I have written some poetry--posted it under many a thread here--guess you'll have to dig to find it.
I have sort of given up on it. I was never really very good at it. I have now switched to short stories and much prefer to work that way. It feels less restrictive somehow, like I can play more.
Light bulb
The light bulb forms a blood drop
If you watch it long enough
And it pricks a crimson rhythm on the cold linoleum
And you giggle as it warms you
like a dashboard in the sun
Yeah, the light bulb forms a blood drop if you watch it long enough.
The doorway is an orifice
That took away my friend
I kind of like the way it locks
the outside from the in
And I curl up indifferently
Silence is deafening
Yeah, the doorway is an orifice
That took away my friend
All my thoughts are darknesses
A downward spiral stair
The vapor of a raven
On a black branch in the air
No, I?ll never see the other side
I have no business there
?Cause all my thoughts are darknesses
That all the nothing share
Nothing to Everyone
Look at me, giving nothing
to everyone
Apparitions I cannot seem to feel
So divided attention is meaningless
I know why I?m a spoke in a wheel
Look into my eyes; you could say I?m not all there
Concern yourself with your
latest disguise
I belong to the creatures that
I have made
I?ve thought to destroy them,
one at a time
With a gun or a cliff, it is obvious
With a note you have written to find
Leave me now and I look
at you finally
To live now, all of
yesterday must die!
Live that you may live your life
Though I could change the course I?ve known
You suffer no equal; there are many roads to roam.