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Poetry Thread - Tribe Writers

Temper Tantrum

TRIBE Member
I always love these threads because there's some amazing writers out there *cough*DAN*cough* and reading people's stuff is awesome. So post your poetry and/or writing here.

Some random one from a while back:

Broken


Shards of glass
Glitter
in the warming sun
Pieces of my identity
Scattered to the four corners of the earth

Love
Hate
Deception
Illusion
Friend
Lover

How can you rebuild yourself
When you realize
there was nothing their to begin?


The current drags me down
A speckle upon
an endless ocean
No lifejacket
Nobody to hear my cries

I will eventually drown
in the depths of my illusion


The shattered glass
was a mirror
reflecting a conception of identity
No more tangible
then a fading dream
whispers of moonlight
whisked away by dawn


7 years bad luck
I think
Jagged edges
once formed something whole


The sun glitters harshly
As I see the pieces of my soul
in the shattered mirror
It is the same as me

Broken
 
G

Guest

Guest
Worker bees can leave
Even drones can fly away
The queen is their slave
 
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French Disco Girl

TRIBE Member
wow - the contributions in this thread are .... enlightening!


i love dan's stuff too - hopefully he has some new pieces to share


im not much of a poetry writer - i do write poetry but i find it falls too far out of the conventional methods used. and i often get lost while writing it myself. but i
love writing short stories, or insightful pieces of 'text'.

this one's kinda long, but its my favourite piece, written for (and about) a true friend who's changed my life forever.

i was once but a seed planted in the soil, much anticipating my growth and full blossom. within my petit garden, sowed and fed by our nurturing mother, i was surrounded by many fellow seeds. all of us indifferent to each other, mother always told us that it is the difference between us that makes us unique to life and that what we give to our garden we will receive two-fold upon the coming days of the end. to my immediate left there was the seed of dispair. he was a lonely seed and seemed to only seek refuge in his wants. mother always told him that getting what you need, the basic fundaments of life, were what was important, and that greed for what one wanted would only bring disappointment and frustration. this seed did not show concern though, and blindfolded his ears to her words of wisdom. he stole from the rich offerings of the earth, taking whatever he could. this seed only wanted to become something that everyone around him would love, would want...no matter what that price was. eventually, after the winter came and went and the spring sprung upon our garden green....this seed became a weed. though he tried hard to appear pleasing to the eye, sprouting a yellow flower upon his green shaft ... everyone around him knew that he was just a weed.

to my immediate right there was another seed. what i like to call a gentle seed. he went through his seed life listening to mothers words, respecting mothers words, and living by mothers words. i soon fell in love with the gentle seed and eventually turned my being towards him. it was through this gentle seed that our garden grew.... he grew, he changed, he prospered and finally he bloomed into the most beautiful flower amongst our garden. mother was proud of him and said he had much to offer her earth. people who walked by our garden would always stop to admire his beauty. many referred to this gentle seed as the ultimate offering of mother nature. no one ever dared to pluck him from the roots of our garden, as everyone knew this would kill his very being. it was much more pleasureful for those to be able to bask in his presence even if but for a short while. meanwhile, the weed, looking wilted and brown through his frustrations of disappointment, eventually died. he died without ever experiencing the beauty of giving and receiving. the weed only took from mother .... and he became a product of greed and selfishness. i felt pity for the weed, and befriended him throughout his lifetime. i felt sorrow for him ... as mother once said it is our differences that matter and which need to be accepted, no matter how fatal they may prove to be. i thought love would make the dispaired seed change. mother told me that this seed would be given another chance, next spring, inwhich to change his ways ... but that he must be willing to learn from his past life errs and make the changes necessary to bring him to the ultimate. i bloomed next to the weed ... whispering thoughts of love, of acceptance, of tenderness. i never shunned the weed for what he was, but rather accepted him for what he could have offered to our garden. he never thanked me before he shrivelled back into the rich soil of our mother earth, he never expressed gratitude for the shelter i gave him. but that is okay, i have learned....because the beautiful gentle seed, to my immediate right, has shared enough of his prosperity with me that i am able to flourish into a flower. it was through my friend, the gentle seed, that i saw we all belong to each other. my friend, the gentle seed, gathered the pieces of my petals which were distorted and taken from me by the wind and gave them back to me all in the right order. it is good you know, when you have a seed who is a friend of your mind. and it is good you know, when you have a seed planted in the mind of love.
 

The Watcher

TRIBE Member
I wrote this a little while back,

I had named it "Girls Suck", but I think I'm going to call it "It's hard to let go sometimes"

I cannot explain the way I feel
The sharp pain in me is very real
My heart is going to stop any day
If thoughs of her dont go so far away

When I'm feeling way to low down and weak
A Friends good advice I will try to seek
This sometimes makes me feel so much better
I go outside and enjoy the weather

Seing couples meet makes me so damn aware
Being alone always gives me a scare
Never again, No! Will I feel this way
To Love is to hurt, is all I can say

Thanks Much
Nick
 

tella

TRIBE Member
inhale

burgularize the emptiness
that settles inside
break the silence
of unending stares
that start as innocent exchanges
but end in corruption

virtuous characters
cast temptuous decrees

crucified to your being

i no longer recognize
the person
you have become
 

Hi i'm God

TRIBE Member
Beans, Beans the magical fruit, the more you eat the more you toot.
or
Beans, beans they're good for your heart the more you eat the more your fart.
 
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Decepta-Kyle

TRIBE Member
Haven't done this for awhile...oh well.

-Virtuous Gifts-

Try being pretty sometime
Try it because you can
With its fragile, crysal
Glass confinements

Strive to be emotional
Tune into that side
Be it with all its intense
Confounding vulnerability

Attempt to be independent
Stand out for something
Embody the lonely
Distancing isolation

Find your inner self
Swan dive into your mind
Flounder in the crest and
Trough inconstant

to Try and Attempt to Find the Embodiment
of something is to live.

-Crows on a Fence-

We are the total of our longings
And the fighting of our fears
The heights of our elations
And the dampness of our tears
I walk through noon-time shadows
And spotlights after dark
I trip on shiny pebbles
And rise without a mark
We look for what is lacking
And detract from all things dear
We look for inspiration
In cheap and cloudy beer

It's found in someplace local
It's found under our toes
It's found when least expected
It's found in flights of crows

-Thoughts from the Sandbox-

I said hi to you in pre-school
Where we shared names and pies of mud
We traded lunch time goodies
Cheering Bugs and booing Mr. Fudd

You had the neatest Barbie raincoat
And thought my He-Man bag was cool
We played house all day long
And splashed in the kiddie pool

If I wax reminiscent
On fun filled days gone by
Does that mean you join me there
In light refracted from your eye

Sometimes I pull that bag out
It makes me chuckle, snort and smile
I hope you kept that rain coat
In a messy, closet bottom pile

Even if I never see you
Or you don't recall my name
We'll always have pre-school
Where you found your Barbie fame


Not very good but that's what's supposed to characterize amateurs, right?....hehe


Kyle
 

LivingRoomPornstar

TRIBE Member
Well here's a short story i wrote a little while ago...Its a little fictional look into the fragility of family bonds.


Time Never Spent
-----------------
She looked over his bruises, his cuts, his bumps, and smiled widely. Her blue eyes were tight in their corners, her dimples obvious, as she focused on one eye and then the other, and then back again. The tears were coming fast now, and he tried everything in his power to fight them off. His cheeks moist, his face flush, his lips began to part, only to have her fingertips bring them together again. She leaned forward, her weathered hands grasping his shoulders, and pulled him closer. Their cheeks touched gently, as she whispered in his ear. He began to weep, then harder, into a sob, and finally he began to wail. He raised his clenched fists to his eyes to quell this charade of weakness. He screamed so loud and hard it felt as though his chest had turned inside out, so loud, that she thought she could feel the bedroom windows shake.

She remembered back to a time when the air was sweet with fresh cut grass, and the lawn shavings charismatically danced on the warm air of a summer breeze. When the sunlight kissed her forehead as a grandmother would when she felt you “just plain needed it”. But what she remembered most was his smile. It was a smile unburdened by worry, unburdened by memories of hurt and loneliness. It was so genuine, once-upon-a-time. His wide-eyed inquisitive gaze and open hands gave her warmth and comfort, with the notion that life really didn’t get better than this.

He remembered her pulling all of the good dishes out of the cupboard above the sink and packing them in a box. The way she wouldn’t look him in the eye for more than three seconds at a time. It was cold, but not the type of cold that a parka and pair of wool mittens would challenge. It was the type of cold that you felt from in your bones, the type that made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You knew that if you closed your hands and blew hard enough into them that eventually they would warm up, but they never stayed that way. He remembered his hands being so painful from clenching, that it hurt to open them. His eyes were so red and sore that he kept them closed too. Most of all, it was those moments she wasn’t there that he remembered.

She remembered the cards he gave her in May. The time of year when small green buds appeared on the gnarled fingers of the trees in front of her house. The cards were always made by hand, with hearts and stars and rhyming poems that in her eyes, were the most loving words she had ever read. She remembered his laugh when her dog knocked him over and licked his face. She missed the hockey games, the highschool fashion shows and being a part of his life. What she missed most was the bellowing of “MOM!” when he needed her.

He remembered the time he spent folding his hands on the long trips to her house. He remembered the days he visited only to be left alone during the nights. The time he spent looking at his watch, wondering why she never called, or refused to pick him up. He remembered sitting behind a closed door with his fists covering his ears while she argued with her boyfriends. Most of all, he remembered the time she never spent.


They remembered the last day they really spoke to each other, every last word. The argument in her kitchen that destroyed something that written word and wisdom argue the feasibility of being destroyed. Her blood ran cold, and with 7 fierce words, one sentence, she broke something that was supposed to be unbreakable. She severed the bond between a mother and a son.

“I’m not raising you, your father is.”

The room was silent. The windows no longer shook. His chest moved in and out slowly and steadily. He pulled her closer, drying her tears with his palms. He took her hands in his, and whispered, “These bonds can only be mended using the tools that broke them. Choose your words wisely, and remember that a gesture to show someone you love them isn’t always tangible. It is often just a phone call, a kind word or a good deed. These gestures are often reciprocated; especially when both involved have recognized that time is in short supply. I love you.”
 
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KiX

TRIBE Member
Omg allie starting a poerty thread? WHO THE FUCK WOULD HAVE THOUGHT!?


*muah*

Wow. You guys are good.


So instead of posting my lame recent stuff (of which i have but one poem... from when i was in one of those "weird" phases), i have dug up, for your pleasure, a poem I wrote when i was but a 15 year old Grade 10 biology student.

Terra Incognita - An Ode to Archbishop James Ussher

They laugh at you now
They pick at the seams
These "irrational claims"
Just your sciencey dreams

They laugh at your thoughts
Of a God ruling high
With some dust and one rib
Life out of the sky

The jest at your claims
Of a species so loved
Its Maker'd forsake
His only true Son

You sat and you toiled
By a candle's dim light
Cold in your chamber
All hours at night

You worked it all out
Though reduced now to lore
In the time before Christ
Four Thousand and Four

But not just a year!
No, you took it much farther
To the start of the night
The twenty-third of October

By your very brain
No divine revelation
The creation of man
Into cold calculation

You thought you had found
That moment of Glory
But they boil it down
To mere allegory

The apex of species
Told "Now, multiply!
I'll grant you dominion,
Of earth, sea and sky!"

You unearthed that moment!
Humanity's start
How you must have felt!
(Most likely quite smart)

As though God himself
Had opened your eyes
And granted you power
Of earth, sea and skies

Our glorious moment
Still unscathed by sin
That moment in time
Bonding spirit with skin

The world was amazed!
You had them convinced
"6000 years old!" claimed
Shakespeare's Rosalind

But echoing now
In the classrooms at school
The laughter proclaims
Not a saint, but a fool

I'm sure you can hear
From your place in the ground
(Quite a far cry from the heaven you'd found)

Wherever you are
I want you to know
Some still appreciate
The effort you showed

And though it is clear
Our birth wasn't so Great
As we came not from God
But descended from ape

You did try your hardest
And through all the laughter
The foundation you laid
Remains ever after


Hehe i was a nerd.

=tina=
 

graham

Well-Known TRIBEr
How Now Brown Cow!
Thou hast more goatse than Sow
What Tyger burning bright
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
 
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Originally posted by Galactic Phantom:
Worker bees can leave
Even drones can fly away
The queen is their slave
</font>
Taken from the scripture of Tyler Durden

From the Ministry of Fight Club

Prime Minister Highsteppa
 

judge wopner

TRIBE Member
it seems just like yesterday i was playing street hockey behind the
O'Felisi's supermarket parking lot until dark. a few people on this list,

a shoddy old tennis ball, frightened of so many hockey sticks, barely
visible in those cold winter nights.

sometimes i played goalie.
you probally remember the routine, the yellow styrafoam tied with rope to your legs, the baseball glove, a blocker and really big stick.

i used to look over the streets of the city- my home, as the sun would set,
casting its calming shadow over row upon row of house and home.
streaks of glare from big apartment buildings made me squint in awkward
glances. i was so small, in such a big city, my mind was reaching for something too great for its grasp. it still is i guess.

then the tennis ball, at what seemed like light speed would strike me.
the face, the chest, the legs, sometimes... my more horricfic places.
anyone whos ever played street hockey knows it. that biting sting of hard
green-felt against cold skin- the battels of our youth.

i could only look with wonder; over friends, over sport and home.
unsure of what was to come, not just for me but for all of us.
some of the boys are still around, and sadly some arent.
some still play from time to time but its never quite the same.

i never kept score, but i always had fun. we all did.
we were just kids playing hockey in the streets.
moving nets to the side when cars raced by.
Arguing feircely about goals and cherry-picking. The super-stars going up
to score goals, the fat kids in back holding it down on defense.

everyone found a place in that game.

perhaps its true what they say about hockey, the greatest game on earth.


BOSA
 

Plato

TRIBE Member
CLOTH

tonight you will be the last thought on my mind
tommorow you will be the first
and i wish you werent
because my body cannot handle so many tears


p[l]a+0
 
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louie

TRIBE Member
I'm doing this from the top of my head so if it no good too bad....

Be Thankful for all the little things in life, like walking and talking.
Be thankful to your family, cause without them you wouldn't be here.
Be thankful to your friends, cause when your down they are there to pick you right up.
Be thankful for the person standing next to you, cause it might be the last person you ever see.
Be thankful for food and water, cause there are people all around the world who are starving to death this very second.
Be thankful to things you normally take for granted, like playing sports or going to Canada's Wonderland.
Be thankful for being able to shower on your own, cause one day you might need someone to help you.
Be thankful to your brothers and sisters, cause although sibling rivalry may exist, they are your best friend in the long run.
Be thankful for material things, cause although they are material you still wasted your hard earned money on them.
Be thankful to your employer who dosen't hassle you everyday although you are the best worker in the yard.
Be thankful for your Grandparents, cause there are some people that never get to see them.
Be thanful for your older brother, cause when he is hurt you are dying inside.
But most of all be thankful for Life, cause its too short and too precious to take for granted.


This was inspired by my older brother Dre. Get well soon and I love you, and remember: Whatever dosen't kill you will only make you stronger, with what you've been through in life you must be the strongest person in the world, but keep fighting cause its worth it.

Love your younger brother, Louie......
 

Boo

TRIBE Member
Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrasment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.

 

~~Brandi~~

TRIBE Member
These poems are a bit on the dark side as I've been battling depression for a few years, but thought I would post regardless



Left alone
Where is this place?
Somewhere in the whirlwind
Between fantasy and reality
Hear subtle voices whispering
Who's there?
My imagination or actuality?
See moving shadows
Is it real?
Illusion or visuality....
As my mind hears what it wants
Sees what it wants
Wanders as it may......
Existence becomes a mere illusion
of what I perceive it to be.
What is this place?
Nothing but an ongoing rat race.


Empty

Alone...
Dark and dismal
A trance like state


Broken...
Illusions of reality, not real
Desperately seeking to see the light
Warmth exists, but not within me
Cold and shivering

I am alive yet feel lifeless
Misunderstood, what's going on?
Unable to communicate.

Empty.
------------------------------------------
This one I wrote during a really turbulent relationship ....

I feel a connection
So strong I cannot break free

An ongoing saga
Turbulent, extreme, unpredictable

You are so special to me
But more often then not
I don't feel quite as special to thee

Feelings of inequity, distress, confusion
Closure is all I seek

Complications; charades are like blindfolds
Barriers in the way of communication

What can't it be simple?
Where you are you and I am me?
For it is this simplicity that shall set
Us both free.......

will post more later

Brandi
 

TaCk OnE?

TRIBE Member
here is an example entitled,

I'm trying TOO hard

I look through hollow eye sockets
towards the shattered emptyness indide.
I am greeted by millions of nobodys, the fragments of the characters I've been.

I am alone among millions
yet I feel at home.
movement staggered by the strings I've tied around my fingers to remember.
but I do not remember.
I only recolect what I'm trying to say.

Poetry flows easily through my fingers and into my pen.
but what the hell does it mean to anybody.
in the end?


HAHAHA...


lets have a reading...lol
 
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