[Poetry] Poetry

Tonight we Watch for the Watchman, the one who Watched for us.
Today he took upon my sins, Tonight he is but dust.
Tonight we watch for you Watchman,
But the balance has been upset.
Tonight we search for your memory,
But Tomorrow we will forget.
Today we destroyed the Watchman, and Tonight we pay the price.
Tonight the veil was lifted, and the virtue turned to vice.
Today our ego was our independence...
Tonight it costs our lives.
Tonight we Watch for the Watchman, the one who Watched for us.
Today he was my father, Tonight he is but dust.
Tonight we watch for you Watchman,
But we have our own concerns.
Tonight we stew in misery,
But Tomorrow we won't learn.
Today we destroyed the Watchman, and Tonight we pay the price.

---------- Post added at 04:11 PM ---------- Previous post was at 04:10 PM ----------

screeching harpy with no wings
reaching for unreachable things
but on this trip, let not slip
words of surrender from our lips
see through this rift we go equipped
for we need no wings to sail this ship

---------- Post added at 04:13 PM ---------- Previous post was at 04:11 PM ----------

the curious moan in hopeless strife -
what is this thing which we call life?
The cartographer took note, she must be the road,
leading sinners to their hell and saints to their abode.
The farmer took heed, she must be the feed,
leading man to his profit, lending strength to his steed.

Record of our obsessions? just gross adolescence?
Do the childish not lessen the ethics of our essence?
Lumbering beast of flight, or perhaps but a bird?
Or is it that life is only a word?

Though we have no time to tell, We do our jobs and We do them well.
We do not cry and We do not yell.
We do not claw at the walls of our cell.
With humility we dwell alone, waiting on the methadone, waiting on the ringing bells, waiting on our hearts to swell as we smell the sweet drafts of Hell...
For though we have no time to tell, the watches are still selling well.

Jordan, I love the apparent ease for putting words together that you seem to have.

say, thanks.

selective emotional dyslexia
what could be more selfish than how I feel?
a waste
to taste
his love for just a moment
what could be more simple than how one feels?
the time
the climb
the heights of all your everests
to reach a frigid summit with no air to breathe
can you conceive what I believe how I perceive my memories?
things to sheath what I believe a drop to drink from empty sieve?
a dowery

if I could fly, then would the tides, of the sky, make up my mind

and if I fell, into the swells, then could I drown, without a sound

or would I learn, every step, like a dance, in my head
does it mean, I will molt, an empty shell, must I shed

or am I full, to play the fool, to be so full, as all the fools
or am I empty, to play the fool, am I a tool, of all the fools

am I the vessel, or am I the drink
and if I were either, do you think

that my ♥♥♥♥ wouldn't stink?

Like Icarus, the tool of his father,
Who did not drown, while foolish Icarus fell from melted wings,
To meet the sea, leaving his father an empty
Shell,
Like the forgotten homes of the sea creatures who had
Long since perished in the sea,
The remains of their bodies,
Like that of Icarus,
Washing ashore to meet Daedalus after his first successful flight,
Congratulating the inventor like a dead Orville to his brother
Wilbur.

i keep a lot of things around i do not need

i lick my sores but they still bleed

i skimmed the lines i was supposed to read

i pinned the whore that i still need

i am waiting for something to feel okay

i am waiting tomorrow for the next day

i am waiting until i am ready to say

“that was beautiful, now let’s throw it away.”

I have a feeling this is about a certain girl.

I like it.

where do you keep them

is it with your friends

always assumed you had none

where do you keep them

will it matter next week

festering womb for a leper cum

where do

you

keep. them. and does it make you feel cheap as it makes me feel? i’m not so green that i don’t see i am another cog in the machine. the part of you that makes you you would ♥♥♥♥ing molest me. the part of you that makes you you would never let it be. the part of me that makes me me would never let me free.

backing up i see that one took a particularly strange direction but it's what my brain vomited so there you have it.

the new obelisks, their construction, it never had a direction

spires of non-recyclable filth, think “a clever erection,”

pyres of black smoke from the non-smoking section.

at the height of hubris they await their father’s arrival, but they have not considered the coming reprisal.

The first step is filth and the last step is filth.

Wade around in stool because the smell is familiar.

The fifth step is honesty but not the kind that tells the truth. That fifth step has a lot of sway with the ♥♥♥♥-rot youth.

You don’t know what you want out of it is usually what you’d say. You’d be lying.

One day the sunlight will find you. But you will look away. You will bury your head. You will be the laughing-stock of the douches and the stalking-horse of the ♥♥♥♥-sticks. No hat rack for every heart attack. No medicine for every discrepancy. And now the rattle has the prey too distracted to see. And now the fetus inside of them just died inside of me.

You do not want honesty.

What gratifies is toddler lies, but what suffices never satisfies. Consider that while you consider this: the difference between sheep and shepherd is knowing what to omit.

2415 megahertz of clapping, way to go trash crusader, pat on the back for the instigator, rat from a pack of emulators, made on the backs of the wheelchair waiters, ♥♥♥♥ them now and pay them later, use them now and play them later, wet deck of cards in the elevator, hot mess of veins in miss awkward’s retainer,

the dentist is out but it’s cool his nurse is still in, and when she’s used up her sister’s shift begins,

so pretend to be hurt on your shopping cart stretchers and read out loud lines from your lay ledger, reluctantly (sarcastically) hand over your prized treasure, pain

socialite back-light welfare queen of the county fair.

from epicenter of your bereavement to the outfield of my achievements.

from the exit wound of appeasement, where you lost your lawful easement…

remember? your hands clamored at empty air;

ownership expired of the county fair.

from the smallest thing I’d ever swallow to the kidney stone i barely get out.

from the lightest joke I’d ever tell to our own personal forbidden fruit, our own taboo to fear and to cherish.

from the whitest lie i’d ever told to the fastest thing i’d have to stop.

manipulative, hypnotizing and mechanized for super sizing,

forgettable, exercising her traumatized aphorizing,

subjects entranced by the sight of the spectacle, the hilarious horror of seeing their queen

stripped

beaten

keelhauled

omitted from the obituaries and obstructed from the cemetery

forgotten as according to plan

I like your use of unusual, not-so-often-used words in these, it makes the writing more unique and interesting, I think. Very good!

I like this type of poetry when it's done well, and you've managed to do it well while giving it your own twist.

Have to say my favorite was the latest one you posted. The structure was really well done; the word choices in each line really fit together, then all of the lines all fit together at the end in a way that left a deep emotional impact.

here is one from a couple months ago that for some reason i typed in all caps. maybe I was having a bad day i dunno.

ANXIOUS EYE OF THE INVADER THE SCAVENGER WHO DOES NOT BELONG

SINGSIGH OF THE INTRUDER AS HE SWALLOWS THE SCUM IN HIS GULLET

WE SAW HIM MELT INTO FILTH AND FALL INTO THE GUTTER

WE SAW EVERY SLIVER OF MUCK SLIDE THROUGH THE SHUTTERS

AND THEN WE SHOVED EVERY PIECE BACK TOGETHER

AND NOW THE KING IS DISGUSTING

DIPPING HIS VEAL IN GREASE

SHIPPING HIS CANNED DISEASE

WHIPPING HIS STOLEN STEED CLEAR THROUGH EJACULATION

WAY WAY TOO MUCH SEED TOO IGNORE

SQUEEZED INTO TIGHTS HE WON’T PAY FOR

BECAUSE TIGHTS ARE FOR HOMOS

Originally Posted by MorbidDelight

I like this type of poetry when it's done well, and you've managed to do it well while giving it your own twist.

Have to say my favorite was the latest one you posted. The structure was really well done; the word choices in each line really fit together, then all of the lines all fit together at the end in a way that left a deep emotional impact.

thanks, that one is actually my personal favorite, and the only one I can read through without wincing and being overcome with the will to go back and make large changes to.