[x]

.

no time for one last chance

bleeding bitter tears
suspend the indecision
grip the blade
just make the incision

watch

as dark blood flowing
stains your eyes
pulsating in endlessness
this is our last goodbye

turn away

arterial punctuation
this deadly heartbeat
tears across the flesh
drips upon the judgement seat

close your eyes

clutch at the moment
silently march on
in this parade of chaos
the end will not be long

just wait

you made the sacrifice
burning desire fleshless
blood stained secrets
nothing to confess

eyes visionless

murder weapon held fast
in white knuckled hands
the b

Systems

The nights had always been the hardest for him. He would wake, confused and struggling for breath. Though it wasn't his last breath, but he could have fooled anyone. His way of inhaling, resembled the way of a terminally sick man, reaching for an extra jolt of air to keep his sanity present. Maybe it reassured him, knowing that the nurse would monitor him a little closer, giving the state of his respiration. Maybe he liked the attention, after all, it was what he lay here for anyway. In fact, the nurse thought he was dying, but she couldn't have known any better. If she had, maybe she wouldn't have worried about him all night. She was, after

France 1789France, 1789
------------

In this dream
were the ruined walls
where i abjured the vicious men;

and of stone
the oubliette forgotten,
where were cast treacherous kin.

An intention not
was it that i recalled
the nightmares birthed in blood;

bairns whence thighs
of witched wenches herewith
barking as dogs tied in the mud;

the cut-throats
of monarchial priesthood
disrobed in my revolt and cain;

all my lovely children slain.

Jordan Jones
2/7/2003

The Best Poem Ever Written

Someone is going to produce
The best poem ever written.

It will be blessed with one hundred and three lines
Of genius, and a hint of luck.
The lines will not be overlong
But not too
Short.

Each stanza will be written
With vigor, on purpose
And will never exceed the limit of
Seventy-six syllables...
Or something like that.

In this poem there will be a man.
This man, though, will not be a hero.
Nor will he be a loser.
He will be just the right type of
Everything and have only one tragic flaw
Which will be...

This man won\'t hate women.
He will respect them, but not to that
Too much point; this man will not
Be whipped by a

SoldierHe stood ,
onlooking,
as the world around him flurried,
like some far-concieved snowstorm puppetry,
a myriad of colours,
remaining uniform,
against their common backround of drybrushed sandy buildings.

somewhere deep inside,
advancing,
it struck; This was humanity...
The thought convulsed over the past tense,
somewhere far away.

uncomfortable,
a shape looms on the horizon,
the vulture on the sun, like hawk descending,
over the cyclonic sand,

And somewhere deep inside,
freshly aware,
every sinew, every fiber, coagulated vessel
softly,sharply,

*Broken*

Trajectory notwithstanding,
a petty insignificance; Divine aut

Removed

.

I sat staring at a screen of snow,
the cruellest memories
washed down with wine, red
'98.
I walked through puddles
I should have gone around.
Seldom
do my eyes sing,
do I let them relish,
and yet they stay
"Picturesque";
the winters kept them warm.

I stood bound in rain,
soaking through whispers.
The cruellest memories
played my tongue,
fading to verbum infans
and flower-pressed shadows.

I miss you,
whoever you are.
Mute for an honest answer,
abusing your morning dawn
and evening candle-flames,
I'd inhale the tint
of a prolonging touch
and wounding chess game.
I'd keep you,
whoever you are.

Has th

Enter Light

Enter Light

Enter light through this pain
Past winter wind and summer rain
Thrill my fear and drive disdain

Don't leave me here
To blend within

The hollow warmth and shallow light
'Tween lonely walls and starry night
Where darkness weaves it's icy bite

And I can't see
Beyond the tears

That drown my joy and burn my eyes
All scarred with red my memory lies
Where winter lives and summer dies

Until I decend
Beyond all hope

Past distant dreams and forgotten faces
By storm dark clouds and lonely places
Too deep within where my heart races

Enter light
Fill my darkness

KMB.

interveloped

Holding your hand,
I feel I could intertwine
our lives as simply as our arms
in their vivid dance;
free of cost and free of time--
back and forth,
pulled as the strings of fate,
pulled up as flowers to sunshine.

wrinkles on palms
criss-crossed to form graphs
&nb

Collapsea starlit kingdom
so frail
so afraid,
you opened the gates
walked through
so calmly.
that glance
so "tender"...

...every colour
shone
through the glass prism
of the windows.
savoury words
left on the tongue.
edible.
the stroke of the skin
like silk
against the palm.
you made me
open the gates.
so tenderly.
so calmly.
starlit
it was...

...floating on air
with nothing but
those
savoury words.
"asshole"
didn't fit into
the scripture.
with one glace
of reciting
of 18 mistaken
lines,
the kingdom collapsed
leaving no trace of
survivors.
the gates were closed
under the weeping skies,
and with ind

No Longer Do I Wish to SpeakNo longer do I wish to speak
Words should be smooth and cool
not tired and worn out
By pens too numb to write
and ears too deaf to listen
by tongues that should lie still
yet still they lie
No longer do I wish to speak
Words should be drops and blades,
not splinters jagged and blunt
by eyes too blind to see
and mouths too dry to whisper

I\'ve heard enough.
I\'ve said enough.
My words grow old.
And all the meaning twisted.

The Wrath of WinterFrost lined
The world lies still
While ice grows
Upon its sleeping face

And glistens
In the icy light
From the stars that lie
Like frost upon the darkened sky

And far below
Beneath their icy gaze
The rivers choke
And steams stand still

No more to run
Beneath the branches bare
Not clad in emerald leaf
But a gown of deathly white

As beautiful and bleak
As Winter\'s chilling stare
That has entombed this earth
Far from light or mirth

I feel its ghostly hand
Settle on my beating heart
And fearfully I flee
Back to hearth and hall

Until the Dawn has come
To slay this icy night
And break its iron grip
Upon my frozen soul

Fragments of the Tartessiad

Archilochos of Phaestos, Tartessiad

Book XXIII, lines 590-598

Nearby the circle of the Kings and
Girded round with bronze, enguarded
By the best of warriors strong
Lies precious treasure of the Kings
And weapons bright and armour
Such as Minos or the Kings of Troy
Know not. By Mages made in time
Long passed, before men were o'er
Titans born.

___________________________________

Book XXV, lines 123-132

Walled round by seas immense and deep
Enguarded by a fleet of ships uncounted
And uncountable, with armies vast,
The islands of the gods lie, bathed
By light of setting sun, beyond the
Realm of dreaded Hades, who yet
Holds sway

A Mask of Mirrors

A Mask of Mirrors

I never knew you till you were dead.
I didn't know what happened in your head.
I never knew your secrets or your many men.
I didn't know that's what you needed then.

Some faulty wiring started it,
So I took up the floor.
I found some papers in the pit
And then I found some more.
While some of them were letters,
Many more were sketches bold;
They would have shocked my betters
By revealing scandals old.
In this world little 's certain,
Of few things I was sure;
I lifted mystery's curtain
When I took up that floor.
Inside the secret hiding place
Was proof I had not known,
A single thing not in the face
Of on

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memories - i never had

.

memories (i never had)

i can feel the taste of tears
rising in my throat
swallow
keep it down
we don't want to wake the neighbors
with our sympathies
our word addictions
for the faceless names
that have snuck from between the dusty pages
grabbed our hands
and led us on a merry dance
through the dark apple tree forests
shadows in the moonlight
no reflections in their empty eyes

i reach out my hand
grasping for yours in the dark
the figure in the chair by the pool
looking out over the sea
not touching
not speaking
but it is only fiction
that holds us apart
and your face is just

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i held the knife

by `spunj13, Dec 8, 2002, 11:58:18 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

.

i held the knife

they say that dead girls tell no tales
     silent spirits drifting heavenward
         lips bound with twine
     pursed and immovable
they say that dead girls tell no tales

     but they lie
for i saw you stand
bodyless
     and scream for justice
fists extended
accusing fingers
     indicating my soul
     buried beneath a heart of shale
flaking away
     remorse so long in coming

the tears that burn on empty cheeks
like the blood that ran so clear from your veins
     as you wept in silence
         while the words cut through your soul
splitting you in two
     sectioned and dissected
     soundless
         broken

and now your eyes burn into me
     fiery and motionless
silence your weapon of choice
sharp as the blade that severed the ties that bound us

     souls drifting disconnected

disembodied adoration
     a prayer for just one more chance
     rising in a dream
from the ashes of what once was
but there is no turning back

they say that dead girls tell no tales
     but they lied
         they lied

                     (i lied)

december 9, 2002
2:53 am

i held the knifeby `spunj13

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

this is a kind of cross between a dark piece and an emotional piece... i'm not sure if it even makes sense ...based on the time of day that i wrote it (about 5 minutes ago)... and i'm not even sure where it came from... but here it is anyways

//spunj13

~kaishimablade Nov 4, 2003

awesome

`syragon Mar 21, 2003

kewl

~nexgen Jan 14, 2003

Ingenious...
The drawing with the words are well performed.
Still trying to get myself together after reading this.... Again, fantastic...

*speachless*

Fav, Watch

~kelpie Jan 7, 2003

this is absolutely beautiful... *stuned

+fav

~lubov Jan 2, 2003

wow
very powerful
and i just love your word choices
its brill :) (Smile)

:fav:

~theinediblerock Dec 29, 2002

This poem made me feel bad inside, and depressed, but i love your imagery, empty cheeks, though it got a little choppy in spots, it was still good. "They say that dead girls tell no tales." That was shweet (pardon the word). it was some good work, ROCK ON!!!

~echoedlaughter Dec 17, 2002

This is wonderful! I really enjoyed reading it. Very well written. It's excellent! +fav definitly!

`dreamz13 Dec 16, 2002

A hell of a read!

~cyber-crash Dec 15, 2002

This is fantastic, it sets up the scene extremely well in your mind and really draws you into the atmosphere. Excellent work, +fav.

`epiphany Dec 14, 2002

This is one of the best crafted "dark" poems I have seen in quite a long time. Incredible work.

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i held the knife

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