Friends

25 December 2009 @ 01:39 am

there is so much i can share
to show you that i care
but with all these eyes
on you
on me

i don't understand how you could
ever really see...

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qjd
[poetssociety]

25 December 2009 @ 01:30 am

Bach´s Prelude Suite No. 1

Such lovely piano hands. Smooth ridged bones key the soothing melody of my starving desire. Bathing me in pure thinspiration. I am your biggest fan, oh lovely piano hands.

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icedcoffee0928
[poetssociety]

25 December 2009 @ 01:04 am

Anticipation

Let us see the skyline together
hold cups of hot cocoa on the rooftops
Nestle in a big comforter
while standing earmuffs and all
cherry red noses
with sparks in between us
Let us smile
that one snarky smile
where we can just be plain
and let our emotions
run wild
Let us drink to that
while you put your hand up
my sweater
and feel the tingles and moist chills
that accompany
such actions
I love
I lust
I desire
I feel
Infinite in my fires
Moments caught
like fireflies
Never to be released
like spies in captive
My gum
and Stimulation
you steal
My butterflies
conceive in multiples
while the intoxication
that's not in our cocoa
continues to have me fumbling
and tumbling
head over heels
in much affection
in raw illuminating flesh
for what spirit
has overcome me
with sensations
of you
sharpie'd all over
my brain ..
UGH you drive
me insane...

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finneganthepoet
[poetssociety]

25 December 2009 @ 06:58 am

"F u C k _ o F f!!"

'Fuck-Off! '

”At the tone
The Time will be        9:36 a.m.   and 33 Seconds
At the tone,
The Time will be        1:48 p.m.   and 44 Seconds
At the tone,
The Time will be         7:57 p.m   and 55 Seconds
At the tone,
The Time will be                                   2 a.m…..”

”I'm Sorry, I can’t come to the Phone right now.
I'm out looking for a Job I’ll Hate,
So I can Survive, Live and Eat
……………………….………….that Rock Star Thing didn’t quite Work Out so,
FUCK OFF
At the Sound of the Tone……….”

”Sorry, but I can’t come to The Phone right now,
I'm a Jealous.    Petty     Bastard,     or Bitch
Dicking Someone Over     Royally on The Job,
And Getting Them thrown out onto the streets
    on their unhappy fannies--So Just
FUCK OFF
At the Sound of The Tone………………”

”Me Sorry, Me Can't Come to de Phone right now
Me out Gossiping with Me Girlfriends about Rubbish...,
Feeding off Someone Else’s Misfortune’s and Troubles
like a Meat Starved, Hungry Vulture so Ye Best
FUCK OFF
At The Sound of The Tone…………………………….”.

”Sorry, but We can’t come to the Phone right now
We're having Nuclear War with Saddam Hussein
and don’t wish to miss a moment of it,----------- so if you please,
FUCK OFF
At The Sound ot The Tone………………………………………….”

“The Number You have Reached has been Disconnected
Please Check The Number and Dial Again…………
The Number You have Reached has been Disconnected
Please, Check the Number and Dial Again…………………
The Number You have Reached has been Disconnected
Please Check The Number and Dial Again………………………….

29, January 2003
London, England

………………………………….F i n n e g a n /…*
www.FinneganThePoet.com

Current Location: Amsterdam, Holland

Current Mood:

amused

Current Music: Enya, Cursum Perficio

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finneganthepoet
[poetssociety]

25 December 2009 @ 06:47 am

"Fuck Me, Gently with a ChainSaw!"

“Fuck Me, Gently
With A Chainsaw!”

Slash Me Sweetly
With a Razor
Blast Me Breathless
With a Magnum/.
Fuck Me Gently
With a Chainsaw../
Fuck Me Gently
With a Chainsaw/…

Bash Me Brainless
With a Nightstick/..
Brain Me Senseless
With a Hammer../..
Fuck Me Gently
With a Chainsaw/.
Fuck Me Gently
With a Chainsaw ./..

You BattleAxe-Hag-Faced
Ivory Bitch/Don’t Fuck with Me/
Won’t take
Your Shit/You Stink-Pussy Fuck-Witted
Cheesy Clit/Trying to
Thieve My Life/You Suck Limp Dick/
You Dumb Ass
Motherfucking Two-Time Bitch/You Kiss My Ass
You Lying Bitch/You Bloated-up, Cramp-stricken
Honky Bitch/Got PMS,
Go Take a Shit!/You Constipated
Motherfucking Stuck-Up Bitch/Got Menstrual Cramps,
Go Take a Shit/..

Lynch Me
Nicely From The Rafters/..
Beat Me Mindless
With a Passion/
Fuck Me Gently,
With a Chainsaw/
Fuck Me Gently
With a
Spike Tonight/..

Stab Me Bloody
and Forget Me/..
Hack Me Up
With a Machete/
Fuck Me Gently
with a Chainsaw/
Fuck Me Gently
With an Axe
Tonight…/.

You Hook-Handed
Black-Hearted
Thieving Bitch/Gonna Wax
That Ass,
You Wall –Eyed Dick/You Ass-Ugly
Bug-Fucking, Greasy Shit/Go Wipe
Your Nose
you Snotty Twit/..You Cocksucking
Brown-Nosing Sleazy Prick/Go Blow Your Nose,
You Snot-Faced Shit/You Ass-kissing Motherfucking
Wimpy Dick/
Just Kiss
My Ass/You Nasty Bitch/...

Mash Me
Lifeless with an Anvil/..
Juice Me
Screaming with High Voltage/..
Fuck Me Gently
With a Chainsaw/.
Fuck Me Gently
With a Hook

Tonight/..

Hate and Spite
And Ridicule Me/..
Lie,
But You have Never
Fooled Me/.
Fuck Me Gently
With a Chainsaw
Fuck Me
Gently
With A Blade

GoodNight…/

7, April 2007
Albany, New York

Nasty Little Creatures # 18 copyright 2007

- -F i n n e g a n

www.FinneganThePoet.com

Current Location: Amsterdam, Holland

Current Mood:

amused

Current Music: Enya Its in The Rain!

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finneganthepoet
[poetssociety]

25 December 2009 @ 06:31 am

"Saying Bad Words/Doing Bad Things"

" Saying Bad Words,/
Doing Bad Things"
__________________

Saying I love you is better than/Ready, then?/
Saying My Doing is
loving my things
You can't have
What is mine, don't you wish
that you could?

My Mother's Cunny whipped Your Mother's Cunny
and wiped up the floor with
those
Big Saggy Tits/
My Mother's Cunny licked Your Mother's Cunny
and wiped up the floor
with
that Ugly White Bitch/

So
Me Mum Always Said
I think with the
wrong head
and to fuck the wrong sex
like a fiend/
Saying I love you is better by far
than to
not really mean
what you mean/

Telling Lies is okay
to deny that you're gay
when you're fucking some guy
up the ass/
Telling Lies are okay
cause now I'm an Ex-Gay,....
......But I'll be an ex-Catholic next week!

Look at Those Robots
Happy Little Robots
Acting out Stupid Little Lives/
Angry Robots
Jealous Little Robots
Stuck on Stupid Slaves/

Look at these Androids
Nasty Little Androids
Ripping Each Other Apart/
Look at these Androids
Heartless Androids
with Hate made Stainless Steel

Look at those Cyborgs
Sick Little Cyborgs
Waste Producers Top of their Line/
Look at those Cyborgs
Twisted Little Cyborgs
Overproduced and Made

Saying Nice Words/Doing Nice Things....
..................Totally Despised and Ignored!

Saying Bad Words/Doing Bad Things....
....................Totally Loved and Adored!

Saying Nice Words/Doing Nice Things....
..................Totally Despised and Ignored!

Saying Bad Words/Doing Bad Things....
....................Totally Loved and Adored!

4 August, 2009,
Boston, Mass, USA

"Saying Bad Words,/Doing Bad Things" copyright 2009

______________________F i n n e g a n

www.FinneganThePoet.com

Current Location: Amsterdam, Holland

Current Mood:

amused

Current Music: Enya, Afer Ventus

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rogue_poet153
[poetssociety]

24 December 2009 @ 11:18 pm

Blur

Hiding and lying are the same thing
Anger comes from within
Welcome to the real world

Life bites you when your down
Guilt leaves gaping holes
Love burns
Who isn't hiding a scar or two?

Tell me which lens is better, OK?
This one... or this one?
This one...... or this one?
All set, see you in six months

Schedule an appointment
Let them help

ps. Feedback is love
pss. Merry Christmas

Leave a comment

rogue_poet153
[poetssociety]

24 December 2009 @ 11:17 pm

Blur

Hiding and lying are the same thing
Anger comes from within
Welcome to the real world

Life bites you when your down
Guilt leaves gaping holes
Love burns
Who isn't hiding a scar or two?

Tell me which lens is better, OK?
This one... or this one?
This one...... or this one?
All set, see you in six months

Schedule an appointment
Let them help

ps. Feedback is love
pss. Merry Christmas

Leave a comment

clockworkpuppet
[poetssociety]

24 December 2009 @ 08:02 pm

</3Replaceable

I gave you something irreplaceable..
       Thought you'd love it; make it worth something.
You're just like everyone else.
Giving a damn isn't your style.
Breaking again,
                  I feel like I'm falling.
My God I'm falling again.
I want to scream at the top of my fcking lungs.
(just to relieve this pressure)

I wanted you.
   I needed you here.
I'm nothing without you.
I'm nothing, again.

Input?

xxclockwork

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ryuuvictoire
[poetssociety]

24 December 2009 @ 01:50 pm

Used To Be My Favourite Day

This is a very personal poem. All my poems are personal, obviously, seeing as that's all I really know enough to write about, but this is a little more explicit, a little more tangible I guess. Thank you for reading, I really appreciate feedback on what works, what doesn't, what you liked, etc...

This used to be my favourite day of the year
No switching birthdays with jealous sisters
Presents taller than you when you sit down
Papa comes home for Christmas.

This used to be my favourite time of year
Snow and hot chocolate and toboggans
And hanging out with my friend and his dog
And galloping through the dark woods
Like wolves and husky puppies,
Screeching and yelling into the blanket of silence

Snowfall is soft and deadly slow
The cold creeps up along your veins,
Molecules of water freezing under your skin
Irreparable damage,
Watching snow fall unaware.

This used to be my favourite time of year,
No school and no one would get mad
About my grades, the holiday cheer
Ate my life away
I was replaced with a child,
The child they saw on the first day
Like new snowflakes before brown slush
Beautiful, marvellous, pure again.
Nothing like the lies of the holidays
To make you believe everything’s okay.

This used to be my favourite time of year
I didn’t care that I never got what I asked
I still felt wanted, ripping through wrapping
Like I was meant to be there,
Opening presents
That diminished in size and scope
Every passing year.

There is snowfall at night
Under orange lights,
It knocks your heart back against your bones
With a sense of loss and wonder.

You don’t worry about buying something lovely
You just make a really ugly card
With mismatched, larger than life uneven letters
And a big heart, scribbled between the crayon holly leaves
That’s all you need, ever, forever, to melt their hearts anyway.

No more sledding and hot chocolate and impatience
And sentiments of glory and eagerness and thrill
There is no more holiday
Those lies ebbed away like a tide covering a dead seagull
The white waters recede
The carcass is brought to light again
Its vicious smell staining your beautiful snowy world.

These lies that surround myths, the greatest myth
The greatest lie of all, born to families throughout the ages
That blood is the greatest bond, that your only duty
Is to your family.

Something deep and dark, within dark eyes and red smiles
Something cold and steel like within the blue eyes
Of the women you run the family
There is anger, so much anger
Running so deep in the veins of my crossed matriarchs

Christmas divided, one family and the other,
Never together, united, no blood could bring peace
And quieten fires that have been burning since
I was conceived.

But at Christmas, I used to forget this
This feeling of being the cause,
The true reason for divisions and lies
And six hundred dollar dresses you can wear only once
One night
For a grandmother who will never love you anyways

But at Christmas, I bought the lies eagerly
As eagerly as I raced through the red and gold and green
Wrappings to get to my presents.

Pandora’s box still contains hope
Gift of the gods
To be taken out like a shield
Whenever needed
Or remembered.
Is it really naiveté?
Maybe. Somebody asked me once
What I do when the writing doesn’t help.
I write some more.

Current Mood:

hopeful

4 comments | Leave a comment

skyrocketedfame
[poetssociety]

26 December 2009 @ 12:39 am

I thank you Thee

I thank you thee:

a minute to cry
a second to lie
oh thy glee,
how i'm thankful Thee

a night of delight
a light oh bright
wrapped gifts of bliss,
a star sparkling high

we are together
and I say forever,
a moment to pray,
a silence to thank

a wondrous season
of glorious reasons
wishes are made
I'll share now with you

with countless blessings
and endless pleasures
I am but to say,
"I thank you Thee"

Have a jolly christmas everyone!!

Current Mood:

cheerful

3 comments | Leave a comment

invigorating17
[poetssociety]

24 December 2009 @ 03:46 pm

(no subject)

My fingers were slipping down your spine
As if they were doing the warm-up for a piano play
Your heart beat strong, you said you were all mine
And deep inside I felt that you would stay
With me this night,
Until the sun will rise again
You did forgot your pride
You said we were no longer friends
I’ve got the confidence
To take you to the stars
With zero tolerance
You’ve been caressing all my scars

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gwkame
[poetssociety]

24 December 2009 @ 12:17 am

(no subject)

Someday, before we die,
Before we’re saggy grays
We will mesh and twine like never before
Sweating in full rhythm
With voices strung high –
Yippie-kay-yea motherfucker –
And even though this shit hurts,
It’s better than dancing in the rain.
Power chords and infinity on high
We’ll rock so hard,
The skeletons will shake beneath us.
Defying the deathly gallows that haunt our sleep;
Living will be our revenge on despair,
Hope will be revenge on all of our disappointments.

And in the fuzzy future,
All of this will stand out like blood on glass.

(This wasn't for anyone or anything in particular. This was one of those poems you're so desperate to get out that you're writing on a paper towel haha!)

Current Mood:

full

Current Music: Vitamin String Quartet- Crushcrushcrush

4 comments | Leave a comment

devlinofwicklow
[poetssociety]

23 December 2009 @ 05:48 pm

(no subject)

I once heard somewhere
that a map of the universe,
it's parts and spaces (ones and zeros),
mirror a thought or synapse or brain wave up to 99.5%.

That .5% is that source
of humanity, art, surprise,
the elite
that justify the %99.5 of the waves in prison.

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devlinofwicklow
[poetssociety]

23 December 2009 @ 05:36 pm

(no subject)

orals, limits sin,
only sin is limitation,
extreme end is end of human race.
No sex. Limit upon action,
self containment leads to assumption
of other selves needing to be
self contained,
even though in pure intention their is little influence
on a good day.

That $90 I lent my friend,
not asking for it back,
may be an attempt at self glorification,
being seen as that guy
who doesn't care for moneyand rusts not over worldly things--
money just an embodiment of fluidity,
defamation of it is defamation of body,
body source of movement.
Sad thing, bodilessness, boring,
all things eternal boring.

Read Nietzsche,
even at parties when things died down,
read about righteous hatred,
hatred for the decadent,
precedent for the remedy of limit.

Some poetic condition,
some sickness of metaphysical murder
caused me to start becoming moral,
to hate myself for going against
going against things that go against existence,
hate of hate, absurdity, awareness (by choice)
that nonexistence is holy,
earthy things (even innocent as trees)
makes shadows in the realm of light God.

Possibly knew that the super (beyond) moral
was right, and my synthetic reasoning
led me to believe
that imperfection in the senses is what gave perspective,
but unconsolidated perpective is an equivocation,
an equivocation of a drunk gatekeeper.
Basically, if one took away the prism
that breaks oneness into variation,
we would all, by inherency, turn to pure white light,
giving colour to the universe,
complementing it and supplementing ourselves with purpose,
instead of having colours out of the prism,
existing in the vacuum,
justifying it by calling colours things in themselves.

2 comments | Leave a comment

keep_frozen
[poetssociety]

23 December 2009 @ 06:42 pm

complete.

Little bits and pieces
All floating down the street
Looking for something
To hold onto,
For something
Solid,
Whole,
Complete.

For they will never find
The things they've left behind.
They are scraps
They are crumbs
Of a story once told
But somehow, I guess,
It just got too old.
No one remembers,
There's no one who cares.

So now they are searching,
They are savage,
They're afraid.
What if there's nothing?
What records remain?

In this life
There is only
So much you can see.
Until the world is gone,
We will never be free
To live apart from the pieces
That we've already shed.

That day only comes
When our bodies are dead.

2 comments | Leave a comment

serous_paroxysm
[poetssociety]

23 December 2009 @ 04:10 pm

Unpainted Canvas

This is a whole poetry book, not long (so you can easily read it), but very very good. I'm linking this book with permission; I thought I'd share it because GOOD poetry is hard to come by nowadays. Please read and vote on this book of poems. This is a very good writer trying to get back on her feet in the writer's world, and her work is truly good.

The book is called Unpainted Canvas. It is a collection of verses.

( Click for links to more of Chanctetinyea's poetry )

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heartonbroadway
[poetssociety]

23 December 2009 @ 02:36 pm

Recently I Found

Recently I found out
that you can't make someone love you,
even if you lay at their feet
pleading for second chances
and amorous glances.
I found out
that people are always going to let you down
and consequently
the only person
you can trust wholeheartedly in life
is yourself.
I found
that standing up for what you believe in
can start both revolutions and riots,
but either way
it makes you feel alive.

Recently I found
that a 'yes' is sometimes a 'no'
that someone was too afraid to admit
because they love you.
I found out
that you'll always feel better
if you face the things you dread
rather than run from them.
I found
my voice amidst all the others
preaching their influences at me
every chance they got,
and I found
that it took me twenty-three years to do so.

Recently I found
that only a few friends will remain at your side
as the years fall away,
but the ones that will remain
are golden.
I found
that taking too many photographs
is OK;
you'll have something to look back on
when the world strains to remember.
I found out
that my arms are meant for hugging
and holding
and helping you stand
when your legs can't bear the weight anymore,
and I found
that I leave myself spilling, listless,
on pages
most will never see,
but that's all right with me.

Recently I found
there are some things
you never really get over
because they left marks on your heart,
and I found out
that you're allowed to think about them
once in a while.
I found
that lists are helpful
and goals are even better,
especially the kind
that make you do things
you never imagined you could do.
I found
things I'd lost,
things I no longer care for
and things I've missed.
I found
the woman in the girl
and let her emerge from me.

Recently I found
that the Stones were right:
you can't always get what you want;
I also found
that the Beatles were right, too:
love is all you need.
I found
that the little things
don't really matter
unless they make you happy
and I found
that life is much more enjoyable
when you actually pause to enjoy it.

Recently I found
that I'm not limited to anyone's expectations
and therefore I shouldn't feel pressured by them.
I found
that I can exist without him
and without him.
I found
that I can't sit around
and wait for things to happen to me
and I found
that I am not invincible
but I am strong.

Recently I found
that it's OK,
you're OK,
we're all OK,
even when we feel unbearably weak,
we're OK.
And I found
that to be OK
in a world such as this
is to be
OK
with life
with love
with myself
and also with the world.

--dlf

Current Location: NJ

6 comments | Leave a comment

crystalmistgal
[poetssociety]

24 December 2009 @ 12:36 am

like the wind, i wish to disappear

i fell from great heights
from happiness i once held
it is like losing a ray of light
and i could do is yelled

i wanted freedom and love
but never got the chance to make it happen
i want freedom and love
but to him its a lament

why could i not have the chance to love
to fly to the horizon with courage and bravery
everything above
yet far away from me

all i want is the feeling
but i got nothing
the purest feeling
and still not a single beating

Leave a comment

greene_machine
[poetssociety]

23 December 2009 @ 11:09 am

(no subject)

a sunny life is led by none.
storms will come.

sometimes the wind won't give up
and the rain feels like rocks
falling from gray
just to fuck up your day.

some storms
will break your bones
and leave you crumbled
in pieces.
no matter how prepared you are
sometimes there's
nothing
you
can
do.

1 comment | Leave a comment

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