The Write Frame - Poetry by Nab.
Author | Message |
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kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | Beyond necessity. Beyond odds. Beyond life in rewind, monochrome. Beyond succinct moments (where all you’d like is a freeze-frame option). Beyond lifelessness and contentment. Beyond smiles. Beyond goals met. And every cloaked treasure we spend our whole existence looking out for. Beyond soulmates. Beyond love. Our shadows intermingle. |
mindless. Salute You in Your Grave Age: - Gender: Female Posts: 2915 | Thank you for the extremely appreciated compliment you gave on my thread, and I have to say, it deffinetly doesn't seem like you have trouble ending your poems! I am in love with Once. and Painters., and I think I will print one or both out and put them somewhere I can easily read them, (if it's okay with the author, of course! (; ). You are a fantastic poet, and I can't wait to read what you create next! (: |
kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | ^ Thank you! And of course it's okay by me. (: (: I sent this in for 48 Hr Mag. The theme given was 'Hustle'. Winter Burn (And Other Seasons). The lasers have started to flash an insurgency, and the village commute a system of impending quiet rebellion. Banners, balloons, and a Derringer. Get in line, there is a riot, go, go, stop. Go. Over the Pacific, winter does things to the neurotic mind; three AM, and sweat breaks out. They freeze cerebral ovens by mid-day. This is all in hopes of reanimating life – the on and off, when it is off then on. There, broken bones are bones multiplied, a blessing wrapped in gargantuan organ. I speak in Braille, he gesticulates desire mutely; we watch lovingly as the universe gives up on us. We’re told many things, as the marchers take to the streets, helium-voiced and rowdy. The thunder croons above them. We’re told it is nothing more than inexorable defeat, a commercialist independence, the grand art of humanity and annihilation to keep us all alive. We’re told existence is just absence wearing a dramatic mask, a la Día de los Muertos. The infants have made their political stance known - it would be voting day in a fortnight - and little time should be wasted. The lasers have stopped blinking. War has been won, and all is imploding. I stand ankle-deep in salt while you hurl water back into the ocean. “This is sacred,” I smile. Your response was a chatter of teeth and the slither of tongue. The authorities are now preparing for peace. Bring out the explosives, they say, it’s time for a new world. We can only do so much and be so much to be everything, so we be everything, and the choice comes with a fine print of self- condescendence. Let’s be everything. We chirp abuse at our neighbours. We’ll change the constant. The old movement will halt. Let’s start by being nothing. Go, go. ___________________________________________________Stop. |
kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | Write. It’s not an activity; it’s flirting with creation. It’s talking to the gods, or God, or talking to the lack of God. It’s a docile habit with a violent, hungry, painful disposition. It’s time wound around timelessness, and hope around hopelessness. It’s not a job; it’s benign strokes, and then sensuous ones, a frugal chance at living wrong, it’s the absence of hurt when hurt is all there is, it’s premonition, it’s conditioned existence, it’s transient romance. It’s not just talent; it’s failure overlapped with failure, it’s contentment with the loop, it’s abstract incidents, it’s serial birth, it’s a rite of passage that’s unwritten waiting to be penned. It’s not passion; it’s art. It’s spiritual. It’s magic. It’s Something Else. To sell it would be sinful; to hide it would be hedonistic. They put a finger on it, or they try. I let it speak. Let's just let it speak. |
kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | Cybernetics. There is a science to it. A commencement speech that deals with only the closeted sides of the audience focusing on bringing postcards to life. We ransack sleep, dreams, coffins, and die in mild clairvoyance; burglars of mind-homes, where tumbleweeds concern us only in theory of lonesomeness, fitfully falling with the snow ending on your Burberry coats. A clockful of histrionic metaphors that end you up stymied or scoffing and bored. Stop drinking coffee to find your illusions swirling at the bottom with the beans. You’ve already crushed it. Or you can read us like a manual Preparation Guideline For Death, ----------------Dismantle component A to ----------------detach reality from main unit. ----------------Disengage the Action Switch. ----------------Detour to all 5969 pages of things ----------------done before, and ----------------Wait for 15 years. ----------------Switch off your cybernetic half. ----------------The science is in the doing. |
misa misa. Shotgun Sinner Age: 33 Gender: Female Posts: 8241 | hey! I haven't been on in ages...so i apologize for the late response. I love The Definition and Write. You have such a unique style, and way of describing things. I find it is always really interesting seeing what you come up with. I last line of the Definition is my favourite: "Our shadows intermingle" great line. Can't wait to here more from you. - nadiya. |
kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | I must admit I've not been on here in a very long time, neither have I written anything untill a few days ago but as ever, reading something of yours, something like cybernetics makes me want to shape the fuck up and at least have a go at being as eloquent as you. The end of cybernetics was almost chilling. <3 |
jertmccracken Killjoy Age: 28 Gender: Male Posts: 32 | Hey great work.I really love it please check out some of mine,and please leave a commento o' critskisms thanx. |
mar0o0ha Bleeding on the Floor Age: 30 Gender: Female Posts: 1581 | I've read them all And They Are Really Awesome |
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