View Full Version : Single Thread for my Writing

01-26-2013, 11:02 PM
Raping Autumn

When shall my eyes stop fearing
the sharp light in which I woke up trembling
where there were these immaculate
conceptions, of stars and galaxies
yet below were the obvious realms

ever chasing a practical convoy
and our arms were outstretched
reaching out to the universe far away
till sparkling crystal stars were shed
into our hands at long last

and yet, the reflections in our tears made us blind
what we held in our hands, changed our minds
not knowing all we now know, we designed
the mirror, a device, a weapon of lies

enslaving us to war...so now, I am alone
watching as this playground has come to ruin
for we are the fallen leaves of creation
destined to reunite with the birth of the tree

In a garden of imagination, where dreams can be
free as the crystal stars, who fell into our hands
reaching out to the universe and man
one whose grace shines on eternally

01-29-2013, 04:22 AM

Meshed skin of absent spoils
lit red threads to faithful sands
the arch of babes in foreign lands
trace his avarice from specter
shades to wisp'd absolve
the unholy shapes of this arcane
face rainbow pixels
in sad refrains

02-02-2013, 05:53 PM
Crackled Minds

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Behold a radiant sun
there is such oxygen here
the water is guilty of being clear
all the flocks of chickens in wait
for the moon to rest upon their slates
oh no, there's another time to die
pry open the box, with a little lie
I opened your mind, your eyes, your eyes
and they threw you to the fishes
cleaned you like the plates, so broken
anchored here, we can see for ever
eternally starkissed, by the angel in the rise
don't ever close your eyes.

02-02-2013, 05:54 PM
"You Were Wild, Wonderful, Free"

The sad stoic widows are crying out for their stolen years
here, where our sons wait to pull a trigger
where our shadows still tremble at the bright scorching sun
and another mad man is on the run;
praying to be rescued as Luna smirks cross' her mirror
in this cast over land, built from a dead engineer.

The teachers and preachers are always so right here
the precious children wait upon his grand insight;
with fear, and they'll be painting their black fences white.

she could never play the part; never did what she was told;
she stole away for the pines; that's where she'd grow cold
knowing her dreams were always wrapped up so tight
I've seen her ghost drift across the meadow at night.

This town cannot be over-taken; though we may be forgotten,
we were never forsaken and where-ever you turn-- bright blossoms
the earth and sky yearns for a sweet redemption
resting upon the moon on this starry night, and beside the river
you'll find the world written in the diary of pine's lover
nurtured by the child of spring, the sky was cried blue over her
he found in her a love of everything clover.

A father once again will take the blame, his aim as sharp as arrows
trying not to swallow in the darkness of their winter sorrows
silence bleeding, broken by a bell that won't stop chiming
though winter's war was prescribed, we'll go sailing
for the time you can escape your fate-- Marian
be of nature---wild, wonderful, and sufferin.

Suffering is what helps us see, so don't look back this time,
for no matter they try, the demons could not send us an aliby
cursed our minds as if we'd wash away --and we could never drown
though our families would pray, we came here to see a new horizon
we'll follow you into the empty; thirsting for more of what's gone
with one resounding cheer, the crowd will begin its song.

With wings of strength beyond the madness and pains of yesterday
we'll soar high over the trains, houses, fences, trees
before it all crashes down, you will know who I was today
even if the world dies or the stars explode, forever we'll roam
and continue to carry until we'd find our way back home.

02-03-2013, 05:59 PM
FTR I actually do have Bipolar disorder, but the novel was meant to highlight the pain and struggle anyone goes through with mania or psychosis.

02-03-2013, 06:04 PM
A Rose's Truth

from innocence sprang forth birth of light
petals comatose, deprived in life
twinkling eyes of pearl satin and red
where often minds would leave unsaid

through entrenched moments of dark
came that unyielding wielding spark
that trudged through winters misted copse
before cruel autumn turned hopes to loss

in delinquent mania rose of the sun
and cryptic scribbles rose of moon
the lips of avarice a kiss of soft quill to lust
enjoining hands in perfect sanitized musk

the rose parade began it's ascension
across gravel to stairways beyond comprehension
where midnight dipped reds and blues
led enchantress midnight to sapphire clues

with deep raven eyes, angelic tears flew
upon the sea green earth of morning dew
a special memory that wept beyond hue
and softened into bright stars, the rose's truth


02-05-2013, 01:31 AM
I guess no one likes my stuff.

02-28-2013, 03:09 PM
Within my Grasp

seems so far away

seems out of reach
is it within me
when I cannot even speak?

when my voice is an echo
when my heart has a leak
I want to journey so far
from this world of sad stardust

they said it was love

then they said it was lust

He was a stranger

journeyer beyond the spaces

A soul cannot rust here

in His world called dream

I recognized their faces

if not free in life from human birth

if not free on earth

maybe somewhere deep within

my mind, I can leave mankind

be free to dream eternally

far from this sorrowful reality

If I could bring my dreams to life

but that's illegal; they'll call you mad

So into dream-land I shall go

Forever and a day, not missing what

I was denied; all I could have had

If life was free just like in my dream

02-28-2013, 07:04 PM
Virginia's Ghosts http://www.writingforums.com/attachments/poetry/4375d1363365191-virginias-ghosts-a8llrekccaehxma-2.jpg
poem written by Gabrielle B-G 2013

the crazed widows rock back and forth here
father's sons waiting to pull their guilty trigger
watching the shadows upon the copses run
another addiction that cannot be undone
waiting for super-man to rescue us from fear
in this guilty land for a dead engineer

where the teacher and the preacher are always high
kidnapping their children in the dead of night
and they're painting their pathetic fences white
to break Virginia; she couldn't fit an ugly mold
she stole away for the pines to where she'd grow cold
know her dreams were always wrapped up tight

this town is broken with pastel clouds so forsaken
everything is haunted, dusty, and broken porcelain
this place has too many burial mounds to steal
and crosses for the town to haunt, souls to feast
waiting for their hearts to be claimed by the beast
the beatings of their innocence, re-written

author of the cursed who bid their ashes farewell
where have all the flowers gone? they've gone to hell
and the silence broken by the wicked church bell
torture was prescribed for Virginia's daughter
how to be a phantasm, to smile as you watch and wait
for the time you can escape your fate, a hated whore

burnt piles of junkyard homes, stolen with a kiss
where fathers and mothers came to become unknown
to rest their bones and tell stories of what's now gone
to hell with West Virginia and all of its pretty shit
to hell with all of America, spoiled and rotten and fake
to hell with it all, might as well be for Christ's sake

not long after the first went spiraling down there
we'll follow into the empty thirsting for enmity's dream
with one resounding cheer, the crowd began to jeer
with songs of madness and pain; curse the ruin of meaning
when it all crashes down, we'll rinse the stains off our hands
and say goodbye to the sun; us God damned Americans

I can't hear nothing,..not even singing of birds
or the sigh of the dead kings seated upon their thrones
without their golden crowns they die to their words
royally nothing with nothing left for the world to show
gone to the stars where the wild things go
home in this black abyss full of crystalline snow

03-06-2013, 11:36 AM

Get on your knees
and beg for the sun to rise
over the deadened sky
overhead, a mountain full of smoke
the man with the iron mask
tells everyone, this land
is choking

goodbye, hello
I am ready to go
put my boots on
steel my soul
undo the curse
break this poison bottle
10 of swords
no tearful words

promises can mend
promises cant bend
mold the hourglass
journey across the sick scattered storm
snow is falling
snow is falling down
I'm ready to reach it
take my queen's crown
golden sheen so cruel

but it was only a fool's
I wash the windows
clean the house
whisper phrases
the phases of the moon

and I'm wondering,
if it's man vs. nature
or man vs. man
this time around
an hourglass full of sand.

03-10-2013, 02:33 AM
I run this trainwreck
you better remember to forget
how painful it got
before you lost what you were not

03-10-2013, 02:40 AM
I'm so depressing.

03-14-2013, 09:08 PM

03-20-2013, 03:35 PM
There is no you
And I don't care
You never existed
You weren't here
Where I stood
Where I lifted
Where I withstood
You shifted
Where I existed
You resisted
So go down, and don't come up for air
You god damn twisted fucks
I don't fucking care
Cuz you're not there
and never were

03-20-2013, 04:43 PM
Lost in those to the yellow walls
Under the split egg sky
A painting calls to her
She will not answer anyway
Only angle to another one
Some form of a shudder
Mother is alone in there
Between her curses and cures

a sinful dream for sinners
The darkness is a lie
I break the cross, my crime
I don't spill my blood for a wasted life
I cry alone because I am alone
and to no one, unknown and undone

Mother is gone
I am alone in the sunshine
Watching as the people's bodies
in the merry go round
run, stain, drain the sound
Mother's gone insane.
Whispers of this false refrain...
Running through my brain

No she has not gone
I will not let you have that say
No she is not insane
This world was not yours to chain
No she is not crazy
She is free from your world of sin
and will be resurrected again.

because the saccharine tears
weren't so saturnine
but so maybe I'm insane
You say I'm wrong to love her
To defend the sanity of my mother
And respect the father who
May be blinded by your new order
The world you weren't allowed
Someday my peace will win.

05-22-2013, 05:59 PM
unravel her to the demons
dirt can't match her filth
her binds were poorly designed
and her soul is
still shrieking with laughter

05-22-2013, 06:00 PM
she no longer hides her eyes
between the lashes
if a million painful words subsided
she would wait it out in the ashes

05-22-2013, 06:06 PM
You can screw it up tight
put a seal on the lid and your soul on bid
but it's them or me
and I have the key;

no you cannot have this

You can build your towers high
watch them fall
because you could not have it all

You can dish it on a platter of ruin
or feed them with silver spoons
but you still won't own the moon

You can buy a theater
or sleep beneath the stars but you
no you can't have the creator
of my own universe

it's them or me, you see
and i have always had the key
it's them or me, so come on
which way are you gonna go
to that place where death stirs
or this place I know.

if you go that way
you are only going down
if you turn this way
they'll burn us to the ground.

you can trust them
or you can trust me
but at the end of the world
you'll only ever trust
what you could never see.

05-22-2013, 06:20 PM
Stolen fears, kept in a jar by an ugly black book
that face could put him away, just one look
known by all the famed stars, a naked prostitute
sipping his dream champagne, diluted by guilt

It's time to run from the man with the sinister stare
with piercing eyes and manipulative glare
haughty with hatred, a deadly enemy
dripping with sin, sweating out his ill misogyny

he'll take you for what you're worth, exploit you deviantly
he takes your pain, paints lies carnivorously
then he rips out your heart, and starves your mind
steals you from the world, made you blind

a con-artist, with a killer inside his head
as you wait all alone, nowhere to hide your dread
on the run, with all my pain in his pocket
ready to take off, leave the planet in his rocket

and to those who are brave enough, to face the strain
he holds up high, singing death to the rain
if there was only a way, to remind a part of him
that if he was honest to himself, life wouldn't be so grim.

To surrender to the truth, to surrender the stain
Be guilty for once, of hurting me, though he's insane
of raping innocence, devouring her pride
this price I paid, for the killer he harbored inside

05-22-2013, 06:32 PM
those fragrant blossoms bring
a tear streaked belladonna
who wished upon starry moonbeams
in the paradise of cinema

A brightness so illuminating
she was seen from every cloud
In the paradise of heaven
I pray someday you will come down
to the circus of light
From your theater in the sky

Where princesses and clowns are alike
The belladonna looks down smiling
With thorns twisted to a promise ring
Fluttering like a bird on dewy wings

A single white rose is tossed
To the carnival below in the streets
When Paradise was almost lost
Where God and Goddess could still meet

A lonely traveler strums a tune
It's our musical melody of remembrance
For the belladonna whose beauty
Tempted the Gods with such innocence

I will always remember your grace
the song in your lips, the kiss and its taste
The Tree where nature's beasts once
Flew away into the dust in sights unseen

Your withered shadows remain
Relics etched upon the hill where you lay
My smiling Belladonna
come down from the vine, he prays

06-12-2013, 07:41 AM
Sweet Madness

Perhaps madness too had a story to tell
Meaningless, pointless, dream within a bell
Perhaps these primary colors
Perhaps these basic shapes
Should be put into perfect order
To invite the wings of grace
But the King rules with tears
Sleeping in the harlot's sky
Never asking reasoning why
Perhaps madness was a curse
Perhaps there is no way out of this universe
But to bleed, bleed, bleed the dream dry
Perhaps madness had a reason to die

06-12-2013, 07:43 AM

I call out to them from my condemnation
Ironed, pale, pretty & thin
My roses in a bullet proof vase
Leave us in harmony's basket case
Just stiff caricatures, cut in finite pieces
Of a life that once had been thrown to disease
now wrapped in plastic for a world disgraced

An idle nation of procreated abortions
a candle-lit vigil to honor us citizins
a sworn hearing for the unworthy dead
a well worn Bible that was never read
A tale of dreams and compromises
A world under seizure and masked disguises
A fist that holds a flower
Instead of all the power...
that they aimed at the tower.

fill in the blank
07-05-2013, 08:18 PM
"the reflections in our tears made us blind"


07-06-2013, 11:55 AM
The Winds of My Soul

The spirit's pathos so wide, so wise
we have earned futures in our questing
though relics of the past, have all been burned
we will carry on--always guessing

both the darkest seas, brightest shimmer of stars
could not be valued as much- for they would never be ours
so as the spark sang for the rain and cried out to the light
in the darkest corners, a mind fell prey to doubting its trapped state

we reigned--before we were washed away
as timeless and grand as a canyon

thus my eyes began their test
for a light that looked inward
& comprehended itself of more than at best

in blanketed darkness--
so many words, symbols of what we cannot name
more than I ever could
I now see how that when I cried
I released this thirst
and filled the silver cups of kings

So do not be distressed when you
cry those tears of sorrow
while one may think it's over
I still have these feelings for tomorrow.

07-06-2013, 12:01 PM
Daydream in the Courtroom

“That’s how it started, well I mean. I don’t know how it really started. He walked up to me, and he had a ball in his hand. It was a towel or dishrag or something. I barely had time to think to run and before I found myself gagging on it and gasping for air. He pushed me into a bush and then tied my wrists with rope. Then he grabbed this huge dagger from his trenchcoat. I was so scared
I couldn’t begin to think of anything to do but scream. I screamed into the rag. I felt my skin crawling with goosebumps, but he didn’t stab me. Instead he took it to my throat and let it slide against the skin, just enough to cause pain but not inflict any damage. Maybe he wanted to kill me. I don’t know.”
“Don’t be afraid to continue, Miss Pleasant. The whole courtroom knows what this here fella did.” The Lawyer jabbed his index finger out angrily at the defendant.

Jack Thorn sat in the courtroom waiting for the testimony to end. This one in particular seemed to drag on for eons. He tried to control an image of the knife sliding against that girl’s throat or her slashed wrists in a gurney or her being thrown off a boat or hit by a train. He could have gutted her clean like a fish. He could see the blood oozing out of her mouth into her dress. Then his mind went to the ocean. He could feel the breaze and taste the salty air.
/She’s been here to long, he thought, and then went back to daydreaming about another day, another time or somewhere far from here./
But he was ripped back to reality with the jerk of a hand on his shoulder. It was his turn to speak. He didn’t have time to hesitate.
“Percy Pleasant is an unusual woman; she makes things up because she’s paranoid. I know because I lived with her for three months! She wouldn’t leave the house without making sure the windows were locked.”
“Objection!” yelled the heavy-set prosecutor, Bob Tiller, who jumped up like he’d sat in a hornet’s nest.
“Is this pertinent, Mr. Tiller?”
“The defendant is harassing my witness!”
“Well as long as I don’t hear any complaints from Miss Pleasant then we shall proceed. Over-ruled.” The old Judge Henry Waites spoke as though he’d just puffed a two ton cigar.
But Jack Thorne was too busy in the clouds, he forgot where he was for a minute—even though he was only facing a two year sentence. He’d been in worse trouble than that, but that was in Australia, then Idaho, Ohio, Wisconsin, and now Texas the worst place to get in trouble.
Suddenly he was face to face with a mirror. It was cracked and he could make out the bloodied nose and scar on his right cheek. He had just gotten out of the roughest neighborhood, still active duty and looking for a warm place to stay for the night.
“Get off me!” Shelly howled, but just as she smacked him in the face with her fists Jack ripped off her sleeves, using them to tie her wrists down to the old furnace.
“It’s going to get awful toasty in here if you don’t shut up, or I’ll make you wanna!” He screamed, then he carefully pulled her shirt off to stuff into her mouth. “Shut up or I’ll do something you won’t want to forget.”

But she wouldn’t stop crying. After ten minutes or so of her whining, he grabbed a pistol out of his back pocket in the blue jeans and shot her. They never caught him. No one did and no one will to this day. Then, of course, he joined a drug cartel and transported stolen goods and no one had a clue. The hardest part of it all was getting out alive and moving back home, to the states.
Miss Pleasant was crying. That waste was crying. Poor girl. I’d shove a tissue up her---“Will the defendant please speak up or I’m resting this case here tonight?”
Jack wasn’t really ticked off this time. He’d seen worse cases than this and he knew he couldn’t lose. There wasn’t sufficient evidence and for all the jury knows she is batshit crazy.

“I don’t even like shiny things.”

But then Miss Pleasant’s lawyer pulled out the knife, blood still rusted around the edges.

07-06-2013, 12:04 PM
I would have imagined the greater space-craft to be an obstacle in the inter-planetary traveling, but Tim was fanning his neck with the leaflets of an old manuscript (stories about treason strife unity and protest gathered by the overly-excited scientist who later developed syringes to administer a cure for this abomination), and seemed unperturbed. I had gathered thse from the Americas to restore in 2090 when the Alien Balloon Bomb had dropped at last. Tim described it as a huge bulbous clown nose. Red and colorful, but hiding the face of something terrifying. We were fooled with such uncanny accuracy. We thought they might help us find the secrets to our damned solitary existences. What a hoax but quite the enticing story to tell.

The end of Earth, and the Age of the Alien Nationalization. When humans were rounded up like on Planet of the Apes, but instead of kept in cages they were sold to the wealthy Aboriginal Phenotype breed who couldn't produce themselves. That hyper-entryphoned chemical blast sent fumes of hyperbole and madness to every child and parent. It was the first to his last Day on Earth.

When Tim contemplates life, unlike the spies or soldiers who built Necropolises and were straight as swords and bold as arrows, he himself is as the weeping willow. Yet has to remind himself of his ever-so-trepidation. The time-line weighs heavily on his chest, and gravity pulls him ever straight ahead. He will do as they command on the planet Alien. For /"mostly" we despise complexity.

What drove him to honor the allegidance code written on the forehead of every time travelers committed to soldier-hood and admitted to treason after a solid handshake from the President? It was his impatience with time itself. Now a here's a story about three unlikely companions who set out to save the Town of Atriliana. I am Aliieean 0302929 and Iw believe in the Freedom of hhumanns. This story was transcribed in the 2033 dynasty of Planet Atropolias and the New Alien Nation of Earth.

07-08-2013, 02:31 PM
Bald Rich Fuckers

He was rich so he patented his DNA

And then I ended up having his baby

Oh Mr. money now my baby’s dead

Oh Mr. money all the paper is getting wet

I haven’t had my own baby even yet

Maybe someday I’ll be made of gold

And I had this baby I couldn’t even hold!

And I had this baby with such good DNA

And all their babies are so fucking good

And all their babies are fucking made of wood

where are all the golden babes of yesterday?

what happened to all that fucking gold DNA?

Let's have a debate I think
before all the cool kids end up extinct

You idiots have fun with that paper mache
Maybe you can make a hat to wear, or a toupee

07-10-2013, 12:18 PM
Identity Crisis

Her name was Mrs. She; She was not interested
In Liberation, in salvation, she was not invited
To the Nation, Mrs. She, she had no personal vocation
She simply watches Television, waiting on Mr. He
To come home and tell her the obscure news

Of those relics hung upon the wall, she hung them all upon him
Upon the wall she hung pictures of meaning
Dreaming that She was more than a Good Housewife
Sometimes in those disturbing nightmares she saw
more than housewares, but these tired flares

Of which she could care less, meaninglessly She
Wondered if Mr. He had ever been more than a frame
A wall, upon which she would hang
Pictures of everything, Mrs. She, She was not interested
In Liberation, or salvation, she was not invited to the Nation

Oh Mrs. She, do you even see? How cruel to be a picture
How cruel to be a frame, how cruel to move as if on Television
How crazy it must be, to care little for the forgotten
For the forgotten words, for all of them collected and
Not one of them had a voice, had made more than noise
In her brain, had done more than drove her mad again
Her mind a reeling script, her mind in the hand's of evil men.

She hasn't been sleeping well
She hasn't been sleeping at all
She was never a good Housewife to Him
Who hung himself when the light went dim

So much for the presents, so much for precedence
So much for her quiet obedience
She hasn't got the wit to declare her game won.
She hasn't got the voice to sing now that we're all gone.

She'll be nailed inside her coffin
and someday it that coffin will just rot
and someday we'll break free
and someday we'll be forgotten
now that the apples are all rotten.

09-09-2013, 07:05 PM
Mind pornography

for idols clothed in white
who drained our dreams of irony
and drew circles round us
hush themselves into a quiet
neatly folding the icy sheets
around hazardous light
shhhhh "Man, what a pity"
said the boy without a tooth
a cheerful lobotomy
your conversion of our youth
carved up on the block, discipline
from the wood-box of freedom
and pollution's nothing
we can dispute anymore
we are hard core
whores, our hard labor is for war.
This was her favorite time to harbor
her love of no one but hers
that manic roar of thunder
and bolts of electrical seizures
it brought tears to Goliath
and that's how he knelt
to the belt of easy answers.
Not that, this flight of spells
was the worst sort of remedy
to find when we see apparent
ourselves disappearing into three
in these mirrors we fade
while we're dreaming of hiding
from the city we are afraid to see.
What a pity
all that was hidden in the dark
a fiend to release those words
like this blood that pours from
my heart! hey kid
the nexus of broken toys
of little girls and boys
with tied up vocal cords...
I will always be one
number that you can't undo
from the apocalypses
of your pathology's methods
of destroying what's true.
Maybe I will be the death of you too!