Members
28/Genderqueer/California
Generally autobiographical, usually negative. Profile picture is from Picrew consider contributing to my gofundme: https://gofund.me/2aef87fd
29/near the sea
He asked, “What makes a man a writer?” “Well,” I said, “it’s simple. You either get it down on paper, or jump off a bridge.”
20/M
Perfect
Poems
Ezra P W P Dec 2016
Lady Lazarus.
Ezra P W P
Dec 2016
How the strings have intertwine
with this Lady Lazarus of mine!
I’ve prepared your regular feast
Of words and tears.
Here, Here
Lady Lazarus, now may I ask.
Why you bind me to thee?
You’ve choked me
until I’m a pale flesh
stripped down into my knees
and in my own chest
you’ve branded me as your own slave
--sent me crumbling into my untimely grave.
Here, Here
Lady Lazarus, now may you see.
nothing permeates from this age old skull
nothing but the word of ‘null’
the hue of all my lights have became so dull,
The shade I’ve could see are from engravings of your hair
and all colors only simmers from the iris of your eyes.
For every meat, I've ate is sand.
and the aroma of every rain feels so bland.
As the winds move clouds in the air
clears the way to set the stage of stars in the skies
syncing into the melody of beauty; I’ve called as fair.
Here, Here
Lady Lazarus, now you may know.
You’ve always rise from the tomb
which I’ve sealed in you in; a matter of time
-till you’ve bring me flowers into my sanctum
and I returned it with these somber rhymes.
Dear, Lady Lazarus of mine
****** me with your words.
Let me perish and die!
For now I know, You couldn’t die
until I can finally call you as mine.
with this Lady Lazarus of mine!
I’ve prepared your regular feast
Of words and tears.
Here, Here
Lady Lazarus, now may I ask.
Why you bind me to thee?
You’ve choked me
until I’m a pale flesh
stripped down into my knees
and in my own chest
you’ve branded me as your own slave
--sent me crumbling into my untimely grave.
Here, Here
Lady Lazarus, now may you see.
nothing permeates from this age old skull
nothing but the word of ‘null’
the hue of all my lights have became so dull,
The shade I’ve could see are from engravings of your hair
and all colors only simmers from the iris of your eyes.
For every meat, I've ate is sand.
and the aroma of every rain feels so bland.
As the winds move clouds in the air
clears the way to set the stage of stars in the skies
syncing into the melody of beauty; I’ve called as fair.
Here, Here
Lady Lazarus, now you may know.
You’ve always rise from the tomb
which I’ve sealed in you in; a matter of time
-till you’ve bring me flowers into my sanctum
and I returned it with these somber rhymes.
Dear, Lady Lazarus of mine
****** me with your words.
Let me perish and die!
For now I know, You couldn’t die
until I can finally call you as mine.
Robert Blankenship Sep 2013
Lazarus, Come Forth
Robert Blankenship
Sep 2013
Lazarus come forth
There's a new day dawning
Lazarus come forth
It's brand new morning
Lazarus come forth
From the deep dark tomb
Lazarus come forth
I give new life to you
This thought came to me this morning as I was
driving to work. It came in the way of a song
as I was singing bible verses to myself. .You
know , I will never be raised from death back
to life only to die again, but I will be raised from death to life eternal and live forevermore in heaven with my lord and my saviour
Jesus Christ.
There's a new day dawning
Lazarus come forth
It's brand new morning
Lazarus come forth
From the deep dark tomb
Lazarus come forth
I give new life to you
This thought came to me this morning as I was
driving to work. It came in the way of a song
as I was singing bible verses to myself. .You
know , I will never be raised from death back
to life only to die again, but I will be raised from death to life eternal and live forevermore in heaven with my lord and my saviour
Jesus Christ.
Christopher Hendrix Dec 2014
Duccio's Maestá
Christopher Hendrix
Dec 2014
And now we see the singularity
of the artist, wrists spread bare on
mimed canvas, finally we see
his consistency.
Lazarus is dead on the first day.
Gold background, rocky outcrop,
sense of cluttered space.
Do you see the decay?
Can you sympathize, or do you notice?
I cannot sympathize with Duccio,
I am too vain to admit his Maestá
survives while my brain rots from
alcohol. But I remember Duccio is
at least fifty years old when his Maestá
preeminently destroys my career
as a visual artist. I do not mind.
Lazarus is dead on the second day.
Duccio had many pupils, among them
Simone Martini, whose Annunciation
is a cropped rehash of Byzantine/Gothic
flopped with Duccio's handy flair,
a pious reverence and virtue.
It sweeps and moves. Or attempts.
Lazarus is no longer sleeping.
I have never been to the city of Florence,
not now nor the 1300s, so I need not
explain my lack of comprehension.
Lazarus has risen now,
but it is different than I remember.
Lazarus is all alone, and
Lazarus is alive,
doomed to walk in mortal Hellfire
a second time over.
of the artist, wrists spread bare on
mimed canvas, finally we see
his consistency.
Lazarus is dead on the first day.
Gold background, rocky outcrop,
sense of cluttered space.
Do you see the decay?
Can you sympathize, or do you notice?
I cannot sympathize with Duccio,
I am too vain to admit his Maestá
survives while my brain rots from
alcohol. But I remember Duccio is
at least fifty years old when his Maestá
preeminently destroys my career
as a visual artist. I do not mind.
Lazarus is dead on the second day.
Duccio had many pupils, among them
Simone Martini, whose Annunciation
is a cropped rehash of Byzantine/Gothic
flopped with Duccio's handy flair,
a pious reverence and virtue.
It sweeps and moves. Or attempts.
Lazarus is no longer sleeping.
I have never been to the city of Florence,
not now nor the 1300s, so I need not
explain my lack of comprehension.
Lazarus has risen now,
but it is different than I remember.
Lazarus is all alone, and
Lazarus is alive,
doomed to walk in mortal Hellfire
a second time over.