Some poetry

[Flippy_D]

I know this is a slightly rarer turn of events, but I wrote a few more, and I figured this was the best area to post 'em.

Untitled.
I'll take a blade into chapel with me,
And I'll grip it because it's real.
I'll bury myself in dulled metal whilst God-in-words swirls around me in a crimson rush.
A robed weight.
Stone angels bow their heads to lower their gruesomely placid faces at me and me alone.

Stained glass seeps insidiously and stains air, dust floats from dead Bibles, songbooks.
The choir breathes it in, and chokes,
Slamming out Psalms.
A cacophony of ritual wraps plundered ideas in echoes and pricking incense,
And dead priests stretch smiles forever in the church tombs.

----------------------------------------------------
Hiki Komori.
Today I decided I wouldn't get up.
I have had enough of life.

I know something.
My front door sucks something out of me every time I touch the cold metal handle.
My life drains from me with the swing of this door.
So the answer is obvious: don't go out.

I sealed myself in my room, and lay in my warm, vegetable bed.
I'm not sure I can open my eyes, but the stuffy air would be dusty,
And my room a dimly-lit blue from my curtains and blind just about permitting the sun its entry.
My bedside table piles high, spurts books.
Sometimes I'll play a CD to drown out the scrabbling and sobs of my parents from the door.
The beard wasn't all I expected it to me, so I cut it with nail scissors.
My movements become languid and ponderous,
Sometimes I forget what I was going to do.
The batteries on my clock run down.
The bulb on my light burns out.
My CDs become scratched beyond playability.
My books disintergrate.

I should probably go out and buy some more,
But I cannot - will not - face my door.

----------------------------------------------------

Untitled 2.
Place yourself, maybe, high in twinkling aether. Feel the syrupy light glisten wetly on raw skin.
All twinkles, inane rhymes.
Then a smokey claw plunges upwards and plucks you from stars,
An apple from Eden.
You are being dragged by the heavy warth-flushed wraith through Clouds: Slab; Slab; Slab.
They break on you like a mortar, and air is chill sharpnel.

We are now flying at 32,000 feet. In the event of an emergancy, please turn to God.

It's a whiteness now, Angel, and you have struck the smouldering ground, but the hole is in yourself.
Haul your Soul out of your eyes and pan it through pity, but be wary, newness, all that glitters is not
High in delicate air, playing stolen eagle bones, you short-sighted Sun Warrior.

Give me, give us, our crush of air,
My restraint and cute idiocy.
Many skulls stare at many deities, sockets burning with invisible and fevered exclaimations.

Play on, Inquisitor, you're such a fine man,
(Do it like nobody's watching),
You alone know the truth: That fingernails are eyes and blood, sight.
Please return verdict to 'Civilisation@world.net'.

Because God is there, leaning on us.
Surely we can feel him, and are glad. Happy are ye.

Faith? Faith! I can't see properly,
Where are you?

----------------------------------------------------

Feedback very welcome.

[Indie Boy]

Im not a poetry person but I like them. The best one would be Hiki Komori but why the name?

[Flippy_D]

Wikipedia has the answer.

[Indie Boy]

Oh kl. You learn sumthing everyday!

[Flippy_D]

A friendly little bump, methinks.

[JimmyShelter]

To me it screams 'adolescent'.
Wear black much?

But seriously.. Reread them a few times: For example the first and last sentece of your first poem don't make sense, there seem to be words missing.

[Flippy_D]

Actually, they make perfect sense. Sorry to disappoint?

And no, they're not 'adolescent' either. I know you mean emo, but I'll thank you not to damn them with that description. Emo poems are about the self, and bemoaning society, and pathetic self-pity, and what's more, you could take about 50 of the blasted things and find a total of 10 different adjectives. If you were alluding to Hiki Komori, it's a deliberate excercise. Read the wikipedia link I posted - I'm trying to emulate the torpor that sets in. It's not about me, it's about someone else from a first-person perspective.

Don't you dare compare these to something like this (not written by me, obviously):

The darkness in my heart consumes me
Eating away my soul
No one's there to help me out
To make me become whole.
The other me inside myself
He tells me no one's there,
But I know the truth inside of me,
That someone really cares.
A lie it seems I tell myself
That someone really cares,
But no one seems to prove themself
Since they're almost never there.
My life is pain, deciet, and sorrow
ALways full of strife
I await someone to free my soul
Or Me from my own life.
I hate the world, I hate my life
I hate mankind for all they say.
The people all around me lie
And always go astray.
Inebidible is the death of all,
The day that I await.
For it is written for all of men,
It is their only fate.

Or this:

There are only few who really seem to care,
But even as friends they are never always there.
Even though the pain is more than I can bare,
I'll live on with my life, with no one to care.

No one's ever there for me, which alawys puts me down,
The few who sometimes care for me only let me drown.
I'm drowning in my sorrow, someone help me, please!
Someone, put my soul to rest or fill it up with ease.

Another day of life goes by, is it really worth living?
To be used like an ATM, continuously giving.
To live with family: complaining, demanding, and fussing.
They use me up continuously, until I become nothing.

The pain in my heart is always there, never going away.
In my soul is where it lives, forever it will stay.
The pain in my heart is always there, never going away.
Until that day when time stands still, my last and final day...

It's just insulting. I hate generic stuff like this. Damn. How can you even begin to draw parallels, seriously?

I didn't mean to sound this angry but you really touched a nerve there. A poem which uses emotion is not 'emo'. An 'emo' poem is something that uses emotion in a very specific way, tone, and style. And it sucks. Also, simply because a poem might be construed as being depressing, or about a depressed person, it does not make it emo. These three are more melancholy than some others I've written, but look at Gillian Clarke or Carol Ann Duffy. Some of their poems are dark, some of theirs are melancholy - you gonna spun them as 'adolescent'? Thanks for posting eight words that pissed me off beyond belief.

[big brother]

If I were you, I'd try posting your poems on a poetry forum (or one that specifically deals with poetry) for feedback. Any constructive criticism they can give you will be much more helpful than what we can offer.
Since these forums don't deal with poetry, it's really not fair to get mad at any comments the members here post.

[Flippy_Unplugged]

Yeah, I know, and I'm sorry. Like I said, I didn't mean to get that mad.

Merry Christmas.

[Xmas ghost]

There once was a boy named Flippy D,
Who drank a lot of crazy tea,
Oh where to start,
He couldn't do art,
So he took up writing poetry.

[Paper Carnival]

Woah that's good stuff. You use a variety of words unlike some people who throw in the word "darkness" whenever they feel like it (darkness is a cool word, but it doesn't mean you can abuse it). True, your poetry is nothing like that emo stuff and that's a good thing. To me it doesn't matter if the poem/song vocabulary is wide (like yours), as long as it states the meaning in an original and clever way, or if it just makes you think (like yours). So yeah, great stuff