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empty monologues become rational—


Author: meoww
Elite Ratio:    6.75 - 262 /258 /143
Words: 130
Class/Type: Misc /Misc
Total Views: 1404
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 802



Description:


malarkey.
spin cycles.
a kick in the nuts.


empty monologues become rational—





a history comprised of hazy saturdays
on a couch four years ago, completely
sold to the idea of

disclosure. amongst the self telling you
there is no god, apart from the one
called i and ego and immersion

in bottles. i sweep all of that up. focus
on the outside of tunnels. spread each
card, define what these planets

mean in conjunction. it's all
relative, it's been said. it's all ones
and twos and the occasional

unwanted three, set in motion,
beyond turrets, under graves,
and through seismic oceans filled

with dying devotion: a thirsty
madonna, a hopeless isis, a burnt
wife of a disciple.




Submitted on 2008-10-10 23:24:33     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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Comments


  I think your poems read like a meditation. That it was it is, that thing which makes them so emotive evocative visceral honest fragile etcetcetc.

That it was it is.

Your page is like a lucky dip at the moment. It's rather cool.

Big smile.

I've been drinking so I won't bother trying to give a worthwhile comment. This will have to do.

Aly x
| Posted on 2009-09-29 00:00:00 | by AlyRose | [ Reply to This ]
  yes, guy... you do it well, so well I wished i hadn't restricted myself back to just this handle, because you deserve to be read and stalked.

Sophisticated musing, that's how i'd label this... 'sold' was beautifully placed and your enjambment of lines and progression of thoughts.... ugh. You're a good writer, and their are quite a few around so don't be afraid to give me a kick in the ass to remind me of the goodness that is you.

Fine poem.

There, I said it!
| Posted on 2009-05-11 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]
  Hello again.... and once again... a beautiful use of words

"disclosure. amongst the self telling you
there is no god, apart from the one
called i and ego and immersion"

...and again poignant and real, earthy in its quality and again depicting a sense of tragedy, words written like this do not come from imagination alone, but from the life of the writer.... and isn't this the "other side" the "flip side" of poetry... that everything is not so "poetic" as to be romanticized into some eloquent verse, but is and should be; made real, depicted, made eternal in its one moment... poetry

loved it !

col13x
| Posted on 2008-10-15 00:00:00 | by col13x | [ Reply to This ]
  what am I without words
indolently reclining
in my mind

perhaps their callous
air bears repeating
then again

the search derives
its meaning from
finding better ways

to pass the time
| Posted on 2008-10-11 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]


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