"paperbag" poems
Where did my words go?
You nasty devil,
Did you eat them up?
Steal them away,
When I wasn't looking?
Sneak them into a paperbag
And throw them into a lake?
You left me speechless,
And alone to my thought,
Indescribable and dark.
And where did my movement go?
Venomous demon?
I used to move like the wind
Like the water
And the stars.
In my limbs i held
All i ever wanted to know,
And was yet to learn.
But you've taken it from me;
Immobile and mute.
And where did you put my kindness?
Sneaky serpent?
I was one with the world,
I gave and I received.
We shared and were one.
Now i lay alone in darkness,
Wishing i could change
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
Thunderbird wine and a brown paperbag.
Hardpack of Newports nicotine fit shayesed .futhermucker.
Much obliged ...oh yes. Moma.said thered be days like this
Double ful twist piked in a spin dont even like the skin im in
Igpay atinlay...uckfay ouyay..iskay imay.asskay
Yea uthermayuckerfay
Days like this.
Futhermucker.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Writing your number,
To make sure I remember,
On that cold December,
Lost with ember,
Her name was amber,
Lovely as ever,
Jesus Christ would be intrigued,
At the creation he presented,
With a smile like yours indeed,
And your eyes I forgot to mention,
The love you give is incredible,
And your character kissed my heart,
And I was lost.......
And I was lost,
Making me figure out that what I've lost,
Is only a figment of my imagination,
Writing your name and number on this bag,
Is my motivation.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
The writings done the baby born
five months of painful paragraphs and haunted
by commas and full stops, scenes emerging from
insidious places and characters being polished
or demolished with uncanny accuracy
scenes unfolding and moving slowly
though transient prose and articulate poetry
down twenty nine chapters
and a hundred thousand words
telling a story of gripping interest
I finished at last.
The galley arrives in a red cardinal cloak
of crystallised chrysanthemums
graced by a beautiful girl
who smiled demurely at the photographers asking
and the flash captured her radiance
for the book cover.
Done at last and out to market she now goes
driving experts around with crafted
tricks to sell the books through any means
and make a buck for themselves.
Here I sat in this warm paperbag writing space
carving words in an endless stream
enjoying the river gathering
not allowing to burst its banks
and cause floods of words
and unnecessary meanderings
keeping the water tight within the dam
of chapters and structures
so readers could enjoy a careful
display of novelty and task
as they read every line looking for
the essence of the language
some searching for faults
others for ecstasies.
There are two more books to spit and polish
and send them packing to the editors
who will take a magnifying glass to demystify
the populated characters.
The power built up from being on this site
reading a hundred poems a day for 4 long
months and absorbing all the richness
and variety that hundreds
had to offer.
My time here is done.
Now I must move on to write
the Magnum Opus.
Author Notes
Check out my first Novel: The Chrysanthemum Trilogy: Transition
on www.Amazon.com/author/marshallgass
ISBN 9781493137848
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Old man in the night,
on the banks of the river,
carefully looks about,
no one must see him
in this deadly serious,
childish play.
In a white wax paper pastry bag,
he gently places the memories,
slippery feelings, a handful of tears,
an abundance of joy and a little,
lit tea candle.
Bending he delicately places it
upon the water, as though it were
some priceless thing and he sits
hands folded in lap, feet out,
on the river bank. watching
the white bag as it dims
and drifts away.
© P.M.H 2001
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC
She was walking
To an unknown destination
Didn't know that somehow
She'd end up where it all started
Looking for things that aren't to be seen
The roads change
but the destination
Is always the same
Fine sidelines feeling nostalgic
She's tempted but not willing
Promising vows with beautiful outcomes
All the synonyms to her wishes
Falling into the pressure
Tracing the steps
of anonymous people
Leading to a place filled with regrets
No unique signs
Can't change the game
Can't be blue
when the game's black and white
Zipped in a paperbag
Freedom is calling
Unzip and the colours shine through
60's re-lived but in different view
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 7:14 PM UTC
I told strangers about the way you left me
They got off the train and did exactly the same
I dozed off in class and imagined you to be there, holding my hand under the table or passing me a note
I knew it was my only choice
To resort to sleep just to see your face again
I feel myself forgetting you
Your laugh
Your shoe size
Your coveted heart
I wanted to own it
But I never let you give it away
You were too busy trying to return my own back to me
I shrugged in refusal, I told you it didn’t make a difference
I don’t breathe anyway
I don’t feel anyway
I think now I change my mind
Please call me
I want to see the face I want to forget
Bring my heart in a paperbag
Don’t sign your name
Wear new shoes, not your old white ones
I don’t want to stare at them again and remember all the times I did exactly the same
To shy away from that ******* smile
I don’t want to go back to trying to love you
Please don’t let me go back
Take my passport and bus ticket
I want to stay here
Wherever here is
Away from feelings I once tried to know
I tried too ******* hard, didn’t I?
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC
----
Ghostfaced overkillah/
I put the sin in sincerity/
Cast the last million stones/
Let’s rock like ***** & GOMORRAH/
Birdman, on the windowsill/
Launch a nuclear war/
Head on fire – NEVER LOOK BACK/
Running with scissorhands, blunted/
Wet paperbag gloves/
Chasing serpent tail forever/
So caught up in yourself, that/
You didn’t notice the climate change/
Sweating ice in a feverdream/
Friends & family are gone/
You’re all alone... THIS IS MANIA/
Shattered nerve clusterbomb/
My primary emotion is sadness/
Disguised as anger; explosive synapses/
Living in an elephant graveyard/
I snap like Thanos, and don’t marvel/
Verse as horcrux/
TATTERED SOUL JOURNALIST/
Stitching together a forked tongue/
Forcing my demons to talk “normal”/
It just sounds so unnatural/
And the voices are NOT HAPPY/
I didn’t listen for one month/
But prepared an epic mudbath/
Purification is a holiday/
Get out of rehab/
Go straight to the crackhouse.../
I’M NOT GONNA FAKE IT/
JUST TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER/
I’M NOT GONNA FAKE IT/
JUST TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER/
I’M NOT GONNA FAKE IT/
JUST TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER/
I’m a failure; thanks for asking/
Keeping it real is mad expensive/
And I’m broke./
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 6:35 AM UTC