Theres a place I can take you too,
where the sky is red and the fear springs renewed,
where the sun blows up in your eyes,
a kingdom where the jester dies.
Now if you want to argue,
I'll take you down with me,
where the peasants never want to be.
In deaths court, I would be afraid.
Theres a place,
Within itself,
Where what you want, you take,
and hope the devil doesn't let your soul bake.
Mr. Jaybird,
How does it feel,
to be the last of a dieing breed,
I think I caught your diesis,
because I'm next in line for the kings,
Beheading.
Oh, I can take you here,
But the fear you thought that dissapeared,
Is coming back from the grave,
it's enough to drive you insane.
Because the knight not the hero, he always dies,
and goverment resembles the lord the flies.
Kingdom come,
Kingdom go,
your fears are renewed,
but it doesn't all ways show.
Your next line,
for the beheading,
of all the hope had in your dreams,
the line is fine,
but your fears need mending,
so don't struggle,
your hope will only die tierd.
and your fear will still be fired.
Oh I can take you there,
where the woes of men reapear,
with the Devil's leering stare,
and you think to yourself,
I must be dieing.
Child wake up,
and follow the light,
child wake up,
put up a fight,
child wake up,
for the fear happens only when you close your eyes.
Child wake up,
And fall into me,
Child wake up,
this is the place you were ment to be,
with a comforting smile,
I'll let you fall into me.
Theres a place I can take you too,
where the grass is green and the sky is blue.
and everything is just fine,
but your heart rember, theres always that unforgiving line,
between what you rember, and what you forget. _________________ "The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms?"
ROMEO
[To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
JULIET
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
ROMEO
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
JULIET
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
ROMEO
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
JULIET
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
ROMEO
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
JULIET
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
ROMEO
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.
JULIET
You kiss by the book.
Spoiler:
MERCUTIO
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she--
ROMEO
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
Thou talk'st of nothing.
MERCUTIO
True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
horror poem i wrote the background to this is my dad bet me i couldn't write a poem fitting a designated number of horror refrences. (i forgot the number cuz it was a long time ago.)
caution some graphic language... i will try to locate all and edit with stars.
Spoiler:
In psycho one through psycho four
Mother kills the little "whor*s"
All the Freddy’s and Halloweens
Made up some famous scream queens
Jason one and two were good
The rest tried as best as they could
Jack, neve, Bruce, and the reaper
Tells scary stories like the crypt keeper
Vampires, ghosts, zombies, and ghouls
Wreck courtships, playgrounds, malls, and schools
The awakening, the hunger and the thing
Will scare you and the willies it brings
Christine, dead zone, and the screams
Will love you and hate you
And bring you bad dreams
You may know what I did last summer
And on April fools day what a bummer
Warlock, cujo, creep show and chucky
Will make you cringe because the guts are yucky
Armies of darkness and the evil dead
All of these stories running through your head
Englund, Perkins, Barrymore and king
All play in a movie that dread it will bring
The stepfather, the evil, the shining, the fly
Are full of stupid people who are not ready to die
Barker and Shelley, stoker and Poe
They are old favorites that everyone will know
Vincent price is the raven and is known to kill
Have you seen the house on haunted hill?
Audrey rose, vampire circus, and freaks
And the cousins that retrieve the cursed antiques
Look at the time it is the witching hour
So light a candle and be ready to cower
These are all stories of carnage and hell
But they have a lesson in the stories they tell
So dim the lights and grab a drink
Make some popcorn and try not to blink
You are now ready for startles and screams
And now for your feature unpleasant dreams
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
by Robert Herrick
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry. _________________ A vision of our tearless times discloses artificial men sniffing plastic roses
I wrote these poems. It's hard for me to post these.. It reminds me of things.. anyway
Storms of my Life.
The hammering on my window is caused by the rain.
Why does this storm have to be so thunderous?
It's louder then the thumping of my heart,
Louder than the tears that plummet from my eyes.
He broke my heart into a million pieces,
Just because he wanted someone else.
He told me he loved me and I believed him,
But he left me and went after her.
I want to caution her, but she probably won't listen,
Because I am his ex girlfriend and she won't talk to me.
Every time I see her she reminds me of myself,
Because I fell for his lies on more then one occasion.
It's been 4 months and I'm done crying over him.
Done with this hurt he put me through!
Over everything that he has ever said to me.
Just want to go back to a time when my heart was complete.
Please help me to stop thinking of him everyday,
And dreaming of him every night.
Because when that happens you know you can move on
Move on and not worry about crying for him anymore.
**********************************************
Just wanted you to know.
You helped me though some hard times
More than you know, you have been there
Just being up on that stage you gave me strength
Just wanted you to know, you helped me more then you know
Just knowing that you are leaving hurts us real bad
You have been there from the very beginning
Helping, singing and even bringing smiles to our faces
Just wanted you to know, you helped me more then you know
Even in class you did everything right
Wanting to learn about God because that's what is right
Having a hard time getting on stage, but doing it anyway
Just wanted you to know, you helped me more then you know.
Having a vision for our church, bringing the music in
Because I know you love music and even more you love God
Your leaving because God called you, If that's what you have to do
Just wanted you to know, you helped me more then you know.
*Dedicated to Chris*
He is leaving our church _________________
"You lied to me."
"I got a jar of dirt!"
"Welcome to the caribbean, love."
Had i the heavens embroidered cloth
enwrought in golden and silvery light
the blue, the dim, the dark cloth
of night and light and the half-light
I would spread the cloth under your feet
but i being poor have only my dreams
i spread my dreams under your feet
tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.
-william butler Yeats. _________________ Ice shall instill the heart of man...only silence will remain
I'm not a huge fan of poetry, bucause most poetry seems rather insignificant to me. I can't explain the feeling that I have for poetry, but I feel that poetry needs to have boundaries. It bothers me that there are so many poets who write without boundaries and rules. If a single word can constitute a poem (and I have seen single-word poems), then I have no real respect for the art. I am a die-hard fan of Dickinson, though. She says so much in just a few words, and she kept a systematic way in writing poetry. I also like Shakespeare, as I demonstrated in the Shakespeare thread. There are a few other poets who have distinct styles of writing that I like.
Here are a few of my favorites by Dickinson:
Spoiler:
I HEARD a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.
The eyes beside had wrung them dry, 5
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.
I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I 10
Could make assignable,—and then
There interposed a fly,
With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then 15
I could not see to see.
Spoiler:
I ’M nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody! 5
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
Spoiler:
HEART, we will forget him!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.
When you have done, pray tell me, 5
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!
I personally love poetry. the thing is each poem, though most significant to a poet, can have a different message for each person reading the poem. Like the one i added by william butler yeates. It is like my parents. We came to America with nothing. We were poor. They didn't have that heavenly cloth, so they spread their dreams under our feet, their children. I go to my destination in life knowing that though my parents did all they could with what they have, they live through my accomplishments. That is the meaning this poem has to me. I read this poem only once six years ago and i wrote it on this site from memory. Poetry is significant mainly because it doesn't need structure. It is an art in itself and can move mountains. _________________ Ice shall instill the heart of man...only silence will remain
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