hope, though. If I did it once, I can do it again.
--
"WinD'OHs -- OS of Homer Simpson" -- Shane Semler
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