Fucked Up College Kids Poetry 006

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Fucked Up College Kids

 · 5 years ago

  

 
               F U C K E D  U P  C O L L E G E  K I D S 
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                - t h e  p o e t r y  v e n t u r e - 
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        variation of style and form set poetry aside from all 
        other forms of writing.  the freedom you have, the total 
        disregard of 'rules', and the careless nature of 
        expression are the poet's best friend. 

        use them as a powerful tool, an excuse to have fun, or 
        anything else.  just express your desire in words, else 
        a lot could be lost. 

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        The Red Hand 

        The Red Hand flares before my face 
        Not clenched in anger, 
        Not extended in supplication, 
        But cupped to hold the warmth, 
        Fingers together 
        As if to caress my soul. 
        Etched in black marble, 
        It wards off the suffocating winds, 
        Nurturing a slow, easeful death. 
        All roads lead to the same end; 
        Conservation of mortality still holds. 
        'Tis death on installment, 
        Another cigarette in the dark. 

        Screamin' Lord Byron            3:30 AM, a long time ago 

 

        I Stand in The Darkness 

        I stand in the darkness of my thoughts 
        An illusion my mind creates 
        I begin to walk through a storm 
        Needles of rain beat my cold pale face 
        Clothes drenched and saturated by  
        The uncontrollable pressures 
        From a blind uncaring world  
        Making way, no path, directionless 
        I find an old man, worn and ragged by the years 
        Sitting on a cold stone 
        At the edge  of a crystal lake 
        Surface rippled by downpour 
        I am with him, emotionless 
        For what seemed like eternity  
        Where time did not exist 
        His wrinkled fragile hands grasp tightly 
        Around a short decaying pole 
        Waiting for a fish, without bait 
        His hook is dull and bare 
        I sit down looking into his eyes 
        Seeing only myself  
        Coming to the realization  
        That he can offer me no guidance 
         
        Trix 

 

        magnetic poetry III 

        .wet lip rot thing never bellows about morning 
        .women always smile icy 
        .woman is a dark poison 
        .a feline who can dazzle 
        .haunt naked red bone 
        .explore steel questions as peace kills 
        .more blind waking crap 
        .concrete never listens 
        .live those wild pictures that linger in brilliant glass 
        .marble girl blue with openness 
        .blushing & trusting 
        .sad cloud fools clean cut velvet 
        .embrace the secret universe 
        .young worry slowly decays 
        .must bleed smoke soon 
        .almost prisoner 
        .we will have deep sex with a ferocious rhythm 
        .sacrifice change 
        .delicious eternity 
        .burn over fire 

        (various guests of dis) 

 

        her fragrance filled the air 
        then my mind began to go 

        we had such good times in the past 
        we had such memorable moments 

        what happened to all the good times 
        what happened to all the madness 

        she could make my soul crawl 
        she could make my eyes water 

        her fragrance left the room 
        then my mind began to go 

        that's how it happened last time 

        rage 

 

        map of my night 
                                 
more eclectic, eccentric, out of touch    another kernel compile,  more mail 
A              all meaning lost to all    2.0.55 bombed shortly after 2.0.31 
small slice                  except me    another man page, another util now 
of my random thoughts                I    known.  continued wonder of lamers 
and the strange day that i keep having    with power they cannot comprehend. 

 
several  calls    freestyle a blessing    the apocalypse looms around us all 
throughout the    for without form the    calling out for the world of souls 
night, present    mind can wonder mean    next day, next year, next whatever 
company in one    thought down the new    more childish fear or maybe a tool 
form,  comfort    trail, chaos of mind    for lemming mass control. i bet it 
of friendship.    a simple expression.    is the latter. just one faithless. 

 
cascading flame the warmth    1:52 and disarray is    sleep comes for us all 
red and blue dance around.    all there is.  vague    maybe some music so he 
mesmerizes poets young kid    glimpse of something    can relax,  let broken  
enthralls taunts and tease    to come. yesteryear.    dreams take his pains. 

        dis 

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        (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author.      
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        F O U N D E D:                         October 30, 1997