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[JacksBrokenHeart]

I'll start it here. This thread is for all you: rob, PP, dev, lyman and all the rest and me.

crumple
4 years later,
its Sunday night again.

I am playing
that
song again. I know
what it does to me. I
have learned to love the
somber
crumple
that shrinks the hollow in my chest.

It reminds me of you.

Amidst the everyday never,
swaying in the notes
of
Sunday,
there is still hope.

[tash]

Poetry woo!! I just did my first "official" spoken word showcase in PA this weekend. Went well, needs work.
I'd be interested to know if there are any other spoken word artists on the box, or anyone that performs their work in general. If so, hit me up. If not, hit me up anyway.


Legs
I confess
I never learned to close my legs.
I never could get comfortable
Sitting with my knees overlapping
My calves just dangling
My circulation strangling
Until my feet are tingling.
So as soon as I begin to stand
I’m falling on my face.
I never was able to contort my body
To sit like a proper lady
My thighs were always too wide
To be anything but spread apart
Making me think
That pulsing in between my legs
Was really the beating of my heart.
I never find my balance
When my feet stand stiff together.
They each need their own land
To conquer.
I need to stabilize myself
Straddling benches
Backs of chairs
And… boys.
I Need to throw my hips out
Need to let comfort overtake decency.
But my mother keeps telling me
To keep that nickel between my knees
Shut them up tight
With no room to breathe
Cause a good girl keeps
Her legs closed
And her mind open.
But I never learned just how
To keep an open mind while
Closing myself off.
And just maybe I got the message
Mixed up and backwards.
Contorted and cramped up
While I was trying to fold myself
Into pretzel like positions
To preserve some propriety.
But Jesus Christ it feels good to
Stand strong
Cause you can’t wield a battle ax
With you’re ankles locked.
And it’s hard to roll with
The punches if you don’t
Throw your weight around.
And I don’t care if you stare up my skirt.
I never wear one anyway.
I’m not sacrificing my comfort
For yours any day.
Because I confess
I don’t need to learn to close my legs
When I learned how to raise my standards instead.
And I don’t want to sit like a lady
Cause being a lady hurts like hell
So I’ll sit spread open and comfortable.
And stand like I’m proud to be standing at all.

You can find my recordings and shit at the myspace: http://www.myspace.com/tashapratt

[Serina]

Poetry woo!! I just did my first "official" spoken word showcase in PA this weekend. Went well, needs work.
I'd be interested to know if there are any other spoken word artists on the box, or anyone that performs their work in general. If so, hit me up. If not, hit me up anyway.


Legs
I confess
I never learned to close my legs.
I never could get comfortable
Sitting with my knees overlapping
My calves just dangling
My circulation strangling
Until my feet are tingling.
So as soon as I begin to stand
I’m falling on my face.
I never was able to contort my body
To sit like a proper lady
My thighs were always too wide
To be anything but spread apart
Making me think
That pulsing in between my legs
Was really the beating of my heart.
I never find my balance
When my feet stand stiff together.
They each need their own land
To conquer.
I need to stabilize myself
Straddling benches
Backs of chairs
And… boys.
I Need to throw my hips out
Need to let comfort overtake decency.
But my mother keeps telling me
To keep that nickel between my knees
Shut them up tight
With no room to breathe
Cause a good girl keeps
Her legs closed
And her mind open.
But I never learned just how
To keep an open mind while
Closing myself off.
And just maybe I got the message
Mixed up and backwards.
Contorted and cramped up
While I was trying to fold myself
Into pretzel like positions
To preserve some propriety.
But Jesus Christ it feels good to
Stand strong
Cause you can’t wield a battle ax
With you’re ankles locked.
And it’s hard to roll with
The punches if you don’t
Throw your weight around.
And I don’t care if you stare up my skirt.
I never wear one anyway.
I’m not sacrificing my comfort
For yours any day.
Because I confess
I don’t need to learn to close my legs
When I learned how to raise my standards instead.
And I don’t want to sit like a lady
Cause being a lady hurts like hell
So I’ll sit spread open and comfortable.
And stand like I’m proud to be standing at all.

You can find my recordings and shit at the myspace: http://www.myspace.com/tashapratt

I was amused thoroughly. And I definitely liked your articulation. In class I had to recite a poem for a poety month, and I remember I sucked at that. haha.

[armyoflarry]

Lyman is dead, he left me in charge. I created him anyway.

Good poems from both tash and jacksbrokenheart to start this party right.

Rabbit

Remember that feeling? The surprise and wonder of being fooled?
It used to be so amusing, but now leaves you cold.
They told you never to lie.
They lied about everything.
Now they expect you to breed that lie.
They expect you to breed.
They expect, expect, expect...
You are a disappointment.
You have failed.

At the end of the day you have walked past that pain.
All the hoops on fire, and sing song fairy tales.
You don't lie about anything.
You just leave the venom out.
They can't feel the bite.
They don't need a real explanation.
They correct, correct, correct...
You told them one truth.
The hat was empty.

[ThirtyWhacks]

I'm just bringoing them from my DA, then.

Diseased

The time has come
Shattered memories beneath us
Crash into the earth like waves
Waves of disgust

The day the world died
You found broken pieces of yourself
Beneath the blackened earth
Still you question…

How has it ended up this way?
Nostalgia clouds your mind
Nothing clear, nothing defined
A mistake laid to rest today

A legend in your own mind
You run from all you create
Keep running. Run from yourself
Keep wasting away

You are your own cancer
You shed your skin
And devour your disease

I want to be your last thought
The last thing you regret
You selfish fool
You have nothing left.

[Mandolin Rain]

....jennifer?.....
where art thou?

[gargantuan]

A Freewritten "Poem"

Van Halen-induced vomiting based upon visions
of several trees eating each other in the presence
of Stanley Kubrick's grandmother. Oscillating
cheesecloth berates us consistantly as we
slumber in the wake of a massacre. Mainly because
we aren't aware of our lack of personal cognizance.
Things on your To-Do List today:
    -What else can you fuck up?
    -Burn several NASCAR flags
    -Listen to The Eagles repeatedly,
       vis a vis Peter Gabriel
       a la Cat Stevens.
How much could've really changed between 1970 and 1984?


Words For [Friend's Name Removed]

and then there was the day
it was you and me
on D-lysergic acid diethylamide
and i wasnt there but you were there far too much
all because a tiny piece of an aboriginal man's face silhouetted in blue and I licked the scissors i used to cut him apart
and it wouldn't have mattered if I had opened a vein cuz it'd feel even better...
and maybe you really were in the midst of some long-planned paranoia-inducing plot pretending to be a friend like all the people before
maybe i just fucked up our heads more when you went to space for not the first time
and maybe that time felt familiar like before when you broke open your skull.

There isn't much difference if you do it physically or chemically or through the intervention of the militaristic operation of lives from a place you and I couldn't even begin to conceive of.

At least we felt understood eventually.

float like Christ float like Christ float like Christ





okay, i'm weird. 

although the second one is a deeply personal accumulation of inside stories between me and a best friend.

[colordeaf]

I tend to put poems in the descriptions on my Deviantart page. Not much of a poem, it sounds incomplete. Excuse the immaturity of the poem XP
Oh and by the way, I can relate, a lot, with the Legs poem. I'm not comfortable when I'm sitting down, and constantly changing the position of my legs.

Back
when everyone assumed
every planet was a forest,
Either they were too hot
Or too cold,
Or just right,
According to what religion was in fancy.
Some never made the history books
Because their people were too plain
Or had too many things sticking out
Or they all looked the same
And us....
Oh they said that we were fiction
Therefore we lived
In a far, far away place
In a far, far away time
They said had too much gravity
To ever exist

[armyoflarry]

....jennifer?.....
where art thou?

Ditto on this. I miss her. 

[guuurrrrrllltakeiteasy]

this is a song i wrote which was originally a poem that was wirtten in 2 minutes in my english class for my honky teacher brought in a country singer who was going to teach us how to write songs.

Blue Skies
if i was the blue sky
i'd look down at the world, use my little eye and spy
what's going on today? how is everything today? what did you do today? what about tomorrow?
if i was the blue sky
my body would rest upon the white wispy clouds
I'd have rockets and planes racing through me....

i've decided not to put the second verse because it sucks.

[Mandolin Rain]

....jennifer?.....
where art thou?

Ditto on this. I miss her. 

i miss her too.

jennifer we  you!!!!!

[my favorite things.]

QUEERN AND COUNTRY.


I am the girl who wanted to be god,
Raving and wretched in Trafalgar square,
Blitzed and bombed psycho-sexing Manic Street Preachers.
Laying prostrate on hobo bread crumbs, I cut my sex out
In a flash of pain and changed into a figure faked Jane,
The train trumpeted in my empty crotch rocketed out and back into the black,
As I bled onto the concrete where my knees met the sky.
I turned my tricks for thirty odd years later,
And
And
It never got better, push in pull out, shake the syringe so I don’t pop a vein,
I am the girl who wanted to be god.

[Devery]

I'll start it here. This thread is for all you: rob, PP, dev, lyman and all the rest and me.

Hey, I had to come back to read another delicious Suede...er JacksBrokenHeart poem.

Jennifer's holed up writing her masterpiece, but should be along shortly.

[caddy]

where are Rob, Matt and spidey j. when you need them?!


eh, i'll write something short and stupid here.

ode to friendship (a social disease)

come around town, but not when you're down,
you'll thank me.

come around back, but not when you're wracked,
you'll thank me.

come around the corner store, i got just what you're lookin' for,
meeting Jess, the corner whore, but keep that sad face at the door,
you'll thank me,
you'll thank me,
you'll thank me.

[Rob]

I still loves the Caddy...