1. klivingston1's Avatar
    Something else I've found me BB good for. I sort of feel bad for my notebook sometimes. I've got one I'm willing to share. If anybody wants to share their poems, short stories etc.feel welcome, and maybe I will share more.



    "Icicle Therapeutics"


    Falling back in place.
    But falling out of grace.
    Gone without a trace,
    This is the last illusion.

    This apparition fails.
    The king of damned prevails.
    Sarcophogi unveiled.
    A crimson mass confusion.

    Did you ever think about them?
    Parading through your phases.
    Do you even feel at all?
    Or were you just that good at getting what you wanted?

    A crooked kind of smile folds out.
    A fire flickers and her eyes light up.
    She doesn't move she just stares through me.
    It spirals down and out from here.

    A head-on collision of brute force. incisions, cut with no precision....
    Jagged knuckle decisions...
    Sit down and shut up!

    Run mother****er! Don't look back.
    Say "if you need me you know where I'll be."
    Was the last time I meant what I said.
    Then I left.

    Found me healing. Still fading.
    Her eyes never meant so little.
    Was her plan all along.
    Strung out across dimensions.
    Dementia. Took a deep breath and put you away.
    Shouldn't have said...shouldn't have shown.
    I'd rather be alone. And I will be...inheritance of a curse.
    Stuck watching. Listening. Waiting...thank you.

    Posted from my CrackBerry at wapforums.crackberry.com
    04-12-08 02:29 PM
  2. Dr. Newport's Avatar
    Yeah, I threw this down a bit ago. It needs a rewrite:

    ROT

    So I shambled.
    For about a year.
    My wounds oozing,
    my blackened,
    browning teeth falling out.

    I was forced
    to dab my pustules,
    pretend that
    I had
    a smile
    when
    I was close
    to my family.

    It was basically an Ebola thing.
    Internally, I was turning into paste.

    Inside I was a jar of drippings
    from a fat pork roast,
    grey and unhealthy,
    thick and smelling
    slightly off.

    One would think
    that in the midst
    of such a crisis
    one would be able
    to reach to those
    that one had known
    for one's entire life
    for an assist.

    An arm to lean on,
    a bicep to clutch
    as I stumbled,
    dragging naked
    toes against the gravel.

    But things kept me back,
    society and religion
    being the small ones.
    Fear of rejection
    being the big one.

    I would scrape
    my fears about
    in my mental vat
    with
    a
    downward mustard twist.

    Paralyzed by the thoughts
    of rejection and disapproval.

    Knowing there was no acceptable
    path for me but the one
    I had been
    hammering out
    for close to twenty years and three kids.

    As the mucous and blood
    clotted in the back of my throat,
    my eyes bled slow,
    thick, round, red tears,
    I would smile and sit at the big meals
    unable to digest
    that which was before me.
    My intestines
    had knotted
    twisted long before;
    I wasn't ready to claw
    my stomach open
    and mix it up
    with my digestive juices.

    I did talk to him about my pain.
    He didn't understand.
    He said he would love me just the same;
    that meant the world to me,
    My ears frothed.
    I wondered if I had heard him correctly.

    But then he left.

    And now,
    my feet blister and pop,
    infected
    with swelling layers
    embedded with the burrs
    and syringes of too many
    polluted walks on the beach

    The realizations are hitting me.

    I look into my hands
    and see the veins pushing
    the polluted blood.
    I fall back onto
    my hopelessly bruised ***
    and fumble in my wet
    shirt pocket for a cigarette.

    I cannot feel the Camel.
    My bone sticks
    through my finger meat,
    fingertips shredded raw
    from so much
    Grasping for
    Truth


    Everything that I
    touch or think
    brings me
    a flash of pain
    I flick the lighter
    with the remains
    of my right thumb.

    My nails have long
    since given out
    to cracking.
    The sensitive flesh
    under my nails
    festers and throbs
    I scratch them open
    with a thumbtack
    or a car key

    Or rub them
    into the asphalt
    on days when I
    wheeze blood
    out in the street,
    winded,
    sitting on a curb
    like I am today
    looking at the black ink sky
    that is probably
    smiling on someone else.

    With the flame
    in the 89 cent
    purple lighter intact,
    I bring it
    to the cigarette
    that dangles
    from my torn lips.
    As I clench
    my lips together
    to draw the smoke through,
    they bleed and wear open
    with the pressure.
    The few teeth
    that I have left
    chime a dull note
    as they press
    into the sockets
    of their fallen comrades.

    My eyes widen
    as I pull the smoke
    into my shredded lungs
    I feel them fill
    with my blood and phlegm,
    and that
    cancerous, black, sandstorm
    that I paid my money for.

    Veins in my left eye pop,
    weep over the white
    over my jagged eyelid
    into a tear-track
    that has furrowed
    itself into
    my cheek
    of late.

    The wrinkles
    in my forehead
    knot and rip.
    My skin is too thin
    to take this kind of abuse.

    I exhale.

    It tastes cooked,
    meat that has been burning
    in the oven for an hour too much.

    I stand,
    in a shudder,
    jitter fashion.

    My knees pop.
    My calves balance.
    I look down
    at my shins
    covered with sores
    that wink and weep
    clear juices
    that are hot,
    unctuous,
    like the cooked juices
    of a thanksgiving turkey.

    As my brain synapses
    through its Rolodex
    of pain and regret,
    I bring that cigarette up,
    spilling ash
    across my open, razor torn chest,
    I realize one thing:
    One truth:
    it forces me to focus
    through my bleeding
    bloodshot eyes.

    These losses,


    this hole in my dying heart
    spins and sucks the life out of me,
    feasting on whatever life
    I once had,
    this complete step
    away from all I know,

    this welling anger and
    sadness
    that makes me feel
    as if I am spinning
    twenty feet
    above you
    taking lightning blasts
    that cause my flesh
    to rip outward
    the way the
    earth rips
    in an earthquake,

    will all pass.

    This pain will heal.
    This season will end.

    And I am not the only one suffering.
    04-12-08 02:36 PM
  3. klivingston1's Avatar
    That's amazing, man. Abstract in ways it should be allowing one to read between the lines, but not enough to stray from what you want them to see... Awesome.

    Posted from my CrackBerry at wapforums.crackberry.com
    04-12-08 02:42 PM
  4. Dr. Newport's Avatar
    Thanks. A lot of pain went into that one.
    04-12-08 02:44 PM
  5. klivingston1's Avatar
    It's a good outlet. And something more satisfying than the brutality or self-destruction that would likely ensue otherwise.

    Posted from my CrackBerry at wapforums.crackberry.com
    04-12-08 02:50 PM
  6. s.f.clk02's Avatar
    imma have to read your poem in a minute just workin on bbm cant handle everything
    04-12-08 02:55 PM
  7. klivingston1's Avatar
    Here's another one:


    (The Creature Takes It) All (Just) in Time

    Posted from my CrackBerry at wapforums.crackberry.com
    04-12-08 02:56 PM
  8. klivingston1's Avatar
    Oops...
    Here it is.

    I offer nothing.
    Bring nothing.
    Propose nothing.
    Take nothing.

    Consider?

    Lying on the floor, in your
    Desolation kingdom.
    Too tired to ignore this
    Isolated freedom.
    Careful you don't slip and
    Sleep later than the sun can.
    Prying soldered wounds til
    I bleed the way you're thinking.

    Bless me someone, I have sinned.
    I'm considering doing it again.
    Just a taste, a touch a hint,
    Then I'll climb back out again.

    Falling on your face, to your
    Callous relapse ending.
    Singing to the grave of the
    Reason you kept breathing.
    Some people can't be saved
    But no one will even try.
    So hang your head down low
    and take a ride.
    Put marbles in your eyes.

    NEVER! NEVER! NEVER!

    A man with nothing left to lose
    Never thinks things through.
    But if there's nothing left to prove
    What's left to do?
    Sifting through the ashes to see what's left sell.
    Acetone and matches can't send this devil back to ****.

    Is anybody hearing what I'm saying?!
    As long as I'm alive I'll just keep dying.
    And as long as I'm still here I'll just keep paying.
    But if I go out of my mind I'll be just fine.
    Then if you go out of your mind you can stay in mine.

    Posted from my CrackBerry at wapforums.crackberry.com
    04-12-08 02:57 PM
  9. omg_its_kerri's Avatar
    I'm not very good at poetry, but I do have a short story I just finished. it's rather long though and posting it here would be more annoying than anything.

    I can email though if anyone is interested
    04-21-08 11:46 AM
  10. shivers316's Avatar
    Here's on of my shorter ones that I have saved on Poetry.com:

    The Dawning

    I've come to stop you
    But your power is great
    I've come to destroy you
    But now I must wait
    I've come to believe you
    But you tell me these lies
    I've come to become you
    Cause we have the same eyes
    I've come to ensnare you
    But you cannot be caught
    I've come to trust in you
    But trust won't be bought
    I've come here to show you
    But you cannot see
    I've come to erase you
    But I can't cause you're me
    04-21-08 11:47 AM
  11. klivingston1's Avatar
    Good stuff shivers. Interesting how sometimes we really are our own worst enemies. We are the only things that can really hold us back.(And we do because we tend to doubt our abilities.) Thank you.


    kkreuger, I would definitely enjoy reading your short story. I'm not sure if my email is posted in my profile or not, but it's [email protected]. Thanks.

    Posted from my CrackBerry at wapforums.crackberry.com
    04-21-08 11:54 AM
  12. Dr. Newport's Avatar
    Here's on of my shorter ones that I have saved on Poetry.com:

    The Dawning

    I've come to stop you
    But your power is great
    I've come to destroy you
    But now I must wait
    I've come to believe you
    But you tell me these lies
    I've come to become you
    Cause we have the same eyes
    I've come to ensnare you
    But you cannot be caught
    I've come to trust in you
    But trust won't be bought
    I've come here to show you
    But you cannot see
    I've come to erase you
    But I can't cause you're me
    Hey!!!

    I like this one.
    04-21-08 01:22 PM
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