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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 21:13:13 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 74085
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => AUTOMATIC WRITING....
[time] => 2004-12-02 09:00:37
[hometext] => I wrote this when I was feverish...
[bodytext] => 6 sided...18 Black, Blind Eyes... Rolled around in a game called life. The Plural of The Dice.. I already did this... Half heartedly, & left with but half a beat. Not quite here, not quite there; But With A mind that's scattered everywhere. My final breaths were caught In an East facing jar, My Body layed broken in a dead sea of calm. I reserected myself from this abyss... Arose...Reborn from that almighty sleep. Clambered back upon to two feet.. I stood on the sky & trampled the stars, But banged my head above me on the dusty floor. Abstract & surreal... This picture of life flattened into a frame & Hung like a portrait of your disgust. Living, breathing Art... Boxed in, Contained within a tidy square... ..4 sided, 4 cornered Like a house. I've made it my home. Like a Taxidermied Creature preserved in it's lavish case; I stand naked with all beauty & flaws displayed. Out of the window I stare glassy eyed.. Still as a statue, Quite as a secret. Still with my hidden depths & dimension un-disclosed.. Kept hidden from thoses watchful greedy eyes. In hindsight I feel that i missed so many chnaces & some days Were but a waste, A waste like the monthly flooding... The red river of death... A potential life's missed chance... That exits in a crimson trickle between my thighs. But I do not grieve, Or care... I am unmoved..As I look onwards toward drought; The Desert dryness of sand grains.. with their millions of worlds washed up on distant shores. Already I am a mother..To myself & to these thoughts.. ..to this state of mind i entertain... That I give life to in rambling sentences... That only I could love. As only a parent could...Proud of them, Defensive & protective of them... I nurture as best i can & let them grow their letters like perfect little finger & toes... ..They're my creations, My children...Word becomes flesh. They have personalitys & emotion...they have a voice.. I stem their crys from vowel shaped mouths by screaming tuneless lullabyes; & They sleep soundly along the lines, like pressed flowers between pages 8 & 9. I sit amongst the apple trees the ground around me moves with slithering reptile bodies. I nibble upon my daily bread; A deathly white loaf with ingrediant of ground bone.. ...It tastes stale on my tounge as i feast here alone... Watching the swallows dart across the pale sky & The red admirals becoming drunken on the juice of fermented fruits that speckle the orchid floor & roll along the backs of serpents. The intoxicated insects flutter awkwardly in the cruel might of the wind, & are thrown about like a slab of raw meat tossed to the dogs. Their delicate frames are blown away on the breeze They look as if they were nothing more than pieces of paper.. Carefuly folded 7 constructed butterfly shaped Origami. I stare at them with my cat eyes & grow ever currious.. I paw the sky & cluth at them.. But the moment I grip their paper cut edged wings tear my skin, Then they fall from the air dead weight; like stones into water.. I watch their artfuly constructed figures unfold like a flower in the morning sun...like an opening hand.. They unfurl back into squares of paper, creased like an old skin. Upon them A message written in red ink..I unzip my lips to read aloud.. But before i can even utter a sound it's swallowed by a snakes mouth... (c) Dominick Destruction 15/11/04 [comments] => 2 [counter] => 192 [topic] => 59 [informant] => Dominick-destruction [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => psychoticpoems )
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