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Post by Meursault on Jun 18, 2004 17:35:59 GMT -5
burning hollywood
fame perverted us
and fire rested this far from our fingers
we left no one standing to spoil our good time
and we seemed to know no other way
not unique, or standing out like the only obsessed devils
there were many
we just happen to have
bigger
sharper
teeth
to flash at our neighbors
and oh yes, our neighbors are frightened of us
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Post by lumencandle on Jun 18, 2004 22:06:07 GMT -5
that Chris Bell poem reminds me of Angels in America, of the angel specifically...
anyway, since i'm still ages and lightyears away from ever posting anything I've done myself, here's something I really like that some of you may already be aquainted with. been meaning to post it for a bit now since it fits just so well:
THE BLUE BOWIE
This guy wept
and told us
he wanted to touch
the earth
with the fury
of a falling star.
This guy wore snow-
storm glitter and bangles
of lightning and tears
back when our slogan was:
Never Pull A Slow Gun
lest your children's link
with you be broken
and they janitor
a blank banner of surrender
into and out of
all the iridescent cities
of War.
All modern thought
is permeated by the idea
of thinking the unthinkable.
Ziggy Stardust,
Ziggy Stardust,
A moonage daydream, Baby,
put your ray gun to my head.
Black as a black hole,
why does your big electric pupil
keep looking at me?
I could write my name
in the makeup
on your face.
Sweet blue boy
with a black wind
whistling
through the spaces
between your teeth,
O, whoa, whoa, whoa,
you're a rock 'n roll suicide.
The song has gone
on forever.
And you say, as it is said
Samuel Beckett said
at the end of his life:
What a hell of a morning it's been. . .
Terrance Hayes
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Post by Meursault on Jun 20, 2004 18:19:55 GMT -5
tokens cover failing graces
i look back for long gone faces,
my silhouette crawls up to me
a turning in each season
the sun spies shadows under love
spinning, tiring, weaving
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Post by Meursault on Jun 20, 2004 18:33:24 GMT -5
Patience
my baby has hair like a treble clef
a sink full of dishes
she's got a cat climbs under lamps
and fish tank with no fishes
a lamp and a desk
the only things in her room
her clothes lie across floor
she won't be leaving soon
her fingers traced by blankets
her eyes dilate, she mirrors you
shes bold because your easy
and bait her with your cues
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Post by Meursault on Jun 21, 2004 20:20:47 GMT -5
Jesus: If you were ever to leave the UK what would you miss about it?
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Post by Thorngrub on Jun 22, 2004 13:09:29 GMT -5
I am in a zany mood
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Post by bowiglou on Jun 23, 2004 12:09:10 GMT -5
lumen..thank you..........I've never seen a poem devoted to Bowie..................very very cool......
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Post by Thorngrub on Jun 23, 2004 12:18:28 GMT -5
Yes it was. Very, very cool indeed.
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Post by Meursault on Jun 25, 2004 8:35:54 GMT -5
I got engaged, her name is Mary Jane couldn't afford the ring so we're just going down to the river to say our vows.
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Post by Thorngrub on Jun 25, 2004 11:15:30 GMT -5
I don't believe you.
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Post by RocDoc on Jun 25, 2004 14:00:25 GMT -5
Me neither... ....mmmm....Mary Jane....sounds familiar. Wait I do know her!  |
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angel
Struggling Artist
I lived my dreams today, I lived it yesterday
Posts: 285
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Post by angel on Jun 26, 2004 8:22:17 GMT -5
i felt bad when sex and the city finished for ever so i understand how you feel, ladies.  |
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Post by Meursault on Jun 26, 2004 8:56:15 GMT -5
Good metaphor Angel, sex and the city being over, me no longer being single.
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Post by riley on Jun 26, 2004 14:29:17 GMT -5
Who the fuck made you God Simpson? Did you go on some sort of posting barage when I wasn't looking? I don't like this. Not one fucking bit. |
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Post by riley on Jun 26, 2004 14:29:55 GMT -5
I felt baed when Sex & The City finished as well, since I never saw 2 minutes of it.  |
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