Poetry archive 1

[Elven Doritos]

You're looking for a man who knows
How to look you in the eye
And tell you with a smile
That he wants to be with you
And only you

He's looking for a girl who wants
To laugh at all his little jokes
He'd tell her with a smile
That he wants to be with her
Throughout the night

The autumn introduces lust
Braying, building innocence
A chime within the wind
Echoes as you pray to him
In silent gasps

But he is trapped inside the spring
Blades of grass beneath his feet
Wet from the morning's dew
As he flies to build a nest
From strands of straw

[Elven Doritos]

You told me what you wanted
When the carpet-bombers rode
I forgot to write it down
And now I'm far too old
What can't be seen is mentioned
What can't be heard is cried
Through tears of crystal daylights
That strangled all my lives
And it would be cute
And maybe trite
If I could hear from you
And know that everything's alright

Your lips were pursed and perched
Upon my anguished curtain call
The prince in rags had borrowed
Everything held in regard
The sleeping giant stumbled
Walking through his dreams
Dancing in the moonlight
And snoring through the screams
And if you could speak
Deep into the night
Just so I can hear from you
And know that everything's alright

The quicksand stands to grasp you
And swallow all your lies
The neon lights of madness
Drag you deep inside
Until you learn the one truth
The horseman has concealed
Speaking tongues all backwards
With his face so unrevealed
As he swings his sword
Thrashing at the light
I just want to hear from you
To know that everything's alright

So the elders of the village
Have hidden all your paths
And threatened to remand you
For some unknown back tax
You can't repeat your verdict
Without the fear of fame
So as you walk in shackles
Your heart bursts into flames
I want you to sing
About your plight
Just so I can hear from you
And know that everything's alright

[Nomadic]

You told me what you wanted
When the carpet-bombers rode
I forgot to write it down
And now I'm far too old
What can't be seen is mentioned
What can't be heard is cried
Through tears of crystal daylights
That strangled all my lives
And it would be cute
And maybe trite
If I could hear from you
And know that everything's alright

Your lips were pursed and perched
Upon my anguished curtain call
The prince in rags had borrowed
Everything held in regard
The sleeping giant stumbled
Walking through his dreams
Dancing in the moonlight
And snoring through the screams
And if you could speak
Deep into the night
Just so I can hear from you
And know that everything's alright

The quicksand stands to grasp you
And swallow all your lies
The neon lights of madness
Drag you deep inside
Until you learn the one truth
The horseman has concealed
Speaking tongues all backwards
With his face so unrevealed
As he swings his sword
Thrashing at the light
I just want to hear from you
To know that everything's alright

So the elders of the village
Have hidden all your paths
And threatened to remand you
For some unknown back tax
You can't repeat your verdict
Without the fear of fame
So as you walk in shackles
Your heart bursts into flames
I want you to sing
About your plight
Just so I can hear from you
And know that everything's alright

This would make an awesome song (my mind was making up a tune to go with it a I read).

[Elven Doritos]

At my rusty typewriter
The night is dimmed and dying
I swim through reveries of her
With all my senses flying

Light splashes on her cheek
Her hands could conjure spirits
Her laugh resounds,
Her smile, forgiveness,
Her eyes,
Those eyes!
Serene, so keen,
Sweet summer dreams!

There is short distance between us,
I hold my breath,
I let her know,
Wrapped in the shades of acceptance,
Symmetric joy cascades upon her,
I laugh along,
And set myself,
Bare before her,
Unafraid.

[Elven Doritos]

I see her standing deep within
A forest of old, ancient trees
I know her Wisdom is old but true
Sophia, Venus, Ophelia,
She is my muse
She is a light
The past, its bridges,
Rotted out,
Seem so unimportant now

The drums of war have faded,
Faded
The pipes of thieves are unheard
I have forgotten all I held
Those strands of hate wrapped
In my fingers,
All released and freely thrown
So that my open daydream hand
Can grasp her waiting truths

[LordVreeg]

she's just going to eat your soul...

[Elven Doritos]

she's just going to eat your soul...

Then let it be a feast.

[LordVreeg]

she's just going to eat your soul...

Then let it be a feast.

Perhaps this is an attitude of accepting defiance,
and I cannot imagine a better one...'Let them eat cake', indeed.

[Elven Doritos]

I found out nobody
rhymes these days
Just put a few line breaks

Be edgy
Add a few
swear words

like a bitch
pissing
on
something

and italics
oh, the italics
please, you prissy one,
you cannot
be
this
dense

you
suck

[Elven Doritos]

She's a singer
I'm a poet
The stars are begging
For us to collide

She's a vision
A dream awakened
My heart is yearning
For her gentle touch

History's repose
Studious, simple,
Salvation without percussion
Notes that linger,
Linger,
Linger

[LordVreeg]

Now, My friend, you must tell us,
the difference between lyrics and poetry.
For the Eleventh Dream dust
is one of your works of mixology.

[Elven Doritos]

Now, My friend, you must tell us,
the difference between lyrics and poetry.
For the Eleventh Dream dust
is one of your works of mixology.

The term "mixology" might inspire some later work.
Expect a haze of poem-prose-play-lyrics some day.

Her spirit moves between the bricks
Past the steely hair of businessmen
Her eyes, like glowing coals, but blue
Her scarlet locks of hair tumble
Onto her sideways grin

A glass of wine, Merlot, I think
With poise she sips, slow, slow
An old projector plays a film
Together, laughing, yelping joy
Alone in all the darkness

Hoofbeats, like thunder, hurry past
I'm lost within a haze of love
My heart, with shades of reverence
Rob my pen of all its words
I struggle with expression

My tongue is tangled
My teeth are tattered
My mind is melted
And never have I been happier

[Elven Doritos]

There is a certain science to mixing.

   Take one blue, one red, one yellow, and swirl it all around in your mouth until you're awake and asleep and anti-depressed at the same time. Then to make sure you've got balance you take an anti-anti-depressant and the entire thing is one big cocktail party in your stomach and at last you can take a shit mixed with blood after the diuretics kick in, foaming at the mouth because the whole damn world is making you crazy and HA HA the Xanax isn't working, I can't feel my tongue and I wish you were all dead dead dead dead dead.

   Anyway.

   It's not just how you take them. You have to take them in the right order. Otherwise. Well the mixture is all wrong. It's a recipe, you see. Like, you don't add the frosting to a cake before you put it in the oven. That would ruin the frosting. Some drugs are like frosting. Actually most of them are. Or are they, I don't remember. Let me take a pill and find out.

   I can't concentrate unless I take the right combination. My mind has a chemical padlock that is so damn frustrating, and I just want a pair of bolt-cutters to just get rid of it all. But my doctor and my pharmacist have my best interest at heart as they mix up my order and send me home with anti-psychotics.

   Used to be a caffeine junky. Perfectly mixed espresso, blended with steamed milk, maybe some half-and-half if I'm desperate. Stir. Mix. Drink. Repeat. Two cups in the morning. Three cans of soda to get through the day. Energy drinks when everything starts to get too damn much and the stress is just getting to my nervous system. Pop three pills and grab one of those devilish short-term energy drinks. This is my Tuesday.

   I go home and the dirty and clean clothes are in the same basket. I can't tell if the noise is coming from the radio or TV and I don't care. The images flickering across my living room don't match up with the sound and something is very wrong, everything is getting all muddled and hazy.

   The labels all tell me not to mix alcohol with prescription drugs. The way I see it, my mind is strangled and everyone else is doing it so why the hell not if I want to mix in, since that's the point of mixing. Build up a conversation, take a mixed drink, swirl it all around, until everything mashes together and gets confused and I'm in a bathroom crying my eyes out and then I wake up and the alarm is bleating and there's a woman laying next to me who I've never seen before and she's mixed-race, beautiful even though she's snoring.

   I go to scramble some eggs mixed with cheese and a little bacon but when I get back to the room she's gone. Took everything with her. Even my wallet.

   I throw on some of my favorite remixes and catch the vibe until it's two thirty in the morning and everything I've done is all mixed up. So I begin to write in one long blur.
 
Disease is ugly
Sin is pure
Life is laughter
Love demure

Settle now
My little one
For soon the day
Will not be won

You are so ugly
And so pure
Of this much
I am sure

DAVE:   What do you mean, my card was denied?
ARNOLD:   I can't say for certain, sir. But it appears as though       your account is overdrawn?
DAVE:   That's insane. My wife and I share this account.
ARNOLD:   Well there you have it.
DAVE:   What?
ARNOLD:   Never mix business with pleasure.
 
Look, don't try and tell me that you know what it's like to go through emancipation if you've ever been in an asylum it's the freest form of absolute control you can possibly ever have they sit and observe you as you stare at the walls wondering what it is that made mommy so mad but you can't look her in the eye and tell her you're sorry in part because they took her away and in part because you drove her away and that's the reason why they split up because really if they never had you it would have been a lot happier but then you came along and everything got turned on its head and mixed up and that's why daddy had to hit her and that's why she had to hit him back and that's why when you stepped in the mix and they both had their say everything was just

the doctor says it's okay to cry but he doesn't understand why i laugh you would think that everyone would rather laugh than cry and that's what i'm doing is i'm sitting here and laughing my mind off and nothing i do or say can be good or right because Father isn't happy so i can't be happy and all i want to do is make him happy

this place is cold but they won't give me any blankets because it's all psychosomatic and i can't be seen or heard for miles around and

the doctor comes and goes and decides whether or not i leave this place. therefore he must be God the Father. i hope he dies

   There's something to the notion that sanity and sanitation go hand in hand. I feel that dirtiness is the hallmark of the disturbed mind. If ever you saw such a sight as those unwilling to wash themselves, you would know from their rancid odor and their disgusting way of smiling that nothing about them is right. Dirt and grime are the bedfellows of disease and putrescence.

    There's a daily routine to preserve sanitation and therefore sanity. It follows:
-Wipe the blood from off your face
-Scrape your scalp until free of dandruff
-Clean showerhead with anti-bacterial spray
-Open package of soap
-Carefully wash self without touching any other appliances
-Throw away remainder of soap
-Clean showerhead with anti-bacterial spray
-Clean toilet bowl
-Throw away remainder of anti-bacterial spray
-Trim your nails to prevent collection of dirt
-Brush your teeth until they are wet with blood

Repeat as necessary.

[Elven Doritos]

Keyboards washing over
Shores of sandy maybes
A breeze begins to saunter
Trapped inside of Hades
Wonder what you're doing
Can't say if I trust you
Not that you don't like me
But is that enough to
Justify this lockbox
I put my heart inside of
You know what you need now
Let me know tonight if
Only I could touch you
Let our spirits mingle
Silent, seeking something
Simple, never single

Is this how I'm meant to feel?

[Elven Doritos]

what i want you to understand
words
more words
and all enclosed
deep within
my hurt