Your slimy hands around me
Feel like worms of fire on my tender skin
I feel you bare my pale existence
Where my screams of agony are falling on deaf ears
I've been abused while I was in this drunken state
By your vacant words of praise and promise
I can still see you through a blur of dying hope
Where your face is angelic, with tiny red horns
You are spinning me back into my mind
The haze is lifting while the bottom is dropping
You have cheated me out of my pride
So now with shame and scorn I walk to the hangman
No kind words will be said of this naïve little girl
She only got what she deserved
And you, with your black eyes starred with lies
You will receive the worriless sleep of a fool
I will murder the memory of you
Bury it deep inside my scars
So long as my eyes are open
I will trust neither angels nor stars.
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Being lost, being crazy maybe, is not so bad, if you can be that way undisturbed.
A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose. ~Samuel McChord Crothers
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I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. ~Pablo Neruda
Happiness is sharing a bowl of cherries and a book of poetry with a shade tree. He doesn't eat much and doesn't read much, but listens well and is a most gracious host. ~Astrid Alauda
Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy poetry, without a certain unsoundness of mind. ~Thomas Babington Macaulay
Most painters have painted themselves. So have most poets: not so palpably indeed, but more assiduously. Some have done nothing else. ~Augustus William Hare
Poetry is man's rebellion against being what he is. ~James Branch Cabell
Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. ~Carl Sandburg
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
~Mark Strand, "Eating Poetry"
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
~Mark Strand, "Eating Poetry"
Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. _Leonard Cohen
Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. ~Robert Frost
I would as soon write free verse as play tennis with the net down. ~Robert Frost
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Copyright 2009
One for poetry's sake.
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