Spontaneous Poems

Perhaps the summer laze
Is all that has gotten into me -
You know: Those listless days
Of no particular want or need,
When to be is perhaps best not to be -

As eternal war against inertia
Is fought on the battlefield of a sofa,
I fall on my sword to avoid the struggle!

Silver breasted, dignified in death.
Washed up on the shore
Your story will remain untold
For eternity.
Statistically,
You are likely one of the 80%
That don’t survive to breed.

Cold comfort that
You look too young
To be leaving chicks
Abandoned on their hill.
Too young to fall foul
Of Darwin and his implications.

my mixers like a grenade field get walking get popping no other option
hip n hop'n, co-ordinates locked in ,this sorta shits a doctrine
lets record a hit , cause earth's ambilical cord ta rip,

Space invaders
chasing lazers
a battle station of vaders
a universal wager
a major ,a general, a whole species ready to meet there maker


Lookin up at the cosmo's,nozzle in the fuel tank
pumping out the fossil,it's possible , iunno what da you think ?
few links, between music an vibrations
physics an pupil dialation
what do u think the heavens would say ? Hi Nation
wave
an say
Goodbye Nation
ya'll can keep waiting for saten
all im sayin is u can be patient
id rather be the doctor an have the chakra of a supersayin
what im spraying may shock ya
defribillate , an ben frank , ya socks off
just keep ya pants on , this aint a romance song ,
this is life take a chance son
don't be fake make sure you calculate the outcomes fate
don't second guess measure twice an cut once
does anyone know if we live life but once >?
u can work hard or u can work smart , why not both
step in the matrix to make hits , i'll take a mix an double the dose



CHeck it an rate it Peace Homies

My friend
Has been and gone and fallen in love
And I won't see so much of him.
His current location
Places me squarely
Where life was sweet,
Grinning perpetual,
The world a bright, green place.

I joy for him,
That sweet, smart man.
He'll love his love
And I will live
And miss him.

a lot gone changed since we spoke
each day I look back, it's scary how much I have grown
call me a rough diamond, this time I won't frown
still far from perfect, you made me a better man
still think about you, reminisce and drown
my sorrow keeps me going each day
for it takes darkness to appreciate the splendour light brings
not saying I have survived until sunrise
but each step in the valley brings me closer to a mountain top
soon, I will smile again
I will be happy while dying inside
for my success took loosing you
I shall carry you in my heart
I shall carry you in my heart........

I want this girl to like me.
I want her to be my friend.
For this I was getting desperate.
On this my life depend.

She was all too elusive,
And she pushed me away.
Before she even knew me,
She disliked me from the first day.

I watched her talk to others,
And wanted to break down.
No matter how I talked to her,
She doesn't want me around.

Everyone else had talked to me,
But I just didn't care.
Without that one girl's friendship,
I was dirven to despair.

One day I took some actions.
I begged and tried to pay her.
Some days I even stared at her.
On my side I tried to sway her.

They reported me for harassment,
And she was so resistent.
Still, I will make it happen,
If I could just be persistent.

I cursed out other people.
I need somewhere to put my rage,
Only to get written up.
Why aren't we on the same page?

One day I have had it.
I screamed at my boss,
Only to get suspended,
But to me it's no real loss.

Then one day, I returned to work,
And everyone ignored me.
I quit my job shortly after,
Because they all deplored me.

@spikepipsqueak

I liked your poem very much. It is moving --poignant.

I have learned not to assume that a poem is autobiographical, or not completely so, but if it were, you seem to have overcome.

Perhaps there is sometimes, a loving cosmic force at work in us. How else to explain that the writing of poetry about sad, sorry, and awful things, can have a calming, or even a healing effect on us?

In part lll of his elegy to *Yeats, W.H. Auden describes this healing function of poetry:

'...With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;

In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start...'

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15544

Blessed be

Makes me think of Philip Larkin:
"... To have no son,no wife,
No house or land still seemed quite natural.
Only a numbness registered the shock
Of finding out how much had gone of life,
how widely from the others. Dockery, now:
Only nineteen, he must have taken stock
Of what he wanted, and been capable
Of...No, that's not the difference: rather, how

Convinced he was he should be added to!
Why did he think adding meant increase?
To me it was dilution. Where do these
Innate assumptions come from? Not from what
We think truest,or most want to do:
Those warp tight-shut, like doors. They're more a style
Our lives bring with them: habit for a while,
Suddenly they harden into all we've got

And how we got it; looked back on, they rear
like sand-clouds, thick and close, embodying
For Dockery a son, for me nothing,
Nothing with all a son's harsh patronage.
Life is first boredom, then fear.
Whether or not we use it, it goes,
And leaves what something hidden from us chose,
And age, and then the only end of age."

[ from 'Dockery and Son' -Philip Larkin]

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=178052

Yes, jjorge, it's odd how the writing down of stuff makes for healing, but true. For me, the degree to which you modify the autobiography part helps. "Poetic license" lets you incorporate the answers into the problem. Job done.



Thank you for posting the Larkin. I have never sought him out (and must) but people post him, here and in other places, and he resonates. (This place needs a hug smiley.)

It has been a long and lasting while
Since I added lines to the poems pile
And thus unfortunate concequence occured
Now I could no longer see the words:
Spontaneous poems, when I hit "My posts"
And it's one of the threads that I like the most
So i figure that before I go to bed
I'll write a poem just to bump the thread

I have just become your biggest fan, cyracuz.

Thank you edgar. But I think my mother would disagree

Look at him
my life
look at him
my pride
he's mine
all my pain
all my joy
look at him
he's everything
look at him
my boy

very nice!

Poignant, mcee fya.

He must be, what? one, now? Toddling? cruising the furniture? I envy you, this is a magic time in his life. Hope you have the energy of a young woman, though. They're exhausting at this age, if memory serves. Take care of yourself as well as your son. Good to see you again.

Wage your war relentless one!
And your resolve shall break
As puzzles fail and true paths open
And so, what do you think will happen
When my best defense is your only weapon?
If we wage this war, then surely it will be
That I become you, and you become me

I like it, I like it.

spreading my calm
sad whistle from a train
spontaneous psalm
soft rustle of rain

the chickens on my soul
ever scratching and peck
ing to get at the burrowed bugs
i stretch tom sawyer
legs on the soft bank
softly imbibe much hallowed drugs

Inspiring and a little frightening as I interpret it, as there was a time I used to "imbibe hallowed drugs" to escape the chickens (my fear) pecking on my soul. Not anymore though.

I found that while I built in sand
With efforts of my right hand
My nemesis, my well known fear
Was my left hand working over there
It sought to tear down what I'd done
With doubts I could not overcome
And so, as one reduced to none
All I did was made undone
But then I travelled to my shoulder
And on it, my head sits like a boulder
Turning slowly so I could see
My nemesis is part of me

I don’t think I’ll fall in love again
And sex is pretty much out of the question.
First, there’s the issue of trust.
I could meet the veriest SNAG
But he’d have quite a task
Convincing me he’s not a user,
Trust and faith and hope abuser.
Poor hypothetical man,
He wouldn’t stand a chance.

Not to say there’s no-one who
Can come to compromise.
In life, I think I know a number.
Here, online, I spot a few.
Those who see the wider picture,
Love the give and take of sharing,
Get a kick from risking, daring,
Finding daring justified.

But the words that haunt me
In my tossing after midnight
Creep from the keyboards of niddering souls.
The web gives us access to innermost thinking,
Especially when drinking and feeling secure.

Images linked by their subconscious meaning
Fall under the heading Too Much Information
But after it’s stored there it can’t be got out.

She squirted.
He, feeling peed on,
Punched her in the gut.

From somewhere in Idaho
“I don’t know,
I think I like a woman to move.”
Clearly never dreaming
He could render her quite unable
To stay still.

“Denying bitch.”
Addition to my education.
There’s a phrase to conjure with.
Warning to daughters. Power freak flag.
Says more about source than subject.

And one I’ve just noticed
Is “passive aggression.”
The shrill battle cry of maneuvering force.
When bullies aren’t getting their way.

But truth to tell,
That choice resides in others’ hands.
At fifty-three, fat and fearful,
Unwilling to dissemble
My future most resembles
A narrow bridle path
Through beautiful woods,
By crashing seas,
High adventure, quite fulfilled,
But unaccompanied.