Poetry slam 'speech'

The speech below may be a little offensive for some people, so I'm just going to put a line break for those people who are too sensitive to things. Thanks.

You have been warned.

Today was April's fool. Silly girl.

Four poems, each a lie.

((words are like ethanol.
teasingly so-
and then once they're done flirting with you,
they go away.
evaporate, leaving no traces behind-
not at all.))

and in the end
we're all april's fool.
trapped in the summer heat-(or is it spring,autumn, winter)
jumping around in imaginary seasons
that put a slight spring (spring!) to our steps
and yet the heat presses down on us again.

time gently accentuates our features-
painting blemishes and little etchings over
our faces and
arms and
beautiful varicose legs and
our whitened--frizzy hair.

and in the end
we're nothing but white
white bones that break and
creak under
pressure of gravity.
-and under ground too-

A poem about Mary-Sues. From the "Inspiration" drawer.

It's been long since I've done anything productive.

So there. I shall pick out something from my "!nspiration" box aaaannnddddd.

._____________.

WHUT.

Conditions:

• write a poem
• about Mary-Sues
• Genre is fantasy
• There must be no sarcasm
• Use these words: "stickers" and "crab"

O.O

Do I have to?

Mary-Sue 

Mary-Sue, Mary-Sue,

all stickers and all lovely beaus.

Shall we eat steak, I moo'ed.

But fluffy ponies are so beautiful, too!

This poem makes no sense,

Oh but Mary-Sue's great at defense

Even though she's not worth ten cents--

On a totally random topic, whales jump over fences.

Mary-Sue, Mary-Sue, 

Oh how you do burn, ravishing like ponies too!

Tell me how you avoid crabs, please do.

And sip some tea while I boo!

Conclusions are always so hefty,

Even as Mary-Sue judges so fairly,

Eating a cheescake with some berries,

I'm suspecting my mind's sanity.

~END~

THAT BURNS.

IT WAS HORRIBLE.

WHY DID I EVEN WRITE THOSE CONDITIONS?

Why. So. Serious.

I fear growing up, because then, people change.

Change a lot. A lot.

So much that they paint up acrylic ((masks)) of their own desires and plaster it onto their own -ugly- faces.

It has been fashion, ever since, to find -maturity- and dab it onto lips
                                                                                                       
{and smack those glossy lips with s.a.t.i.s.f.a.c.t.i.o.n, letters of praise stringing together}

And then to don a suit of **elegance**--wrapped up in all ~ribbons~

But they often lose their true selves-- which are in fact, h
                                                                        a
                                                                            n
                                                                               g
                                                                                  i
                                                                                    n                                
                                                                                      g by a few
==strands== of childish dreams.

No one ever returns to find them, for they are stuck too     ↓  
                                                                            ↓
                                                                      ┘DEEP┌
 in the masquerade of #perfection#

Goodbye, world.
[where $money$ is more ^important^ than the factors of TxRxUxTxH]

If you wish to look for me, I'll be @t platform ¾

Poetry Slam/typography :D

Yesh, time to post something sensible.

Well, my sister found something interesting so I thought I'd like to post it here:

Scratch and Dent dreams by Eric Darby

I do not own the video, nor the poem :D --same old same old disclaimer :D

And I got interested in this scene from The Dark Knight, Batman.

Why So Serious?

Same old same old disclaimer, I no owns the video/the scene/the movie

Mehh, the sound isn't that great...

Yay :D
hope you enjoyed~

Cocktail

Just... trying something out for fun :D

Trollers gonna troll~

_________________________________________________________________________________

Cocktail 

In synch we float

around the sticky, thick web of love

under swirling currents that melt and molt to form passion

do you not see--the scarlet deformity of jealousy

and thicket of lusting silk-- the epitome of desire

flickering and flashing,

desiring the thicket of silk and lusting

with jealousy--the deformed scarlet sight.

Passion melts and molts into swirling currents

that lie thickly over the loving--sticky--web,

which we float on in synch. 

Dreaming Out Loud

I'm dreaming out loud,
An ethereal world of vivid sketches
that circle a tangled mess of mystic clouds--
In a sea of bony, grimy faces, the lot of wretches.

In a blood pool of mauve carnations,
My fingers dig out cocoa wishes
formed through bitter accusations
and later reduced to moonstone ashes.

Pelting shards and fragmented fantasies,
I shoot down shadows of Cheshire Cats.
They vanish into the dawn of glittering faeries,
where magic--upon my head-- she pats.

Crochet doilies traipse on threads
of lingering passion and scattering stardusts.
Flimsy wings and mirages of patched up shreds,
I see them through mirrors of blinded trust.

In a thicket of mismatched constellations,
Upon a kaleidoscope of beaded stars,
I trace on the canvas, my starry-eyed creations.
I'm dreaming out loud-- dreaming away scars.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Oh, so fail.

Inspired by: Stop and Stare, Onerepublic. :D

Whatisthiscrapidon'teven. harhar.
I should have submitted this for Montage!!! T.T

Dancers-- my submission for montage

Dancing on a hard, cement floor.

Twirling about at ill grace,

You seek our very core

of love, peace and trimmed lace.

Arching backs and curved figurines

are placed above the wooden fireplace.

One speaks to the other--where have you been,

fondly, lovingly-- he strokes her face.

Slender fingers trace the epitome of desire,

hesitant, pleasured with the silky taste of lust.

We drown ourselves in fire,

the scorching flames spit out fantasies, stardusts.

Ribbons bind our feet together,

Scarlet, elegant but tortuous,

The weight of the world appears as the weight of a feather

Upon our legs, yet our faces are joyous. 

Teetering on the edge,

Cracks powdered, scars faded.

We mumble the sacred pledge

of ugliness and beauty-- a weight [over our shoulders] cascaded

_______________________________________________________________________________

Oh crap.
Why did I just submit this for Montage.
...
...
...
argh.

I guess I'm desperate to this extent.
~o~

The Devil's poem

There is no hope in faith
nor a sparkling light within me.
I wait to seek not seven but eight
deadly sins that won't let us be.

Hope splayed out abstractly
like a splatter of blood--
thick, scarlet and oozing gladly,
the devil's touch within me flood.

Still awaiting the last man's grave
to heaven he flies
or hell, I crave.
Wither and flop, but leave no fear, no anguished cries.

But within darkness we seek--
far beyond the tender light
amongst the creatures so meek,
we turn upon a shamed flight.

Still there is no far worse sin,
of secret whispers and aching breaths.
My weathered, tattered skin--
take it, for it lives on, take it before he seeks you, Death.

"You do know the last sin, don't you?"
No.
"Oh, but it is so obvious."
To you, not me.
"Then let it be hope."
Hope?
"Hope."


_______________________________________________________________________________

I tried to make it rhyme :D
My leg hurts. TAT
I bet no one understands the poem! Do you? *adds pedo voice*
Try figuring it out, poor bananas :D
Especially you, Ellie :D
Because it was written with inspiration from Harry Potter~
Oh, shit. I still need to complete my monthly-challenge...

XD XD XD
Ollie

Post-it ノート: Waffle on the go :)

haiz, i has no brains...

just a waffled chip bit of my brain, which has totalliee no sense. 

we discussed (No ABOUT) poems on life and i wanted to go on and on and on and on forever and fangirl over its awesomeness, but people were getting distracted and such that it was weird if i were to continue to fawn over it in a corner. instead, i left my thoughts to myself.

i wish i could write such awesome poems. i wish, i wish, i wish.

___

life is a ticking, restless clockwork--

a kaleidoscope of hopes that fade into

warped images, they quirk 

into an alley, flying through.

 Past the memories that flicker

and twist into an oblivion of scattered

fireflies that smugly snicker

with knowledge of truths torn and tattered.

Against the merry-go-round

of thick, creamy webs of lies

that bond masks who astound 

the faded tattoo of love, beating symphonies of cries.

life is a waffle

of bits and pieces.

a puzzle to baffle,

of cracks and creases.

___

I tried to make it rhyme, I did! and the hardest part was to make it make sense.

Waffle on the go. 

Have a bite of dough.

SEEEE? it doesn't rhyme nor does it make sense, it never does ; - ; oh well,

cos i has no brains.

: D

tralalalalalalalalalalala

Ollieeeeeee :)

Musing-- God of Death

Have you ever thought so much about Death that you got addicted to it?

I have--I am.

It just seems so peculiar as to where we're going after Death, and I can only picture black, darkness and numbness. If Death is such a place, perhaps I want to go there. Still, it's only what we can imagine. But the thought of a place simply being an absence of everything is rather scary.

And it sounds rather tempting. Rather simple, as compared to the restless clockwork of life.

... And it's so simple that it terrifies me. How can one thing be so simple,so straightforward? I don't dare to open my arms and fling myself towards it. It is a lack of faith. An overdose of suspicion, cautiousness.

... Oh bananas. I sound so suicidal and creepy. Let's talk about fluffy ponies and nyan-cats that poop rainbows.

...
oh, bananas. =3=

Montage is due, due, due.
... I forgot what date it was.
Let's write a poem for Meggi :D

The Train

The Train is always rushing,

Upon the weather-beaten tracks.

It leads to nowhere,

that legend I have heard many times.

Of freedom and a world of iridescence. 

It travels loudly and lazily, the constant shaking of the train.

I say it runs in a loop, 

A loop of consciousness that drifts through the air.

It fades over a sketch, on the canvas

that is ensnared by the charcoal that slashes

pain of its withering ashes.

It reveals nothing but a cage, 

metal and brittle.

The ribbons of memories sidle up the bars like snakes,

poised elegantly and dangerously. 

They melt into the metal,

seeping through the unfeeling barriers of the inanimate object. 

Threads of emotions bind together in a fluid movement,

a scene is painted out, sepia and bleak

of memories that flow away and evaporate into thin air

dusting away the atoms that burst and reform.

Film frames are discarded and the images

blend into a mixture, a compound of black.

The Train leads to nowhere, they say.

Because it is the rebirth of the passengers

innocent and renew.

They alight as hollow shells

waiting to be filled up

until they board The Train again.  

Weren't we always?

I have mingled with tears too often to see the rain.

Strumming down the life of pain,

Weren't we always?

If you would just bring forth your grimace

And let it fall from grace.

Look past our fate,

And shimmy with our mates.

Weren't we always?

Casual, no interception

Nor with any perfection.

Look back on the days with wonder

And laugh upon error.

Weren't we always?

Innocence that flawed our statuses.

They chorused lightly at the dresses

in tatters of our dolls.

They'd beckon us away, locked the doors.

Weren't we always?

Caught

Is this farewell?
She sings out a scratchy note,
scratching her head, nonplussed.
it is the truth;
for no other note could ever replace this one.
yet so fragile, it gets clasped in her throat,
the scars opening up,
red scarlet running through her fingers
while they anxiously comb through her hair.
it is dangerous, devastating and enchanting.
it feels almost a sin to divert her attention.
dust, thick and lazy, streams about her in a quiver.
the cobwebs are torn apart (mercilessly and callously).
she coughs out the waxy liquid
as they litter her body with frantic kisses.
desire, almost lust.
she can no longer run away.
hold her breath, hold her breath.
it steals her heart away and she gasps.
gasps.
This, is the end.

Spun into a web of lies,
conflicting unimaginable elements that matched so well
it keeps the light at bay,
she spreads the jam evenly over the surface,
grins and the magic is cast.
already told, the tales of her tears.
legends, myths.
they whisper conspiratorially with an exaggerated wink.
the cowering figures hide in the corner.
guilt touches them with her presence,
giggling innocently (but not quite so, not quite so)
gracing their ripped conscience
as she bows in mock-honour.
this is no place for you. come with me.
come with me.
she lights the spark with promises
wildly beyond their greatest passions.
sarcasm sidles itself comfortably along the words that drop from her lips.
it coils like a snake around them, hissing politely.
ignorance, greed blinds them.
doom, is all their futures spell out.

don't.
don't.
don't.
don't.
DON'T!
... you could have just listened.
__________________________________________________________________________________


This is the full version of 'Caught'. :D
Wrote it on a whim. :D

Ollie

give me something that'll haunt me

she, was simple.
she wanted something so innocent, he couldn't resist.
pointing at the piece of paper, she cried out in her soprano.
he retrieved it for her.

the beginning of a bond.

it is raining,
the thunder wrecking all of her peace as she cowers in a corner.
he arrives in time to comfort her.
and she grabs the warmth without hesitation.

we'll just have to watch and wait.

the desires she craved,
presented in front of her.
her humble servant bowed.
and she felt the world.

he was the world to her.

but as she grew,
lusting for more,
her insatiable diet for everything
she yearned to possess.

just as she was to him.

to feel the sheer feathery weight on her fingers,
silk dancing around her flawless complexion
and gold that cupped her fingers
with respect and awe.

but she owned the world.

nothing was ever enough;
it grew, the monstrous want.
demands that he couldn't satisfy,
uttered from her perfect lips.

and of course, she owned him.

she wanted the stars,
so he gave her his eyes.
the bright wondrous sparkle of hope within them.
they shone, like the stars.

and she flung them aside.

she wanted ability, talent.
so he gave her his limbs.
they crafted meticulously,
in process of building the demon within her, unconsciously.

but she scowled.

she wanted recognition,
so he gave her his smile.
one that she used to delight in,
something that pieced together her broken soul.

yet she still wasn't satisfied.

she wanted more, more.
yet it was only his soul that was left.
without hesitation, he delivered it to her.
she stared in awe.

but rejected it.

his heart, still pulsing.
his mind, still whirling.
his soul, broken.
as his sanity flew out of the window.

he, was eternally bonded to her.
i, am your master.
and you are of course, nothing.
nothing but entertainment.  

__________________________________________________________________________________

Wow. How sad.
TT^TT poor 'he'.
inspired by Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift.
angst. angst.

Ollie

Let's not.

Part1
Sometimes I just wander about in circles.
And I never really understand what I'm searching for.
Is it excitement,
Peace,
Joy,
Love,
Or something that simply doesn't exist?
Am I recklessly plunging into the world of unknown,
Feel the giggles bubble up in my throat
Even as I trudge deeper into tragedy?
Crypt-ids are named so,
'Imaginary, fake. Don't believe in them.'
But as I sit still and wait, restless,
Am I hopeful?
Rephrase.
Am I full of hope?
Is it true how we'll never be able to live within myths and legends?
'wake up.'
But I am clear-headed,
My mind is whizzing past the strange sightings.
But even so, you chuckle and ruffle my hair.
'silly girl.'


Part2
Let's just be friends.
Let's not wait anymore.
Let's do it!
Let's go!
Let's...
Are we just a plural form,
Undivided, fully as one?
Should we even be, our clashing personalities?
If we are merged, will the wars rage?
I believe so.
Fire and ice,
Will one ever succeed?
Or will it be just a stagnant draw.
Your moves countered by mine,
Just as mine is deflected by yours?
Opposites attract, I hear.
But no, we'll repel each other.
Because of the simple disgust.

Part3
The philosophical musings of Ice.
Where should I melt and reflect her venomous soul?
Where is the best place to smooth-en the crackling fire?
Or are we doomed into a pause that will last forever,
I will release ourselves from suffering.
Let this be the last time we shall ever hear the relentless sizzling of the fire.
I will numb my entire soul and delve deeper into hell.
It burns and licks at my form,
But alas, I am melting.
Nay, where shall I find coldness?
Or is it already part of me?
What is ice?
What is fire?
Who am I?
Why am I here?
Non, where to escape,
From the desire I've kept in so long?

Part4
The philosophical musings of Fire.
Are you aware of the painfully slow and indecisive actions?
Where my heart frolics and squeals out loud.
I rip out my victory,
Only to be beaten.
Shall I fight once more?
Ah, the happy wicked devil that rages on inside me.
I shall obey it,
Impulsive, they scold.
But what shall I say?
For who am I?
Fire.
What makes me who I am?
My impatience, passion.
So why hesitate?
... For it is too late.
You have soared in,
that icy smirk etched on your face.
Let me be the one to erase it from existence.
Why, though?
__________________________________________________________________________________
Another poem that was inspired by Just Be Friends, by Megurine Luka, music box version. :D
I have no idea what this is all about. It's confusing and conflicting, alright. But it's just for you to think deeper into who is who. And what is what.
Sighs. :D

Ollie