My Ex-Boyfriend is Dead

[Vesnic]

My ex-boyfriend is dead
They found him somewhere in the woods
where he always went to commune with nature
far away from the judgments of people

On that famous hike I thought I might die
because it was getting dark and it was cold
and I didn't trust him, no I never trusted him
Strange whistles between his teeth
Always drumming with his fists
And his eyes, those wet watercolor eyes
Never here, never there
I didn't say anything
but ran, ran out of the woods
He never made it
My ex-boyfriend is dead

"You ruined my life"
I did?
How could I? I barely remember you!
I threw out your pictures last week
With old school assignments, other trash
I didn't think twice about it
Suddenly I thought of you
Too late
I never wanted to save you
I had to save myself

Ruined your life? Really?
But you were so repulsive
You were the first
The first to really frighten me
You're dead
But how is it possible?
When you held me in your arms?
Begged me not to go?
Told me all the things I didn't want to hear
I thought you would kill me

It was October
A rainy October full of leaves
With hiking poles and soaked-through shoes
The police were on watch
No one trusted you
No one stayed with you
But your life was never ruined
Until now

[donteatpoop]

Very nicely done. Great read, I hesitated to open this thread, though. I thought I was going to read a sob story. This was a nice bit of verse.

[Locke]

The Other Side of the Coin

Your poem inspired this response; it started out in the same theme but diverged:

Who are you, I wonder
To judge a life like mine?
You with your bloodshot eyes and mascara-dark
Fingertips as black as the rain

We stood on the senate steps once, you and I
On a clear day, just to listen
To the politicians squabble
They filled that hallowed edifice
That ancient crypt with their briefcases and rumpled suits
And their voices echoed on the columns
Clattered on the pavement like discordant
Piano notes through the double doors

You were sipping a cosmopolitan
Your head full of stars and red-carpet dreams;
We watched in silence the incinerators they used
Burning out like dying red suns, hemorrhaging rust like acid
Filling the streets with ash, that they might
Someday dispose of all the paperwork

But you've always been happy here, so
Start threading your needles
Weaving your golden strands of conversation
High in the air on the promenade
Bend them to your will
With a puppetmaster's conceit
With the leveraged skill at the tip of each razor-edged chrome-polished fingernail
The thrill and fevered passion of slash-and-parry cutthroat repartee

I'll walk my own path
Treading in your shadow, hoping
Searching amid decaying monoliths of steel and ego
Drowning, I think, in the sorrow of this world
In the black rain that pours from heaven to taint
The soul of this city, and the rust that bleeds and burns
Spreads and corrodes in silence

Keep your illusions
Close and guarded; keep them safe
The world is different, after all, from on high
Behind the curtain, the glimmer-shields and hired security
Everything is hospital-sterile and shiny scalded steam-cleaned perfect
A foul wind blows from the east
There are monsters in the shadows;
The black flood is rising in the streets
But you stir your cocktail idly
With one long fingernail the color of rust and blood
In excess, in ecstasy, in languor you keep your lovers
Waiting in the next room, because you always knew
How to walk on water

I hate this place
This dying city of indulgence and decay
These resurfaced roads, the grumbling heart-attack bulldozers
That scrape away at sullen red ground and raw bedrock
In my dreams I am the road
The blades stroke, grind, rake my skin away
Like your dripping red fingernails
The cherry fever glow of the incinerators and the white-hot incision
Of each acid needle in my mind's eye bursting
Cauterizing, ruining, blinding
The dry, raw wind whispers over each exposed nerve until they pour
The burning asphalt like clinging toxic asphyxiation
And my screams join the helpless and dying in tenement halls
My mind the blood that oozes from the eyes, the hands of the paintings
In every room on every wall in the city

The world is black; the sky is red
My skin burns; it itches and aches
It comes away in black flakes
At the searing brush of every contact
I see moving shapes cavorting
Playing in the fire and the night at the edges of my failing vision
And you, I know, are among them
I cannot take this buzzing madness any longer
The noose is tightening, so I must bid you adieu
I'm leaving for a place where creation is easier than destruction
Where I might at last forget the fever of passion and aspire
To better and greater things in these halls of cool marble
But I'll be waiting in the wings when the floodwaters
Rise to quench the earth's sorrow, and I'll look for you

I'll be watching when divinity removes your blindfold and shackles
When they tear back the veil and expose your world
To the cleansing light of the sun

[Vesnic]

Colorful stuff there, Locke. That poem was black and red and sharp all over.

I'd like to commit this thread to spontaneous verse, suicidal musings, generalized monkey business, and of course, to the late great maniac who inspired it all.

[End Master]

Life is great!

Embrace its beauty and all it has to offer.

Cute kittens and friendly puppies.

Smell the lovely flowers during your exciting travels.

Seek the lush forests that hold the happy animals which dwell within.

Look up at the cloud and behold their fluffiness.

The rainbows and their beautiful colors.

How they mirror the many colors of the people on this wonderful planet.

People who you can make friends and share with.

People who you can grow to love.

Such is the incredible variety of life!

While life is great by yourself.

It’s even better when you find that special someone to love

For you can now share your body, mind and soul with them

Cherish your time together

And be excellent to each other.

And one day you will be blessed by a little miracle that will love you as well.

Such is the complete awe-inspiring way of life!

Remember to always think positive.

And discard your negativity.

Only you can do it.

Because you’re the best you, you can possibly be.

Fulfill your hopes.

Because if you try hard enough

And want it bad enough

Dreams really do come true!

Breathe in deeply and cherish the very essence of life!

You’ll be glad you did.

Life...

It’s fantastic!

[Vesnic]

Done hanged himself from a tree.

Just a-swingin' in the breeze

All bugeyed and bluelimbed

Till they cut him down

Two weeks later

[Leblanc4prez]

A very special poem... By shippo

My bucket is empty, The sand is now red
Funny red liquid, seeping from a man's head.
Eyes gone all funny, no longer clear
funny, white liquid, comes from his ear.
I asked this man, what the problem was
he didn't answer, he didn't budge.
I like my new friend, he fills me with glee
He can be your friend too, I named him McGee.

[thoric]

A wall of shields, glinting spears aloft;
On the flanks, steel riders- majestic, resolute;
Golden standard at the fore;
The standard of Torvanin;
King, their King

A sea of expressions - the warriors' faces
Fear, anticipation, even excitement - the young feel;
But the veteran knows the horror that is war;
And yet he too is not spared;
The fear, the anticipation, subdued but never gone

Facing them, another wall of shields and blades;
Prepared, the men are, to bloody the land;
The land they tilled and nurtured mere months ago;
The enemy nears, the command is given;
And thus the struggle begins

Rent is the air with the clang of blades;
The sickening crunch of metal against flesh;
The despairing cries of men;
Prey to the blade of the enemy;
The ground aflood with blood and bone

'Tis but a bloody tug-of-war now;
Human walls pushing and shoving;
hacking and stabbing;
In the name of Torvanin;
King, their King

The visors are down, the lance levelled;
And the riders charge like rolling thunder;
The peasants break like brittle glass;
Trampled to the ground by steel hooves;
The Riders of Torvanin - mighty are they

And the battle draws to an end;
Victorious, are they again;
Another land to chant his name;
Torvanin the conqueror;
King, their King

[thoric]

A Time Machine of Tar

I walk over that concrete pavement
Hustle and bustle all around
Busy men, they pas me by
Not a glance to spare
Honking horns and roaring engines
Interspersed with shouts and laughs
The world around me is alive, a buzz
A cacophony I can stand not

All the roads merge into one
Around that trinity of lights
The road I seek lies ahead
A black stretch of tar in between
A narrow dusty path
No horns, no engines, nor shouts and laughs
Silent the path is, but not really so
The silence of nature

I walk along the dusty track
Tranquil nature all around
Little shacks flank the path
green fields stretching to horizon beyond
An old lady, she stares at me
Her eyes, they seem to speak
Pity not, O little lad, poor
I may be, but unhappy I am not, have seldom been

Ive seen the world pass me by
A whirlwind of ecstacy and grief
I regret not, being poor
I am merely glad to have lived
I have as much as I need,
Food, water and roof
And that to me, is as rich as can be
For relative are rich and poor, don't you agree?

I pass the old lady by,
pondering those unspoken words
The air grows smoky, the stoves are lit
And thick is the air with aroma
Of the simple food of the peasantry
As mouth watering, as any delicacy
A creaking wooden cart nears me
A family going out to the city's marvels see

Such a wonderful place this path
A world of it's own
Green fields and humble shacks
A happier place I have never seen
Primitive, and as such delightful
Almost as going back in time
I see the stretch of road and think
Like a time machine of tar...

[Vesnic]

The second one especially is so evocative...I can really feel the rich atmosphere where you're walking. Keep up the good verse!

[ChubbyTeletubby]

Wow. Thanks for highlighting just how much I really suck at writing guys. Great stuff.

[Vesnic]

Holy simulpostin'! We were, like, on the same wavelength, ChubChub! Even when you suck, you're good.

A HAPPY HOSPITAL GOOD MORNING SONG

It's that time again!
What time? you ask

Time to go to the
HOS-PEE-TALLL!!

WOO HOO HOO
HO HO BAAAAG

Why Mr. Blonde
OSTEOPATH
You could be a
SOCIOPATH

But I wouldn't care
No I wouldn't care!

Cuz you touch me
WRONG
and you touch me
STRONG
and you touch me
ALL DAY LONG

Goin' to the hospital
TODAY
Hoot hoot hooters!
Hey hey hey!!

(Brilliant, man, brilliant, I gotta get this one down on the ole' staff paper soon's I get back yo.)

[ChubbyTeletubby]

LUCKY!

Sterilize my morbid mind

[Leblanc4prez]

Psy: Ever wonder what the resume for God would look like? In this day and
age, everyone's having to look for a job. This is an idea of what
God's resume would look like if he were to apply at a computer firm.

RESUME FOR GOD

God, creator and sustainer of all life, has an eternity of experience
in every aspect of everything, including systems design and
integration and local area networking.

SPECIFIC EXPERIENCE AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS

God was solely responsible for the development of every standard,
protocol, method, language and type of microprocessor in existence.
God has absolute and complete knowledge of every detail of anything
even remotely connected to computers and data processing, as well as
everything else. God practices structured programming, and uses "go
tos" only in reference to Hell. God has extensive supervisory and
leadership experience, and has led teams of over one billion persons
in such major projects as the establishment of civilization and the
development of organized religion.

OTHER EXPERIENCE

God's experience extends from beyond the beginning of time. During
this period God separated the light from the darkness, created the
earth, planets and stars, established the firmament and the waters of
the oceans, and created all the green plants and living things. Later,
God created human life, which many consider to be one of God's most
significant accomplishments.

TECHNICAL BACKGROUND

God is thoroughly familiar with every type of computer, every
operating system, every programming language, every communications
system, and every application that has been or will be developed,
including Microsoft Windows.

EDUCATION

God holds an honorary Doctorate in Comparative Religions from Oral
Roberts University, as well as current teaching certificates for IBM's
Programmer Productivity seminars.

SALARY REQUIREMENTS

Seeking 10 - 15% increase.

[wolfen44]

Darkness howls in the morning light

Dancing spirits take flight

Worlds of mystery fade

Life becomes a shade

Time becomes a blurre

Life cannot seem to endure

What the morning will bring

People will sing

Happiness rings out

There is no doubt

The world is unseen