*By Katie

I hope nobody minds if I dump my stuff in here.



The princess looks out from her window,
Tears streaming from her eyes.
Her bridal gown is covered in mud,
Her groom is covered in lies.
And your eyes look so tired,
As you turn your back to me.
The lights dim down early,
On Avenue Number Three.



On the side of a lonely back road,
Esmeralda rides, pulling a trunk
Full of ancient treasure,
From pirate ships that have long sunk.
I pass her by on my carriage,
And throw a gold coin at her feet.
Maybe I’ll see her someday,
On Avenue Number Three.



The rain taps on my rooftop,
The wind is beginning to blow.
My love walks in with droplets
On her dress and dripping from her nose.
She never speaks a single word,
But I know that she cares for me.
I can tell by the way she holds me,
On avenue Number Three.



I’ve got friends in the army,
I’ve got friends who are going to die.
I know politicians who are going to get rich.
I know mothers who are going to cry.
But it doesn’t seem to bother you,
Now that you’ve been set free.
We are helpless to the process,
Here on Avenue Number Three.



Sharon runs to her preacher,
Looking for a truth.
Ramona runs to her surgeon,
Looking for some youth.
I’ve run out of places to run to,
There’s nothing more I can see.
So I’m settled in this prison,
On Avenue Number Three.



Two lovers live on the floor above me.
And I hear them in the night,
Making noise I can’t escape from.
It doesn’t make me feel right.
I won’t sleep well again,
Until the day they leave.
But nobody ever gets out of,
Avenue Number Three.



Lovely carnivals take place outside
Elephants and carpet rides.
The showmen blow in with the wind,
The showmen blow out with the tide.
With them go their big, crimson tents,
Off to some magical new city.
But nobody cares too much.
Not on Avenue Number Three.



Cracks exist on the windows,
Red drapes used to adorn.
This place was fit for royals,
Now the carpets all are torn.
And nobody wanted to stay here,
So they gave this place to me.
And I’ll die in my apartment,
On Avenue Number Three.

 

(This one is old, and short. I'm trying to start writing longer pieces. I'm having sex with my poems, I want to keep the pleasure going as long as possible. )





I am a goddess,
My throne is pedestal crafted from dirt.

The dandelions pray to me, I send their prayers to the moon,
The clouds provide our dance floor, the rain provides our tune.

Our voices echo like thunder, as our wild screams fill the sky.
Up there, we are the rulers. Just the dandelions and I.

 

Hobo hats hang on soda bottles,
Next to the hall where senators laugh,
As they torture hired clowns,
Giving them poison baths.

We see citizens running in circles,
Chasing each other around,
Wanting one of their own for a pet,
Trying to tie each other down.

And me with my soul so big,
It doesn’t fit inside my skin.
It leaks onto the folks around me,
I’m not able to keep it in.

And you with your thin little frame,
And your curly hair so long.
You try to fly, but you’re held down,
Your fears are much too strong.

In the town we used to call home,
The robins awake at noon.
The stars hang out ‘till lunchtime.
Christmas lights come down in June.

Some pirate missing an eyeball,
Offers me his pants.
He says he doesn’t need them,
He doesn’t believe in romance.

A student strums his guitar,
On the doorstep down below.
Until I hit him with a handful of pennies,
I throw from my window.

A prostitute breaks into my bathroom,
Uses my comb to brush her teeth.
No ambulance is willing to come help her,
And she dies, unable to breathe.

I see in my dreams endless desert,
Where not even weeds dare to grow.
The prisoners all get sent here,
Instead of death row.

Some students outside carry signs,
Saying they’re protesting pie.
Bakers come out of their bakeries,
And I can tell someone is going to die.

You say you want to stop the time,
You wish never to grow old.
I say I want to stop the grime,
I wish to never grow mold.

All the dirty deals are made,
In a museum honoring the past.
Cows witness them from a pasture,
Chewing on the dead grass.

The painters are rebelling.
They drag their brushes across the town.
One got on the roof of my truck,
And painted me a clown.

I only want to watch things,
There’s nobody I want to be.
You can if you must, however,
I’d rather no one speak to me.

 

~* Nice job! I didn't care for the second stanza and the last five were the best IMHO.
liked the short one too. I have an affininty with dandelions too. *~

 

At the base of Mount Olympus,
The Singer and the Queen,
Have decided to change Mother Nature,
By building a great machine.

They sculpt it out of corn syrup,
And place it in front of Rome.
The wrokers at the Insanity Factory,
Drop their spoons and then go home.

As one lip wets the other,
I lock a fence around myself.
Cinderella and the Tooth Fairy,
And kidnapping some guilty elf.

The president is running backwards,
He hands King Louie his head.
In the graveyard, figures emerge,
Of people who once were dead.

Jack the Ripper pulls into New York,
He's looking for some kind of thrill.
Paranoia is vanishing quickly,
The millionaire tears up his will.

God is putting on sunglasses,
He's taking a holiday.
I wave to him as he flies by me,
He shouts, "How come you never pray?"

I tell him I don't believe in speaking.
I try to shake his hand.
But God just puts a curse on me,
And now I can no longer stand.

Rose, a sad-eyed gypsy,
With coins of gold she'll never spend,
Said goodbye and handed me a daisy.
She was my only friend.

The train robbers go into retirement,
Playing golf in the afternoon.
The astronauts look down on the chaos,
And decide to remain on the moon.

The Queen sees the stars and sun quarrel,
And her head fills with regret.
Her nervousness pulls her in circles.
She dies, drowning in her own sweat.

The singer looks upon the Earth,
Proud of what he has done.
He comes to play violin for me,
At least he's having fun.

 

Thanks very much. I agree that the last stanzas were better. I think it happens that way with a lot of newer poets... it takes a while before we realize what direction/feel we want to work with, you know?

 

Even the Moon is alone tonight,
Not a single star rest in the sky.
They've all escpaed, they've run away,
To the fields of Eli.

Where the grass grows so high,
It shakes hands with the clouds.
Mud statues of the gods,
Lie about, standing proud.

Every woman is a princess,
With magnificant gowns of air,
Luzurious beds of branches,
And strands of pearls in her hair.

You can twirl in circles endlessly.
You can swim in the warm, gentle sea.
You can fly using will for wings.
You are nothing but wholly free.

Nothing at all has the power to harm you.
You can hold the sun in your hand.
The Earth, the sky, the elements,
Gracefully answer to your command.

There is no road to lead you here.
No map includes Eli.
A gate surrounds the paradise,
You must will your way inside.

Mothers leave their children,
Royals leave their throne.
One day you too wil escape there,
And leave me here alone.

 

many interesting images,
very nice!

 

I like everything you've written so far.


It's like watching Bob Dylan getting high with Jack Keorowak.

 

New poet? Really? Wouldn't have guessed! I liked that comment about having sex with your poetry, how fitting! *giggles* Ya desperately need titles for yer pieces though. I liked the one about dandelions, brought a wave of nolstagic memories...The rest is quite intriguing and gracefull as well, lots of feminine touches.

 

Thanks for the feedback, guys. I apprechiate it very much.

Oh, I agree a thousand and ten percent. I never know what to call them, though!

 

yuo are a wicked poet, blew me away.

 

Wouldn’t have guessed you’re new to writing poetry! You’ve got some great imagery strewn about these pieces, good flow, and your passion is apparent. Keep up the writing, and work on developing some titles!

 

The fresh morning tasted bitter,
It burned it's way into my lungs,
As I watched the lawyers at the bustop,
Tying knots into their tongues.
The folks waited so patiently,
For a bus that never came.
After the frost invaded their minds,
Not a one of them was the same.

Delilah, walking barefoot,
Through a gray, linoleum meadow,
Stuck between life and death,
Left blind by what she knows.
She speaks in rhymes and riddles,
The police don't understand.
But she reveals all truths to me,
When I grasp her shaking hand.

A street-man tries to sell me his seatbelt,
And I tell him I'll buy nothing at all.
So he throws me through the salon window,
Where the hairdressers are all bald.
One of them helped me to my feet,
And straightened up my tie.
I thanked her and gave her an address,
Where she might find me when I die.

The sky rips, the sea is draining.
The moon is far below my feet.
Lava leaks out of tree trunks.
Buildings melt from the heat.
Families gather together,
Out to watch the final dawn.
I see everything from my window,
And all I can do is yawn.

 

You're new to writing poetry? Well, then you must be a natural at it. I love all your poems so far. Keep writing, I look forward to reading more! Peace and love.

 

On the river of time floats a steamboat,
Full of eternal certainties.
I could ride with the King of Cycles
But the price is much too high for me,
For right to fight the losing battle,
Is what a man’s ticket would cost.
Since I cannot board, I’ll be stuck here.
Just melting in the frost.


The marquee above Atlantis,
Reads Aphrodite versus Guinevere.
The mermaids are selling popcorn,
As mathematicians watch in fear.
The enlightened do not speak,
They never blink or borrow,
And tramps like me can rely on nothing,
But inevitable tomorrow.


And the ladies who wear black roses,
Never give Grandpa Charlie a thrill.
They say his yellow fingernails guide him.
They say his soul is ill.
But he’s a good friend to drink with,
It’s nice not to talk to the wall.
We like to witness green jacket happenings,
With the razor-cuts, masks, and all.


I give my thanks to the strangers,
And the strangers yet to come.
As I walk into a barren schoolyard,
Where the children yell, "Run, man run!"
And I shout back at them with alarm
"You mean go all alone?!"
But nothing has worth without sacrifice,
And comfort comes from the unknown.


Silence works its way into my bedroom,
And it leaves me terrified.
I send out screams to fight it off,
But they all take silence’s side.
And like the worm stuck to edge down a cactus,
Like the eel that’s been stranded ashore,
I may have lost this battle,
But I’ll never give up the war.

Now carol can coax rain from the sun,
As her dark sunglasses would suggest.
But she’ll never find a purpose,
For she grades her own final test.
And I’m locked in my own garden,
With an eye on each side of the fence.
Wondering where I can buy some wit,
And where I can hide the evidence.

 

wow

 

...

 

An instant.
And upon one side of the mountain,
Prayer in an echo can be heard,
Begging the rain to cease.
And on the other side of the mountain,
Prayer in an echo can be heard,
Begging the rain to pay visit.
And upon the top of the mountain,
The point where all sides are to meet,
Inevitable as our death,
A friend sits,
Pouring glory into stone cups,
(So that it may be mailed to me)
And erasing it from my epitaph,
With an eraser stronger than a thousand steel hammers,
Powerful enough to erase the Time.
Yes, this is how the eye blinks.
And so,
The eye blinks like this.

And to the unholy,
Those jesters to the caged,
Destiny speaks, ”Keep eyes wide open,
Unless, Unless…”
And to the bravest of waterfalls,
Those which pour blue into the sky,
Destiny speaks, ”Keep eyes open wide,
Unless, Unless…”
And to the chaos of truth,
That which can be seen only in puzzle pieces,
Destiny speaks, ”Keep eyes wide open,
Unless, Unless…”
…Unless, unless,
You know how to blink.

 

My love left me all alone yesterday,

I went to look for her in my boss’s bed.

Along the way I stopped by a shady sideshow,

Where I found her holding Goya’s head.

Ever since then we’ve just been bouncing,

On the fastest trolley car headed south.

And I sit and wonder which does the talking.

Is it the eye or is it the mouth?



I know God to be a gypsy woman,

Shook the universe from a gold tambourine.

And all humankind was made equal,

By dew that flew off her rhythm machine.

All manner of Bos and Peeps and Dots

From their insignificance try to hide.

But I’ve seen the light, then blown it out.

And I’ve got nowhere else to ride.



Sue drinks root beer from the Holy Grail,

She’s got and elastic battleship.

She wears lipstick under her armpits,

And cologne across her lip.

She’s always out to expose anything,

That isn’t exactly what it seems.

I’ve come to know her smile all too well,

The blue-jean bombshell of my dreams.



I sat down to share peaches with Evil.

I strummed for him a melancholy song.

He told me the Evil is no more than Good’s shadow,

Where there is right, there will also be wrong.

He leaves nothing and no one innocent,

And the two of us are now the best of friends.

He lives behind a telephone pole in my garden,

Building tree houses for the condemned.



Myself and ten skeptical brunettes,

All sat in a ring, watching wax melt.

We praised gurus and the Board of Education,

And all cowboys who wear studded belts.

Still someone has to catch the falling eyelashes,

We can’t all be fairies of the sun.

And I’ll ride any train into nowhere,

As long as my own battles are won.



... ( I could use an editor.)