I Want To Write Poetry From The Soul
I would be interested in speaking with artistic people, maybe we can write something together..
anyway here's what i have a record of of my poetry
i doubt most ppl who open this will read it all i started with what i think is my best
Spores entering the nourishment of darkness
Knowing the moon like Mother's face
Breaking free from my lunatic harness
Falling up backwards to grace
Currents and ripples drag through
Molten plasticine of memory
Moments felt and held onto as soul once held flesh
Light emits from perception emotion through sensory
Patterns emerging as memories mesh
as love mathematics and beauty persisted
While an art cannot possibly stand on its own
Patterns so perfect they already existed
A footprint is not something someone can own
Shell castle......
My head's made of sand in the shape of a shell,
Top caved in, see inside, see and tell,
My shell drinks the sun down it's spiral curls well, carving my story, transforming my hell,
Spiral river inside me and out through the mouth,
From south to north then around back to south,
Aiming on the way up for perpetually north, we all grow so tired from all this back and forth,
Flying up to the sun to become what the rays, feel of my shell and the end of my days, sandcastle body sitting upright, doesn't crumble goes warm in the wet of the light, from my chest a drawer opens and out my heart fell, now await for my love to climb in to be held, dying is hatching I peer through a crack, projecting my thoughts and then bringing them back, nothing's alive no such thing as dead, the stream shapes the sand that makes up my head, seeds in my hand the words that she said, to rearrange the river bed
There was a painting my mom threw out with other unfinished and finished ones that went perfectly with that one.
I guess I'll just paste in all my poems I can find right away but I want others to contribute.
so um...
"family matters" (right now I shall call this one)
Further from beginning
Further from the whole
Further from the family
Make the world a whore
Fight for an eternity
Already won
Fencing in your crops
Nurturing no one
"Pride of Nothing" (I might as well call this one)
Completely alone was a nothing that felt, intuition desire for the ultimate self, where not alone but now separate and needing be whole, the empty place for reconnection with the rest of the soul, dignity grace in each entity's name, and the freedom received when released from the game, even questions that both sides would equally blame, pleasure from the pain of the shame,
"Where my lungs used to be.."
The conception of art hugs the forms we observe as tho dipped into soul pool defining each curve perception it seeps into crevices cracks erodes imperfections then bringing them back to the baselines thru which souls look out all around baseline distorted by memories of emotion taste sight touch and sound collected projected reinvented saved held in place by perception from home in the cave collaboration resonation thru sight eye to eye waves to come back full circle are sent down the line close your eyes and feel the gentle persuasion of a light so kind that we know so well it still sits in our mind falling warm upon closed eyes and vision to keep in the dark of returning to beginning to sleep every line that u traced thru molten plasticine of memory is explored freely as light projects. emotion thru sensory. how will I breath again where are the trees heavy brutal desire where my lungs used to be but the light I remember falls right over her.. Still believing in air so much soul where her lungs were. so the warmth and the pull of the light on the dirt lifts the dirt into streams stretching open the earth in the memory of love for origin of soul in the atmosphere echo I'll feel the earth whole.
missing something^^
"poison"
The soul is infected with poison
As people who don't feel their reason
Fill the void with force
And filth as extremes are sought
At all costs
The entirety I hope and believe keeps its form
Unaffected but for it's stomach turning
Pain but only within a wholeness to wake to
A dream in the fractal womb
And futile our attempts to be anything but exactly as we have created ourselves
Asleep and fetal within it
"better friends"
Division from the fear, decision from the pain
Division from the hunger and the wetness of the rain
Division from the pleasure
Reunion of compassions
Division of the walls that separate what holds our passion
Reunion of the spirit
Reunion of the friends
To truly separate what simply should and should not end
Chasing the sun through all the world's seeming
Mindlessly sinning for all that we need
Exploring the scare of our sins down and dreaming
Mindfully planning which impulse precedes
Hear her scold what's to come as we rise for an airful
Recede again into it behind us trailing futile concern
Reality's back hear Crow cry out be careful
We roar from the mountains the world takes it's turn
anyway here's what i have a record of of my poetry
i doubt most ppl who open this will read it all i started with what i think is my best
Spores entering the nourishment of darkness
Knowing the moon like Mother's face
Breaking free from my lunatic harness
Falling up backwards to grace
Currents and ripples drag through
Molten plasticine of memory
Moments felt and held onto as soul once held flesh
Light emits from perception emotion through sensory
Patterns emerging as memories mesh
as love mathematics and beauty persisted
While an art cannot possibly stand on its own
Patterns so perfect they already existed
A footprint is not something someone can own
Shell castle......
My head's made of sand in the shape of a shell,
Top caved in, see inside, see and tell,
My shell drinks the sun down it's spiral curls well, carving my story, transforming my hell,
Spiral river inside me and out through the mouth,
From south to north then around back to south,
Aiming on the way up for perpetually north, we all grow so tired from all this back and forth,
Flying up to the sun to become what the rays, feel of my shell and the end of my days, sandcastle body sitting upright, doesn't crumble goes warm in the wet of the light, from my chest a drawer opens and out my heart fell, now await for my love to climb in to be held, dying is hatching I peer through a crack, projecting my thoughts and then bringing them back, nothing's alive no such thing as dead, the stream shapes the sand that makes up my head, seeds in my hand the words that she said, to rearrange the river bed
There was a painting my mom threw out with other unfinished and finished ones that went perfectly with that one.
I guess I'll just paste in all my poems I can find right away but I want others to contribute.
so um...
"family matters" (right now I shall call this one)
Further from beginning
Further from the whole
Further from the family
Make the world a whore
Fight for an eternity
Already won
Fencing in your crops
Nurturing no one
"Pride of Nothing" (I might as well call this one)
Completely alone was a nothing that felt, intuition desire for the ultimate self, where not alone but now separate and needing be whole, the empty place for reconnection with the rest of the soul, dignity grace in each entity's name, and the freedom received when released from the game, even questions that both sides would equally blame, pleasure from the pain of the shame,
"Where my lungs used to be.."
The conception of art hugs the forms we observe as tho dipped into soul pool defining each curve perception it seeps into crevices cracks erodes imperfections then bringing them back to the baselines thru which souls look out all around baseline distorted by memories of emotion taste sight touch and sound collected projected reinvented saved held in place by perception from home in the cave collaboration resonation thru sight eye to eye waves to come back full circle are sent down the line close your eyes and feel the gentle persuasion of a light so kind that we know so well it still sits in our mind falling warm upon closed eyes and vision to keep in the dark of returning to beginning to sleep every line that u traced thru molten plasticine of memory is explored freely as light projects. emotion thru sensory. how will I breath again where are the trees heavy brutal desire where my lungs used to be but the light I remember falls right over her.. Still believing in air so much soul where her lungs were. so the warmth and the pull of the light on the dirt lifts the dirt into streams stretching open the earth in the memory of love for origin of soul in the atmosphere echo I'll feel the earth whole.
missing something^^
"poison"
The soul is infected with poison
As people who don't feel their reason
Fill the void with force
And filth as extremes are sought
At all costs
The entirety I hope and believe keeps its form
Unaffected but for it's stomach turning
Pain but only within a wholeness to wake to
A dream in the fractal womb
And futile our attempts to be anything but exactly as we have created ourselves
Asleep and fetal within it
"better friends"
Division from the fear, decision from the pain
Division from the hunger and the wetness of the rain
Division from the pleasure
Reunion of compassions
Division of the walls that separate what holds our passion
Reunion of the spirit
Reunion of the friends
To truly separate what simply should and should not end
Chasing the sun through all the world's seeming
Mindlessly sinning for all that we need
Exploring the scare of our sins down and dreaming
Mindfully planning which impulse precedes
Hear her scold what's to come as we rise for an airful
Recede again into it behind us trailing futile concern
Reality's back hear Crow cry out be careful
We roar from the mountains the world takes it's turn
