Hey, there. This is something I used to do a lot on older RP sites. The original title was '30 seconds//experiments in rhythm' and it was a lot like what I'm going to be doing here. Admittedly, these weren't written in 30 seconds. The 'poetry' below is, however, something I write on a timer. I give myself about two minutes and stop as soon as that time is up. I decided to start this back up because I miss writing poetry and I want to get back into it...and I really need a familiar outlet. They may not all necessarily rhyme. Think of these as something more akin to a 'freestyle rap'.
Check it out, if you want. Feel free to add your own entries, if you're so inclined. I won't be giving them titles, for now; relying, instead, on the Roman numerals until I get bored of them.
Feedback would also be nice.
Here are entries I-IX. Enjoy. More to come.
Check it out, if you want. Feel free to add your own entries, if you're so inclined. I won't be giving them titles, for now; relying, instead, on the Roman numerals until I get bored of them.
Feedback would also be nice.
Here are entries I-IX. Enjoy. More to come.
I
Ever by the wayside,
shunned by unloving eyes,
torpor is my only placation, stolen by empty words,
shame the only refuge in a fallen house of cards.
What truth exists for those without a voice,
waking through the night, screaming silence the only choice,
nothing exists, nothing lost, nothing gained.
A ghost all that remains,
simple singing visceral drops,
a crimson reminder of what has been lost.
II
Some sold soul told me the truth,
there is no peace, no rest; nothing moves.
Time flows because we will it to be,
a truth that any blind oracle could retrieve.
Insects marching over the tower sundered,
reaching higher for no reason but 'another'.
We were nothing, in those golden moments,
trapped in our pride, becoming our own opponent.
Nothing becomes nothing, something breaks apart,
touching tentatively the essence of heretical art.
III
Heavenly viscera spills from hemorrhaging skies,
stars drained and darkness wanes from the unfettered sarcophagi.
Death shrieks across the border unseen, bringing plague and rage,
one blade turned against another, culling the silver-tongued sage.
Whispers control those that remain, cast amidst their haranguing,
seeking to drive away a life-long struggle of longing.
IV
Turning slowly on the precipice,
considering the consequence,
nothing so simple as cessation,
something so painful as perpetual propagation,
turned aside to the shining side,
a shadow cast through the fading smile's lie,
projecting perfect pitches to placate the pallid day,
take a step...take a step and fade away.
V
Tentative bonds bred from momentary disconnection, umbral songs,
silhouettes dance to the tone-deaf tune, under twisted trees that were weeping all along,
join their masquerade or find mercurial solitude,
turned away and lost cold in the earth, speaking through dirt with gratitude,
peace forgotten in the face of regret's gleaming grin,
precise and empty, it all begins again,
the steps similar, a waltz with the dead,
reminiscence torn from the moment bled,
colored by nostalgia, infected by the stygian.
VI
Let it be that admonishment is prominent from the self,
respite biting with teeth the phantom's demand for deceit,
bloodletting semblance, a false martyr died by the wayside,
a saint of the pavement, no miracles nearby, unsung,
dark skies ahead, press on through the whirlwind,
there's no hope for it, kick rocks and hope you avoid the hard bite.
VII
I don't know anymore; a simple nomadic whore,
despised those that advised me, turned my head blindly more,
can't stay where I want because I'm caustic,
a heartless siren trying to get by, so simple,
no sacred temple to be torn down;
eyes watch, empty as the construct falters,
no sensation,
just the temptation of absence and all that it stands for.
VIII
Wisdom never comes without price,
understanding the dimensions of solitude self-inflicted,
wounds never close without proper sacrifice,
waiting for the day long ago predicted.
Hate cools in the core, wearing the gaunt visage of sorrow,
waking up an unbearable thought, aghast at the prospect of survival,
never wanted to see another tomorrow,
understanding that I'm the only one liable.
IX
Remembrance slew resemblance,
kicking a griffin from the gargoyle's perch,
lock it all away, one day at a time, no sensation but the anesthesia's black temperance,
flesh tickled by the prick of a tainted needle, stomach starts to lurch,
the constant stepping back and forth, a short walk with no end,
lost somewhere in a forest of constricting thoughts,
just a noose in need of a quick mend,
suffering a bygone byproduct of forgotten faded watts.
Ever by the wayside,
shunned by unloving eyes,
torpor is my only placation, stolen by empty words,
shame the only refuge in a fallen house of cards.
What truth exists for those without a voice,
waking through the night, screaming silence the only choice,
nothing exists, nothing lost, nothing gained.
A ghost all that remains,
simple singing visceral drops,
a crimson reminder of what has been lost.
II
Some sold soul told me the truth,
there is no peace, no rest; nothing moves.
Time flows because we will it to be,
a truth that any blind oracle could retrieve.
Insects marching over the tower sundered,
reaching higher for no reason but 'another'.
We were nothing, in those golden moments,
trapped in our pride, becoming our own opponent.
Nothing becomes nothing, something breaks apart,
touching tentatively the essence of heretical art.
III
Heavenly viscera spills from hemorrhaging skies,
stars drained and darkness wanes from the unfettered sarcophagi.
Death shrieks across the border unseen, bringing plague and rage,
one blade turned against another, culling the silver-tongued sage.
Whispers control those that remain, cast amidst their haranguing,
seeking to drive away a life-long struggle of longing.
IV
Turning slowly on the precipice,
considering the consequence,
nothing so simple as cessation,
something so painful as perpetual propagation,
turned aside to the shining side,
a shadow cast through the fading smile's lie,
projecting perfect pitches to placate the pallid day,
take a step...take a step and fade away.
V
Tentative bonds bred from momentary disconnection, umbral songs,
silhouettes dance to the tone-deaf tune, under twisted trees that were weeping all along,
join their masquerade or find mercurial solitude,
turned away and lost cold in the earth, speaking through dirt with gratitude,
peace forgotten in the face of regret's gleaming grin,
precise and empty, it all begins again,
the steps similar, a waltz with the dead,
reminiscence torn from the moment bled,
colored by nostalgia, infected by the stygian.
VI
Let it be that admonishment is prominent from the self,
respite biting with teeth the phantom's demand for deceit,
bloodletting semblance, a false martyr died by the wayside,
a saint of the pavement, no miracles nearby, unsung,
dark skies ahead, press on through the whirlwind,
there's no hope for it, kick rocks and hope you avoid the hard bite.
VII
I don't know anymore; a simple nomadic whore,
despised those that advised me, turned my head blindly more,
can't stay where I want because I'm caustic,
a heartless siren trying to get by, so simple,
no sacred temple to be torn down;
eyes watch, empty as the construct falters,
no sensation,
just the temptation of absence and all that it stands for.
VIII
Wisdom never comes without price,
understanding the dimensions of solitude self-inflicted,
wounds never close without proper sacrifice,
waiting for the day long ago predicted.
Hate cools in the core, wearing the gaunt visage of sorrow,
waking up an unbearable thought, aghast at the prospect of survival,
never wanted to see another tomorrow,
understanding that I'm the only one liable.
IX
Remembrance slew resemblance,
kicking a griffin from the gargoyle's perch,
lock it all away, one day at a time, no sensation but the anesthesia's black temperance,
flesh tickled by the prick of a tainted needle, stomach starts to lurch,
the constant stepping back and forth, a short walk with no end,
lost somewhere in a forest of constricting thoughts,
just a noose in need of a quick mend,
suffering a bygone byproduct of forgotten faded watts.
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