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Obsession (updated)

Submitted by Candlewitch on Wed, 2012-02-08 11:21

Obsession

Buddha on the road with Kerouac

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Wed, 2012-02-08 09:10

That laughing man
on the road ahead
of himself,

I think
that creative urge just died an untimely
death,

Goodbye Jack, we hardly knew you.
Goodbye Nietzche, I fucked your God
and it was good.

Lorraine(Workshop Submission Storytelling In verse)

Submitted by China Blue on Wed, 2012-02-08 08:30

Lorraine,‭ ‬even her name
Is a tinkling of rain drops to my ear

Red velvet grown clinging to every curve in her body

The ebon hair exposing a delicate neck

Crystal blue eyes‭ ‬that glowed,‭ ‬radiating her beauty even more.

What caught my attention above all

Was the ruby choker with its three tear drops trickling along her breast

How much my eyes did see,‭ ‬they remind me of

A slash with it’s droplets of blood.

How I quiver at the thought.

The blood pounding in my head

Pulse raging out of control

Workshop: 
Storytelling in Verse

CONCRETE

Submitted by tired_goat on Wed, 2012-02-08 06:32

the sun hidden behind a cloud of organza
the moon hood shadowing on the skyline
of tarmac, sings a ballad of loose fists
after holding tight for a whole collapse of the night
a car pours and pulls out like a water drop
on the highway – street lights
so yellow flicker into Dickens fate
and the Moby Dick is me, upstanding
on white guidelines of foreverness

The Yield of my Bequeathal

Submitted by docmaverick on Wed, 2012-02-08 02:08

To my parents I give crazy "props"
for putting up with me,

they provided great examples
which gave me integrity.

I also thank my siblings
for when push came down to shove,

they made me a better person
each combining to teach me, love;

and from then on I was willing
to share myself with all my friends,

giving me true substance
instead of following the trends;

which made all the difference
in the way I shared my heart,

Why!

Submitted by loved on Wed, 2012-02-08 00:27

Why is it that all artists and poets,
are at their best
after sex
It’s a natural thing all enjoy
but still younger ones fake
while the elders do make
and
the artist puts his experiences at stake
then upon a canvas reveals
the artful deals,
as poets lament
but readers fail to comment
Oh! why can someone tell me?
the effect of abject nudity,
that energizes the human mind
more than subtlety

FINAH SANNEH

Submitted by t. reflexion on Tue, 2012-02-07 16:35

Villages were sacked
Houses burnt, men killed
Boys and girls taken away
Tears poured like August rain
In Freetown and up country
Sa-lone, my motherland
Reduced to rubbles
Helpless populace displaced
We are now refugees

Workshop: 
Storytelling in Verse

Love dressed in Anger

Submitted by Eduardo Cruz on Tue, 2012-02-07 15:03

Death has come
And it isn't
By knife or gun

Dragged burned
And stabbed
What have I learned

Not bandage,
Injection or elixir
Can cure loves vestige

Anger is bound
To this hollow space
Where the heart isn't found

Love lingers
In a empty vessel
Feeling deaths fingers

Far down without light
Squeezing every ounce
Left of loves fight

Twinkling far above
Is a place of hope
Flying high as a dove

VOLUPTION DISPARGE

Submitted by Esker on Tue, 2012-02-07 13:47

curveness
done in pretti
aubergene
and l abythe
green as
satans eyes
say shadow
do you sate
what abates
and you call
me babycakes
and melt my
show
like a full decked
fickle whore

and you told me
all you wanted
was more
more
more

eschewing it all

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Tue, 2012-02-07 11:34

You looked through a keyhole
and saw the sun setting between rows of winter houses and bare trees
you were oblivious once
I was too

peaceniks lined the street
and we sang refugee songs

under the lamplight we searched for
keys to each other's imprisonment
we were blinded by the light
and read Molleire to medicinal plants
we grew to exchange truth for something
to eat and bite into, the moon was much younger
then....

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