The Refrigerator Door

Thanx Matt

Happy birthday by the way

1968 the early yrs

Hey people there is alot of talent floating around here.Every body seems to have the same opinion of the poetry forum as I do,not very good.Let me throw this one out to you all.

"Nine to Five to Nine"

As the sun crosses the horizon,
minds caught in the twilight dimension.
Vitalize,to apply the guise,
to face the tribes,and addle the wise.

Concrete arteries are astir,
manufacturing infinite departure.
Reality is thrown asunder,
disturbed by the electronic thunder.

Organized policies ever so abstruse,
programmed for a mental recluse.
The shallowness of the doctrinaires,
for success is determined by questionnaires.

Concrete arteries are astir,
manufacturing infinite departure.
Reality is thrown asunder,
disturbed by the electronic thunder.

Peel the plastic face of deceit,
for the day of perjury is complete.
Into the twilight dimension once more,
preserved to perform as the perpetual actor.


From out of the dark reaches of my cerebral corridors,the ramblings of a mad man.A little something for the fridge door.

I was living a life
Living a life on a wing and prayer
Praying for something
to find me

I waited
wadding on into life
becoming a bitter man
I waited, working shitty job, after shitty job.

I let metal pass over my head
I cut my hair
Shaved my head

Scared for life I carried on
I tried some little pill

crushed it up

snorted those little white lines

kept me awake
Please god
Just keep me awake

I can't sleep

If I sleep... It all comes back to me

Please god
oh god please
I will just keep busy
I got a paper to write
a exam on friday
GOD HEY GOD PLEASE
Just let me stay awake for five more days then I will be okay
I won't die until noon on friday
You have to remember all of the shit that comes when
I close my eyes
the bitter blood orangey outlet that preceeds the black hole head rush before the warfeild and wirthing waste the awaits me
the dreams kill me every time I close my eyes
Mary
Please I need more
god
hurry I need more
I need somthing
I need help
MAry I am falling crasing into reality and it sucks
Mary I am slowing down
PLEASE
I need another line and I am shaking so hard I can't crush
anotherthing
Please
god
I prayed
I snorted two more lines
went off with a bottle of pills and a purple staw
I had a mirror in my coat pocket
I peddled my bike
for hours until it was 7am
I stumbled into a cafe
I ordered
two large coffee's
Extra sugar please

I pleaded a whole Jar of it
she said we only can give you four sugars

I was crashing I knew I had only one thing todo today
print the paper
e-mail it
dear mr professor
here is my last paper
hope you liked it
I am gonna go now

go so I can snort one more line
killing my left nostril
killing it so I could not breath for a year

Crush up that little pill
laughing that it was nearing saturday
nine days awake with out sleep
keeping on
hanging on to fear.

well three days
and five hours later I fell out of bed
freezing cold sweaty
but feeling like I was on fire
I shit my pants
puked from the horried
smell and the idea that
the warmness on my leg
was my own shit
I just shhit myself
I was to tired to move
I was laying there
in a puddle of shit

I needed help
I screamed but I was alone
I hurt
I could barly move
but I drank a beer
lit a cigeratte
turned on the radio
and cried one long cry
I drove to
a world long ago past
a warm place
where love surrounded me once
I found it was slightly
still alive

the plant is now 2year old
I am still alive and I love life

Far out,
I agree with the earlier thread about the poetry forum. Its strange reading critisisms from a 16 yr old consevative , know it all, art critic. I always thought of the "squares" as older folks. Opps!....I'm the older one now.

Nice work, people...there is a lot of new talent here!

I'm not much of a writer. But I do have some talents. So I thought I would post a picture. No I didn't make my little one. He's adopted. But I made his patchies. Anyway, isn't he cute.

Kathi

yep cute

Very cute--and the outfit is cool. You ARE talented!

Wow! I'm kind of new to the whole Hip Forum thing but this is a very nice and comfy place and I love the poetry. I'm a big Woodstock fan and I wrote this poem after I found out that a company is about to build on the historic site of the festival. I dedicated this poem to all of members of the Woodstock Preservation Alliance.

Whispers of the Past

By: Melissa Lapointe

As I sit here in this special place

A warm gentle breeze caresses my face

Bringing with it whispers of the past

It was all just too good to last.



The people are gone yet something remains

An indescribable feeling the field still retains.

It’s like a divine art

A spirit made up, in part,

Like a collage of pieces of the once present souls

Leaving within them little holes

Maybe that is why we all come back

To find that little bit we all now lack

To reclaim that piece and to be whole

Because being without it takes its toll.



The sweet sounds have ended long ago

It’s a shame some people will never know

What it’s like standing in this field

Thinking its history will never yield.

Soon I will have to open up my eyes,

Before long I will have no choice but to realize

That the end could be near

And that soon I might have to face that fear.



As I sit here in this special place

A warm gentle breeze caresses my face

Bringing with it whispers of the past

Was it all really just too good to last?

Lovely piece, very evocative. Thanks for sharing it with us, and welcome to the kitchen table! I hope you become a regular. Wonderful to see new folks.