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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 11-June 06:30:35 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 126014
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Clichéd Paperman
[time] => 2006-09-20 22:53:48
[hometext] => I guess I will start with a longer one of mine. It is based upon the Oriacon concept but is before the Hatching process. Enjoy, if it is your cup of tea.
[bodytext] => Now I shall be blunt for I am just a runt I became bored with my doll and threw her at a wall I yanked her strings while the telephone rangéd and popped off her head with some help from Mr. Ed. Now I take him in my hand and shove him deep within let's hope he releases my soul my soul that's made of tin I see the many lights and shades of red and black dance around my temporals but in brightness they lack Plummet I do to the cold ground that feels no remorse for the many sins that I've done could of been much worse The Droog that I once was was not good anymore so now I tell you, O my brothers that I was just a sore With my platties soaked in roses and my horrorshow glazzies glazed I raise a glass of triumph to you all as I go out in a blaze... ..."Ablazed, I am", the misty eyed contortionist chuckled; "With what string should I pull next for my enjoyment?" PLUCK! And with that, I'm down to three lines. Supplement, dear boy, take it sparingly: 32 lb Of Oxygen and Nitrogen Followed by a tasty spoonful of Androgen with a blood clot as the cherry. "Bon Appetite good son!" Put it into a syringe... and let him go on a binge. "I don't want it in me you hag! The devil you are, old bag." [ Internal rhyme to follow? Where? Oh where shall it be? Should I question my own belief and passive voice for a better? Or should I stop the principles of questioning myself in my own poem? IT HAS BEEN DONE. Or should I say never? ] Endearment I dare say lacks within my veins, While my short hair may be short... as I've said already, this might be the hell I was looking for: 343$ 1009$ 30045$? "What are you spending on dear boy? A time machine? What good will that do?" Upon the Wings of Thunder and Wind as sharp as Ice; The Beast that wants to feast is ready for the main course, his meal will suffice... ...Plucked another pedal from my snout... "To two I only am..." The snake attached and the blood so black and thick, surrounded by peanuts and chlorine; it's better known as prolapse good man! Commonly seen to disrupt your mood quick: You, yourself, and your insides... isn't that right love? Or is it a glove? A Dove? What's love? Ha ha ha ha ha! A laugh with sound? Blasphemous indeed ol' chap. And the width and height is off too... too bad so sad as they say. (I know what I like... in your wardrobe that is.) What memories shall I see now? Oh when, where or how? "Quiet Samuel, you'll wake the others!" "Oh, shut it mum! They've been smothered!" Is this my madness; that's only seen in my orbs, or is it my tongue? Sigmund... who's that carnation? And what about Peter and his Wolf? Prokofiev a genius? In this pathetic nation? HA! Mr. Ed... what world is this that you've taken me too? "Instigate and capitulate, the ceremony's begun. In the shrines of Noir; we sacrifice the son. His name be not known for his tongue never sayeth yet his ignorance is bliss and his body we rapeth. Heave it up, O my brothers, Tis' fresh meat we have Skewer in manure and bath him in Av!" [Demons that laugh laugh with the intent, the intent to dissect the soul that's sent.] (With one wire left, I lay limp by a thread The puppet I've become.. the thing that I'd dread. Revenge, my doll had; on me and me alone, passive voice that I'm in digs my grave to the bone.) *Am I a runt anymore?* "It is just me now... me begging for forgiveness... Hello? Is somebody up there? Can I be saved? Am I clichéd enough? Or am I clichéd too much? What am I lagging? I wonder in my brain. Please!!! I'll be good! I swear!!" [What a poor wee man, he hangs by one string... the time has come for his fate to be decided, Atropos approaches to cut his string and plummet him into the darkness of a hell that's been re-lighted. ] 'Your doll is here, you THING. She's here with you. For she found comfort with another THING such as you! And he's here too, dead by a machina! HA HA HA! He lost his guts and pride too! It is time my dear fellow... to cut the last string. I'm afraid you're to be banished forever, forever and an eternity. Because you pulled your doll's strings... your string shall be pulled as an endeavor!' My road has just ended, one string at a time; pulled off of me with a gentle tug, while my memories raced through me and surged through my head I found out why I couldn't become the master of her. I became the monster, and the THING. Demise is what IT'S defined as. Judge me not... for I'm only a cliché. A cliché that lives forever... SNIP. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 268 [topic] => 31 [informant] => skyhawk432 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 6 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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