Poetry Forum

Words_Are_Weapons - all messages by user

7/6/2013 6:12:14 AM
Silver Tongue	His fingers left blood on the strings but, come time to walk away he hadn’t really learned anything. Course and dried brushes sit atop the rubbish, His mind held a perfection too delicate for his clumsy hands to create. He opened his mouth to sing like a jay but, instead of notes it was rust that fell out. Part of the wear and tear of early adulthood. But then, this same boy picked up a pen and found some paper. The pen in his hand felt as natural his own bones and he began to write. He wrote every tear He could scribe every star He built towers from mountains with every line High enough that the angels just might hear them. He made pages for chapters of his life that could make those seraphim weep sapphire tears. He could write the wind blowing across the nape of your neck in Autumn And make you feel the chill on your skin. He could articulate the sad beauty of a lover’s quarrel that ends in tears If they cry, it makes it all more real. He documents the history of a war inside himself that will never end. The loss and the gain, But not those of monetary nature. When life begins to scream around him All he must do to silence it is to put it in a stanza. The boy’s tongue can pave the way for good intentions, and we all know those can fall South. He finds strength. And with this strength a power. Finally the boy knew his gift. But how is he meant to use it and who will truly listen to the personal strands of his soul he ties together with punctuation? And now that he has tasted the pleasure of his power, will that be enough? edited by Words_Are_Weapons on 7/9/2013
7/6/2013 6:20:17 AM
Lies Lies Lies	Gorgeous work that paints a vivid picture of something easily related to, for some. I honestly don't see anything here, I don't like! <3
7/7/2013 3:13:49 PM
Tree Houses and Trigger Fingers	I wish I could take this noose from my tongue. It doesn’t seem to work against the honesty of silver anyway. I wish I could hang it over the neck of my thoughts and pull it tighter every time they try to choke me with guilt or pessimism. Well versed in the words it takes to build things up. My lips and sounds paint pictures and build grand cities where the price would be too high but, people would still pay to live there. Better versed am I in the words that call for demolition. I need not even speak them before, I set all the beauty ablaze and cast those cities to rubble. All the people paying too much can flee or stay but, as the founder and captain I am charged with going down with my ship. If I could just speak a balance. Articulate a safe place. A perfectly leveled tree house with room for one or two. Lately though, my words and thoughts shake and stutter. Trip over themselves like my hands reaching for a pen or a pill bottle. At least that bottle is half way full, I guess. In love with the thought of the very idea. I see now, with no lenses, softening my harsh reality. I must once more, try to focus on myself. Love myself and prove it. Reach for the things I need with conviction and not the unsure hands of a child, I've been sporting so well. I can find a meadow. No path required. I will not rest there, I promise but, I may take in the scenery along the way. I need no hand to hold my own in respective appreciation. I can see the wonder painted even brighter when it burns with a pang of solidarity. I will work my words, My tired feet, My heavy lungs, My heart with dented armor. I will train my hands steady. And this time when I put something in my sights, I won’t have to hesitate before I pull the trigger, painting the walls and ground with my red victory. A flower may yet hold promise, Even in the wrong climate but, first the seed must be planted. Will it bloom? We are getting ahead of ourselves. Clear the board and start again. edited by Words_Are_Weapons on 7/7/2013
7/8/2013 1:11:57 AM
All Powerful, Broken Boy	Stretch and string me to a crucifix with barbed wire Display my failures and shames When you cast the stones, you cast them away as well And when I die, I will just come back new. Stronger. My man Jesus knows what I mean all to literally Bonded by the phoenix we burn as brothers Perhaps of the same kind in more ways than one. I’m drinking Drinking No more Drinking some more Drinking paint thinner I swallow blurred lines and let the smoke burn orange in the night like the relentless spot light in my cerebral cortex. Smoking Smoking cigarettes Insatiable lungs are getting heavy Smoke more, more cigarettes to numb the senses. You appreciate the breath you have left that way. Barnyard, winter Shivering hand Quick smoke in Kansas, After a quickie on a front porch in Georgia Smoke screen, blanket I just like to keep cozy. Habits or weapons? I destroy myself but, I’ll be damned if don’t kill my pains and demons too I might even live. All powerful Broken boy Perfect heavy hearts Good intentions and the angels fall to a false hell Hell is in earth and in our heads so, we've already been there Confident in a dim room with shades on Little to no company The smell of marijuana and hope Hide the red glimmer of knowledge in your eyes Lone wolves roam back alleys Built for convenience But, sometimes they become short cuts to gasps of clandestine exposure. I am the world. This world belongs to me. Mission to hold it in hand and make it tangible.
7/9/2013 2:26:39 PM
Kill Kill Kill	Gorgeous. A short poem that still paints a vivid picture. If I were wearing a hat I would give it a tip to you :p Maybe check out some of mine as well? I would appreciate some feedback, greatly.
7/9/2013 2:30:24 PM
Tough As Nails	Hopeful doesn’t mean stupid That doesn’t mean I wasn’t stupid I was in a state and messed up Simple as that. I could dramatize Spill all the stars from my eyes and mouth and cry out for answers but, I won’t. My spirit can dance alone. A lapse in judgement will not throw it off beat because it dances to a cosmic drum. My heartbeat and no one else’s. Dropped my shield Set myself on fire Burned up a daft dream And fell to ashes. I’ve proven to relate to the phoenix Both of us know what it’s like to die a quick death and come back stronger Time and time again Our ashes swirl into the manifestation of our desires and in that I find my comfort. Boulders Hard topped, granite counters Tough as nails kid But kid is man or at least he pretends to be. Smart phones aren't so smart but, I’m writing this on one Sedatives and sad, country music mood swims through my veins. Excuse me, while I go have a drink with that phoenix.
7/9/2013 2:35:35 PM
Feedback Please?	Until recently I haven't been a very active member of this community for a long while and I am finding it difficult to gain comments or feedback on my work. It would be greatly appreciated if anyone would like to give some feedback on my latest 6 poems whether it be on my profile or the few I have in the High Critique Forum. Please and thank you <3
7/9/2013 3:03:24 PM
Silver Tongue	Thank you SO much for the kind feedback. I really do put my heart and soul into all of my work and I appreciate that you could see that. Also I have been finding it difficult to get comments or critiques. Thanks again and warmest wishes.
7/10/2013 7:44:19 PM
Silver Tongue	Thank you for the feedback. I understand and will consider that for future works. As far the story of the downfall goes, I wrote the poem as a way to feel optimistic and therefore, I didn't want to revisit the negative back story. Thanks again for the perspective
9/24/2013 11:16:03 AM
A Blue Boy's Death Wish	A fragile mind breaks Wake upon the rock laden shores A muffled heart begs to echo Whispers lost among a velvet chamber Dusk comes premature time and again Dropping the curtain on an optimistic sunrise If you never witness dawn There is no tomorrow Always the dreamer aches Never awake to make real what he desires The restless corpse walks blind Dead ends seem fitting for one of the kind Lost in the labyrinth of strangling vines Love is the motive and the weapon Taking root in throats dry from weeping Sprouts of amnesia in place of smiles A garden called heartbreak holds onlookers captive The comfort takes hold, sets in the bones weary of searching A plea for rest lands on deaf ears The hollow boy tires of himself The last request he will ever make "End me" Lost and tired He wishes to be weak no more
9/25/2013 12:03:43 PM
A Blue Boy's Death Wish	Honestly Idk why it changed, I never touched it lol
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