Poetry of the Month October 2008

[The Fortune Teller]

I like this first poem for many reasons, but to whittle it down, i would say that it’s underlying truth in many parts tell an honest story of the writer, and one that has always shined when it comes to the M and M way of life.
Some very honest circumstances with a unique signature.

Messy words

Locked in smaller room than you,
its only a week till Ill have a different key,
Cold weight in hand, turn with ease or lack thereof
Can I wait that long?

I await an operation, needles, blood and guts
Sleep induced and stiff white linen
The end or beginning?
Sore stitches, to fix me up…

Body remembers last time,
Aches in anticipation
Oh the bruises, grey pain, blue stains
On pale skin. And the cuts.

Its been 8 months since our lips brushed, mouths crushed together
Bated breath shared and eyes softly shut

Now I barely remember that touch…

I really like this approach from you Harriet. It shows how diverse you can be:

Can you take my hand and show me the world outside my head;
Because I’m so tired here, and lonely, wrapped up upon my bed:

I really like the above line as It rings true as does the the poem as a whole.

The Old Plea

Can you take my hand and show me the world outside my head;
Because I’m so tired here, and lonely, wrapped up upon my bed:
The ceiling doesn’t laugh with me, the floors don’t ever speak,
The walls don’t listen any more and sunlight shines so weak.
I’m trapped and lost; can’t find a way to get out of this mind,
So please take my hand, escape with me, there must be more to find:
There must be worlds of glittering streams, of flowers candy bright
Of shivering waifs, and street urchins, and ladies of the night,
There must be concrete meadows and grassy knolls galore;
Please show me what there is to life, what lies beyond this door?

I have nothing really to offer this month so I thought I’d repost something i wrote when out and about in Brighton with my friends. We stayed in the award winning Paskins Hotel and I wrote this in the morning at about four O’Clock downstairs in the hallway on the stairs while all it’s occupants slept.

Paskins Hotel

Crimson cream colours
Laced the old brick walls
The boys arrived lately last night,
After bee-all-and-end-alls.

Clear salty windows,
The roughest rude breeze
Bowling down the Brighton
Along-side the sea.

Some red marble glass
Smiling suitcase-umbrella
Breakfast in the basement place
Without the other fellas.

Coven blessed ceiling patches
Old lamp lights flicker on
Our award winning friendly hosts
Sing such merry songs.

Old creaking floor-boards
Add to antiquity,
In our comfy resting place
Far from London city.

Waiter,s with broad smiles
So pretty-much agree
In the Paskins Hotel lodge
In a room made for three.
_________________
MY BAND and Suburbian Punk Project "Monday Club Circus" CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW!!!!!!!

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=184439145

[supervisualizedly]

*cough* october
: )

[The Fortune Teller]

Sry I just aint with things atm..
_________________
MY BAND and Suburbian Punk Project "Monday Club Circus" CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW!!!!!!!

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=184439145