Welcome to Gaia! ::

Check my journal for the pilot of a series I'm writing...
Hope you enjoy it to say the least....

Nice interpretation. But not quite. whee

Yes, there's that annoying "pay the bills or starve" problem. They don't call them starving artists for no reason.

That is an interesting question. Makes one think, yes it does.

You should be proud that your work is good enough that people are willing to pay so that they can put their name on it.

These are 12th-13th draft poems, so there is still some work to be done, but they're alright i think. The guy who commissioned The Heat (The Energy) loved it, and the other three are to be published in a local literary magazine. enjoy. Oh, and btw, these are about several different girls. There has been some confusion regarding that in some other places.

I'll be happy to provide explanations to the curious.


Emeute-
(An Answer needed to a question unasked)

Delights, shades and shadows- Of her
Of speaking sharp shots and happy paralytic daggers
Of impossible twists of knife in heart
Of her (pithy excuse for a) lover's nonsense and poisoned viral moping
Of Sins- all indelible; carved in her acid cyphers
Where sin is what she takes and won't return, its
Wholesale thievery of my
Affection and its inherent affectations; their dregs and ghosts drift- crack
perminance and melanchonly along that dark and dream-worn wall
Sans a single shred of repiration
Just a taunting wisping sigh of indecision


The Heat
(The Energy)

Backdraft
gimmik and artifice ablaze
and mass into one another,
thick, visceral liquid flames
Napalm emmenation hurricane pleasure bordering on languid crush
Every single inch and nerve
Every unknown, untouchable sensation burning,
Furious Black and Smouldering
Hot enough to make the devil sweat


35

We flash down the soft stolid six lane lane path
Windows down warm air rushing quietly past
Thelonious on the radio
Ethereal; Undone

She's asleep, my hand in her soft peaceful grasp
As if she let go, she would drift away, clasps
Palm pressing into my fingertips
Ethereal; Undone

Float, unable sits one with the road
Bathed in silent warm incessant glow
With horizons to go before I sleep
Ethereal; Undone


Lovely

Lovely- purveyor of
Irritant glorious simple sex
Long legs sangria lips, we lay improbable
Your curves untouchable
Impossible- because
Despite us- to spite me-
You're faced the same way I am

Very, very nice. Nice to see another young published poet. smile

):

That sounds like a crappy situation, Bramd..

Bramd, its a bit "on the nose" so to speak- but it still doesn't contain the forceful language that you would need to really force that kind of direct poetry home to the reader (until the last paragraph). It seems stuck in limbo between flowery, romantic (the style, not anything to do with romance) langauge and a brutish, curt style (the one I would go with if I were in this situation, since you seem more angry than sad in the poem).

Just my two cents. Overall, bully job. Well done man.

One of my early attempts at Poetry that I found and kind of liked razz albeit I think it sort of sucks wink

To people, it is harsh
the sound of a concophony
to me, the contrary
the noise of a never sleeping
never resting
Always moving
Ever breathing,
it sounds to me a sweet symphony

If you close your eyes
Relax your mind
Just kick back, and recline
Ease your soul, stretch out
your spine.

Hear all that?
To me it's a song
Deep within the city
Is where I belong
Grafitti Artists spray on walls
It reminds me of things I saw
Like Cave Men paintings...

The sound of cars to me
sounds like a Jungle
The Cars honking,
are just like birds squawking.
The man shouting down the street
Is like a Lion, roaring to keep
his territory.

Adapt, is the way of survival...
This new environment to me
Is just a forest, or a jungle
made out of asphalt, steel
and concrete.

So take a seat,
Just recline,
Ease your mind with the sounds
of the City.

**EDIT** This is also a story I wrote a long time ago. I forgot what exactly for...although I think it might've been like a scene for a movie or something since at one point my friends and I were thinking about making one. I ended up modifying it and handing it off to a friend of mine so he could make a character on a game.

The kid struggled underneath his boot.

"Keep still, you picked the wrong day to show your face around here." He said, his voice like silk over gravel. He brought the cigarette back up to his mouth, and slowly took a drag, the end turning from a dull yellow to a bright orange.

He slowly exhaled the smoke through his nose, it stinged his eyes a little, but he could care less. He pressed down with his foot on the kids back, "So what the ******** made you think you could ******** with me? Those puny ******** arms of yours...s**t..."

The kid started to sob softly, and began to try to raise up, pushing hard against the cold concrete. He lifted his foot, but then quickly slammed it back down, pressing the kid into the concrete and causing him to gasp.

"If things were different, boy, lemme tell you. I'd probably like you, probably you and I would be the same...s**t we are the same really...except for the fact that you're down on the ground, and I'm up here." He raised the cigarette to his mouth once again and slowly took a drag off of it, the paper making a soft crumpling sound. He held the smoke in for a few seconds before slowly letting it out again.

"You're probably a decent guy, probably...you know. I bet that if you didn't get caught up in all this s**t, you'd have a future and some girls after you. You have any girls after you?" He tapped some of the ashes off the end of the cigarette.

The kid squirmed and sobbed softly once again. He lifted his foot and slammed it back down, "I ask you a ******** question, I'm trying to make a little conversation." He growled.

"Y-yes, I have a few girls after me..." The kid murmured underneath him.

"Really now? Shame..." He let that roll off his tongue, like a low growl and raised the cigarette to his mouth again, taking a slow drag off of it again.

"Like I said man, if things were different, I would've probably liked you, kid..." There was a soft metallic click of a gun cocking, and he brought the cigarette back up to his mouth, taking a long drag off of it.

"You had me fooled for a moment, kid, you know that? Chatting it up like you were my bud and all that, but when we stepped out here, I knew something was wrong. It was the way you were looking around all nervous like...bet you didn't expect the s**t I pulled on you, huh?" He chuckled softly, and leaned more onto his leg, pressing the boot harder into the kid's back, which caused him to groan.

"I ain't through with you yet boy. You said you were in the Army, huh? What Unit boy." He leened a little more onto his boot, causing the kid to squirm a little more. "I said, what ******** unit, boy."

"I-I was lieing man, I wasn't in the Army..." The kid sobbed, and then sniffled.

"Ah, that's an interesting thing, I thought so. You know I was? Hell, they probably told you I was, oh well. Vietnam, lemme tell you, makes a man crazy. I was in the Rangers boy...out there deep in Charlie country." He brought the cigarette to his lips and took one long last drag off of it. Glancing down at it, noticing that it was almost done, he flicked it away. Pulling out another pack, he closed his lips around one protruding cigarette and pulled it out. Then, putting the pack back into his pocket, he pulled out a zippo with "Deu 22:20" written on it. Flipping open, he struck the flint, and held the flame to the cigarette, inhaling slowly.

With a flick of the wrist, it was shut, and he put it back into his pocket. "Anyhow, where was I...oh yeah Vietnam...you know what it's like to be out there, away from your friends with only a small group of people you trust? No? Feels like how you are right now. Against the cold concrete I'd imagine. You're alone, and you know that you're going to die."

The kid sobbed out, "Why-why are you doing this man, why can't you just let me go?"

He picked up his boot, and slammed it back down on the kid's back. "You don't ******** get it, do you? If I let you go, they'll just send you right back, or another person. If I kill you, they'll know I'm serious and just send another person. If I kill you, or don't kill you, there's going to be another ******** coming after me again." He closed his lips around the cigarette, and slowly took a drag off of it. Holding the smoke in for a few seconds, he then slowly exhaled it through his nose. The smoke curled up and around his face, spiringly into Oblivion.

"You know why you're here kid? I guess I better tell you my story to give you a little piece of mind before I blow it across this alley..." He chuckled softly, and took the cigarette out of his mouth, licking his lips. "You smoke kid?" He glanced down at the kid underneath his boot, who managed to shake his head, "Good, it's a deadly habit."

"Well, you see kid, I was born in Texas, the great state of Texas. My daddy, well my Daddy was my Daddy. We lived on a farm, and he made an Honest to God living, and my Mom? Well, I have a picture if you want to see it...actually...nah, you'd probably not be interested. Anyhow, my Daddy always said that she was a good, kind and sweet woman. However, my Daddy had his vices, he liked to gamble."

He took a slow drag off the cigarette, and exhaled the smoke once again, this time as he talked. "You see, the debts finally caught up to my Daddy, and this guy decided that instead of collecting it, he'd just kill my Daddy and get the whole thing through with it. But first, he was going to make my Daddy sign over the farm, then kill him. Then he'd sell off the farm for some money or something. Well, things didn't go as planned." He chuckled softly, and shook his head.

"I was really young, you see, so I don't remember it that well, but my Daddy, he told me what happened. So these guys, they rolled up to our house, and called my Daddy out. Well, my Daddy knew what was up so of course he brought out his old six shooter. Things got heated, and the led started flying. Unfortunately, my Mom not knowing what was going on came down stairs right before the led started flying. One of the guys knowing that was his wife, shot her."

He frowned softly, and brought the cigarette to his lips, however, he didn't take a drag. Instead, he slowly lowered it again, "So, my Daddy vows he's going to make things right. He sells the farm, and we move out of Texas, we head even more West, out to Los Angeles. Well, you see, my Daddy works up enough money to pay this guy off...but...my Daddy wants revenge, set things straight, ya know?. So, he gets in his car and takes a shotgun and two Colt 1911s and decides to show them what's what. He drives back out to Texas to this guy with the money and the guns. Well, my Daddy manages to clear that place out pretty good, of course though, it's no ******** movie so he gets-" The kid started to squirm more. He raised his boot again and slammed it back down. "Have the ******** deceny to listen to my story kid, I'm giving you more life on this world so you better be ******** happy."

"Anyhow, my Daddy clears the place out, and that's that...so now you're asking how I get involved with this. Well, I come back from 'Nam, and my Daddy is old. Well, he didn't off that guy's brother, your ******** boss. So one night, these guys come to our house, and they break in and start shooting. They shoot my Pops twice, and they shoot me once, I still got a pretty nice scar from it. So they tie me up, and they kneel him down, and put a gun to the back of his head. Ask him for his last words, and he tells them ******** off. Bam, my Pa's dead right infront of me. Then, they prop me up on my knees, and put the gun to the back of my head. Any last words? I said, Yeah you ******** better run and hide because when I get up, you'll be dead."

He grinned softly, and brought the cigarette back up to his mouth, taking a long deep drag off of it. "Blam, everything goes black, not bright and all that s**t like you'd think. Well, the ******** ******** it up, because, you see I'm still here. Apparently, the one that shot me, was shot by my Pa in that arm, so his aim wasn't all that good. I wake up, month later in the hospital...and well, after recovery and all that, which was a b***h mind you, I got out, and decided to set things straight."

"So you see, few hundred bodies and lots of bullets brings you to me. It's nothing personal kid, like I said I liked you, this has just become business to me kid." From the pocket of his coat, he slowly pulled out a heavy looking revolver. He lightly weighed it in his hand, bouncing it slightly.

"Now, unfortunately kid I have to do this. This inevitable moment..." He removed his boot from the kid. "You know if you try any s**t I'll make your death a lot more miserable, get on your knees kid."

The kid got up on his knees, sobbing quietly, his head hung.

"How old are you kid?"

The kid stammered, "19, Sir."

"Figured, you religious kid?"

"Y-yes Sir..."

"Really, kid? What are you, Jew? Muslim? Buddhist? Catholic?"

"C-Catholic..." He sniffed, and began to tremble.

"Ah, good ol' Catholic Boy just like me. Well then, say your prayers."

He took a step closer to the kid, and held the revolver firmly in his hand. Pressing the barrel firmly to the back of the kid's head, causing him to lean forward a little bit.

He took the cigarette to his mouth again, closing his lips around it. Breathing in slowly, feeling the smoke fill his lunges as he watched the kid tremble, and heard him murmur his prayers. He held that smoke there, and as soon as the kid was finished, he exhaled. The tendrils of smoke wafted through the dark alley, and he murmured, "Amen."

He squeezed the trigger, and felt that familiar buck of the pistol. There was a soft, muted boom and then a few seconds after that, a soft thud.

Looking down at the body, he shook his head, and slowly put the pistol back into his pocket. "******** shame, ain't it."