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Array ( [sid] => 61600 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => A poet's ramblings... [time] => 2004-08-27 16:47:05 [hometext] => I dunno where this came from, but it seems pretty interesting and surreal-like... (shrugs) enjoy! comments very appreciated!!!! [bodytext] => A voice tears the Silence...
A drop of rain sings its last gargle...
Laughing at the ice roses.
Dying in the shadow of the wind...
A white cow smiles gracelessly...
A rancid murmur doesn't return until it rusts.
Death walks slowly and tangles with anybody.
A plate of Hope sleeps by the waves,
And the parasol covers the sun with sadness...
A voice rises out of the Silence,
And Ruin looks at itself in the mirror...
Forgetting the bat.
Forgetting the cries behind a curtain...
Traveling between silk lamps.
Night advances,
And detains itself sometimes at the door...
Lights howl and dogs sing,
An endless horde of rats paints the fence...
Doubt doesn't know how to exist alone,
A world of tears sinks in the soul...
The lock screams from prison,
And the bird spells a fashionalbe song...
Where will the soul go when the body dies?
Must hands caress the flesh,
Or maybe celestial hands touch the soul...
Nothing exists...
Everything is ice and the light is a bat...
A keyboard tells its history.
A siron awakens under a rock.
The wind poses behind a wall of thorns.
A drop becomes entangled,
And a disk of Now scoffs at the last...
Heat roams the streets,
And a beer masturbates its luck...
Walking towards Silence...
Walking towards Forgetfulness...
Walking is our end!
A leaf moves,
And the gasp dances its life with regret...
Existence is so short!
Why die in silence?
Why dance in circular echoes?
The uproar is born and its wastes illuminate the soul...
To invent a name is lovely, but it already exists...
A newspaper lifts up its hand, and tomorrow is history...
Flying in the wind.
Sleeping in the dust.
Laughing about the illusion,
And waiting for the world to roll without a complaint... [comments] => 4 [counter] => 197 [topic] => 43 [informant] => FleurdeSang [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
A poet's ramblings...

Contributed by FleurdeSang on Friday, 27th August 2004 @ 04:47:05 PM in AEST
Topic: oops



A voice tears the Silence...
A drop of rain sings its last gargle...
Laughing at the ice roses.
Dying in the shadow of the wind...
A white cow smiles gracelessly...
A rancid murmur doesn't return until it rusts.
Death walks slowly and tangles with anybody.
A plate of Hope sleeps by the waves,
And the parasol covers the sun with sadness...
A voice rises out of the Silence,
And Ruin looks at itself in the mirror...
Forgetting the bat.
Forgetting the cries behind a curtain...
Traveling between silk lamps.
Night advances,
And detains itself sometimes at the door...
Lights howl and dogs sing,
An endless horde of rats paints the fence...
Doubt doesn't know how to exist alone,
A world of tears sinks in the soul...
The lock screams from prison,
And the bird spells a fashionalbe song...
Where will the soul go when the body dies?
Must hands caress the flesh,
Or maybe celestial hands touch the soul...
Nothing exists...
Everything is ice and the light is a bat...
A keyboard tells its history.
A siron awakens under a rock.
The wind poses behind a wall of thorns.
A drop becomes entangled,
And a disk of Now scoffs at the last...
Heat roams the streets,
And a beer masturbates its luck...
Walking towards Silence...
Walking towards Forgetfulness...
Walking is our end!
A leaf moves,
And the gasp dances its life with regret...
Existence is so short!
Why die in silence?
Why dance in circular echoes?
The uproar is born and its wastes illuminate the soul...
To invent a name is lovely, but it already exists...
A newspaper lifts up its hand, and tomorrow is history...
Flying in the wind.
Sleeping in the dust.
Laughing about the illusion,
And waiting for the world to roll without a complaint...




Copyright © FleurdeSang ... [ 2004-08-27 16:47:05]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: A poet's ramblings... (User Rating: 1 )
by Nazmythian on Friday, 27th August 2004 @ 05:02:58 PM AEST
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I think I should listen to Pink Floyd, while watching Alice in Wonderland, and recite this before a room full of people than aren't all there. LOL A very interesting piece. Have you read "Voices" ? This sounds like what I hear at times in my mind. It is a small wonder I make sence at all. A particularly notable line however ..." A newspaper lifts up its hand, and tomorrow is history..." I truly like that.

Nazmythian ~


Re: A poet's ramblings... (User Rating: 1 )
by artostuff on Friday, 27th August 2004 @ 05:04:51 PM AEST
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I like this. I enjoyed reading it. Very good imagery. I'm glad the inspiration came to you. Thanks for sharing.


Re: A poet's ramblings... (User Rating: 1 )
by Silent-No-More on Friday, 27th August 2004 @ 06:55:40 PM AEST
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Oh, I agree with Nazmythian! This is very interesting... It is as if you took us down some path cluttered with interesting objects and we got so overwhelmed looking at them we didn't even notice we were going in circles. Intriguing to say the least...

My favorite line... definitely this one:
Doubt doesn't know how to exist alone

Thanks for the brain workout!
SNM


Re: A poet's ramblings... (User Rating: 1 )
by zenmind on Friday, 17th September 2004 @ 01:00:38 PM AEST
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Wow! I love this so much. Every line is amazing. I love the feelings from these lines. The feeling it evokes is so precise that it can only be spoken through imagry.

For example:

Laughing at the ice roses.
Dying in the shadow of the wind...
A white cow smiles gracelessly...
A rancid murmur doesn't return until it rusts.

Damn! That is amazing. I couldn't have written anything better myself. I feel like I really relate to this style of writing. It's like you're expressing something that cannot be spoken in words. Something that cannot be described. And yet you are expressing it in words.
Here's another good one:

Forgetting the bat.
Forgetting the cries behind a curtain...
Traveling between silk lamps.

Wow! Forgetting the cries behind a curtain. Damn! I can't even express how awesome this poem is. I could keep going, but I just wanted to say one more thing.

I definitely feel like this poem of yours came from your soul. I love this style of writing because it never seems forced. This sort of spontaneous writing seems to just happen on its own and is as mezmerizing to the reader as it is to the writer because the writer doesn't even know where it came from.

Great job you are truly talented, and I love your style.

Be True,
zenmind




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