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View Full Version : Cleansing of a Corporeal Conscious (Poetry)



Marino
11-30-2008, 05:06 PM
Growing Up
A seed is dropped in a frothy soil
A bubble forms as it starts to boil
A mixture made of blood and mucus
Is it a Mary or is it a Lucus?
No surprise, as it starts to rise
But it is protected by its unsoiled shell
All is well, and devoid of lies
One things for sure, it's gonna swell

It's gonna rise up to the skies
Its born out of a slimy substance, a murky odor
Propelled by it's flagella, a tiny motor
It drills through the darkness
It drills through the dust
It must, it must, it must!
A tiny light on a rainy day
A tarnished sun
This rainstorm, buddy, shows you just begun

The bubble pops
Exposed to the muck
Falls back to its roots
Full of blood and mucus,
It's a Lucas! Rejoice! Rejoice!
The elders sway
The sun shins bright
Another day, another birth
Another life on this crooked Earth

The seedling buds
The seedling withers through the Winters
It feels the burn of the harsh sun
It gets leaves pulled out
It feels. It lives. It adapts.
It pumps out its daily dose of CO2.
It digs its roots back into the soil
So attached, yet so constricted

When we've lived so long in the sludge, in the seclusion
Can we ever truly merge into one, a seamless fusion?

The seedling is no longer a seedling, for it is a flower
A lilac on a garden floor
It envisions itself: one of many
With separate roots but a common ground
For when a flower falls
and no one hears it
Does it make a sound?

Yes. Yes it does.
It makes a vibration.
It shakes the terrain
Its growth was not in vain
It made a difference
It changed the garden
For there can never be another Lucus
But we are all born from the blood, we rise from the mucus.

Here's your Time
(Non-Rhyming)

You say you need time.
Time.
A Measurement of Change.
The Fourth Dimension.

I cannot give you time.
No one can. You cannot hold time.
Time is an idea. It's not material.
Time passes. Whether you like it or not.
You can wish to undo it.
Just like I wish I could undo all of my mistakes.
But wishing accomplishes nothing. Time.

How much time do you want?
Cuz I got years in my pocket.
How many do you want?
I got minutes.
I got seconds.
I got lifetimes.
Can I have a refund?
Can I have 60 minutes for an hour?
Can I sell some lifetimes to you?

No. I can't.
I cannot give you time.
No one can.
Time passes.
The time is now.
You cannot touch the future, and the future will never come.
All you have is now.
Use it while you have it.

Goodbye(??????????)
(Non-Rhyming)
Seconds have passed.
Each one more painful than the previous.
How can you write
When you don't know what went wrong
And what went right?
This is the downfall
Of my self esteem
This is the downfall
Of my aching dream
This is the time to say
....Goodbye...?
Oh god, I hope this isn't goodbye.
Even though this poem ends,
this is not over. Or is it?
Oh god, I hope this isn't goodbye.

Not Enough
I rip my heart out while it still pumps blood
I slam it down on a slab of coal
I let it crumble, I let it fry.
I let out a sigh, yet I know I must die.
I'm dead now, and where are you?
But all I hear is "Are you ready for round two"?
Didn't I suffer enough?
Isn't my misery proof?
"Not Enough" you say.
"But... I dissected myself for you.
I carved out my heart and placed it down for all to see."
"You were self righteous, you were doing it out of ego"
"Ego? Admitting my faults, poking at my cancer, my tumors,
my fears, my sickness, my downfall, isn't enough?"
"Not enough" you say. "Not enough".


The Pursuit of ???
So many differences
Between you and I
But we aren't different
You and I
You like to say you're A
While we're B
Or C
Or D
We are different
We can't get along
Fundamental values
Tear us apart
Tear us into pieces
We are not one
We are many
Different species
You're not like us
I beg to differ

Some seek understanding
Some seek belonging
Some seek wealth
Some want to be respected
Some want to be educated
Some want to be revered
Worshipped, bowed down upon
Some strive for comfort
Some strive for family
Some strive for differences
But I beg to differ

WE are all the same
Flesh, blood, fear, bone, minds
Whether we use it or not
We are all one
We may come from different backgrounds
We may worship different gods
We may have a different income
Different friends
Different values

We are all the same
We all strive
Some for happiness
Some for lust
Some for greed
Some for god
Some for science

We are all the same.
We all pursuit something
We all want something
We all have our ways of getting to god
Whatever god may be
We all share the same Earth
We all are alive, for now
Let us put all differences aside
Let us realize.
Nothing can tear us apart.

Peel:

Peel it. Peel it all away.
My skin sheds; leaving nothing to stay.
My bias, my ego, my judgement, my fear
Emotion, disturbance, Now I see clear
My purpose, my false hope, anxiety, my stains
Peel it all off; till only flesh remains
Peel it away now I'm made of pure steel
Peel it away, til I'm no longer real.

Belief, Relief, Self-Denial and Pride:

Belief, Relief, Self-Denial and Pride
Deny, Ignore, and Refuse to Reply
Freedom of speech, but not of the mind
Till the gears slowly begin to grind
Belief, Relief, Self-Denial and Pride
What do you have to run from? To flee from? To hide?

What Happens when you Die?

What happens when you die?
Stay in between? Endless Purgatory?
Reincarnate? Start a new story?
See paradise? Look down from the clouds?
Burn in flames? Pit of fire and hell?
All is well, all is well.
For when you die, you die.
End of story.

Animals (Satire!)

Foolish animals; mere entertainment and meat.
In heaven for them, there is no seat.
No cities, no technology, no nukes and no wars.
Just throw em a treat,watch them retreat.
Foolish animals, inferior to us.
While we're crashing planes, they're hitting the bus.
Foolish animals, you're not one of us.
----

Current Thought:
Hm.... Dawn of Man will be one hell of a project.

UmJammerSully
11-30-2008, 05:12 PM
You're going through one of those phases, aren't you, Marino?

Marino
11-30-2008, 05:14 PM
No. I like poetry.

I always have. I usually keep everything in my Thoughts journal (it says "Thoughts" on it). I usually don't share. Now I see how foolish it is. How foolish it is to be afraid to share your Thoughts. That journal is very symbolic. :)

Forsaken
11-30-2008, 06:40 PM
Well I like it :)
Writing poetry can always relax you, and what you wrote isn't half bad.

Marino
11-30-2008, 06:42 PM
Yeah. It really helps to put my thoughts down a page.

Sometimes I don't even know what I am thinking, but writing really helps. :)

I'm sure I will write again soon, as I still... ache.

UmJammerSully
12-14-2008, 12:02 AM
No. I like poetry.

I always have. I usually keep everything in my Thoughts journal (it says "Thoughts" on it). I usually don't share. Now I see how foolish it is. How foolish it is to be afraid to share your Thoughts. That journal is very symbolic. :)

I was mostly referring to your attitude at the time.

Interesting read nonetheless.

ryryryan
12-14-2008, 12:05 AM
1(a... (a leaf falls on loneliness)

l(a

le
af
fa
ll

s)
one
l

iness

Marino
12-14-2008, 12:12 AM
I wrote a few moar during the previous week. I'll add them nao. :hero:

EDIT: Updated. xD

moleynator
12-14-2008, 12:18 AM
Too deep for my taste really. They are great for their purposes though.

Could you make a funny one?

madhatter
12-14-2008, 12:40 AM
They are good.Keep writing it is away to cleanse the soul.
And you are good at it.

Valo
12-14-2008, 05:04 PM
I wrote some poetry too.

I'm dark, and sensitive with low self-esteem
The way I dress makes every day feel like Halloween
I have no real problems but I like to make believe
I stole my sister's mascara now I'm grounded for a week
Sulking and writing poetry are my hobbies
I can't get through a Hawthorne Heights album without sobbing
Girls keep breaking up with me, it's never any fun
They say they already have a *****, they don't need another one

Stop my breathing and slit my throat
I must be emo
I don't jump around when I go to shows
I must be emo
Dye in my hair and polish on my toes
I must be emo
I play guitar and write suicide notes
I must be emo.

What do you think?

UmJammerSully
12-14-2008, 05:23 PM
I wrote some poetry too.

I'm dark, and sensitive with low self-esteem
The way I dress makes every day feel like Halloween
I have no real problems but I like to make believe
I stole my sister's mascara now I'm grounded for a week
Sulking and writing poetry are my hobbies
I can't get through a Hawthorne Heights album without sobbing
Girls keep breaking up with me, it's never any fun
They say they already have a *****, they don't need another one

Stop my breathing and slit my throat
I must be emo
I don't jump around when I go to shows
I must be emo
Dye in my hair and polish on my toes
I must be emo
I play guitar and write suicide notes
I must be emo.

What do you think?


That's deep, man.

Marino
12-14-2008, 05:26 PM
Haha, I love that song.

But yeah, poetry isn't emo. It is writing to convey emotion. Is writing emo? :p

moleynator
12-14-2008, 05:32 PM
That's deep, man.

Real deep.

I write too... :p

I wish I were a sackboy,
jumping all day long,
grabbing onto sponges,
although im not too strong.

Googly eyes scare me,
rolling around like that,
if werent running away so much,
I might end up real fat.

Sometimes it gets hot,
so I jump into the air,
I fall back down to burn again,
now that doesnt seem too fair.

Now my story comes to an end,
and im feeling sad,
because I keep pushing down,
on my controllers d-pad.

:hero: Yay for on the spot poem making!!

Marino
12-14-2008, 05:33 PM
Very nice moley. Really makes you sympathize with the little sack. :)

moleynator
12-14-2008, 05:34 PM
Very nice moley. Really makes you sympathize with the little sack. :)

Thats not the meaning at all!!!:mad:

Oh wait, I guess it needs to mean something...

You're right!

EDIT: NEW PAGE! Here is my poem:

I wish I were a sackboy,
jumping all day long,
grabbing onto sponges,
although im not too strong.

Googly eyes scare me,
rolling around like that,
if werent running away so much,
I might end up real fat.

Sometimes it gets hot,
so I jump into the air,
I fall back down to burn again,
now that doesnt seem too fair.

Now my story comes to an end,
and im feeling sad,
because I keep pushing down,
on my controllers d-pad.

Marino
12-14-2008, 05:36 PM
The great thing about poetry is that it is subjective, and it's meaning varies on the reader.

http://www.lyon.edu/departments/creativewriting/poetry/poetry.jpg

qrtda235566
12-14-2008, 07:33 PM
Ahem! I shall now read a poem entitled Home: Written By Awesome Carvernious Mans

Home

Like a bubble

from Spongebob

Like love

I only love myself

Like a home

with couches everywhere trapping whoever dares to enter

Home

Completely Useless



Much love! :)