When most people think of music
I bet they think the trash tones
equal temperament
perpetuates.
~
My outlook is messier.
When I think music,
I hear pataflaflas, diddles, flamacues
banging sticks on...
anything really.
~
Some would call the latter less barbaric.
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
It all started on a night like tonight
It was quiet then too
With the breeze leaving
a small whistle in the air.
Fate on the breeze,
But we wouldn't know that until now
would we?
You could hear it though
if you listen to it
Oh, wait is that a crossbow bolt?
You've died.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 2:19 AM UTC
A slow rabble was the army tent
In the sense events commenced.
Lines lingered laughingly long
Senescent men intent in resentment
Furiously fighting fear.
Young men too, letting bravery ferment
Fools to the firmament.
Fate's Impertinent
Bent by torments underwent.
Who begged to be sent off to war?
Not me for sure; not anymore.
I won't ask why I was whisked away,
That I thought through though.
Wistfully waiting, I Inclined
To outline this old tale of mine
In the event I'm left behind.
So to whom it may concern,
Know you how my spirit burned!
Watch as I, while mortal
Fought foul fate, so much unearned
And how, with luck, I'll yet return.
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 7:41 AM UTC
The bulwark of the lake
Where we would stop to play
Had fish bones in the wave's wake
So there we wouldn't stray
You are my fish bones.
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 3:05 PM UTC
Eastward we marched toward the Black-Water Tower.
Every stout hero aloft by their willpower
We knew the bloodshed the pathing would bring
March'd we with willful and unyielding hardening;
March did we eastward,
To Black-Water tower.
Damnable scourge is the Black-Water Tower.
Watching our coming with malice and glowering
Knowing what death it brings
Naught did we cower!
March did we onward,
To Black-Water tower.
First came the rattling,
Then came the thundering
Lumbering hoof-beats grew louder and louder.
Then did the marsh turn alive with a showering,
Splinters of arrows all poisoned and sour.
Bellowed and charged did we
Onward to victory.
Many did fall but were all men of valor.
Righteous, and honored.Yes, all men of valor.
Death did not leave them fair,
Nor took them anywhere.
Save for the heavens, and memories of ours.
After we burned them, some somber few hours,
March did we eastward,
From Black-Water tower.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
<Initialization.start.exe>
[Meaning] = The way we use language to convey [FEELINGS];
Poem(){
Words have [Meaning]
Creativity, Force, Power.etc;}
If(Poem() != [Creative]){
~query~ Is it poetry?}
/* There is no point in writing what is already written */
Expression(){
It's not what we want to say that matters because the FEELINGS we experience in our lives have been felt before. It's trying to express those feelings, and share them with others in a new way.
Expression(Poem([Meaning]));
<Initialization.end.exe>
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
While contemplating natures of the moor.
So very full of life, and also death.
Briefly glancing round, the bog seems lifeless,
To walk so alert, danger life obscures
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
But after observation, I confess
Quite lively lies our grand mud-soaked detour.
So very full of life, and also death.
Every creature here exudes unkindness,
And any of them might our death ensure.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
Yet still, I find their number in excess
Than places having more growth, and verdure.
So very full of life, and also death.
So now my new perspective does egress
Much different than it ever did before.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
So very full of life, and also death.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 1:33 AM UTC
Is poetry a way to cope with pain?
My chest throbs dully in low agony.
You see, heartache is a physical thing.
It hurts as if it's any wound to me.
I'm not afraid to state my malady,
Depression is what resides in my brain.
And it's the way it manifests, I hate
In doubting in myself, and what I'm worth
In old memories, losses, things of weight
Frustrations pop and boil as on a hearth
Sometimes I wish for return to the earth,
But I've been down that road, in bitter pace.
I write, not for the pain, which wont relieve.
However, when it's shared, it will indeed.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 7:25 AM UTC
Onward we trudge to Miserthorpe.
On blood soaked dreams to lend support.
Knock-kneed, railing, gasping for breath
We march through the marsh toward our death,
But death will not out soul's escort.
The hordes of the undying court
Will shortly rend our lives cut short.
There is no hope; never the less...
Onward we trudge
Oh, if the past I could abort
I would have strived to build rapport
With that young lass from Watercrest.
My dreams of glory reassessed.
Yet time moves on without distort.
Onward we trudge
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC
I remember how the sky cried
The mournful day my Nene died.
It sobbed and grieved; thought not prolonged.
Soon sunlight, through the darkness, dawned
As thought the tears had simply dried.
At once I wondered, scornfully, "Why?"
How dare you cease your crying, Sky!
How simply could the world go on?
Then I remembered...
My struggle, isn't her's. It's mine.
I hurt because I'm left behind.
For she, you see, has moved along
A better place she's set-upon.
Therefore, with mourning cast aside,
I'll remember.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 8:16 AM UTC