Writers of GLP: post the best poem you have ever written! [CONTEST for 1 month full subscription] ~1 day left

Clean

I feel clean when I’m not thinking ‘bout me
When I’m thinking ‘bout you and what I can do
To bind up your wounds.
I feel clean when I’m not tweaking my line
When the words I say are not just okay
They’re compassionate truth.
I feel clean when I’m all sweaty and tired
Loving my fam’ with the person I am
By cooking good food.
And I feel clean when I’ve learned something new
When I’ve left behind fears, anger or tears
To simply love you.

I wrote this one in November 2012.. seems fitting for GLP.

"Your Vote Counts"

i’ll admit i’m captivated with the billion-dollar theatre

it’s got me too,

this brand or that one

great acting!
suspenseful script!

no one with that much power ever did anything
for the ‘greater good’
not that either would do any thing
but golf

then get briefed

‘honest politician’ is an oxymoron,
c’mon, let’s not lose our wits

your choice is between two
smooth-talking smiling faces

on a red or blue package
of the same shit

I am human
though I am asked often to verify
I wonder why?
Do Machines get asked if they are machines?
do they ever think they are human?
Who ever wonders if they are something they are Not?
How many times will I reject, tired of the same response?
I am Not a Computer
I just want to check the News.

July 4th Eve 2021

After the long, loving, lingering war
100 megatons winter whirl white flakes
Widdershins

Old Nicholas his bag jammed with tricks and toys wanders wild eyed
Black snow sticks to his boots
Red snow to his beard
White snow floats in the air flakey and soft
His way he has lost
Seasons
Vanished in cold

Gaudy gifts go unopened

Bump your favorite poems

How dwarf the human soul.
How empty a vessel the cellular bowl,
'til filled.
Utter eternity in a seed.
How small the stuff of souls, indeed.

from the yet unpublished short story, "The Clone"

Last Edited by Mr. Zim on 09/19/2021 09:38 PM

THE DESERT
Great ones of the earth extend a hand
The wise dispute their papers
Streets flow and break with thousands, all uncertain
And drinking their memories through gritted teeth
They would march under any confident banner
Because living apart is death, yes, and meaninglessness more deadly still
Beyond them are hovels of wood and dirt
Where calloused hands dig their graves
And wonder which will be their plot
Their immortality in their children
Whose children will forget them

And all the while
In the desert
Sits a man
Hands folded
Starving
Friendless
Alone
Tempted
With every answer at hand
And none who dare approach

To be alone is death, yes, but to walk the desert deadlier still
For these cynical streets no longer hold any faith
That anything lies beyond the hovels
Only the fool would try
And even the half bold are turned back
By the bitter drink of memories and the gravestones that they pass
For perhaps it is better to remain in the crowd
With at least the immortality of movements
Than risk it all in the desert
Becoming a memory to be drunk
Without even a headstone
Until their children forget them

Yet in opposition is betrayed the value
As the devil isn't interested in the streets
He alone has braved the desert
And offered the man all the others value
So that no surer path to their joys
Can be found but in the desert
The one place where men who love vanities
Can never be found
Instead he whispers every torture
To stop the man from ever speaking again

There he remains
Friendless
Hungry
With stones for bread
And devils for company
Until one
Grows bold
Enough to die trying
And thereby live

Even now they drink that man as a memory
With whetted lips that have never known desert sand
Oh what is man, such a dismal creature
That he can turn a crucifix into a vanity
So cynicism devours the streets
Until they are so unbearable
That a few would rather not be remembered
Than lend their hand to such a city

Past the hovels they walk, and the graves
Which at least have the decency to be filthy
And they know, by instinctive light
That they've happened upon the right road
Until there is no more road, mouthfuls of sand,
No more memory to drink
But only an outline, so distant and faint
Of a man on a cliff, and a wisp beside him
Showing the kingdoms of the world
And rejecting them

The sun has passed the sign of the cynic
And moves by year to the sign of the hero
Where desert men will return
And preach the kingdom anew
Men who drink not the bitter draught of memory
But instead the sweet flowing blood of hope
Dying in the streets by extended hands
Whose children shall never forget

My old drunken ode to GLP…

“If you could see inside my window
this is what you'd see.
I'm typing on my keyboard
at a site called GLP.

A forum filled with anything
you'd ever want to know...
a laugh, a cry, a "goodnight" "goodbye"
or a "stfu ...woo woo!"

I come here mostly when I'm bored
or needing inspiration,
one thing GLP never lacks
is mental stimulation!

UFO's, the NWO, Politics and more
the doomsday threads, the Zeta heads,
the endless talks of war.

To the Lunatic fringe at GLP,
the registered member...or the A.C.
I raise up my glass and tip one to thee
God Like Productions...
Where else would we be!”



~2006

THE UNENDING SEA
I saw the vast unending seas
Living, pure and true.
Upon which floated crumbs of leaves
Where men and kingdoms grew.

They boasted of their glories
As they stood upon a stem
And wrestled with their worries
On the thought of losing them.

They marveled at their might,
Banding leaves into a boat
While the waves, gentle and light
Were what kept them all afloat.

They drew each other’s blood
And robbed the weak and poor
Forgetting that great Flood
That once took them all before

If only they would drink
From that purifying spring
They would not dare to think
Themselves to be a king.

But they never took a swim,
And never did they know
That beyond their broken crumbs
Was an endless sea below.

Death
Our death is but a short sleep, our sole which is eternal having travelled afar will come forth at it's appointed time not unlike a shooting star remembering all that came before and commune with God the father and his Son Jesus Christ who, surrounded by a host of angels will be there with open arms to welcome you home.


(i.e. I published this many years ago- it is at the library
of congress)

SPIRITI MUNDI
A call rings out that splits the black
Asking for the free hand of a queen
Matter and contrary pour from the crack
To form the hallowed birthing scene

What great maiden is sung to in the vast dark
That she willingly become God’s bride?
Here is deep magic, the birth of the ark
On which we broken men ride

No mean finger of mud and breath can
bear the blood stone of the King
The high and the low, the whirlwind of man
From war alone can she spring

Spiritus Mundi born from one cosmic act
Til it‘s wretchedly torn in twain
Division and war, abused and attacked
The peaceful and the insane

Spiriti Mundi, void and light
Both sisters grow entangled together
And that jealous chaos extends the night
For both cannot endure forever

That black vile death screams with her sword
At her sister with the blood stone ring
Furious that she is the bride of the Word
And for her alone our Lord sings

The Lady of the West falls to the East
For the East has a spouse of her own
She would rather court the seven head beast
Then endure ever-night alone

But no sooner does the envious blade fall
And divide the sisters in twain
Than the Lady of Light regain her strength
And the night wails in pain

The blood stone ring could only be earned
By the fury of the whore who would break her
Yet the moment that she expelled the light
The whore fulfilled her duty as maker

Devoured she was by her erstwhile love
As both were cast into oblivion
While the Lady of the West was taken above
To the right hand of God in Heaven

And the sister of night born by her side
Dies there in blood and in tears
The true gate is narrow, the false road is wide
And we all must endure the years

All shall be well, and all shall be well
But only once that rough beast foretold
Shall slouch to Bethlehem and fall into Hell
For the world has grown weary and old

I love this thread, OP.

Thank you for doing this.

I have a whole new opinion of both boats and boat-faces because of it.

You're a good poster, and also from what I have been able to determine, a nice fella in general. Keep up the good work, sir.

Not my best but here are a couple I thought of.

Cyborg

I'm evolving
into something else
All these things
i've attached to myself
Making this feel more and more
like a dream
I think I'm turning
into a machine

Want to rip them out but I can't tell the difference anymore
Which parts left are human I don't know I'm just another cyborg.

In the beginning
when this all started
It was just a way to become strong
Now I think my soul has departed
And I can't figure out where we went wrong

Want to rip them out but I can't tell the difference anymore
Which parts left are human I don't know I'm just another cyborg.

______________________

God is Love

There's something missing in this life
Can't find the one who makes it right
There must be somebody alive
to convince me to even try

If you think that you can do better
If you think you can change the weather
If you think you've got it all together
Why don't you just love yourself

Whenever I ask someone why
They say "you'll find out when you die"
The only choice is to comply
meanwhile I am am burned alive

If you think that you can do better
If you think you can change the weather
If you think you've got it all together
Why don't you just love yourself

___________________

Perpetual Emotion

One more round it's always one more round
Only you keep me from going down
All those nights staring up at the ceiling
wondering if this is what we're all feeling

Shout it from the mountain top
There is nothing that can stop you now
Realizing what you are
Can't you see that we're all stars now?

Is it worth it to get up today?
Would they notice if I ran away?
Will I be talking to myself again?
Or will someone finally let me in?

Shout it from the mountain top
There is nothing that can stop you now
Realizing what you are
Can't you see that we're all stars now?

They may say its all been done
Nothing new under the sun
Well that's OK it needs repeating
I can't sleep yet, my heart still beating

You better not give up.
You better not give up.
You better not give up.
Guaranteed to lose if you don't even try.

Please let us at them,
Goes the barrack room cry,
I'm glad I'm not going.
I'm not dying to die.
I've got all my medals
Survived sneak attacks
It's not worth all the feelings
And compassion I lack

Out on the run, guns at your back,
They've got you in their sights.
Everyone's gone, they're dead in a trench.
Endless, sleepless nights.

I've been to the jungle
In garrison file
I've walked death's quiet paths
Each lonely mile
I killed for no reason
My heart grew stone cold
With a gun in your hand,
Suddenly you think you're so bold

Out on the run, guns at your back,
They've got you in their sights.
Everyone's gone, they're dead in a trench.
Endless, sleepless nights.

Out on the run, guns at your back
They've got you in their sights
Is the method to your madness now
To try to end your life?

Captive there and all alone
I would bide my time
I'de write my family and all my friends
And tell them I am doing fine
But why is there blood upon my chest?
Is there a method to this madness?

Twenty one guns salute you,
When you die.
Twenty one guns salute you,
Why, oh why?
Your gravestone reads
You were a patriot's son.
But nobody cares
When all is said and done.

Out on the run, guns at your back,
They've got you in their sights.
Everyone's gone, they're dead in a trench.
Endless, sleepless nights.

Out on the run, guns at your back,
They've got you in their sights.
Is the method to your madness now
To try to end your life?

i like this!

"Is it Just?"
There is no storm
It's just the new norm
It's just 6 feet.
It's just a mask.
It's just a shot.
Don't you want to be part?
it's just a booster.
it's just a passport
it's just your job.
it's just your child.
We are all this together, yes we are.
it's just your guns
it's just your home
it's just your land
it's just your rights
Just lay them all down
We are all in this together, yes we are.
It's just the air you breath
It's just a pill you take
It's just water you drink
it's not your mind anymore
Just let the others think
it's not just to fight
it's not just to see light
it's not just to be right
You hear a faint whisper
remember stories vague
of that once was told
too late in the quicksand
all laid out eons ago
nefarious master plan
that one arises
finally comes to light
nothing so beautiful
with all the answers
again the future is so bright
with just one condition
full allegiance to them
It's just a mark
It's just to buy
it's just to sell
it's just to eat
it's just your life
it's just your soul
now on your knees
doing what you're told
you hear a faint voice in your head
from what once was your soul
saying something not right
this is not the true light
left feeling like Esau
selling his birthright.
once laughed at Revelation
but can't deny living in.

Last Edited by wattsun on 09/20/2021 02:51 PM

This was a Poem that I wrote in 2005. I was dating a much older Vietnam veterans suffering from PTSD. He broke my heart! I wrote this for a English writing class.


THE OTHER WOMAN

His blank stares where does he go?
He’s looking back maybe,
he has lost his glow.
The glow of a young heart that was battered through war;
Such a young heart longing for more.
More feelings, more emotions, more trust
He just can’t because he will bust!

Numbing the pain, closing the door;
That’s what he does, when he can’t take it anymore.

Doesn’t want to remember the buddy that was lost.
The guilty feelings of survival, but at what cost?
The cost of the life that was interrupted so young;
By the war that has just begun.

No homecoming is what he said
And he cried and cried with his hands on his head.

I know I love a man with a boy’s heart
But a serious war has torn it apart.
Turn the innocence to guilty
The laughter to cries
I continue to ask why?

Kneeling down next to my bed
I asked God to clear his head.
I pray to heal his heart
Help me understand,
Why we are apart.

I hold on to the good times when the boy comes out;
But the warrior I can sure do without!

I love a man who cannot be true;
Because he’s always feeling so blue.

Nightmares and screams is sometimes what I hear
And he wakes up full of fear.

Don’t touch me go away
And then come touch me another day.

What happens to us as time goes by?
Numbing or pain
I’m still asking why?

I will always love him that’s a fact;
And I know I could never go back.
Back to the beginning when his young heart sang;
When it was not me that he blamed.

The other woman has won his heart once more
That is the price you pay for war!

Those butterflies fade,
How they fade,
Which once flew high,
Wings tearing, desperate fluttering,
Falling to earth.

But the paper butterflies,
Those I sent you,
In the soft lined box,
Are their wings yet uncrumpled?
You told me,
Paper butterflies aren't worth a second look.
Those painted tokens which took me hours to craft.

Look out of the window, look,
Do you see?
That line of glorious butterflies,
Still they fly free.
Irridescent wings shining, sun-dappled
Unfettered yet by misery

And you, my butterfly,
dragged earthbound by suffering,
your fragile paper wings recovering
will you soar again, one day?

TOMORROW

Should another day be like today
I'd wish for no tomorrow
But yesterday, unlike today, was full of joy, not sorrow
Another day, like yesterday
I would like to borrow
But come what may, just like today
There will be a tomorrow

'excerpt from the diary of a nobody'

and so to bed, with leaden head,
and uninspired i went.
another day to waste away,
another non-event.
while out of sight, in life and light,
an urgent world awoke.
and others did, as they were bid,
like oxen on the yoke.

A beat poem I wrote...


Closed gates

There was supposed to be some sort of revolution,
Some would say, "To take the power back ."
All I see is final solutions, convolutions, no restitution, closed gates and self made heart attacks,

What's mine is yours and while you're at it you make as well take another 20% on top of that, for good measure, it's been a pleasure.
Cops kill, it's what they're trained to do, it's nothing new,politicians lie, priests are all paedophiles and that sparkle in your eye, they'll beat that shit the fuck right out of you the first chance they get, you bet,
Have you met the human race?
A fucking waste, a bunch of snakes, take you for everything you've got and then spit in your face,
So close your gates, lock your doors, lock your windows, every way the wind blows.
Just sit in front of your T.V. and believe everything you read,
It takes one match to burn a thousand trees,
Imagine what the petrol bomb through your front window will do to the house you'll never be able to finish paying for,
That's not a metaphor, that's real life and if you don't know by now then you never will,
Get back on the hamster wheel,
Buried up to your neck in shit for the fuck of it.
Your protests are irrelevant,
Your benevolent masters are much faster than you'll ever be,
Than you've ever been, than you'll ever see, than you could ever dream.
They're playing 3D chess with your lives and you're far too blind to see through their lies and their greed.
So close your gates, close your windows, close your doors and grow yourself some weed.

I have accompanying music here if anyone is interested. Unsure how to embed it.

[link to saintproductions.bandcamp.com (secure)]

This is not an entry

I has or had it now I am or cant find it.
Why?
Why?
I will never ever know.
Why?
Why?
Darn.

just tape a banana to the wall why don't ya?

I vote this one.

Very esoteric.

Towards the Ledge

Murmurs in the darkness against the stomping of feet.
Bare foot pressing cold earth, hands shoving the next.
Wandering blindly in the night, fear the motivator.
Rotating phases of panic and calm, hope and angst.
This momentary pause a tired surrender to trampling.
The rage pushes forward and the mass surges on faster.
Am I pushing the next or simply shoved from behind?
The hate drove us running, screaming into the crowd,
Whilst the night itself laughed at us in hysterical fits.
But in calm hues the day breaks lazily on the horizon.
And you can hear the crying out in joyful expression.
As the frontlines raise their hands in hopeful cheers,
We near our perpetual destination of prosperous life.
But in a step I falter, as do we all, achieving freefall.
Traveling into another dementia as we slowly realize,
The glorious land below undefined from our vista point,
Was the same place we abandoned in riotous grief.
And plunging head first into the depths of fate I see below,
The local denizens point skyward and shriek as collections
of humanity rain down upon them at a constant rate.
And before we land, as hope dies away into resignation,
we see the people below running in maddened fear,
driven by hate into the night to begin a new parade,
a final collective end that continues on and on and on.

Now it's time
for a brilliant rhyme.
I caint lose
with the shit I use.

That's really not bad. Poetry of course doesn't have to rhyme, but look into near-rhyme, internal rhyme. WILFRED OWEN! It is not necessary to stick to a strict meter GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS, but your rhythm skips awkwardly sometimes. Still, a good poem.

Time for twenty lines
______________

Time not only rhymes, but slips and glitches.
Cats in the matrix and groundhogs day which say
"Danger, Will Robinson !
You've been exactly here ten thousand times!
Take the mulligan!"

The night my innocence ended, I heard my own voice in the air,
Coming from three feet behind me,
I said "this time don't answer the phone!"
It wasn't an option,
So I did and I slid down the rabbit hole,
As the sorcerer's whisper took a menacing turn
And became Death, the destroyer of my little world.
Thirty four years ago now.

So now I can remember the future,
Conjure manatees, read minds and locate lost objects.
Random cats follow me down the street.
Birds fly overhead most mornings with warnings.
I cause the lame to walk and hear the music of the spheres.



None of it matters, just because.
I can't quite recall the nonlinear future of Love.