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#91
04-26-2010, 07:36 PM
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I may not have been crowned the Ledge's best writer, but I love poetry with everything in me, so here's a lil somethin somethin.
The Rise Riding beneath the sun I turn to run towards the rise Feeling anew and full of breath Yet the rise overturns the run And it's midnight again Which wouldn't matter But I'm home alone in the dark And you are my life once more Everything you said, "I will miss you" And such like that, Leads me to believe the rise Will never exist again And I'm singing to my own tune As they say And I'm feeling ashamed and down, Town from this view looks experienced In its own fashion of loss And the rise looks dirty And I feel dirty Cause I'm so checked by the supreme That I don't even exist But existence is the goal For the rise gives way to life, Times spent looking out the window At that which I want Which I will never have And it's still midnight And the rise will never become A rise worth watching.
__________________
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#92
05-15-2010, 06:00 PM
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This is the craziest piece I've ever done. The product of too much Kate Nash and too many jelly babies, yet probably the beginning of my autobiography
 Tea and TV Do you want milk and sugar with that? Love, you've got crumbs from your scone on your top. Keep telling me your stupid stories, you're quite a bit of a prat. Oh, so now you've thrown your beer on the cat? Wise-ass, go and get a mop. Sometimes I like to waaaalk by myself Sometimes I like to Pa-i-int Other times I just like to throw things And then I just run about a bit, screaming Occasionally, I'll be daring and have my tea without sugar And once I ate an egg that wasn't cooked. I tried to get on the train for free but just got called a cheeky bugger. Then I was going to go see batman but the bloke was like, 'Sorry love, you ain't booked' I sit alone a lot just listening to Blondie And a lot of people think I'm weird. I like to sit staring at the TV until the screen goes all blurry. Last week I just sat watching the share prices waver Sometimes I like to waaaalk by myself Sometimes I like to Pa-i-int Other times I just like to throw things And then I just run about a bit, screaming I read magazines back to front And once in a while I take my rabbit for a walk. When people ask my opinion I often am a bit blunt If I say I don't like your dress, like, don't keep trying to talk. Lets bring this back from me to you, I've slipped off track by accident. When we were out last night, I hated you and your ****ty white shoes. If I could, I'd have run away and hidden from your dirty accent. Sometimes I like to waaaalk by myself Sometimes I like to Pa-i-int Other times I just like to throw things And then I just run about a bit, screaming Will you please get that beer off the cat, he's starting to smell like ****. I don't care if you've wasted a pint, you're still acting like a jerk. My Mum and Gran secretly call you twit and my Dad reckons you just do undercover electrical work fin.
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#93
05-15-2010, 08:55 PM
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Georgie, I'm going to read yours when I have more time. I'm just running out the door now.
Here's my latest piece. To Drink The stains it left on my body leech the artistry out of me, chafe at my skin from the inside, brand my face with a number, leave me here for dead. And while suspended between life and the chance to live without you, I ricochet between your palms with no life at all. There’s nothing here to excavate, no breath. No lips, no lies, no justification for the way these words rise up to my chest and stop when you give me a few foreign tears to swallow. “Rub your throat, baby, gulp down your pride and let the breath and the heartbeat drown with them.” So I drink you in with half-assed prayers. I drink for the way the house sounds when the sound of your unease floats away. I drink for the smell of your skin in the morning before you have the chance to come clean. I drink when you need me to, when I can feel your cries swell up in my lungs and escape my body in sighs— I drink until I can’t drink any longer.
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#94
05-16-2010, 09:10 AM
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Quote:
 (I'm currently trying to imagine these lyrics being set to the sounds of "The WASP (Texas Radio And The Big Beat)", as both are such unusual poems...)
__________________
The two essentials for a healthy mind: 1. Philosophy & Science 2. Fleetwood Mac NB. Not necessarily in that order...
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#95
05-16-2010, 09:11 AM
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Thanks for yet another excellent addition!
__________________
The two essentials for a healthy mind: 1. Philosophy & Science 2. Fleetwood Mac NB. Not necessarily in that order...
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#96
05-16-2010, 07:21 PM
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It's really depressing though... Georgie-- I think that poem really summarizes your personality, from the little I know of it. As Jaycee said, I love the eccentricity/sassiness of it.
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#98
05-17-2010, 10:00 AM
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Quote:
 Write her into it already!
__________________
The two essentials for a healthy mind: 1. Philosophy & Science 2. Fleetwood Mac NB. Not necessarily in that order...
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#99
05-18-2010, 02:16 AM
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__________________
Much Love 
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#100
05-18-2010, 07:38 AM
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ok so...this one I don't really like all that much but..I dunno. It's a little bit different than in my journal by only like a few lines and phrases... but anyway let me know what you think:
Gunpowder and Lead When I haven't seen you for days on end, I can't worry about you from years of you being an inconsiderate bitch... So I'll grab my gunpowder, while I wait, that's wet from years of rain-- which sucks 'cause now I can't shoot away the pain. So I sniff the chipped paint that has accumulated in the corners of my room to wipe my brain-- or possibly that of my unborn child's; you've rubbed off on me. My child will be made of gunpowder and lead. I stay locked, by choice, in my four wall prison... I failed to make it to the loo, so guess where I'll be pissin'? Try to make up for it by checking my vital signs every twenty-four hours. I'm starving and you wonder why I'm short? In the meantime, while I wait, I'll clean my gun and wet these brushes with turpentine, and I'll set my gunpowder out to dry, and watch the paint chip from the walls... just for the options... 
__________________
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#101
05-24-2010, 09:56 PM
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Father
I bit my tongue He beat me up He cut my chord When I was born He made me from himself Should I call him "God"? He buried me in the sod He let me rot He fed me from bottles when I was five He bled me of a life I was up all night Staring at the white's of cows' eyes I'm too young for you I'm too old for sucking thumbs I'm so ****ing dumb I've become a bum He copied me with his ink I'm a copycat, copy written He slopily left a stink Once shy, twice bitten He fed me from hoses when I was five He fed me his lies I stayed up all night Staring at the white's of his eyes
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#102
05-24-2010, 10:27 PM
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A bit of a fic-let I wrote recently, when I wasn't actually trying. I'm usually happiest with what comes out when I just let my fingers go and don't think too much. I like reading poems, but I'm definitely more of a prose writer.
-- Four weeks ago, something like this would have barely made a dent. I would have shook it off or just found it sweet or another reason to adore him and then it would have fallen back to where it came from. That person seems far away tonight. I can only think of the things that hurt. The tension of late, the unsaid words, the uncertainty and knowing that despite it all, we’re all still here together, unable to get away. I stand alone in the hall, outside of the door that leads to the stage. Twenty minutes ago, the air was full with the sounds of the end of the show but now, it’s the emptiness feels like it's hanging in the air, suffocating me with loud silence. Before I realize it's happening, my back is sliding along the wall until I hit the floor, my knees tucking themselves under my chin, my head falling down to meet them. I don’t stop the tears when they come. They hurt my eyes and burn my cheeks but the relief of the release is worth it. It doesn’t surprise me when I hear footsteps start their way down the hall but I refuse to acknowledge them. Not by quieting my sobs or unfolding out of myself. I just sit there, hoping they’ll pass. That it’s some random venue employee who chose the wrong moment to walk down the wrong hall. That it’s someone who will see me and know enough to just let me be. As the sound comes nearer, I’m able to calm myself enough only to try and will it away. They come to stop in front of me and I wait for the words. It’s not until I feel the body next to me that I realize that whoever it is that decided to insert themselves into my issues has joined me on the floor. The silence remains. The only proof that there is another being there is the warmth I feel from the body that's suddenly so close to mine. “It’s always the hardest around now.” It’s not a voice I’m expecting. The way things have gone the past few days, I'm not really even sure whose I would but when I hear the one coming from next to me, it starts my tears fresh. I look up to meet Ethan’s eyes but they’re not there. His head is leaned back against the wall, tilted up so that he's staring at the ceiling. His hand has found its way to my knee. “The excitement of the first few weeks is worn off,” he continues. “The bus rides feel like they last for days instead of hours. You don’t have enough space even when you’re alone. You feel lonely even when you’re surrounded by people.” My shoulders start to shake. How could it be that all this time, Ethan had just been another person sharing the same space that I did? Cory and Jake’s older brother, another of Sammie and Drew's seemingly endless list of relatives. The guy who played guitar. How had I never gotten to know him at all? How long had he been watching? Had he sensed this was my next step or did he just happen upon it? “You never really get used to it.” His voice is soothing, deep and calming and a little bit like a radio deejay. “You come to accept it. The schedule it tends to take. The elation of the first few weeks, the desperation of the middle. It does get better.” I sniffle, my head still buried in my knees, grateful that he doesn’t seem to expect anything from me. “The light at the end of the tunnel starts to make an appearance and when it does, you realize that it’s going to be over soon. The hectic schedule, the long rides, the people. You go back to that place you were in at the beginning. The one that loved it and savored it so that by the last week, this will feel far, far away. You won’t want it to end. You might even forget how hard it got. It doesn’t scar you. It doesn’t take away the love. It becomes one more thing you’re willing to go through because of how much you need it in your life.” I look up again, just as he’s looking down. My eyes settle into his, light brown and small. They're comforting in their wisdom and care, things I've never thought to seek from them before. He takes my hand in his and gives it a squeeze. “We've all been here. It’s not just you. You’ll get through this. Somehow, you find a way.” I smile at him, my drying tears making my face feel tight. He returns it, his eyes still in mine. He leans in and kisses the top of my head before he gets up and walks back the way he came. I release myself from my own hold, stand up and go onto the stage to see about packing up Jake’s kit.
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#103
05-24-2010, 10:32 PM
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Quote:
However, the fourth verse doesn't seem to fit well with the rest, although I can't quite articulate why... Anyway, thanks for a great addition to the thread!
__________________
The two essentials for a healthy mind: 1. Philosophy & Science 2. Fleetwood Mac NB. Not necessarily in that order...
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#104
05-24-2010, 10:59 PM
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It's not a masterpiece, but, it's true.
How easily I could have let you consume me, Or, maybe you did consume me. The phone rang with the music of a symphony, your voice the director. I waited for each crescendo, listening for the key change, For your voice was the beauty of a thousand harp strings, Each one resonating the twang of your southern drawl. I fell in love with you then, I love you now. Only moments of your soul, shared across miles, Yet, the distance seemed nothing, if I closed my eyes. I tried to make you feel my love, to no avail. You slipped away, no call, no symphony… The hall was empty…. I, alone stood waiting, for you had managed to fill me somehow, I, alone stood empty. Congratulations, I could hear them all say, One of them told me you were married today.
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#105
05-25-2010, 12:49 AM
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Quote:
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