Poetry Corner

[anileve]

Play me left handed you say?
It’s strange the message you convey
All those lonely nights left you reprimanded
Just for a mere touch of a woman you pray
Yet your wishes are left unanswered
And to your left hand you turn in dismay

[Anonymouse]

I call this next one The forums the polesmoking weasel

Anileave when will you ever learn
that being a rent girl is no real way to earn
enough money to feed your boring life
if you wanna die I can donate a knife
but as you contemplate youre boring existence
you will not be changed from being a dunce
as you forum the forums for trivial guidance
so stuff a tampon in your face
because that is all you'll forever embrace :twisted:

[Anonymouse]

I have to revive the twinkling twilight of this timeworn thread
and carry it on my back to the narcoleptic limelight
up to the wayward world where it will be belittled by the well read
fed forms of unmeaning by repealing its fused ferrite

[anileve]

Bringing back what has been but a past
Is a glimpse into nostalgia to which I can attest.
Returning to the mere thinking of what’s a void…
Although the neglect of your answer is still sufficiently pending
I will cast my judgment upon the time that you’ve been spending
On the thought that you so conveniently deployed
Into obscurity
Not to reveal the insecurity
That each one of us holds
Where is the wisdom in thinking that you can conceal the void in folds?
Reveal the scrutiny of what your inner inhibition molds

[Anonymouse]

im not a poetic prophet pretending i can write poems nor find words with the tones that evoke the right emotions from our human clones who spend their vocal chords chit chatting on phones. i cant make rhymes because time's not mine, and my eyes cant see time, its my enemy, sends shocks that fly into my mind like metal projectiles as i swing through times vines and collied with lifes lies and damage my iron eyes and so no i cant weave words into worlds and create popular lifestyles, i cant write paychecks proudly pointing my pen making looping circles of millions that begin with a 10 what i can do is see through what is taboo.

[Anonymouse]

day dawn
lies roam
life lives
gives birth
to free skies but
unknown to our syndrome
passed on to us
from genomes
to our box homes
what gives
one thinks or thinks
looking out our box's window sills
we pay taxes to watch boxes
within boxes
watching other boxes
as we gather together
to talk about the latter
the latter being the boxes
that motivate our bladder
to further trascend matter
to be a better listener
the louder boxed culture
that we all hold dear
we all fear our own ear and dont like to hear
anything contrary to our sitcom soaked
veneer jumping in glee to the boring banalities
of the sound keys
to mtvs and dvds getting mad
at deleted scenes
flick after flick of box changing
tunes bite after bite of image inlaid
goons creating for us a boxed serenade
waiting to blow like a shock grenade
as we encounter
apocalyptic burdens
on our blue backs to pay the money masters tax
have our spirits degrade by powers crusade
okayed by our man
made mind we sit in our boxes
and this is our delight to
watch other boxes to the point
where we're red eyed with pride
gossip about other gnomes
with their own genomes
of contaminated chromosomes
chanting songs to the boxes ohms
who sit in their own boxes
and watch boxes and boast and
babble on of
their beaming boxes
paid for by their sponsors
who promise them boxes
being bigger than the boxes they
have now, holy cow! other boxes?
sending beams that catch the eyes
themes thru screams that it sends
through its closed captioned lens
to us who need bigger boxes
to protect our box
with bigger box locks
to protect bigger stocks
from burglar shocks
makes us think we got bigger xxxxs
to continue to to be told by the hawks
from fox about the great need for a bigger
box that will protect other boxes within boxes
of spreading democracy better called boxacracy
where people live in boxes
watching boxes in which
pretend act is employed by actors
void in their sarcoid they live in boxes
no different than the lovers
driving to a drive-in in a boxcar after they decide
a date of dirges as to
what diner they will meet to greet
their potential somebody another
nobody just another anybody
to brag about our boxes
how they influence our guises
of being able to live when our thinking ceases
and continue the bravado of sentimentality
having box carrying capacity
shining big bulky boxes containing many
other boxes within boxes and so we
seek another box carrying person
with similar tastes in boxes
to ours
that lives lies in boxes
with his life in boxes within boxes
watching boxes of people depicting
the act of watching boxes displaying
situational boxes and artistic boxes
scientific boxes and stylish boxes
of brand name boxes
of house hold boxes
of FDA approved boxes
boxes approved for mature audiences
government approved boxes
copyrighted boxes
of coordinates pinpointed by mathemateriality
of boxed culture reality
roaming like regurtiated triviality
in big blockbuster box mania
lackluster talks produce a boxed umbra
stemming from societial boxed dogma
of praising boxes and not breath
as there is not enough air
in the boxes that we share
amazed
at the mazes in the boxes
as we glare to the colors
as we look at the sunsets
through our boxettes
and boxed by our assumptions
boxed by our cares
essentially boxed by other peoples ideas
we call ours and we defend our boxes
to those bitter ends as we are born through xxxxs
in a box and put in a an incubating box
and so born in boxes
through our time travels of living through time's
tocks in our boxes all our ideas and dreams
come through and from
boxes as we die and are put in boxes
and treated like boxes
im finished with my homework
when can I aquire a box?
it really sucks and how can I get out?

[sSsflamesSs]

I must say that I really enjoyed that last poem. What was it about again...boxes? Heheheh

[anileve]

Great poem indeed mouse. Quite surprised at the level of your imagination.

State of confusion
Is a fusion of:
Analysis protrusion,
Mind transfusion
An ounce of insanity intrusion
Followed by a delusion
Yet in the state of illusion
It is known to find its solution
And perhaps only with the help of seclusion
One is able to come to a conclusion.

[Anonymouse]

And the conclusion being?

Mathematical calisthenics
is the only way to conquer conclusion
and escape the metrics of the matrix
with carefully plotted variables in the equation
to fit the facts of the axiom of choice
well the truth is that there are twelve thousand miles between my heart and here and twelve thousand feet of love to conquer my most mattered fear everytime I try to transcend "stop" says
the bullet to my brain "no" says the heretic to my heart
"go on" says the absolute value "as that is your art"
to plot suffix points in the equational epics
of the prefix midpoints toppling confusion crusade cynics
moving closer to positively charged ions of love axon
in the art of mathematical calisthenics
my art shoots my form over the world in 20 different measured rubrics as can be seen from the prismic mirror
in code it outlines my form with precision
touching my likenesses
and parallelisms with quadralateral prisms
and discomforting algorithms to a tee
whispering back to me secrets
of so many names
that they all become nameless
numbers and yes I can now see that conclusion is hopeless
.......
for the time being since I haven't found the equation.

[anileve]

Complication of the equation
Caused by an erroneous calculation
The variable substitution which doesn’t always lead to a solution
Plotting the points along the line of the population curve
Y axis intersecting X axis with the angle of 3 degrees
Encounters the confidence interval increase
Although the probability of A and B to meet is 1 million to a 3
I shall maintain my belief in the reliance of the equation
And it’s immaculate mathematical accuracy