I know that I am unlearned,
stuttering.
Youve got your good intentions,
well,
thats nice nice nice.
Spell your soul out with belongings.
Possessions, you are so careless
you leave a piece of you behind
with everything you
t-t-touch.
Are you so reckless with your own soul
that if the world around you were destroyed
your identity would go up in flames?
Touch upon this,
If you were alone lonely lonesome,
If you were abandoned,
on you own,
are you not still whole?
Have compassion.
Dont be a lover of cells and molecules.
Dont make love to lifeless things
for they will
Bring Science to Her Knees by MadHadder666, literature
Literature
Bring Science to Her Knees
But what, indeed. A gilded mesh you have woven with your robbery, thefts picked tenderly through literature's fineries. Bring your spoils to the craftsman and mend and bend a dress of mail to wear over your soft and tender poet's heart. Vagrant, you cowards know what a sword doth make the inky pen, the blotting singing lark. Writer, you know what chaos and murder your wretched pen will start, and yet you must speak. You must write your truths, knowing they will be the match to burn pyres of living things.
Cheery intent in the inking and so very wretched in the scrapping away of, the tearing away at. Yet, still appreciati
My name is Basin, Rescuer, Friend, Easing Relief, Comforter and Treasurer. You touch the washing water and you are soothed by sweet oils and hyssop. I am a deep well of love.
You could sing here.
Or read for hours.
Or examine your body closer than is common,
And you could sink under the water and blow bubbles and say large words,
You can even make rude noises here,
And cry here,
Scream, erupt, be purged, relieved, eased.
But what turns this faucet on, what fulfills this bin, is a warm hand whose touch comforts me and thrills. Empty on my own, so very empty. I can give nothing if no heart and love are to be poured into this.
What fil
There is not much a taste in this world
that I cannot swallow, smile, chew;
but when coffee steeps,
and stews brew,
and brews burn...
Well, Id rather just sleep in.
Thats why Im late.
First, who is giving you a gift?
If it is someone you do not like and you know there are alternative motives, politely refuse. If they insist, refuse again. No matter what the gift is, refuse.
If it is a gift of someone trying to make amends, think if you are being bribed with the gift or if they are sincerely sorry and giving out of care for you. If you were the disagreement starter, say - the person in the wrong, realize how desperate this person is to be in an alright place with you. If the gift is something personal, the gift was meant as a token, so in friendship return it but with a pleasant alteration or a "bonus" or with something y
This is written for tears left unshed:
Be they tears held back until a later time,
when later never let us cry
and later leaked away in rhymes.
Be they tears that were called for
when we couldnt grieve quite yet
and offered instead something rather guilty,
some guilty sanity.
This is written for tears that never reached the eyes:
Failures you two have been,
and your teacher, eyes,
was I.
I have failed to teach my eyes to learn to grieve,
In times of grief my eyes, they smile,
while inwardly I spiral.
Eyes, Ive failed you.
Eyes, youve failed your tears.
Tears, youve failed me.
Your failures drove me ma
Neer ave I built a castle in the sky,
twas not me who tore yours down.
I told you tales of War Baloons
an' some things then said were simple lie,
but in the end, in all the smoke, itwas not I.
Neer ave I explored the golden ground,
An twas not me who revealed the gold a gild.
I told you tales then of a biting drill,
an some things I spoke of can neer be found,
but itwas not I who descrated your burial mound.
Neer ave I drunk the chalice eternal filled,
twas not I who polluted that hallow fountain.
I told you truth of the ghoul, the gol
Crash and burn and die........ by MadHadder666, literature
Literature
Crash and burn and die........
Birds they fly up,
I I fly down
Deep
Dark
Ugly
Despondent
Despairing
But its flight
Wings are not used
But its flying
Or falling
Of failing
Or something
But its down
Too deep
Or maybe
Its just becoming normal again
Coming back to earth
From a great height
Maybe Ive misunderstood everything
But still,
Birds they fly up
And Im down
And it doesnt feel nice
Wish I was a bird
But then,
Id get killed by a cat
Still,
Id have flown
And known it
riddlesome holes
grit worn away
chastise the grime
worry,
why rhyme
fantasize
average
normal
for granted,
taken advantage
know what I mean?
normalcy
whimsical knowledge
meanings unseen
wittier
yet
prefer verbal celibacy
silence musical
pity
remorse
regret
sorry
wean the heart
never from loneliness
alone
teach it coarsely
to forget
pining
expertly mimic the stones
lone finger
completely of its own
tracing
touching
replace importance
forfeit the cynic wit
its an empty reach
forget how to stand well
relapse
The sea washed over the broken sand
As the tide pulled the waves inland.
The entrance of the glowing moon,
Parted the tears of the salty boon,
Her deep blue eyes looked far away.
She, pale beauty, who hides from day.
The wind blew the colors to and fro
In the glory of the nights pure snow.
The moon's fine maidens of a purer till,
Stolen beauty,stolen so night may heal.
The old church steeple, like a blade,
Cutting into the deep blue shade.
The forest with its outreached hand,
The leaning fingers of living land.
He who tamed this night of glory,
With none to know his sad story;
She who could not shine so grand
Without th
The little dreams and aspirations,
The fragments of imagination,
Ive kept then in a blue glass jar
Ever since the day you broke them.
I always tilted the table to your direction,
Letting the ball fall into your lap like a new creation.
You had deep blue eyes that looked far away, too far,
Again too distant for me to ever know them,
That you were hiding a miserable and sickening end.
Sharp slivers sometimes remain in my heart
And your memory only shoves them deeper.
Forcing your forsaken opinions into my mind,
It hurts; your Cheshire grins somehow still burns deep.
Youve eaten away at me from the start.
Holding what y
Insert Epic Title Here by MadHadder666, literature
Literature
Insert Epic Title Here
Their crying river, one bold man's will
The hangman's dance, dancing still
The women's prayer, a cup of wine
A caress, a kiss, callused fingers tracing a line
One bird, a message, the broken flight
One nail, one horse, a king lost in the fight
An earth, a sun a single inch
One nation, a drought and a poisoned trench
A kiss, a kiss a memory to forget again
Fights rage once more, a single sin
One bullet, a coin, one call of death and tears
Soft whisper, a branch, one face to instill fears
The fire, the wind, a burned down home
Poor child that lived to die alone
One rhyme, a riddle, one wish of mine
To kiss, one kiss, fr
See you later. Oh, twelve fingered friend:
Counting down the hands until I see you again;
And, oh, metaphorically speaking, Im still begrudgingly and here
And youre still far and accused, oh, so far out there
The numbers of time dont count down to a moment,
They add up the seconds until they can start over again;
And just like a child, counting the footsteps from under the blanket,
Behind the curtains or in a tree, imaginary monsters take as they play,
And downstairs the real monsters grind, from colors to gray.
Tick-tock, the lies ran up the lying clock:
Yet we count 60 seconds on only ten fingers, hearts, oh, so
Riddle me this, oh nimble Jack by MadHadder666, literature
Literature
Riddle me this, oh nimble Jack
Born to break away and to be merily caged
Exploring passages of apathetic rage
Mirror's Alice swallowing pill after pill
Winking colors; I am Jack, not Jill
Falling; Falling down the rabbit's hole
Into the reversed reflection of Wonderland's soul
If there cannot be a beast under the bed
I'll create monsters to fill this blank head
Little by little, I've lost my sheep
Sliver and slice, slipped from my keep
One bit for my lover, one bit for my fool
And I find the rhymes resolution broken rather dull
And the old rat race ran up Ol' Ben
We, itsy bitsy spiders, fine that the rain falls again
So, three wise men sat on a wall
And alth
Modern Romantic - Nearly by MadHadder666, literature
Literature
Modern Romantic - Nearly
Thick and fluid like ink and paint,
We can't white out or blot away our mistakes.
Cool stone bitten with frostbite patterns
Like Tourest in the Temple or Romance,
Ignorant of the ghostly stares of the educated.
Those who know, if existant, never last
Yet we can cling to one another
Content with memories of happy days
Past.Present.Living.Now.Ongoing.
You won't have us dig up these burial grounds
Nor shall you call love unholy or pagan.
The smell of leather is rich organized death
Who sings sweetly as silver burns away at nothing.
Words gracefully slice but crudely heal.
Only the heartless live on woundless and unscaythed,
Dribbl
i bring up my hands
and my lips
and my cup to the licking post
and wait for drops and proverbs to come.
and here is one i'd like to share
with you.
you didn't slam the door.
you quietly left, closed it behind you,
and put the key
under a rock in our garden.
and i went out with rake and hoe,
dug my way around,
and forced myself back into the room.
i break the pickets of fences
and i grit my teeth.
i castrate flowers, castigate the trees
i hate how useless
everything seems.
we listen through cracks in windows
and we listen to the prophets
and the dirt they dish out
like candy to children
i fight gravity day to day
because
Favourite style of art: I like simple pencil sketches best, to be honest. Personal Quote: I meditate on my own for long periods of time just to make sure I'm not anywhere else - Ben
You can now find me here: http://woodenpress.deviantart.com/
The user-name is WoodenPress ...
Thank you for the help, I went a different direction after a bout of self-disgust at how indecisive and pathetic and selfish this girl that I am can be.
Live, you people.
Bye.
I was going to make a new account and transfer over my gallery slowly, and then delete this account.
Suggestions for a username that you think suits me, my writing, or this and that reason... --- Suggestions welcome, I have a few ideas but am indecisive blah d'blah yakidy yak yak mumble grumple slurple.......
I am going to go clean the house. S'later.
There is not anything quite like candles for setting a specific mood, this is true especially for typing at your computer monitor. Here, imagine this, you are trying to create a history full of betrayals and intrigue and, not surprisingly, you are finding it difficult thanks to the glow of the truly 'modern' monitor and overhead lamp. Thinking yourself cleverly rustic, you run about the house collecting candles. Once you have gathered eight or so, two of which are scented, you light them up with your lighter and a pencil (light the pencil on fire and then you don't waste matches, but burning graphite probably isn't good for the lungs...) and
I know I am commenting a lot, but I just logged on for the first time and didnt know that they had literature, yours is the first that I have read on here and it is very cool.
why do you hide the comments that you get from others to read?