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Poetry corner; tormented souls in search of light
  • maxrmaxr

    Mesdames et messieurs, comment ça va?

    I would hummingly^ invite anyone and everyone who likes to read, write or hear poetry to make home of this corner.
    ^from hummingbird

    The shape of the house will depend on content and energy =) You may bring your own stuff, quote someone you like, improvise, give your opinion, ask for opinion, and so on and so forward.
    So... I'll brake the ice with one poem I just wrote • gashô

     
     

    The little mirror outside the hall
    between the bouncing rays of light
    left by a hurry someone told
    lubricated and snorting constantly
    consonants made of pure truth
    ja ja já

     

    “Kiss me
    my arm”

     

    impussyble!
     

    Then you came, you;
    unexpected crawling from within
    the hall itself bended
    and extended my arm too much
    too much too much too much
    too much too

     

    “Cut
                   my throat”

     

    That was not
    what I was
    anywhere lost anyway child.
    Now the thought of the memory
    blinking inside a jar
    beside the semi-darken hallway
    makes me want
    not to go back

     

    “Gain butt harder!”

     

    My mouse is feeling sad
    my house is made of sand
    my nose is full of crap
    my words not mine

     

    Mind exploding blooded confetti
    orgasm coperativism quarter inch
    whole flavoured death wishes
    refucking inside a moth's brain

     

    “That’s how you feel?”

     

    Cool,
    what an awesome weep cream
    passage to hell you’re delivering man!!!
    I could use your skin to wrap me up at night
    then for sure, no doubt,
    I'd dream about all these worlds
    making sense pass the hall
    to the right, skip the shards
    drink the light, then straight
    reaaaallly straight forward
    till-water-reach-your-knees
    then free, then die
    the come back
    the die
    then free
    the coma back
    then you kiss me
    the kiss you
    then we die
    then we’re free
    to come back
    and start
    everything again
    without knowing each other

     
     
  • 1 Reply sorted by
  • maxrmaxr

     
    Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver,
    é ferida que dói, e não se sente;
    é um contentamento descontente,
    é dor que desatina sem doer.

    É um não querer mais que bem querer;
    é um andar solitário entre a gente;
    é nunca contentar-se de contente;
    é um cuidar que ganha em se perder.

    É querer estar preso por vontade;
    é servir a quem vence, o vencedor;
    é ter com quem nos mata, lealdade.

    Mas como causar pode seu favor
    nos corações humanos amizade,
    se tão contrário a si é o mesmo Amor?

     
    Luis Vaz de Camões
    16th century, Portugal

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