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Array
(
[sid] => 101832
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Silhouetted memories
[time] => 2005-07-21 19:52:50
[hometext] => Well... it started off as a sad poem... But, of course, like all poems, it changed and turned into everything else... If it makes no sense whatsoever, blame it on my insomnia..
[bodytext] => I gaze at the silhouette of a memory,
Masturbating behind a velvet curtain of vibrant silence,
Wondering just how good it would feel to be dead…
These hands… MY hands,
Dripping with sin and yearning,
Are lost within the catacombs of words… MY words…
Graceless melodies of... of what?
Repetitious contemplations of how things could be, but never will,
Reckless cries for help that are left neglected,
Resonating through the dark eternal…
Melodies of every thread of ambiguous thought that sparks my mind,
Leaving me, like these scar-tattooed hands of past battles,
Searching for something… anything,
Inside the souls of my expressions,
Hoping to find myself, beautiful and youthful,
Like how I used to be centuries ago…
A tear walks barefoot along the shores of my eyes,
Laughing at my attempts to keep it inside,
As it runs freely along the curves of my cheeks…
The horrid aftertaste of an unrequited love haunts me in the daytime,
I’m still trying to release myself from last night’s hangover,
Of treacherous melancholy…
My sanity is left weeping in a corner of shadows,
Doubt sleeps with desire in a warm bed of illusion,
I glare with envy as they dream,
Realizing that I’m always left with my Technicolor roses blooming from my eyelashes,
And vomiting a myriad of black divinity from my tired pen…
A glass of bohemian revelations waits patiently for my lips,
My insomniac moon sighing a thousand newborn stars,
Sacrificing her sapphire inspiration to the restless figment below,
As forgotten reveries awaken with elongated yawns,
The naked memory behind the crimson curtain cries out in blissful closure,
Leaving me covered in sweet sweat, diamonds of lust,
Gasping for life,
Shuddering at the sheer agony and bliss,
Of the silhouetted memories of you…
[comments] => 8
[counter] => 228
[topic] => 64
[informant] => FleurdeSang
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 5
[ratings] => 1
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => ambiguous
)
Silhouetted memories
Contributed by
FleurdeSang
on
Thursday, 21st July 2005 @ 07:52:50 PM in AEST
Topic:
ambiguous
|
I gaze at the silhouette of a memory,
Masturbating behind a velvet curtain of vibrant silence,
Wondering just how good it would feel to be dead…
These hands… MY hands,
Dripping with sin and yearning,
Are lost within the catacombs of words… MY words…
Graceless melodies of... of what?
Repetitious contemplations of how things could be, but never will,
Reckless cries for help that are left neglected,
Resonating through the dark eternal…
Melodies of every thread of ambiguous thought that sparks my mind,
Leaving me, like these scar-tattooed hands of past battles,
Searching for something… anything,
Inside the souls of my expressions,
Hoping to find myself, beautiful and youthful,
Like how I used to be centuries ago…
A tear walks barefoot along the shores of my eyes,
Laughing at my attempts to keep it inside,
As it runs freely along the curves of my cheeks…
The horrid aftertaste of an unrequited love haunts me in the daytime,
I’m still trying to release myself from last night’s hangover,
Of treacherous melancholy…
My sanity is left weeping in a corner of shadows,
Doubt sleeps with desire in a warm bed of illusion,
I glare with envy as they dream,
Realizing that I’m always left with my Technicolor roses blooming from my eyelashes,
And vomiting a myriad of black divinity from my tired pen…
A glass of bohemian revelations waits patiently for my lips,
My insomniac moon sighing a thousand newborn stars,
Sacrificing her sapphire inspiration to the restless figment below,
As forgotten reveries awaken with elongated yawns,
The naked memory behind the crimson curtain cries out in blissful closure,
Leaving me covered in sweet sweat, diamonds of lust,
Gasping for life,
Shuddering at the sheer agony and bliss,
Of the silhouetted memories of you…
Copyright ©
FleurdeSang
... [
2005-07-21 19:52:50]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by vibes2go on
Thursday, 21st July 2005 @ 10:24:01 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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| How good it would feel to be dead? would one feel if one were dead.. ahh a good question .. ponder it and let me know? and this masturbating .. stop it or you'll go blind...now where did I put my white cane....????? |
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Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Friday, 22nd July 2005 @ 01:20:26 AM AEST
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a Message)
|
A true inner sanctum of where a murel of
tormented paintings hang but those who
don't understand the artist shall merely
remain blind 2 what lies just below the
surface, beautiful stephy a masterpeice
of literature . . .
((((((stephy))))))
Ben |
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Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by Taurusgem1 on
Friday, 22nd July 2005 @ 01:30:59 AM AEST
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a Message)
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This poem is great. Excellent decription and fluid emotion... Keep up the excellent work.. By the way this is my fav part..."A tear walks barefoot along the shores of my eyes,
Laughing at my attempts to keep it inside,
As it runs freely along the curves of my cheeks" |
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Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by SensitiveSoAbused on
Friday, 22nd July 2005 @ 07:07:44 PM AEST
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a Message)
|
Realizing that I’m always left with my Technicolor roses blooming from my eyelashes,
I sure did like this line, and the one mentioned above
I feel inferior and intimidated by your poetry it is so luxurious voluptious it makes me desire to posess such immediate power of adverbs, adjectives, nouns, and such as you do.
I am a very dirty old man as I form pictures in my head and I feel as if i should keep it to myself but my goodness...
how very racy, and my eyes are left wandering the ceilings and
my tiem is up so i must cut this short |
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Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by SensitiveSoAbused on
Friday, 22nd July 2005 @ 07:07:44 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Realizing that I’m always left with my Technicolor roses blooming from my eyelashes,
I sure did like this line, and the one mentioned above
I feel inferior and intimidated by your poetry it is so luxurious voluptious it makes me desire to posess such immediate power of adverbs, adjectives, nouns, and such as you do.
I am a very dirty old man as I form pictures in my head and I feel as if i should keep it to myself but my goodness...
how very racy, and my eyes are left wandering the ceilings and
my tiem is up so i must cut this short |
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|
Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by sweetangeluk on
Sunday, 24th July 2005 @ 08:55:09 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
A tear walks barefoot along the shores of my eyes,
Laughing at my attempts to keep it inside,
As it runs freely along the curves of my cheeks…
Wow amazing write loved these words especially.
Love Angelxxxx |
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Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by Nazmythian on
Sunday, 24th July 2005 @ 07:21:46 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
"A tear walks barefoot along the shores of my eyes"
I love that line ... well truth be told the rest are fabulous too ... but that stood out for me incredulously ( is that a word ? ) If not ... it should be ... I have much catching up to do on this page as well, it would seem. Stephy, you your words always leave me with very striking images. I have missed them and promise to make up for my inattentiveness ... forgive me ?
Nazzy ~ |
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Re: Silhouetted memories
(User Rating: 1 )
by bobotheclown on
Monday, 25th July 2005 @ 01:29:06 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
Well I basically second everything that Lane
said although i didn't think this was too racy
myself.
"My sanity is left weeping in a corner of shadows,
Doubt sleeps with desire in a warm bed of illusion,"
Those two lines just wow such imagery and
pain expressed so exquisitely there. I can
definitely relate to those two lines. I feel so
small next to your writes as they are so epic
and I my comments can never do them
adequate justice. I think I'll shut up and read
this again.
Bobo (Joel) |
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