64 replies to this topic

[Ransom]

For MissL

LivedasaDevil

Found in the wake of taunting aftermath
While selfish living corpses proceed to hide a path
And as I deny ugliness and become so blind
It down casts us both into a colorless mind

I have witnessed before such evil things
Ignorant beings with foul intention it brings
After having everything I've wanted I still ask why
And declare my hate for the sun the scorching bitch of the sky

Hell is waiting for me
Right outside that door
As such repetitive feelings
Continue on to war

To feel such happiness
To feel such pain
To see such beauty
Is my greatest bane

Remembering all the things that have come to be
Is the twisting knife of reason that's deep inside of me
A small simple truth in my head repeats
Second guessing of purpose will always defeat

The moments I give will soon fade away
I will forget about this foolish game and continue to play
And as this melody dies within me and as I fall apart
I will open my eyes to the death of the heart


Lust

Oh what I would do for you 7
Untangle this promise of mine 8
I would tear loves heart in two 7
I would cross morality's line 8
I want your youth your vitality 9
Not your worthless personality 9
Just tell me exactly what to do 9
Show me how to get inside of you 9
It's the image of you that I covet so 11
I could care less for what you want or what you need 12
Visions of aching flesh writhing above and below 13
Will surpass and obliterate any existing creed 14
I will bide my time I will play my part 10
To get what I've wanted right from the start 10

Oh you do it baby
You�re the star in the sideshow inside my mind
Oh the things we could do




One in the same

This heart is half a star
A similar structure of divine design
Both burn with a blinding intensity
When in marriage these two pieces align

But hearts do in time get broken
As stars sublime fall from the sky
But broken hearts can be mended
Just as the stars once again will fly

One star from afar can still be observed
In the darkest night be seen set ablaze
One heart can be the key to anothers destiny
And together they can chase away the days

And as these stars remain suspended still
So does this vacant heart of mine
I search for my equal in silent appraisal
Awaiting that night when we both will shine

With a black canvas of pure intention
Together the heavens we both shook
Stars and hearts are one in the same
Only seen if one chooses to look



Devils dance

What art thou that stirs the darkness in the midst of night
Come forth from this fiery tempest burning blazing bright
Art thou seeking comfort here does thy will seek delight
Or does thy desire dance with the devil in the pale moonlight

I watch these flames a flicker as they dance the devils dance
These wicked lies they tell my eyes I swear are true romance
Dare I resurrect such dreams or dare I turn away this chance
Or does a great larger good arise from all this circumstance

Thus these pinioned shadows struggle as they speak to me
Dance the devils dance they say and soon enough you'll see
And as I found I was hell bound and arm outstretched stood he
As I burn I twist and turn such is the way the dance should be

Edited by Ransom, 21 December 2011 - 07:32 PM.

[FallingStar]

^{One In the Same
It was a very interesting comparison. Always a pleasure to read your work.
~M*}

[Ransom]

^{One In the Same
It was a very interesting comparison. Always a pleasure to read your work.
~M*}

I remember you liking that one. Here's a whole bunch of old ones, feeling nostalgic.


Embers

Someday I will find a match,
and on that day you'll burn.
With a dying fire that ebbs and flows,
against a past unable to unlearn.

For we've signaled our betrayal.
That sullen departure of growing distance,
but tell me can you imagine the image
of me denying your existence?

I hope you live a life swift and sweet,
with a well thought out contingency plan.
For if you harbor an unspoken resentment,
you may be too close to understand.

Let inhibitions come and sate you.
Maybe I am the worst you've stumbled upon,
but if I am the best, in future reflections
in denial's wake, find me farther than withdrawn.

For know that if, and when I die
I have found your love a lie.
Pretend, defend, or fear sincere,
that I loved you least of all my dear.

We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin. ~André Berthiaume

He who travels in search of something which he has not got, travels away from himself and grows old even in youth among old things. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson




Sea glass (I wonder)

Who broke you?
An apathetic child in transit,
some drunk with thoughts of his own.

So easily discarded by a god without a name,
something that takes from you, only to add to your beauty.
So smoothed over, so transparent in this light,
forever to be abandoned by the setting sun every night.

Do you envy the living?
Lost along the frigid tides of time,
hiding secret wishes made of flesh and bone.

Sentiments are surfacing, Oh how the shells must chide you
for being something different, special and unable to shine.
Once being the same, then tempered together by flame,
only to be separated, without purpose a will resigned.

Do you ever dream?
Of distant shores to be washed upon,
of ever becoming whole?

How alone you must feel, being of the wind and waves.
This grated green, this bruised blue, I cup you in my hands.
I think of the journeys that have brought us both here,
well met and equally worthless in unknown foreign lands.

What would you trade?
The heavens above us both,
all for a mortal soul.

This tide has worked you over, so I lay you somewhere safe.
To soak up the sunshine, to wait for someone better
suited to cherish you, to share the warmth you've collected.
For I am so very cold, and that light of mine was made to falter.


“If it was all bricks and concrete, pure forms of substance, clearly and openly, he might survive. It is the little, pathetic attempts at Quality that kill. Now it serves only to draw attention to what has been lost.” ~Robert M. Pirsig




Nursery Rhyme

There exists no story book graces,
nor any far-fetched fairy tale endings,
for there is no real life example set to derive them from.

Because sometimes the maiden is just not worth saving,
and sometimes the hero in time forgets,
or completely refuses to come.

In a world where a frog is but a frog,
and a Prince is likely to be no better,
where the Queen remains too bitter to shout "off with her head."

Where the King's touch will forever wither,
turn a whole world into the self same gold and silver,
and the Princess is always unsaved, left alone better half dead.

Invisible monsters care to show,
only what we each, inwardly know.
Where the poison beckons, and miracles are secondhand.

For the histories are only faded inscriptions,
built on top of forgotten exaggerations forever spending,
taking their toll on our everyday lives, that are more commonly known.

For there is no easternly dawn,
no heavenly beauty downcast and sent,
only young and old whores running wild and rampant.

Where a man is just a boy, never raised at all,
following folly with an ego twice as tall,
and a woman is a brainwashed being with a baggage withdrawal.

“Soothed with the sound, the King grew vain;
Fought all his battles o'er again
And thrice he routed all his foes and thrice he slew the slain,
The Master saw the madness rise . . . “




What makes your garden grow
Girl I'm dying to know
Is it watered with sunshine
Or warmed by heavenly rain
And if I were to make you mine
Would you help me ease my pain
Would ivory vines come creeping
To conquer and lay claim
Of our love this fragile sapling
In earthen arms of flame
God I guess I'll never know
What makes your garden grow





Be I a whore, to mistress adventure,
Dare I venture after her.
To furrow or field, lest tomorrow yield,
On a more lazy endeavor.

Wilt she come, bestow such beauty,
Inflame my sluggish temper.
Shalt I follow suit, with sugary pursuit,
Find a better place together.

I wilt guard you, you wilt guide me,
A parasitic rapport no better.
Stay with me, my lovely muse,
I can only offer forever.





Just like Heaven's Hell

In this world of darkness
...Shrouded by the fear
Beware of the shadows
...For they will appear
To drag you under
...Into the darkest night
And to row you over
...The deepest rivers spite

Maybe it's just a game
...An inhumane tragedy
Measured not in pain
...But in selfish strategy

The raping, the fucking
...Do you understand
Or do you just stand by
...Living second hand

Are we all so hopeless
...Nursing our broken wings
Your life, my life, all life
...Players on puppet strings

In time will we all find
...We we're wrong all along
Living a lie forever fucked
...For those that don't belong





I wish that things would be different
I wonder where we would be
I wonder if anything is ever different
I wonder if I had chosen to take the other path
Treading not the proverbial road the other
Treading not on dirt of tomorrow's sorrow rather
Treading not at all but making my way home
I wish that my way would be a way back home





M

You are the light that makes me grow
Long after the day is done
Only to you all this love I do show
I burn from your flames so wonderfully
My beautiful undying sun
Forever we dance on so majestically

Until your lips touch mine
As I lift you on high up into the air
Under the moonlight dark sky
In loves arms you and I
Will fade from the world without a care
And surpass infinite time

We never hide what we feel inside
For our love always flies
We will live on after we're gone
For true love it never dies

Just like the dance of the sun and the moon
Just like the wind always whispers its tune
And when we kiss the heavens cry
And our love even hell can't deny
You are the reason I was created for
Our love will last forever more





The heat of the night entices my insatiable addiction
My quest this curse that question?
What is the purpose of my existence
Power appeals to all men it resides in the heart
This light shown is not my own
Such Ignorant truth savor its unfruitfulness
Watching the whole world worship distraction
Lining up one by one willing and ready to die
I am but one, one so utterly alone
Disease spreads and makes its way all around me
Infecting the inside out conquering all my own
No justice upheld by the sky and stars
No cosmic order, no universal comfortable consciousness
Is this a dream a means of escape
Does the rain hide such secrets
Will the wind bring them to me in due time
Or will I be sentenced to deaths parallel prison below
Does balance really belong in both these worlds
Refracting this dark light into that shadowed realm
Can this borrowed light restrain and maintain
Throughout this distorted manifestation
Am I coming home am I too close
Will this aftermath prove undoubtedly true
Can I break free will it let me be
Failure once again
These relics will not become my divine reason
They shall not determine what will be
A different outcome will come out of all this
But then vanish without a trace amongst the rest of murmur
My heart cries within this pit of despair
Nonsense is words without purpose. . .
My legacy of ill used time
My own personal freedom of weakening will
Time passes by three fold in this realm
Indecision rules supreme amongst one
What is the worth of another lost soul
Curiosity and restlessness
How can what matters to me matter not
How can everything I hold dear reject and deny me
All knowledge is a frail attempt at control
A system of beyond control but indeed predictable
Without color and sound no distinction can be found
Elements of old I call your forgotten name
Rise up and aid me in my most desperate time of need
Such a grand step analyzed, dissected, and separated
One unifying goal
One secure peace of mind
One paradise of infinite possibility
Expunged all because of,
...SIN...
Motivation to expire all desired understanding
Emptiness forming forgotten things mourning
Mirror reflection showing the true face of ugliness
Nothing capable of accomplishing anything
Take me back to my unfinished development
So I can teach myself what I really needed to know
And to give myself what I always needed to have
Never shall I surround my being with such fucking falseness
I must protect what little I have from harm
I journey to a place to reunite myself with my former self
My present meeting my past to birth my future
Salvation lies within my own
Not just words on paper. . .
I pray to the divine, the one that can lay claim on truth
Give me strength to deny evil entry
The power to judge with wisdom on my own
To use my eyes and intuition from within
Let this be a document and my rightful testament
That I take all responsibility to choose my own destiny
Water me, sweet mother, as you water all life
Give me earth to plant my roots and space for room to grow
Make the wind blow to sooth such anguish felt within thine heart
And forge and enflame such unforgettable fire to remind me to know
But these shadows keep dancing around my head
They whisper that these words will be unread
Such power one can hold or hold not
Matters most to those that are forgot
What would be remembered amongst the debris
A requiem of what once used to be
Enough I grow tired of it all
I cant complete this circle can not break through
The divine leaves me what I ask for
Me and nothing else

Perfect circle I will complete you when the rain returns

[Ransom]

Center doesn't work anymore


Once I used to walk on water
On stagnant seas of dead desire
As I played the part of martyr
The frigid surface felt like fire

I sacrificed all self-interest
A sentry on an noble quest
Until I found that at my best
I was no different from the rest

Denial made me lumber
It kept me afloat no longer
My halo became an anchor
Head first I was pulled under

I used to walk on water
Now I'm left to sink forever
With time I find that all mankind
Sinks further down to forever drown



...Enjoy the submergence




Reminiscing Eden

Under Eden's alluring apple tree
I sold you, and you sold me

And as the adverse image appeared
Blinking blind with doubt we feared
All we could see and all we could not
The feelings of our fulfillment forgot

Behind these brackish bars of blue
You sold me, and I sold you

Left to languish over the loss together
Doomed to suffer and taste forever
The beauty and bliss of our paradise-lost
Was ever there any curiosity worth the cost

Is this the only way to be, I sell you and you sell me

My Eden be lost, but what of my eve
Is her serpent tongue still bent to deceive
Trust and faith are rotten fruit on vines that wither
Inside the apple heart we ate together

Still that serpent song ensues
You sell me, and
I sell you

why
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
x y
x y

Edited by Ransom, 22 December 2011 - 01:14 PM.

[MissL]

Some of your poems remind me Charles Baudelaire's poems...

[Ransom]

A very interesting man, I take it as a compliment. Thanks

[MissL]

it was ment as a compliment

[Darksparrow]

I really do enjoy your work. I would give nearly anything for just an ounce of your talent. I look forward to your next pieces.

[Ransom]

*Tips hat*

Cinder

This lackadaisical night surrenders to the morn with nothing left to appease besides your words of comfort that echo from a far off and seemingly free land. I wonder who you are, truly, the good and the bad and the everything in-between.

As I sit here with my last cigarette clasped between shaking fingers, I watch as it slowly burns down to cinders. I take one last pull before I bid you a good night. I fight the coming day with all I have, only to come to terms with the inequality of this life with a silent assent to make the best of it I can.

A car door slams in the back round, someone else struggling with their own just mustering the strength to face the day. I hear the first note of a birds song, signaling the need for sleep and maybe something more. I feel twisted, confused in a place that is new to me, one that will do for now but for how long.

I trade my cup of wine for a cup of coffee, and I think I may walk the beach today as a ghost, it only seems fitting. As the light creeps in the eastern sky way I only think of it retreating west, for I know that this day will end,and another will take its place, over and over again. I'm getting old, and tired of not knowing where to go from here and not remembering from whence I came.

This is the life I choose, and I can't help but find it wanting. That old familiar question comes creeping out of the depths of me. A whole train of thought climaxing to where will I be in two weeks time, in two months, two years. Somewhere alone over looking the water and reflecting on the past retracing my footsteps backwards.

Edited by Ransom, 25 December 2011 - 12:41 AM.

[Ransom]

OZ

Such a seductive Scorpio,
loving, loyal, and lascivious.
My melancholy Mermaid,
dragging me down to drown with drink.
Harpies, Harlequins, and Sirens oh my
singing you to shipwreck, bleeding you dry.
Both willing and able up on that table
like a babe in the woods, a wolf in sheep's clothing
all for that Almighty American dollar.
The muse is looking for her mark
to turn another trick, to cut to the quick.
Pound for pound such a pretty piece of flesh.
Button down Oxfords with wallets
as deep as wells, making it rain.
Locked in her deadly gaze,
she walks on fire, she freezes the air.
As I wander out the front doors
a little broker, but no worse for wear,
I see a Cheshire grin say
Merry fucking Christmas.

Inara: “Mal you don't have to die alone.”
Mal: “Everyone dies alone.” ~Firefly

“I feel like king Midas,
except everything I touch turns to shit.”

Edited by Ransom, 26 December 2011 - 01:14 PM.

[Siren]

I'm not really into poetry, but I liked a few words here and there. Write more stories and keep it simple and clean, the writing I mean. It's easy to be too wordy, most people do that. Too much words clutter texts, IMO. I like simple writing, it's clean and simple and gorgeous. Try simple, I'd like to see what you come up with.

[Ransom]

Schrader

The middle aged man comes home from work exhausted yet again and goes straight into the kitchen to pour himself a healthy glass of whiskey. He sits down at the oak table and downs the glass in one gulp and pours himself another. He riffles through his thoughts like pieces of paper, through the week he has had, the dealings with his family and the hassles at his job that he hates so much. He thinks about how he has nothing and no one to love, about how he has nothing and no one to come home to, and about the town he lives in, the one he was born in, the one he will eventually die in. How every street corner, house, tree, yard, section of sidewalk, alleyway, and how every single leaf, piece of wood, stone, and blade of grass holds an attachment to a bad memory, and he is taken back to those times and remembers exactly why he hates his life.

He throws the empty bottle into the trash can that holds many of the same, his self medication bin. He lays down on the couch to go to sleep warily, wishing he did not have to because of the nightmares. He doesn't remember when they started, but now they won't stop happening. Never exactly the same, but always the same figure in them, the pale monster. He closes his eyes only for a moment and opens them to find himself in a dark room. He hears a little boy crying a little further off in the distance, he tries to run towards the sobbing but he moves very slowly. Then some invisible force envelopes his mid section and he is pulled forward through twisting corridors to the boy. The creature is here, it looms right above the child, no distinct features besides the floating face-like mask and the long spindly arms attached to blade like claws. The hands are held above the child and are draining a purplish energy from him. The creature then multiplies in number and surrounds the boy, all standing sentient, reluctant to give up their prize.

They all look over to the man at the same time, and in the blinking of an eye the man is now the little boy. The floating masks all lower themselves closer to him and as he looks up in horror he sees the details of his tormentors. They're all a little blurry as if in a state of constant flux, mostly their heads are in the shape of a elongated goat skull. The top of their heads are pulled back into a sort of knot, a mess of tangled flesh in the back. The gray skin of the mask are wet and eel like, and within the dark raccoon hollows of their eyes a crimson pin hole pulsates. Their mouths are like a serpents or a crocodiles, filled with jagged glass like teeth going every which way. He feels emptied, hollow, drained, like he's about to die just before he's swallowed by their darkness.

Then he wakes up. He's staring at the wooden beams of his ceiling, his heart is racing and he feels like he's going to be sick. He looks down and realizes he's back in his apartment again and starts to calm down when he looks over and sees the face of the creature in the dark recesses next to the couch. He jumps back at the shock of it, and wakes up again and falls off the couch. He looks at the clock and it reads the time 3:33. Not knowing what else to do, not knowing if this time he was really awake, and fearing to go back to sleep if he was he goes into the kitchen and pours himself a healthy glass of whiskey and sits down at the oak table and starts drinking. Three hours to go before work, just another day.



Elijah

He never thinks twice about how everyone else lives, never wonders if he is special or cursed, never cares at all. I have always envied him for that.

He wakes up late everyday, and when he gets lazily out of bed he walks over to his window, draws back the curtains and reaches out with his left hand and smothers the sun until it goes out. It burns his hand a little, but he kind of likes the sensation. He gets back into bed for a couple more hours of sleep until he is finally ready to face the day.

When he walks to work in the city he sees the sun explode as it collides with the moon, sees the entire sky lit on fire, flames streaking across the horizon swallowing up the blue. Meteors come screaming down at a diagonal angle crashing into the tallest buildings made of glass and steel. The shimmering shards fall all around him as he opens that familiar door and walks into good old 712 Loveless Lane.

On his lunch break he sits in the park on a wooden carved bench and watches the shadows collect into three separate pools while eating his sandwich of honey turkey on whole wheat. They sway back and forth as if mimicking the flickering of a candle flame, repetitively smashing into each other like waves lapping at the edge of a beach.

On his way back to work he watches as everything around him softly floats up into the air, all of the people and all of their possessions floating further and further up into the atmosphere. By the time he is half way back all the streets are completely empty and so quiet that you cut the silence with a knife. He describes it to his friends when he gets back to work, each in turn comments on how it fascinates them as well. His co-workers always wonder who he is speaking to.

Sometimes he walks through a graveyard on his way home and sees the numerous pale deformed and mangled bodies hovering about their graves with arms out stretched towards him. They all look so sad and desperate, he sings Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles as he passes by to comfort them, they all join in on the chorus.

When he goes to sleep every night he always dreams the same dream, one of flying. He sometimes wakes to find himself hovering six inches above his bed. Getting up without touching anything he climbs out his window and spreads his arms wide and closes his eyes, and just falls for what seems like forever. When he opens them he finds himself hovering six inches above the ground.

When he comes back inside his apartment he goes into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Sometimes he stares at himself in the mirror, and sometimes if he looks hard enough he will see me. He remembers he is just a figment of my imagination, and he smiles at me and waves, and I smile and wave right back.

I'm not really into poetry, but I liked a few words here and there. Write more stories and keep it simple and clean, the writing I mean. It's easy to be too wordy, most people do that. Too much words clutter texts, IMO. I like simple writing, it's clean and simple and gorgeous. Try simple, I'd like to see what you come up with.

I posted two old short stories, because I believe there are those here that have not read them yet. I am not a big fan of poetry either, and I absolutely hate when someone considers themselves a poet. There are a couple of different vehicles I choose to use for my words (The short stories and conversations being my favorites). I tend to agree with the simpler being the better, but sometimes I do get carried away with the words and syllable structures. I'll work on something new and I'll try to keep it simple. I'll have it up tonight or tomorrow, and much obliged thanks for reading.
~Rich

[Arawan]

Devils dance

What art thou that stirs the darkness in the midst of night
Come forth from this fiery tempest burning blazing bright
Art thou seeking comfort here does thy will seek delight
Or does thy desire dance with the devil in the pale moonlight

I watch these flames a flicker as they dance the devils dance
These wicked lies they tell my eyes I swear are true romance
Dare I resurrect such dreams or dare I turn away this chance
Or does a great larger good arise from all this circumstance

Thus these pinioned shadows struggle as they speak to me
Dance the devils dance they say and soon enough you'll see
And as I found I was hell bound and arm outstretched stood he
As I burn I twist and turn such is the way the dance should be

I'm not very much into poetry (probably because my own talent is lacking) but I liked the imagery in this one.

[Ransom]

Avery is taking me a little longer to finish, so hear are some more old ones.
These are for Vanished.


Beauty's Revenge

Is beauty still alive?
Both broken and barely breathing.
Captured by catatonic stares,
So silently she'll be screaming.

Tis beauty, still alive
Decrepit and decadently dying.
Bring your twisted thoughts to play,
For she, is pretty whilst crying.

Beholders eye, behold not her
If thou desires not the dead whilst dreaming.
For after damages be dealt in kind,
So secretly she'll be scheming.

Be ever vigilant, best beware
For beauty bewitches many in finding.
They'll line up to fulfill her deepest desire,
So certainly she'll be smiling.

Take heed my fellow man
Be not the beast, off the rose, be feeding.
For that fragrant flower does have many scorns,
And plots her revenge whilst your sleeping.



Am I a poet, not I

Am I a poet, not I
I only see, do, or die
Think and feel I do not
For I surely have since forgot
Many a poet only writes what one sees
With an eloquent nature only meant to please
Many a poet writes what one feels
Ranting and raving far away from ideals
But one that writes without meaning
Towards delight always leaning
Are the oblivious ones to the beauty of dreaming
They just write things that have not bin said
Or things that they themselves have not read
Many write of the blood they have bled
But never can they connect the two
Unless by chance of few
They write of people and of coffee
The streets they wander to a copious degree
They write with such compass and grace
But what's inside they dare not face
For reasons unknown we all prefer lies
Instead we look toward pleasing the eyes
I try and try again but fail in embellishing my sight
Never able to compellingly write
For I can only write what I indeed know
Only being clever is held below
Not since, have I seen such
Left me thinking "thought as much"
But when one marries both
Emotion and description
Together in unison
Striving toward growth
To better ones self
To capture the beauty
And the astonishment of life
Asking questions without answers
Maybe just a memory
Or just the simple thoughts
With or without scrutiny
There is so much to write about
And to only write
About what you see, feel, or do
Stands alone in its right
To each assigned a different colored hue
I am just left asking why
Am I a poet, not I
Funny creatures that try
Am I a poet, not I
When asked I will reply
Am I a poet, not I



Does seven times seven 00000000000IIIII00000 Is Virtue and Vice 00000000000
Lead the way to Heaven 00000000000IIIII00000 Worth that ultimate price 00000
Or Hell as though it may seem 000000IIIII00000 A slaughter of those who dream
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000000000000000IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII00000000000000000
000000000000ooooo00000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
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Choose Fire or Ice 000000000000000IIIII00000 So does seven times seven 0000
A devout Self Sacrifice000000000000IIIII00000 Lead the way to Heaven 000000
What are you willing to pay00000000IIIII00000 Maybe it will indeed...Someday

Shit coding for this website is a lot harder then it used to be.

I'm not very much into poetry (probably because my own talent is lacking) but I liked the imagery in this one.

That is one of my best and favorites. Remember that I have been writing for ten years, and posting for six on this site. So what you see is the best of what I have to offer. With enough time invested anyone can get good at anything, if they so desire to. Thanks for reading. Much love.
~Rich

Edited by Ransom, 28 December 2011 - 08:30 PM.

[Ransom]

Avery is taking me a little longer to finish, so hear are some more old ones.
These are for Vanished.


Beauty's Revenge

Is beauty still alive?
Both broken and barely breathing.
Captured by catatonic stares,
So silently she'll be screaming.

Tis beauty, still alive
Decrepit and decadently dying.
Bring your twisted thoughts to play,
For she, is pretty whilst crying.

Beholders eye, behold not her
If thou desires not the dead whilst dreaming.
For after damages be dealt in kind,
So secretly she'll be scheming.

Be ever vigilant, best beware
For beauty bewitches many in finding.
They'll line up to fulfill her deepest desire,
So certainly she'll be smiling.

Take heed my fellow man
Be not the beast, off the rose, be feeding.
For that fragrant flower does have many scorns,
And plots her revenge whilst your sleeping.



Am I a poet, not I

Am I a poet, not I
I only see, do, or die
Think and feel I do not
For I surely have since forgot
Many a poet only writes what one sees
With an eloquent nature only meant to please
Many a poet writes what one feels
Ranting and raving far away from ideals
But one that writes without meaning
Towards delight always leaning
Are the oblivious ones to the beauty of dreaming
They just write things that have not bin said
Or things that they themselves have not read
Many write of the blood they have bled
But never can they connect the two
Unless by chance of few
They write of people and of coffee
The streets they wander to a copious degree
They write with such compass and grace
But what's inside they dare not face
For reasons unknown we all prefer lies
Instead we look toward pleasing the eyes
I try and try again but fail in embellishing my sight
Never able to compellingly write
For I can only write what I indeed know
Only being clever is held below
Not since, have I seen such
Left me thinking "thought as much"
But when one marries both
Emotion and description
Together in unison
Striving toward growth
To better ones self
To capture the beauty
And the astonishment of life
Asking questions without answers
Maybe just a memory
Or just the simple thoughts
With or without scrutiny
There is so much to write about
And to only write
About what you see, feel, or do
Stands alone in its right
To each assigned a different colored hue
I am just left asking why
Am I a poet, not I
Funny creatures that try
Am I a poet, not I
When asked I will reply
Am I a poet, not I



Does seven times seven 00000000000IIIII00000 Is Virtue and Vice 00000000000
Lead the way to Heaven 00000000000IIIII00000 Worth that ultimate price 00000
Or Hell as though it may seem 000000IIIII00000 A slaughter of those who dream
0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
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0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
000000000000000IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII0000000000000000
000000000000000IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII0000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
000000000000000IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII00000000000000000
000000000000000IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII00000000000000000
000000000000ooooo00000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000IIIII00000000000000000000000000000000
Choose Fire or Ice 000000000000000IIIII00000 So does seven times seven 0000
A devout Self Sacrifice000000000000IIIII00000 Lead the way to Heaven0000000
What are you willing to pay00000000IIIII000000 Maybe it will indeed...Someday

Shit coding for this website is a lot harder then it used to be.

I'm not very much into poetry (probably because my own talent is lacking) but I liked the imagery in this one.

That is one of my best and favorites. Remember that I have been writing for ten years, and posting for six on this site. So what you see is the best of what I have to offer. With enough time invested anyone can get better at anything, if they so desire to. Thanks for reading. Much love.
~Rich

Edited by Ransom, 28 December 2011 - 08:37 PM.

[Ransom]

Avery
(love burns) inside

The first painting comes to life like an old silent film in slow motion. The moonlight reflects off the leaves of the full bloom trees that line the bank of Swan lake. A little girl in a white dress seems to float along the waters edge as she cautiously strolls into the scene. She's clumsily carrying a spherical object in both of her hands, as a distorted diamond ripples out on the water with a dream like glow. She stops near the river bank and falls to her knees, starts clawing at the ground with her tiny paws until a small hole is formed. She gently lays down whatever she's been carrying and quickly covers it up, turns to run away, looks back over her shoulder only once, and disappears into the night.

The second painting comes to life, the sun is nowhere to be found for it is hiding behind silver lined clouds. The wind makes the treeline a swirl of bright oranges, pale yellows, and deep dark reds, as if it's set on fire and burning from the inside. She comes back into the scene, the little girl that's not so little anymore, fighting against the wind to make her way back to the place she buried a secret so many moons ago. Stopping by the lake she fills up a green plastic watering can and walks over to a small tree and gently pours the water over the leaves. She then sets the watering can down next to her feet and takes hold of two outstretched branches, and begins to sway back and forth as if she's starting a dance.

The third painting comes to life, the trees are almost bare with the exception of a few leaves here and there that still cling to the branches fighting against the rain. She returns to the scene once again amid a torrential downpour in a barren winter landscape. The lake is all a flutter with the visage of pins piercing the water. That small sapling of a tree is now fully grown, with a thick trunk of opaque silver and leaves of lush gold. She makes her way over to the tree and starts to dance around it barefoot in the rain as if with a lover, and the tree itself seems to follow her movements in kind. The rain suddenly stops and flakes of snow begin to fall as she gingerly twirls around it with perfect form, like a ballerina with her promise unbroken.

The man watching this cannot peel his gaze away from the paintings, he wants to shout out to the woman in white, he feels as if he knows her from some other time and place, wanted to know what she planted there that night so long ago, then again some mysteries are better left unknown.

[Ransom]

Something for the one who makes me wait.


Penny for your thoughts
let me cast it in shallow water
for the hope to be better.

The past it haunts me
both asleep and awake
yet I feel its power no longer.

Are you a ghost, a memory, a dream
what's real doesn't matter
not to me anymore.

Deceive me, oh child of illusion
for I wait for your loveliness to
wash upon my shore.

I dare not say goodbye
for you are with me, always.

I dare not say hello
too afraid of hearing an echo.

I say nothing proper
for you are the walking dead.

Edited by Ransom, 30 December 2011 - 02:44 AM.

[Ransom]

I cannot access my computer unless I fight with it for an hour. I bought a kayak instead of a new laptop, maybe that gives you a little insight into my priorities. Anyway, much love, fuck off, and try to find some one else as a reprieve. Bye Bye dark whispers, I';m done with writing for now, it's trite. unappreciated, and unbecoming. Enough becoming of this retainer bullshit to not care at all.

[Ransom]

A.D.

This life has become an ugly thing
The world has been dying for decades
It used to mean something, to be alive
Society teaches us rules and regulation
enslave us wish invisible chains
spinning the wheels of untrained thought
never able to just stop and let be
What used to make this country great
has become it's greatest downfall
To have an idea and to build upon it
until it resembles itself no longer
until it becomes a well oiled machine
of it's own accord, unable to be disassembled
And at it's heart a bitter seed has taken root
That has not ripened, but has rotted with age
New generations are born
never knowing anything different
only knowing that this is all there is, all that exists
there is no other way available to live
no escape possible
every square inch of land owned
each plant and animal named
every place mapped out and charter
No more need for adventure
a flawless order that looks perfect on paper
until everything in this world has it's price
We become slaves to pointless routines
for the promise of a piece of paper
that maintains a perpetual state of need
We know not how to survive without this structure
So distraction paves the way
to keep us sedated with the way things are
while we feel this emptiness inside us
and know not what it is, can give it no name
We drug ourselves by many means
to numb ourselves to our surroundings
So we can comfortable go through the motions
without meaning, without out a sense of self
Freedom has become a myth
An false object, a stationary word without a purpose
I see now there is no other way
I must bring myself to those open spaces
to find my true self, to save my mortal soul
the end game begins


Aeternum

Have you ever seen a clear blue sky surrender to a darkened gray
Or witness the dry scattered bones picked clean by a watery grave
Just beneath the undergrowth and beyond all freedoms that enslave
Survives all broken promises and scattered dreams discarded day by day

I've seen this world for what it is and await for it to all reach the line to end
Beside the sea of everlasting memory I watched as my world failed to ascend
A neglected landscape remains littered with objects all with their story to tell
Singing their sorrow all out of tune of how they came to bid this world farewell

Between three faces of time all I see is this beach of what was not meant to be

With the long forgotten past behind me
With the close unknown future before me
With the element obscure skies above me
With the desolate russet sands below me

What shall I learn and come to find while sifting through all that's been left behind

Have you ever wished to reach that horizon where the water kisses the sky
Or stumble upon a lost tragedy that screams out the question why, why, why
I walk on these broken shards of memory and bleed onto the colored sands
I am covered by the rust of deadened desire and forgotten deferred demands

If only I could surpass all the boundaries that bequeath me such burden
Finally gather my own amongst the debris and determine my beings worth
I realize now two places inside and out can exist together in harmonious union
Our journey starts just as it ends we leave this earth not by death but by birth



Ambivalence
(Sun~Moon)
I once had a dream, where Time did scream,
and in turn that Decrepit Man turned against me.
~both bitter and broken, I am free in ways you will never be~
Time, with hands like talons
in his folly, choose to fight with me.

I then tried to run, far far away towards the Sun,
but I overlooked, for that Blistering Bitch misled me.
~eyes that burn so bright and true, yet so cold and empty~
The Sun, with eyes that blaze,
thought she was trying to save me.

I dared turn away, in my refusal to face the Day,
but My Past, shrouded in shadow, somehow found me.
~oh how you haunt me, that which never was, or will never be~
My Past, with wings that mummify,
only wanted to be a part of me.

So now I endlessly die, and not because I flew to high,
only because Me, Myself, and I was too reluctant to try.

So now in an eclipse, we no longer kiss,
there is no love lost between the night and day,

Edited by Ransom, 27 January 2012 - 10:58 AM.

[KellyScarletRakoczy]

Paradise (for Ransom, II)

Peridot plumes sparkle under a golden star
And ponder an earth below
Rusty core of coolness, bed of silk
Keep them rooted and tempered, ne’er dancing afar

Stargazer lilies swing under a sapphire sky
Lilting and circling so glorious
Magenta splashes dazzle and wake
Then fly away on sweet breeze, all awry

Willows fronds bound and sway
Tahitian beats on sweet wind
Balmy caress and salt air
Heaven is found here, today.

©K. Scarlet Rakoczy, 1/29/12

Edited by KellyScarletRakoczy, 29 January 2012 - 11:58 PM.