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Posted:This was when I was in a part of my life which Alot of others have been, tell me what you think, if you don't mind...I'm going to paint a picture,A picture with a twist.I'll paint it with a razor blade,I'll paint it on my wrist.And if I paint that picture right,A fountain will appear.And with that streaming fountain,All my problems will disappear...I just wished to share a piece of me to you all... Hope you liked it...
I can't hear you... I have a banana in my ear.
"You mean I'll have to use my brain?... but I use staff!!!" ~ ben-ja-men
Posted:minerva is the goddesses of seamstresses, according to the latin dude ovid, she was put to the test by a girl named arachne who claimed to be a better weaver. minerva gets angry and damns arachne to weave forever and shrinks her head... hence spiders were born! (geddit arachne, arachnia???)
if you find it interesting, try ted hugheas translation of ovid's metamorphoses, it has loads of stuff like this
vic xx
if you find it interesting, try ted hugheas translation of ovid's metamorphoses, it has loads of stuff like this
vic xx
ex-hop-aholic, now inconsistent lurker...
Delete
Posted:Ok I just wrote this. It's a bit rough cos I've only spent about 25 minutes on it.
Just a bit of silliness:
Whilst contemplating,
My friend suggested,
That in minds of angels,
Great thoughts rested.
They sit all day,
Look down from high.
Where watching all beneath
Go by.
From this idea my friend
Surmised that angel's minds
All known
Comprised.
"We'll glean this knowledge
(My plan's a winner,)
We'll invited invite a cherubim
Around for dinner!"
"And so" he cried,
"Let us make haste,
We have to tidy up
This place.
And make it cosy, warm,
Inviting.
Our guest won't come
If all is frightening.
He began to scheme,
To plot. To plan.
I think,
He never saw the tram.
Now he sits on clouds
Above
And contemplates man's hates
And loves.
He'll fit in well
In Heaven's host
Contemplating
With the Holy Ghost.
Just a bit of silliness:
Whilst contemplating,
My friend suggested,
That in minds of angels,
Great thoughts rested.
They sit all day,
Look down from high.
Where watching all beneath
Go by.
From this idea my friend
Surmised that angel's minds
All known
Comprised.
"We'll glean this knowledge
(My plan's a winner,)
We'll invited invite a cherubim
Around for dinner!"
"And so" he cried,
"Let us make haste,
We have to tidy up
This place.
And make it cosy, warm,
Inviting.
Our guest won't come
If all is frightening.
He began to scheme,
To plot. To plan.
I think,
He never saw the tram.
Now he sits on clouds
Above
And contemplates man's hates
And loves.
He'll fit in well
In Heaven's host
Contemplating
With the Holy Ghost.
"I'll carry this....It's harder to spill a hat" - Chellybean
"...like a rabbit caught in a lighthouse?" - Chellybean
Posted:Wow. Your silence is almost deafening. Thanx for the resounding responce.
I'm just off to hurl myself off the roof or some other lofty pinnacle.
[ 10. November 2002, 15:34: Message edited by: C@ntus ]
I'm just off to hurl myself off the roof or some other lofty pinnacle.
[ 10. November 2002, 15:34: Message edited by: C@ntus ]
"I'll carry this....It's harder to spill a hat" - Chellybean
"...like a rabbit caught in a lighthouse?" - Chellybean
Posted:Yay! I found my poetry book, thought it was lost under the rubble in my room.
------
I stared at the words until I saw nothing but misshapen lines, devoid of meaning... What is left? Nothingness in its completion.
------
Crown of thorns
Placed upon my head
Mine to bear
For all to see
Come look
The girl in peril
Shameless
And anxious to show you...
------
Day stretches out before me
And shrinks awy just as fast
A thousand thoughts rush through my head
Yet nothing to say
------
I am alone
Solitary I stand
Begging the question
Of who understands
This helpless creature
Yearning for love
Being given a soft touch
Grace from above
Now as you see me
Here on my own
I ask you this solemnly
Who are you to disown
The nature of love
As it is god's gift
Soulful gaze
An embrace
It's shift...
------
Moving with a natural fluidity
Light and sunshine
With a storm on his shoulders...
------
Hope you like em!
- queen of wands -
[ 10. November 2002, 18:07: Message edited by: queen of wands ]
------
I stared at the words until I saw nothing but misshapen lines, devoid of meaning... What is left? Nothingness in its completion.
------
Crown of thorns
Placed upon my head
Mine to bear
For all to see
Come look
The girl in peril
Shameless
And anxious to show you...
------
Day stretches out before me
And shrinks awy just as fast
A thousand thoughts rush through my head
Yet nothing to say
------
I am alone
Solitary I stand
Begging the question
Of who understands
This helpless creature
Yearning for love
Being given a soft touch
Grace from above
Now as you see me
Here on my own
I ask you this solemnly
Who are you to disown
The nature of love
As it is god's gift
Soulful gaze
An embrace
It's shift...
------
Moving with a natural fluidity
Light and sunshine
With a storm on his shoulders...
------
Hope you like em!
- queen of wands -
[ 10. November 2002, 18:07: Message edited by: queen of wands ]
I'm not vegetarian, but currently I'm off my chops!
Delete
Posted:awwww, dangit c@ntus, you know you are the sh!t and everybody loves you dearly...
now i don't want to hear any more self deprecation out of you, young man.
poopoohead.
and yes your poem rocks. there's so much going on here at hop land that i don't even know about. it's like a big cookie, and i just keep eating all the chocolate chips and missing the "meat" (i usu. stick to the technicals, keeping the newbies alive.)
now i don't want to hear any more self deprecation out of you, young man.
poopoohead.
and yes your poem rocks. there's so much going on here at hop land that i don't even know about. it's like a big cookie, and i just keep eating all the chocolate chips and missing the "meat" (i usu. stick to the technicals, keeping the newbies alive.)
-Such a price the gods exact for song: to become what we sing
-Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.
-When the center of the storm does not move, you are in its path.
Posted:all right now i have to go find some of my old poetry stuff and post it too. i'm going to my mommy's house to root in the attic.
-Such a price the gods exact for song: to become what we sing
-Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.
-When the center of the storm does not move, you are in its path.
Posted:About to drop off the first page, sooooo... this is a poem I wrote last ANZAC day.
To the Fallen
Standing alone against the storm
Always doing what needs be done.
No thanks needed and none expected
Where no one sees yet still fight on.
Heroes all both great and small,
In belief and conviction armed.
No names given, none now remember
Where their souls by war were farmed.
Battlefield graves is all their thanks,
Nameless patches of barren earth.
How many lives might you find buried,
Under all the worlds foreign turf?
Peace was their spoils,
Courage their fire
Hope was their strength
And Love their desire.
To the Fallen
Standing alone against the storm
Always doing what needs be done.
No thanks needed and none expected
Where no one sees yet still fight on.
Heroes all both great and small,
In belief and conviction armed.
No names given, none now remember
Where their souls by war were farmed.
Battlefield graves is all their thanks,
Nameless patches of barren earth.
How many lives might you find buried,
Under all the worlds foreign turf?
Peace was their spoils,
Courage their fire
Hope was their strength
And Love their desire.
N mar a sltear a btear
“Things may not be as they seem to be”
Doc Lightning
GOLD Member since May 2001
![Doc Lightning]()
HOP Mad Doctor
Location: San Francisco, CA, USA
Total posts: 13920
GOLD Member since May 2001
HOP Mad Doctor
Location: San Francisco, CA, USA
Total posts: 13920
Posted:C@ntus, did this actually happen to you?
-Mike )'(
Certified Mad Doctor and HoP High Priest of Nutella
"A buckuht 'n a hooze!" -Valura
Posted:Excellent post! I'm loving it
Not a poem exactly - more of a conscious ranting stream I'll share anywayz!
i stand on a mountaintop
alone forever
you in the distance foggy features
and bare feet naked
shadow wanderer
you dream while I sleep
your psychedelic landscapes keep intruding
on my pastel pastures
high strung laughter
pitched at the perfect weight to deny all intent
effortless anarchistic bent
my energy's been spent blindly
on a liguistic misfit
one time friend turned my back and i missed it
metamorphistic fiend
and if you lean on these crystal walls
once more i might scream
bloody murder
time turns tales with hysterical fervour
personal chapters bearing battles with bastards
trapped in a trilogy mocked by history
doomed to repetition
self locked into a fictional prison
bar every exit
low flying eccentric
sends hits of lightening
blinded, electric, ecstatic, ecletic,
tripped the mental fuse of the accepted
NORMS
<Un-Uni-Form> characteristically
ego-driven maybe not sadistically yet
your mind's meshed me up son
now i'm constantly wired
spiraling, weirded out, elusive, tired
and you give me no peace
an incident from which i thought i was divorced
is not deceased but resurrected
in an inferno of flaming cross currents
phoenix forever
though i still shiver
even to think it
you have sub-contracted my subconscious
without my consent
consider this the reclamation.
~chalice
Not a poem exactly - more of a conscious ranting stream I'll share anywayz!
i stand on a mountaintop
alone forever
you in the distance foggy features
and bare feet naked
shadow wanderer
you dream while I sleep
your psychedelic landscapes keep intruding
on my pastel pastures
high strung laughter
pitched at the perfect weight to deny all intent
effortless anarchistic bent
my energy's been spent blindly
on a liguistic misfit
one time friend turned my back and i missed it
metamorphistic fiend
and if you lean on these crystal walls
once more i might scream
bloody murder
time turns tales with hysterical fervour
personal chapters bearing battles with bastards
trapped in a trilogy mocked by history
doomed to repetition
self locked into a fictional prison
bar every exit
low flying eccentric
sends hits of lightening
blinded, electric, ecstatic, ecletic,
tripped the mental fuse of the accepted
NORMS
<Un-Uni-Form> characteristically
ego-driven maybe not sadistically yet
your mind's meshed me up son
now i'm constantly wired
spiraling, weirded out, elusive, tired
and you give me no peace
an incident from which i thought i was divorced
is not deceased but resurrected
in an inferno of flaming cross currents
phoenix forever
though i still shiver
even to think it
you have sub-contracted my subconscious
without my consent
consider this the reclamation.
~chalice
Who looks outside dreams; who looks inside wakes C G Jung
DeletePosted:No Mike. It's just a silly poem.
I once wrote one about being hit by a hanglider whilst having a bath too. That wasn't based in fact either.
I just like silly stories/humour/word play is all.
I once wrote one about being hit by a hanglider whilst having a bath too. That wasn't based in fact either.
I just like silly stories/humour/word play is all.
"I'll carry this....It's harder to spill a hat" - Chellybean
"...like a rabbit caught in a lighthouse?" - Chellybean
Posted:Hate to burst your bubble Arsn but you didnt write that poem... i cannot remember the name of the original author but i do remember he was a gay man that had come out of the closet and that was his suicide note coz of the way society became towards him after he came out, that poem was introduced to me by a kiwi girl by the name of sharona... she live with us for a year or so and i had that poem copied into the back of my poetry book.... i was also dragged into the office coz some yr 8 kid was reciting it ..and when asked where she heard it.. pointed the finger at me.
I want to draw a picture
a picture with a twist
ill draw it with a razor blade
right across my wrist
if i draw it properly
a fountain shall appear
to wash away my problems
and the burdon that i bare
I want to draw a picture
a picture with a twist
ill draw it with a razor blade
right across my wrist
if i draw it properly
a fountain shall appear
to wash away my problems
and the burdon that i bare
Why do you like to confuse me so?
DeletePosted:quote: This was when I was in a part of my life which Alot of others have been, tell me what you think, if you don't mind...
I'm going to paint a picture,
A picture with a twist.
I'll paint it with a razor blade,
I'll paint it on my wrist.
And if I paint that picture right,
A fountain will appear.
And with that streaming fountain,
All my problems will disappear...
I just wished to share a piece of me to you all... Hope you liked it...
Maybe its true he didn't write it. As he never credited it to another person, I and perhaps many others took it as his.
BUT
Poetry or music has a unique abillity to becomes a "piece" of you if you really ID with it. For example, Radiohead does it for me - i feel like i was actually the subject being written about when i hear it! If I write the words, it's like they're mine anyway, even if they are just thom yorke's in reality.
I think what Arsn meant was that he engaged with the poem at that point of life, and it became a "piece" of his life at that time. I certainly don't think anyone here would deliberately take credit for another's work, although it should have been made clear from the start if it was.
I'm going to paint a picture,
A picture with a twist.
I'll paint it with a razor blade,
I'll paint it on my wrist.
And if I paint that picture right,
A fountain will appear.
And with that streaming fountain,
All my problems will disappear...
I just wished to share a piece of me to you all... Hope you liked it...
Maybe its true he didn't write it. As he never credited it to another person, I and perhaps many others took it as his.
BUT
Poetry or music has a unique abillity to becomes a "piece" of you if you really ID with it. For example, Radiohead does it for me - i feel like i was actually the subject being written about when i hear it! If I write the words, it's like they're mine anyway, even if they are just thom yorke's in reality.
I think what Arsn meant was that he engaged with the poem at that point of life, and it became a "piece" of his life at that time. I certainly don't think anyone here would deliberately take credit for another's work, although it should have been made clear from the start if it was.
I'm not vegetarian, but currently I'm off my chops!
DeletePosted:I think there's a chance he did write it, if you'll notice the text differences?
I've known a few people who have written poems very similar, altho some had more different lines than others, and until now i never knew about the guy. If you think about the simplicity of the verse, it's likely a lot of people have written very similar poems.... just because you arn't the first in the world doesn't mean you arn't the first in your village.
I've known a few people who have written poems very similar, altho some had more different lines than others, and until now i never knew about the guy. If you think about the simplicity of the verse, it's likely a lot of people have written very similar poems.... just because you arn't the first in the world doesn't mean you arn't the first in your village.
Keep your dream alive
Dreamin is still how the strong survive
Shalom VeAhavah
New Hampshire has a point....
Posted:Arsn tells me that he DID write it and was really upset that there was one so similar. Quite often people hook into the universal energy that is avaliable and come up with very similar ideas or peices of art. Arsn hasnt seen this other poem before. Thanks Kyri and Queen Of Wands.
TAJ "boat mummy." VALURA "yes sweetie you went on a boat, was daddy there with you?" TAJ "no, but monkey on boat" VALURA "well then sweetie, Daddy WAS there with you"
DeletePosted:Hmmm, more droppage was suffered by this post. To rectify (I've posted this on our forums once before I think) -
Valentine's Day Blues
What of love I cry at night
What of that shining light
To give life meaning must we take
Not this road of hurt and hate?
Souls alone, a million grains of sand
Like stars spun in glittering strand
To rub and grind each other to dust
Seems to be their consuming lust
Hurt is eternal, pain my own
Red roses on the ground are thrown
Festers, sores of hurt and weal
Leave me hollow, naught to feel
There is nowhere you can run
Trying to escape the blinding sun
Love will find you where'ere you hide
venom to burn and claw your eyes
Why should we love
When life's a lie
And all our hopes
Are doomed to die?
Valentine's Day Blues
What of love I cry at night
What of that shining light
To give life meaning must we take
Not this road of hurt and hate?
Souls alone, a million grains of sand
Like stars spun in glittering strand
To rub and grind each other to dust
Seems to be their consuming lust
Hurt is eternal, pain my own
Red roses on the ground are thrown
Festers, sores of hurt and weal
Leave me hollow, naught to feel
There is nowhere you can run
Trying to escape the blinding sun
Love will find you where'ere you hide
venom to burn and claw your eyes
Why should we love
When life's a lie
And all our hopes
Are doomed to die?
N mar a sltear a btear
“Things may not be as they seem to be”
Posted:I wrote a collection of poems for an English writing folio, heres one, hope you like it, I'll post some more if ya do.
P.S. My poems seem to b a little abstract at times
Wake up in a happy frame of mind
meet people who are so ever kind
the sun is shining
people are dining
taking in the sun's bright rays
rain will come one of these days
inside again, nice and dry
trapped inside is a bloody fly
buzzing around in your house
it's annoying for even the mouse
three days is all that they live
life is precious to take or give
the choice is yours what will you do
after all they live on poo
do they have a greater purpose
other than to crawl on the windows surface
does god have a divine plan
or are thoughts like these left to man.
P.S. My poems seem to b a little abstract at times
Wake up in a happy frame of mind
meet people who are so ever kind
the sun is shining
people are dining
taking in the sun's bright rays
rain will come one of these days
inside again, nice and dry
trapped inside is a bloody fly
buzzing around in your house
it's annoying for even the mouse
three days is all that they live
life is precious to take or give
the choice is yours what will you do
after all they live on poo
do they have a greater purpose
other than to crawl on the windows surface
does god have a divine plan
or are thoughts like these left to man.
Trying to play the Akashic records,
but my turntables not compatible.
Posted:You grab the knife,
Begone you evil Beast
Im not going to be hurt no more.
You attack him he laughs and just backhands you.
You fall down and down futher into the darkness of life.
Until one day fire just burst out.
And the devil smiles and handscuffs the evil beast.
All you hear is insane laughter,
You're there alone , What now?
Anyperson can acheive anything if they don't have in their heart!.
Begone you evil Beast
Im not going to be hurt no more.
You attack him he laughs and just backhands you.
You fall down and down futher into the darkness of life.
Until one day fire just burst out.
And the devil smiles and handscuffs the evil beast.
All you hear is insane laughter,
You're there alone , What now?
Anyperson can acheive anything if they don't have in their heart!.
that shrewd and knavish sprite
Called Robin Good Fellow ; are you not he that is frighten of the maidens of the villagery - fairy
I am the merry wander of the night -puk
Posted:Arsn's version rhymes better.
"I'll carry this....It's harder to spill a hat" - Chellybean
"...like a rabbit caught in a lighthouse?" - Chellybean
Posted:...
TAJ "boat mummy." VALURA "yes sweetie you went on a boat, was daddy there with you?" TAJ "no, but monkey on boat" VALURA "well then sweetie, Daddy WAS there with you"
Delete
Posted:My mate and I have been sending limerick poems back and forth to one another over the past couple of days. Thought I would share some of our efforts as they made me laugh! I will never be published, but even if you are crap at poetry, its good fun so give it a whirl! Hope you enjoy!
From Olivia to Kat
Ode to Kitty,
She so mad but also sweet,
growing onions on her feet,
when the japs come out to play
kitty frolicks in the hay.
she's no violet, she's no hen,
she runs a thriving sinful den
her girls they work night and day,
and still bold kitty rolls in the hay
To Olivia from Kat
This ode is for Olivia
filled with lots of trivia
of tales of woe and the happiness
too we have shared over the years
Many stories I could relate
to make you laugh till you shed tears
No landed estate, no riches as great
could be as valuable to me as this mate
unless of course you were to offer
Hugh Jackman naked on a plate
and
How old and dreary we have become
so sensible and staid
I remember when we drank cider and vodka straight
and dreamt of getting laid
We'd laugh for hours at our own jokes
and scribble in our journal
We have grown up now, we're 'beyond' all that
but our laughs will ring eternal
And here is a poem that I wrote the other day, sorta inspired by book I am reading at the moment called Intimacy by Hanif Kureishi
Who needs a Fat Lady?
Silence, as I struggle for something to say,
'Hi there. How was your day'?
A mumbled equally uninspired reply -
my mouth goes dry and suddenly
I feel the urge to cry,
lament the joy that's gone away.
Once we talked incessantly
interrupting one another laughingly,
'You go first', I'd say. 'No you!', you'd insist.
We talked all night, and in between kissed
discussing politics, friends, tv programmes we'd missed,
rambling anecdotes, your future with me.
I don't hear a song
But you don't need a fat lady to tell you
your relationships gone wrong,
or the ominous sound of a church bell dong, just
Silence, as I struggle for the right words to say
'I think it is time that I went away'
From Olivia to Kat
Ode to Kitty,
She so mad but also sweet,
growing onions on her feet,
when the japs come out to play
kitty frolicks in the hay.
she's no violet, she's no hen,
she runs a thriving sinful den
her girls they work night and day,
and still bold kitty rolls in the hay
To Olivia from Kat
This ode is for Olivia
filled with lots of trivia
of tales of woe and the happiness
too we have shared over the years
Many stories I could relate
to make you laugh till you shed tears
No landed estate, no riches as great
could be as valuable to me as this mate
unless of course you were to offer
Hugh Jackman naked on a plate
and
How old and dreary we have become
so sensible and staid
I remember when we drank cider and vodka straight
and dreamt of getting laid
We'd laugh for hours at our own jokes
and scribble in our journal
We have grown up now, we're 'beyond' all that
but our laughs will ring eternal
And here is a poem that I wrote the other day, sorta inspired by book I am reading at the moment called Intimacy by Hanif Kureishi
Who needs a Fat Lady?
Silence, as I struggle for something to say,
'Hi there. How was your day'?
A mumbled equally uninspired reply -
my mouth goes dry and suddenly
I feel the urge to cry,
lament the joy that's gone away.
Once we talked incessantly
interrupting one another laughingly,
'You go first', I'd say. 'No you!', you'd insist.
We talked all night, and in between kissed
discussing politics, friends, tv programmes we'd missed,
rambling anecdotes, your future with me.
I don't hear a song
But you don't need a fat lady to tell you
your relationships gone wrong,
or the ominous sound of a church bell dong, just
Silence, as I struggle for the right words to say
'I think it is time that I went away'
Come faeries, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame.
- W B Yeats
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