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14 October 2008 @ 12:32 am
 
 
17 April 2008 @ 07:59 am
BTD  
shake, shake, shake.
moist cottons.
fumigated liquids.
amplify comatose.

active brains,
hyper pulse.
can't speak,
can't move.

...can't breath.

regain,
recur,
before dawn.

beautiful temporal dysfunction.
ethyl is poetry.
 
 
18 February 2008 @ 03:52 pm
The sun shall come,
And blinded shall i be.

Oh how i envy the lights!
Far from being a part of it.
Oh torrid, torrid lights!

Veiled will i be.
Curtains reduce opacity.

Proclaiming non-conformity:
Dusk as dawn,
Dawn as dusk.

Stick after stick,
(Try to) Non-conform the non-conformity.

Sticks, Syrups and Strings.
To no avail, to no avail.
Shall symphonies serenade me?
 
 
11 February 2008 @ 01:54 am
if u may ask, why 'stanzablablabla'?
it's my way of conveying that i have no basic knowledge in poetry writing. even up til now. i don't know about the lines, the stanzas, the syllables count, etc. knowing too much will only constrict me from writing further.
i write in accordance to my passion for it.
so here's stanzablablabla, enjoy it as it's laid upon you.

-unkleventrikel-
 
 
22 January 2008 @ 06:50 am

Conversations (with an inanimate object.)

 

(verse1)

In need, indeed.

Redundant – that’s what he is.

 

(verse-bridge1)

They say it’s a two-way road,

But she’s only halfway when he’s at the peak.

Despair - in his brain, overload.

& so to the cancer stick he speaks:

 

(chorus)

“I’ll die with you,

& Because of you.

You’re lifeless, but you’ll listen,

Unlike her, whose middle name is rejection.”

 

(verse2)

Poems meant nothing,

Likewise songwriting.

 

(verse-bridge2)

He’s in need of a new fix.

To vent, to rant; a cure for the whole week.

On the cubicle he sat till six.

Whilst to the cancer stick he speaks:

 

(chorus)

“I’ll die with you,

& Because of you.

You’re lifeless, but you’ll listen,

Unlike her, whose middle name is rejection.”

 

(outro)

“Sorry means nothing if you don’t mean to say it.

You made forgiveness clichéd, like those notes on your post-it”