Devil's Lair...
-
Nay... Just uttering nonsense whenever something hits me...Originally posted by DeadPoet:Getting better Devil1976.
But still ...
It's one of my ways to 'release' myself....
Not 'climbing' at the moment yet.. Though I think I really should be starting soon if I really love poetry... But there's just some things in life.... Still I'm figuring and striking up my balanced steps before I shall walk further...? -
Maybe I should arrange for an informal chit chat session on poetry writing one of these days.Originally posted by Devil1976:Nay... Just uttering nonsense whenever something hits me...
It's one of my ways to 'release' myself....
Not 'climbing' at the moment yet.. Though I think I really should be starting soon if I really love poetry... But there's just some things in life.... Still I'm figuring and striking up my balanced steps before I shall walk further...?
-
That would certainly be cool...? If I can understand what you people are talking about that is....?Originally posted by DeadPoet:Maybe I should arrange for an informal chit chat session on poetry writing one of these days. 
-
666
On the 6th June '06.
My head's been giving me aches.
Reminding me of the days I've been alive...
Reminding me of the days I've sat....
On a wheelchair like a cripple.
Like my kind without wings and tied dead.
I do wish to get out of bed.
On the floor, a crawling meat.
Searching for signs of duties,
a holy list which awaits....
To give me a reason why I still breathe.
To give me a reason why I crawled out of bed?
To give me a new sense of direction?
Am I made of the number '6'?
Or am I just dead? -
Originally posted by Devil1976:
Yo you suppose to be feeling powerful today you know! This is your day!
[b]666
On the 6th June '06.
My head's been giving me aches.
Reminding me of the days I've been alive...
Reminding me of the days I've sat....
On a wheelchair like a cripple.
Like my kind without wings and tied dead.
I do wish to get out of bed.
On the floor, a crawling meat.
Searching for signs of duties,
a holy list which awaits....
To give me a reason why I still breathe.
To give me a reason why I crawled out of bed?
To give me a new sense of direction?
Am I made of the number '6'?
Or am I just dead?[/b]
-
'Suppose', that's the weird part about life... Your thoughts just stray from one side to another... Then you'll need to recollect yourself again...Originally posted by DriftingGuy:Yo you suppose to be feeling powerful today you know! This is your day!
Anyway... You're partially right about 'powerful'... Though it's more like a calm quiet sea... A potential one which I have not yet been able to feel its stirs and waves...
Thoughts... Though not sorted out fully... Have been lined out for the past few days.... -
Ok la you win liao lor.. reply also so poeticOriginally posted by Devil1976:'Suppose', that's the weird part about life... Your thoughts just stray from one side to another... Then you'll need to recollect yourself again...
Anyway... You're partially right about 'powerful'... Though it's more like a calm quiet sea... A potential one which I have not yet been able to feel its stirs and waves...
Thoughts... Though not sorted out fully... Have been lined out for the past few days.... -
Poems just make our lives so much more beautiful... Don't ya think...? And guess what..?? It comes WITHOUT COLORS...Originally posted by DriftingGuy:Ok la you win liao lor.. reply also so poetic " -
Self-provocation
If I've got wings I would fly...
Into the darkness and beyond the night...
Like an angel but a lie...
Sacred vows to be denied...
Open your eyes to seek your goals...
Tons of opportunities loaded with foes...
A moment of ponder to think it through....
A life time of regrets to sing its tune....
Oh it's true! How powerful you can be....
Leading the horses, watching the bees...
Oh it's lame! Where you can be....
Fighting foes...
Is it really you or me? -
Blog
Won't you talk to us?
Faded...
As you walk along your dim route home...
Old place of security.
Filled with uncertainties,
misery
and pain.
Won't you walk your way home?
Won't you look at us?
Your background...
Dark. Shadows. Images of your own.
Very silent music playing..
Won't you approach us (in person)?
Won't you wanna come closer?
Won't you wanna hold us?
Instead of having us touch you on your grave...? -
Vow God
To share my spirtual enlightenment,
I shall cast my thoughts among you
people who cannot see beyond
the point which is blind.
Here is my verse 1.
Oh my great one,
I speak of the truth as I speak
of you
and you alone I represent with
you
alone in my heart.
Please be seated.
Open up your holy chapters,
and you'll see verse
5
point
2.
Words,
words,
and more words...
None of your deeds would be written on the chapters
(because you ain't holy),
so they probably doesn't matter...
As I was saying....
That gentleman over there,
please respect your god.
I speak of his truth,
please respect my words...
Your god is here to save YOU.
YES
You people.
The useless ones who couldn't even save yourselves.
Why do you even think your god would want you?
Because he loves
you?
Or simply because you want your god?
SORRY.
I shouldn't speak of these
as they're not even in our sacred piece.
My mistake. I repent.
May god forgives me.
Forgive the people who 'deserves' to be
forgiven.
The people who vow their loyalty to you as
they are one with you.
We pray and offer
goodness to all mankind
(which is of 'our kind')
and may the spirit of god they spread
(in return for the deeds we manifest)
to the rest of the blind men in this world. -
Blind mice maze
Options 105.
Never say die.
Death, it does not apologise.
When the sky starts to tear
and you starts to tear...
What are the choices available
to survive?
As you make a sneak turn
to avoid the cat's paws,
your tiny body wiggles
to avoid the spotlight.
Rice.
No sight of it.
High.
Fearing a shadowed sky.
As you utter your nonsensical words of prayers facing the walls,
repent your mistakes and remorse for acts...
Here I am,
would you not come get me?
Over and over you've ran the tunnels
but none is like this chamber.
Each blind turn, corner which you venture
your skin might paint the gore.
Each night it wakes,
the spell it breaks
shall send your neck on quivers.
But tiny legs
though four you're made,
just send you to your blood
of shallow lake... -
Path alone
I walk on this street haunted
by the spirits.
They don't talk, they
just watch,
lurking in the corners..
With their eyes they glared at me.
So silently
I can hear the tick on my watch.
So endlessly time seems to mock.
Yet I can't struggle even if they lay their icy fingers on me..
My heart pounding furiously
towards a dream that leads down the dark alley.
The audience seems everywhere but yet again
it seems like just me.
The windows and shops that I passed,
showing a weird being smuggling himself
across the building.
He has no eyes. Dark is his heart and world.
He has no legs. He mimics the cold chilling wind.
Until memories bring him back again,
on the spot he was
glued to.
For a moment he thought he was dead.
Separated entity from his body.
Yet they don't see him as one of them.
Yet he is none.
Yet he find no lodging from the long night.
And the dark day which spells eternity.
Yet he find no tears on his cheek.
The face on which the howling wind would gladly steal the tears off him.
He has no life, yet not dead.
He is deprived, yet of nothing.
On this street he walks,
glued to the spot.
He can run, he can panic
like a hysterical man yet
he is just not being himself.
He is afraid of the dark,
yet this is his world.
His kingdom and his call.
They longed for his touch.
Cheering him on,
bow upon his 'grace'.
Midnight.
Here comes a 'Cinderella'. -
A broken toy
A piece of leg
never meant to be fixed.
A limb.
Too lame.
Charred face with a hole on the cheek.
Tears dripped,
sunk in deep.
Lovely hand
with no fingers,
helpless to the world around us.
Look at me.
I looked at you with my only eye.
Look at me.
Am I pretty?
I think it's my lousy dress.
My mum never bother to sew anything for me.
Look at me.
But don't touch me.
A piece of chunk never so appealing.
Don't try to move me
or I'll just break into pieces.
So tiny I'll be,
you'll never get to see me again?
Look at me.
But don't tease me.
Look.
I didn't mean to scare you with such an ugly sight.
Perhaps I should just return to my dark old closet? -
Originally posted by Devil1976:
my dear, why walk path alone? so poor?
Path alone
[b]I walk on this street haunted
by the spirits.
They don't talk, they
just watch,
lurking in the corners..
With their eyes they glared at me.
So silently
I can hear the tick on my watch.
So endlessly time seems to mock.
Yet I can't struggle even if they lay their icy fingers on me..
My heart pounding furiously
towards a dream that leads down the dark alley.
The audience seems everywhere but yet again
it seems like just me.
The windows and shops that I passed,
showing a weird being smuggling himself
across the building.
He has no eyes. Dark is his heart and world.
He has no legs. He just drifted along the cold chilling wind.
Until memories bring him back again,
on the spot he was
glued to.
For a moment he thought he was dead.
Separated entity from his body.
Yet they don't see him as one of them.
Yet he is none.
Yet he find no lodging from the long night.
And the dark day which spells eternity.
Yet he find no tears on his cheek.
The face on which the howling wind would gladly wipe the tears off him.
He has no life, yet not dead.
He is deprived, yet of nothing.
On this street he walks,
glued to the spot.
He can run, he can panic
like a hysterical man yet
he is just not being himself.
He is afraid of the dark,
yet this is his world.
His kingdom and his call.
They longed for his touch.
Cheering him on,
bow upon his 'grace'.
Midnight.
Here comes a 'Cinderella'.[/b] -
Originally posted by Devil1976:
A broken toy
[b]A piece of leg
never meant to be fixed.
A limb.
Too lame.
Charred face with a hole on the cheek.
Tears dripped,
sunk in deep.
Lovely hand
with no fingers,
helpless to the world around us.
Look at me.
I looked at you with one eye.
Look at me.
Am I pretty?
I think it's my lousy dress.
My mum never bother to sew anything for me.
Look at me.
But don't touch me.
A piece of chunk never so appealing.
Don't try to move me
or I'll just break into pieces.
So tiny I'll be,
you'll never get to see me again?
Look at me.
But don't tease me.
Look.
I didn't mean to scare you with such an ugly sight.
Perhaps I should just return to my dark old closet?[/b]
-
Do you sometimes think about this world you live in...?Originally posted by Missing:my dear, why walk path alone? so poor?
The people around you...?
What are they made of? Why are things there...?
Are all these real...?
Then you read this poem... It's trying to bring you somewhere around there... But avoid thinking too much or too deep...? You might just go crazy and lost yourself...? Not worth the price at all....
We're like people 'delivered' into this world... Full of 'others'... Somehow 'packed'... Yet from time to time 'alone'....? We seems so 'welcomed'... At home? Yet at the same time there's this thought deep within ourselves.... Like a 'princess' but trying to run away from the ugliness before the clock strikes twelve.... -
Hmmmm....... some insights...nice.
-
A Long Walk from Home
September, 17.
A fence I lapped each year.
Through time the field I walked,
of empty timings I tried to clock.
Of a big beautiful sky above me.
All belonging but to myself.
The grass which shines my boots,
not a moment too long before me.
As of muds and thoughts I dragged through,
frustrations which accumulated.
Suffocations which filled my lungs and
drowned my senses.
Too soon,
I thought it's gonna be over.
But still
morning light hits me like a shovel on my back.
Hurrying me on my next day's trip.
The sky, the field, the fence ahead.
Anywhere else soon? -
Slit
Drip.
Creature of the dark
leaks.
Bring me a piece of your mirror,
bring a bit of yourself,
leads me to the red light district.
Flood my mind with your senses,
blurs my vision,
weakens my will.
Flow my body with your thick regrets.
See my world.
Feel my struggles.
So silent.
So quiet.
Feel my shivers.
Feel my body.
Feel my coldness
around your body.
Dash of rain drops
falling above me.
Inches before me
is a heaven disguised.
I never have thought.
Never have felt.
Never should have listened.
Never should have looked
right through the gates of paradise,
a slit before me. -
The days without me...
While I was gone,
I didn't know
to whom I belong?
A glass of dust or stainless steels
waiting to rust?
My sense of joy and humour
buried so deep inside me...
Mockery it is to the weeps befall me.
Whilst I stood tall with the iron fist on hand,
my tender fingers I shall not see
too instantly.
Of the time which have slipped through in between them
into a pile of sand
not in castle domains
they stand.
As I conform myself upon the beliefs that surrounds me,
human breaths
took off with my dirt that has failed miserably.
Hungry groans with filthy hands clinged onto me like bees
attracted to a drop of honey,
on a plate in the sink.
Though sunshine falls in,
beholds a lovely scene.
But surely such an ugly painting should not be nice.
Through angry eyes
and verbal fights,
a sponge of foams shall drown the night.
With murky drains and will to wipe,
pretty;
an empty dish of pride. -
Night Cats
Light said,
napped like a cat.
Night scares,
snapped like that.
By said,
slept a thousand years.
Who sad
being waken and whispered in ears.
Quite mad.
Night cats
being haunted like that.
A pat on its head,
purred
with echos
not heard and dealt with.
Nice hat.
Tall
but makes you look fat.
Gives you extra depths
on the holes where ya fed your cats.
Brown mat
not red.
Not 'dirty' but polluted.
They cried
"what's that?"
Turned around is head which is that
of a boy on the concrete slab.
Mind black.
Being said but not met,
not interested in useless gaggeds
not matched with our intellects.
Cats abide the streets
to be fed.
Sad,
they grazed the naps on the floor
of naked guys who slept. -
My greatest kind of Love
My noble type of love
is selfishness mixed with despair.
It's about me not
being lonely.
It's about me not being a spare.
My most excellent form of reasonings come from
a strings excuses buried within my head.
That when I said "I love you",
I don't even see you there.
My lame moves came from a muffled mind,
perfected with the finest touches.
To serve a purpose with no sensory
feels but just gratification,
a cheat on its own.
The greatest thought I've ever possessed is just one moment
in my life
where
I was awake
and by your side.
That I understood I would regret but I betrayed myself
to you. -
Originally posted by Devil1976:
And I guess sometimes that can make us one of the greatest fools as well...?
[b]My greatest kind of Love
My noble type of love
is selfishness mixed with despair.
It's about me not
being lonely.
It's about me not being a spare.
My most excellent form of reasonings come from
a strings excuses buried within my head.
That when I said "I love you",
I don't even see you there.
My lame moves came from a muffled mind,
perfected with the finest touches.
To serve a purpose with no sensory
feels but just gratification,
a cheat on its own.
The greatest thought I've ever possessed is just one moment
in my life
where
I was awake
and by your side.
That I understood I would regret but I betrayed myself
to you.[/b] -
Drowning
I'm wet.
Soaked within.
From my eyes above
to a seed of love.
I'm sinking.
Can't you see?
As gracefully as I might seems
standing right in front of you
yet I'm decaying within.
I'm dying.
Tears filled my lungs.
I can no longer cry.
Feelings bottom up from within.
Spirit oozed out of me.