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    dots Submission Name: the lamest goatdots

    Author: Outlaw
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 510/413/195
    Words: 380
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1061
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2608

       it feels like I could write this junk to no end. i wish there was such a place, at times, simply so that i may be able to visit and to write in peace.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsthe lamest goatdots

    later the umbilical cord shall be torn
    from the womb of all mothers
    but for now let it rest between world
    and what has yet to be born

    the sweat of pearls is sweet
    reminiscent of the oyster mucus
    from which they came
    but tritely new in viscosity

    the breaking dawn of words
    whisper into ears adorned of history
    untruths already known to be
    witchcraft and folk fallacy;
    for you see, women are the seeds
    of evil plantations borne by god
    and the absolute schism:
    veracity from loyal tenacity,
    morality from fecund sexuality
    and the heaving of breasts

    never forget that man
    places the seed
    and that by this fact alone
    he is free

    a bird to fly through seven seasons
    when only four shall take place
    and without lacking beauty or pace
    soaring within sounds of a harp
    effervescent across hues of blue
    unconcerned by the throes of truth
    lost in the arms of his saviour
    in the currents of transcendental winds

    there is nothing to the existence of youth:
    running through trivial herbs
    growing through social curbs
    feigning affection for fatherly acceptance
    and motherly repentance

    a fall down stairs to bloodied tiles
    walked upon by thousands
    a breaking snare in the intricacies of tears
    for an uncautioned mistake is made

    she is rushed to the hospital;
    he is rushed into the sleep of life;
    his father now bothered by a lonely shadow
    the slight cracking of a skull beckoning
    bloodied teeth with the call of cannibalism
    exhorting hoards of emotions
    in the running of sanguine vessels

    a breath is taken from the world
    all the while words are pressed
    into the fundus of an opus-eye
    speaking to a mind already in monologue
    the child is endowed with a fear of flight –
    his father has eaten his womb in good health
    although is mind is exposed to fresh air
    and incarcerated in voluptuous elusions.
    father who is mome,
    mother who is entombed,
    I listen to your jovial calls
    and among the waves that wash
    me clean of my senses I
    am lost to a history, lost
    to the many souls of this place
    and lost even to this body that is
    my self.

    Submitted on 2010-08-07 03:28:51     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    3: meh!
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    ||| Comments |||
      i get something from this like..."women carry the burden of life and new lives and men just mosey along..plant the seed and get off scott free...but get the respect that women don't...

    like john lennon's "woman is the nigger of the world"

    there are a lot of parts of this i like much...lots of the phrasing..."feigning affection for fatherly acceptance/ and motherly repentence"

    we always strive and fall short of getting our father's approval...mothers seem to give it unconditionally...and they repent for the sins of their children.

    i like so much of this...but it just gets too long for me...it starts to lose my attention..which at times is grabbed so hard...

    it feels like it could be three different poems...maybe a I, II and III...one long poem split into three shorter...like a series.

    i like the "breaking dawn of words" what an image...but then should it be..."whispers into ears adorned of history"?

    and the loss of a child in here...very sad...and moreso by the feeling that she wouldn't have been missed as much by the father...that the male child was more important.

    again...just loved parts...but felt a bit overwhelmed by the length..and wanted parts to be poems by themselves...

    in reading very long poems sometimes it gets like being immersed in a novel of which we keep searching for the end, rather than focusing on what we are reading...

    just thoughts...but i read several of your pieces...and the imagery and fresh turns of phrasing is incredible.

    | Posted on 2011-04-02 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      the seas of hands washing up against the mind
    massaging of it a single thought in kind
    to drive a mouth filled with drivel
    from the darkness of an endless tunnel
    into the fortune of tasting silken sounds
    like undulating waves in fate's well to drown
    the mind with ululating drums beckoning
    intelligence forth with knowledge
    and the soul into a free falling
    of emotional eternity or collage...
    | Posted on 2010-08-07 00:00:00 | by Outlaw | [ Reply to This ]

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