Anyone here enjoy original Poetry or Prose?

Chewing Through

gnawing at bones
of those who came before
some would cry "Cannibal!"
to condemn
the feast of survival
long clawed fingers
with a patina of red
this residue of life
from Experiences digested
when cracking leads
to the meaty marrow within
tasted as sacred pearls
these are the books of the dead

Collapse

sunlight in a jar
caught from a nearby falling neutron star
impossible, we both knew, I and you
but who thought we’d get this far
and yet here we are
sufficiently a pair but not quite par
who's and how’s have made us equally bizarre
one final soire to get through
before a long overdue
au revoir

Dark Rouge

...carefully painted
...the lines speak to a greater whole
...of a small deviance
...and or a tainted soul

Doers, Thinkers

koi in water
koi in cement
which of the fish
would you lament
some will swim far
and go nowhere
some sleep dreaming
ethereally ever aware

H.P. while on the sauce

Spewing out viscid globs
of something not quite right
it’s alone again
in the limited moon light
I see the form
something moving, but overly ripe
it comes closer
and I find myself on edge
it’s the endless angles
that align with my
breaking of a pledge
to stay clean to stay sober
to not ever once dare look over
into the dark recess of the abyss

Haze

little blue pills
A symptom of ills
A payload of instructions for receptors
yes, a huge life detractor
Delivered to the cortex
my day’s vertex
In the nick of time
not such a good friend of mine
Without a shadow of a doubt
that I wish I knew more about
The systematic dialing down
a genetic compulsion to frown
Will alleviate these fears of mine
that have me constantly walking a thin line

First Five

Do I have enough sick leave to stay home?
Surrounded by loved ones, in person and on phone.
Even if I do, I know I’ll only be alone.
I could just quit, and take my act out on the road
Find a nice quiet place, and violently unload.

a reply to: nullafides

See I really like the colors 1 2 and 3 but what stuck out and I keep reading is 'within'
At first I thought it was talking about money.. But money isn't wet, unless... It is... I can't put my finger on it, but that one jumped out at me and I really like it. You seem like a very deep person. Poetry is my outlet. I write to get all the badness out of my head.

Inquisition

Splintered glass littering the floor
Heart pained words and I just Can't take more
The tension is thick like fog on a moor

I've said my peace, but you could say more
It's not the finality
downcast eyes to the the sound of a roar

All I want is a chance to break for the door
But your eyes root me in place
And they chill me to the core...

L'heure bleue

Just 17 below
And the false cats prowl
a time of cows at dusk
Not a single child
nor an odd fowl
Stay out beyond
the dying light
For those know
it’s best to dwell
in shadow

This one, I particularly like....one night, as I was falling asleep and Theta was in charge...for some reason I couldn't get the song "These are a few of my favorite things" out of my head...the rhythm, the tempo....


Lichen

Butterflies and moonbeams
Tree frogs and gnomes
Leeches, squirrels
Starlight and crones
A ring of toad stools
Standing stones
Moss on the north side
Little girl alone
Owls and dry leaves
Spiders and voles
Thorns and broken twigs
The mad king comes home

a reply to: nullafides

There is a forum on ATS called short storys
I believe they welcome poetry also

I

a reply to: artistpoet




But...but....


This IS the short story forum



- NF

Hey, your poetry is great, keep writing a lot, you write very enjoyable poems. Since you shared that Anne Sexton poem, I feel slightly better (as in not wanting to just barge in your thread and start sharing other peoples poems) about sharing a poem that has really inspired me;

www.poetryfoundation.org...

Ice in Vein

somewhere on the rocky crags of keflavik the drugs finally kicked in

I materialize, twitching, on a bench row of seats at reykjavik
waiting for my next leg
a euro trash hipster looking me over
as though I were some devotee of Nzambi
if only they knew my enhanced neural state
was a profound habit that I just couldn’t kick
said hipster might not skitter away, but this was no back alley in Prague
where I might fall upon them to administer a coup de poudre
coupled with a chaotic ride gripping the tail of the dragon
but no, I am a King withholding Myrrh
from this effete snob who appears quite irate
over the idea that his day in Gulfoss will be shrouded in dense fog
camping out, I am comfortable in a bubble of language diffusion
my distorted perceptions occluding the true sight
of travelers both boring and a delight
instead, visions of loathing, fear, and beauty swim before my eyes
time dilates as my heartbeat slows
I see things in single frames of celluloid
it’s a rhythm to which only the internationally inducted understands
the few who have been to a soiree without individual flags and walled in mindsets
nature called, and I couldn’t help but rub up against molly in the snyrtingar
so electric, so transcendent, sensually beautiful
I was lost in this for the eon of a smile, grabbing a pen hoping to quell
a need to make sense of this entropic confusion
only to realize my flight was still hours away
frenetically I transcribe torrents of free association
from the inky depths of my mind’s well

something somewhere whispers Final gate call

I’d bought the ticket. Time for the ride.

a reply to: ImaFungi

Holy frijoles that's long I've read a good bit, but need to go back and read more so as to begin digestion...

Personally, I would hope nobody is inspired by my poetry, other than to right their own. It's largely melancholy to the greater extreme of the word. And in many places, just wrong. I hope that it is appreciated for the beauty in this.

Please, throw some of your writing into the ring...I'd enjoy reading it


And thank you for the compliments...


- NF

BTW, I do put some easter eggs into the mix for fun and a nod...

"H.P. while on the sauce"....


....for instance....


-NF

a reply to: nullafides

Ha ha ... I will put my clown hat on

a reply to: artistpoet



Most excellent And do throw some of yours into the breach, if you feel comfortable doing so



-NF

Untitled, Sept 6, 2014

laying awake inside a dream
deep within you breathe
lungs full of cold
a contrast to the surrounding steam
staring at the ceiling
a pool of color forms
warbling, ebbing in still air
colors rough to the touch
as though to take it in would be all too much
where the demons float in and out
evicting something precious
convicting us for old deeds
buried and forgotten
but not gone
a plea to dead gods, tears the shade of blood
nothing offers relief
the sense of what comes
adds to the grief