This guy named George by looserfuseruserabuse, literature
Literature
This guy named George
So there was this guy, George.
He was an alright guy.
Real rich, his dad was kinda famous, I hear.
He never really was too smart, but we used to hang out every now and again,
we'd get a little tipsy, go out and see a movie, catch some pretty girls,
you know; just hang out and have fun.
I never heard from him again after high school.
I hear he got famous doing something really important or something like that.
as important as he became, I hope he doesn't screw up whatever he was doing.
afterall,
he weren't too smart.
In a melted mirror,
lost to the glass called home
all resemblance
of face value stored away
lost in chasms
whose walls breath to not look up
caught in ripples
whose embrace washes away all wieght
Beyond the threshold
of never breathing again
pulsating through heat
devoid of memories of the old reflection
Chasms never made to end
fall downward in a silver drop
drowning in depths
only owned by the moment and only
sold to the next.
In the absence
of thought being pleased
all remembrance
dissolved like the dancing wind
lost in chasms
whose walls fall silent and enclose the air
reality's slumber
opened up in reticence s
descendent of the apes by looserfuseruserabuse, literature
Literature
descendent of the apes
The Homo Sapien
a humanoid that walks erect on
only two legs, unlike most creatures
on the same planet
When brute force does not work
use more, that will get the job done
it doesnt. it never will.
and their efficiency dwindles
Looking at the Homo Sapien
Im convinced that I am not one
I am not descendent of the apes, and
have no intrest in your inane life
I have amnesia and do not remember
my home planet, you see
and have been stranded for quite a while
The Earth
a planet which contains so many species
of plants and animals living peacefully
in coexistance
Survival of the fittest
has become so eskew on this planet,
its v
the dark cloaked figure by looserfuseruserabuse, literature
Literature
the dark cloaked figure
Death once walked the street
of pale moonlight
and windows lit
where fresh or ripe eyes
stared at grandfather clocks,
trembling in each bed
down the lonely road that
never had a child's foot touch
the ground to give out the
sound of laughter, for
time flies away in the light
of entertainment, and pale eyes
yearn the time of each moment,
slow and fear-bringing to each
room pale eyes reside
Each life has witnessed another
travel down the darker road
to meet the wall ten miles higher
than the will to climb above and
reach the other side:
evidence that shudders the bravest
of hearts which beat in both
new and ancient bones
creame, two sugars by looserfuseruserabuse, literature
Literature
creame, two sugars
I wake up at five o' clock in the morning
to feel like I did not get enough sleep
I lay in bed, and think about nothing before
I look out the window to examine the
ferocious, falling sleet.
I make myself coffee and wait for its finish
I pour it all in a mug that says "home sweet home"
that I bought in Colorado the summer before last
in a shop that sold lots of decent mugs
I like creame and two sugars in my coffee
but some times I must settle for none
which makes me cranky for the day and
most of the night to the point
where I almost stare at the sun
In Colorado, they sell good coffee in a
resteraunt called "the River Sage"
the skelitons under the floorboard
could tell a good story over some tea
they paint great portraits and pictures with
their words that make beauty on a canvas
they speak the truth all the time
theyd keep the world up at night if
they didnt reside in the cellar which they hide
the bongo drums fill the air when
the spot light hits the face of the skull
sitting on its stool
it speaks:
mad, mad, madmad. am i mad?
no, self obsessed, like the stars
sprinkled like spiders across the sky
constellations like webs, while beautiful
can drive you mad. Mad like me
Mad mad madmad. im mad, i know i am
his words run past the walking bass li
its cold in this vein,
you know its been raining
my favorite display
of phony bravado
blood that pumps south
warms my nails,
somwhat conciels the
feeling of awareness
worth in rarity dies
as my neck fries
its hard to keep the
lake from breaking
she got:
the mind to leave you in flight,
drop you down, in underground again
but you shouldve known
she got:
the eyes to minimize, create a
compromise out of this air
to leave you low
snow covered roads
reflects a skyless ceiling
blue, fluid flows beneath
my stepping space
wind that blows behind my face
makes it hard to even
hear myself think
its hard to make up my mind
look, take a look over the hill
you can see the incredible battle:
human vs. human, brother vs. brother
destruction at destructions best
looks like a desease, eating the world
worriors kill all around them
watch the ground tremble beneath them
watch our own mother vanish
how 'bout the sun, we need it too
its ours no one else can have it
how 'bout our god, we need him too
hes ours no one else can have him
i guess we cat stand thinking that someone
can have all of this beauty
all the death is worth it in the end
all will be ours, no one can have it
beautiful isnt it? the color of red?
its smeared all over the walls
we killed o
no harm, all charm by looserfuseruserabuse, literature
Literature
no harm, all charm
come feeding time
round these parts
we dont talk or say hello
we dont answer if you ask
come learning time
round these parts
we pay attention
but without ever listening
dispite our obvious intelogence
and then there was mr. i
he comes round these parts
to pick off the bad seeds
those seeds that rufuse to
believe, or give in
he picks them off
in the winter when its cold
so when he tears us from
the world weve attached to,
our newly raw, bare skin feels
the bitterness of the new world
it hurts at first
but he doesnt care
here he comes now
with his mind that has
been corrupted to machinery
and his heart stoped pumpin
when your left behind by looserfuseruserabuse, literature
Literature
when your left behind
when your left behind
ill be there by your side
were bound to be alone anyway
forgotten, no point in holding on
let go, look down
were all buried anyway
cant you see your not
alone when no ones there
i miss the old days
at least we pretended
not to know, now its out
and it can never be the same
left behind in the wake,
here we are, there they go
arent i good enough?
too many places left to look
and im so content with that
spot on the ceiling
she said mmeet me in the heart
but now shes cold
and im left to grow old
ill go down to tell her
but she cant hear, cant see,
doesnt know, wont believe
i guess theres something
look up, you can see the sun
peering down, make your first move
look down, you sit indian style
on the ground of simplicity
look around, theres not much space for pacing
but i dont feel that thats needed
in here, this place, this safe house,
i can look anywhere and feel so unafraid
at this point, this first move
needs not be made
it couldnt matter less right now
how much i think i might want to wait
this noise makes silence, ever so delicate
but fragiles dare not pierce fragiles
then again, i cant see why i would
this is displacement, my utopia
birds chirp outside, i sit and listen
hours come visit, and say goodbye
i can b
i peer through, then look away
it looks peacefull enough, but i wont stray
why take a chance in ruining
this perfect ive created
i look again, force myself back
i could let go, but i fear the fact
that i dont know if i will ever get bace
and as if to check the outside climate
i put my head against the glass
cold, yet unreasuring, warm, yet...
i dont know what, so i walk away
unable to put my finger on it
i check, and its still the same
i look away, but cant maintain
the possibility of beauty always remains
this place is perfect, but with
an inatiquite something i cant explain
i feel distressed by its calling out
to the sid
.
And I fought you
til you wont stop,
legs collapsing.
one in the morning, and
tomorrow I go
to the rack for the daily
stretch of my
good humour. I,
I guess you prime me
better for
these things.
Nothing puts the heat on
quite like quiet excellence, and
mediocrity is like
cold herring in your bed.
The fire in the feet
is the fire I miss hearing,
and the taste I'm chasing now
for twenty years.
I miss it when I realise
I'm lying to myself
when I'm kind enough to miss
that it's not here.
Your move.
Current Residence: on a pretty blue and green ball that spins around an enormous firey ball in between mars and venus. Wallpaper of choice: i like panneling more than wallpaper
Favourite Movies
pi, vanilla sky, requiem for a dream, eternal sunshine, the fountain, memento, brick
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
ambulance ltd, interpol, radiohead, blonde redhead, autolux, my bloody valentine, sonic youth
this website was incredible for me. i remember feeling immersed in artistic ideas, i was getting so good at writing, and everyone around me was either already incredible or incredibly gifted and moving upwards with me. i was 15 i think, and angry with the world the way everyone was at that age and it felt great to be able to be interesting, original, informed and feeling smart and creative with other people doing the same thing. i made some really good friends who could have intelligent conversations with me about life and art and things that i was really interested in i thought i couldn't get anywhere else. i would write things that meant so
its out there...i want to find it.
just saw the movie a year ago and started thinking about it today, and it needs to be found. president bush, new mission for you: find atlantis.
i mean it.
Oh wow. Thank you! For a second there I thought you were going to say I wasn't as good as I was. That means alot, I don't share my poetry with anyone outside of here, and poetry gets little to no recognition here as it is. But it's just a nice place that is made better by people who do appreciate!