 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 12:46:00 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 9200
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Cell Division and Prosthetic Anger
[time] => 2002-12-24 23:40:00
[hometext] => a recent poem, scribbled in a matter of minutes... totally un-edited.
[bodytext] => How disgusted must i feel, in times like these,
when everything is slipping down the sinous snaking slide into the double breasted ***** they call oblivion, How vile and obscene should this seem, the shameless display of 'compassion' - which, later i divulge (as we diverge) as nothing more than first hand fist-***** of the most cruel and brutal kind. Together we procured a flame that eventually melted us not together, as desired, but apart. But had it not been lit, we would be close enough still! Still. These words commit too harsh a texture, it's hard to say what you feel without getting tangled in the spidery limbs of what you feel you should feel; Loss. Longing. Craving. Isolation. Deprivation. Ruin. Abandonment. All of these exist within me but are brought too close to the surface, their focus is too great. Has she really wronged me? Or is it that freedom is a gift that only a few can give? A gift. it seems now, that i should scrape up the innards that i puked in verses one and two. the frantic mess that i chose to smear across the page. I do not feel disgusted. It does not seem vile or obscene. I AM NOT HURT! i am not wounded now, and when i cross my mind back to last week (which seems already like years) i can picture clearly enough the scene: The burning sensation, the ringing in the ears. What truly hurts is to think of what i must have done. I must have been a monster. Too intense. What truly hurts is to think of this, and remember it always: She wept. First. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 291 [topic] => 22 [informant] => EndEformEtrancE [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com