A cloud is only a cloud for as long as it may choose to be
what would cause the gas to condense and fall into the sea?
An ocean of light and fluffy things, air lets us breathe
and who says that they are right? not I, but possibly he

An infinite amount of knowledge would leave no room for thoughts
and if thought contained only truth it would cease to be forgot
but a room devoid of all its thought is a room devoid of feeling
and feeling is what makes us move and dance about the celing.

So if you were correct to say that you knew and were exactly right
you'd cease to think and fall to the floor, not even with a fight
for in this life of love and loss we cannot learn it all
except for that one simple thing, be proud, look straight, stand tall.




Thats it for now, I will post some more of my work later, ciao!

Not bad stuff, although it felt kind of clunky in some parts. Some of the greatest poets of our time used the fewest words.

The last line of the last stanza is very impressive.

Would like to hear more.

Nice work, STIX. Keep it up and I look forward to reading more of your stuff.

Keep it up

Thats really good STIX

I enjoyed that STIX. You have a talent indeed

Dont take to long in posting more.

sweet, thanks guys... I'm thinking of changing the last verse a bit, I might try to un-clunk it


here is one called The Unseen Devil


I became the unseen devil,
A man who jeers with tears for eyes.
You could be my useless revel,
All I’ve got are tragic highs.

I could meet new people daily,
God says he will save them all.
I can’t predict the future baby,
Fate spins like a roulette ball.

When I dream I dream the truth
but they will fade before I wake.
If seen through the eyes of youth,
Old foundations start to shake.

Another day is one more dollar
Spent on useless fruitless joy.
Someone please remove this collar,
Look away from the decoy.

In the darkest point of night
Illumination comes from light.
After the walk begins the flight
Just buckle up, you'll be alright

Martyrs at Best

An everlasting stench
entombs this creation,
like a forecast of gloom
this man shall repent.

Clinging to hope,
forever will remain,
with dramatic calamities,
7 rings wrap this rope.

For whose day is it?
I cannot bear to judge.
For the thousand who are dying
and the millions who are dead,
I breathe a sigh for these souls
and a face of contempt will sit
...

I'm dying again.
Within these walls
a stranger calls,
he begs for his men.

Martyrs at best,
we will call these souls,
for all of these years
cannot deny their creation.

Then whose day is it?
Fate will be the judge,
for a thousand have died
and a million gone.
I kick the sand to your feet,
dig deeper,
for the desert has not forgotten.

Another day has passed and gone
as I stare at the stars from my front lawn
I think of the pain of which you create
the pain of a love turned into hate
and as I turn to make it subside
the wind in the leaves quiclky rushes by
A melody so naturally high
A tone to quell the tears from my eye
A song of the past, A song of regret
A song from that day which you so carelessly wrecked.

Nice!

Whoa . . that's deep!

Memories

thank you.


Thanks again... its true.


The point of memories is that that we don't make the same mistake twice... wow... that kind of makes me realize something.

The poem was about my ex-gf cheating on me on my b-day, she cheated on me because we were both foolish enough to let our desires controll our actions (she was one of those girls you wanna screw but don't wanna marry)... it's something we must all learn to avoid.

Hmm . . that makes me think of that Dwight Yoakam song "Things Change" (My fav tune).

hmmm, cant recall that off hand... but yeah, things always change, I guess thats the whole point of anything really.

Those are great,

This was originally written as lyrics for a song, but it has yet to become so.


The Orange Glow

An Illuminated Sky
Clouds full of orange
at night we get high
and the darkness goes by

Walking through the forest
with clouds full of orange
the darkness is porus
and the stars faintly cry.

A deep deep
orange glow
brightens
the night

A light with
orange glow
alleviates
our fright

And when we
look to see
how its
supposed to be

all we
can really know
is that damn
orange glow!

for walking through the forest
is not how it would seem
true darkness of the forest
remains to be unseen

And when we walk at night
we don't walk through the night
its alleviated of all its might
by the clouds, full of orange

A deep deep
orange glow
brightens
the night

A light with
orange glow
alleviates
our fright

And when we
look to see
how its
supposed to be

all we
can really know
is that damn
orange glow!

*NEW*

Learning In Denoumount

I can feel something
begin to take hold.
The felling is small,
but I know it will grow.
It rattles my body,
down to the bones.
This feeling pertubes me
down to the soul.

It began as a thought,
arriving in time
and left an infliction
deep in my mind.
The feeling is growing,
as I'm starting to find,
its creating a mark
that will never subside.

An action becomes
evermore in its moment,
It becomes all you are
and reveals your torment.
You feel the pressure,
the cycle is turning,
your soul is constantly
changing and earning.

Now the feeling has grown,
its reached its rotation,
the thought is an instant,
godly proclamation.
Understanding arrives,
just as denoumount,
and the feeling subsides,
leaving you to press on.

Beautiful. Hey have you ever been to allpoetry.com. It a poetry site where you can share youre poetry and read others. I just started its cool, Im AngelfromBellow on the site.

Thanks alot. No, I haven't been there but I will definitly check it out!

Nice . . . . keep it up Stix, you definitely have talent!

THANKS!!!! I made an allpoetry account: http://allpoetry.com/poets/Stix

Thats great!!!!! Welcome to allpoetry.com

I like this site link, I still am weary to post my 'best' writings on it (for some reason I feel sort of greedy with my words). Stix, don't randomly share your material with strangers (this is only an opinion), especially at sites like allpoetry, I've heard some 'bad' news concerning, 'word thiefs'. Your writing is good, keep writing and you'll keep improving, that's what it's all about, to a writer.
Edit: I just checked out the site, like I thought...it has a store, etc. , etc., anywya it's up to you, but if you want to market your writing that is not the place to do so. Best wishes.
P.S. I'm Me_Again on urbis.com (the link I pasted above), maybe I'll see you around,
until then...sweet dreams and chocolate covered cherries *winks

"sweet dreams and chocolate covered cherries" - are you teasing me now? lol

Ummm thanks... maybe I should look at publishing some of them.

anyway, there are some new ones I want to share with you all.


The Eternal Womb.

Foggy green hills
painted on a glassy black drop,
speckled with burning
points of light.

This is where
you float away.

With no sky in sight
and no ground to save.
Every direction
appears the same.

Yet,
there are clouds.

They pervade the distance.
All different colors,
glowing
in the dark.

With The courage
of Red.

The tranquility
of Blue.

Creating a landscape, offset
with the wisdom Of Green.
In The Green there are
united parts.

What makes plants grow?
That is so tranquil.
Together they
make us wise.

As light
beams into your eyes.

Listen!
to the silence.
Kill your eyes.
Forget your life.

Use your mind and span
space and time.

Inside
one single moment
you become
all there is and...

Decide.
Change The World.

You float
in the black,
sleep
in the dark.

Breathe-in the ocean
to forget where you are.

Will your intent
follow your actions?
To allow that which is
to be that which has...

and fall into the safety,
of,
Mothers...
...eternal
...embrace.

~~~~~

This House Called Earth.

The collide-a-scope effect.
'Messy and unkempt' - strewn about.
The color brown,
subdued by a varying dirty-grey,
peeks through as if
to be calling for release.

Among the dirt a crown of white
glazes the house of walls of bark,
and sparkles of pixie dust
float from the canopy
as the residents chirp
and scurry about.

This is my house.
Your movements I do not notice
even though they accelerate my growth.
You are unknown to me, please be my guest.
I am the most inviting part of god.
Do not trample, I am your host.

Be grateful of my presence.
Wait, for we are each-other.
Yet we must be so stubborn, who is to blame?
You are the man, I am the god.
together we reach infinite Ecstasy.
Apart we forever search for our lover.

Everything I do
kills destroys grows creates.
You are the archer.
I am the arrow.
WE may lay furious waste
or pierce the fractured hearts of lovers.

WE are the lovers, lost in our blindness.
Each-other is so afraid, a timid leaf
in the winds of timelessness.
My will is hidden within your heart.
Your belief is my light, your actions my eyes.
Together we create this landscape.

While you visit me please be observant,
for what you see is of yourself.
You have caused these bows to break.
In our nightmares you run from me.
I chase, then think. Funny how our label reads:
"Do not aim towards face."

Wow Stix, those are great!

Keep up the good work.

THANKS AGAIN NATIVECHICK!! your comments are greatly appreciated.

I have another for you all.

I can see your yesterday

Before you showed yourself,
I saw you...
underneath your skin.

It was beautiful
and so inviting
I felt you from within.

I could see yourself
from above.
WIth all torn parts in sight.

A plain view it was.
Since the out
was so keen to not invite.

After conversation
came confirmation
into our paramount.

Yet a fractured view
it was since
the in was so without.

A failed attempt
I stirred to ensue.
To repair your broken frame.

And through-out all
of my trouble
The effort was in veign.

You took a course
you thought was real
without ever knowing why.

You cast me down
with disbelief.
Your soul you did deny.

And after you left...
I saw you...
So twisted and unfree.

I've whispered for you
to return...
forever, desperatley.

I have always enjoyed music.

As for poetry, I am not a writer, but I can think of two that might fit in here.

Wordsworth's Sonnet "Mutability" seems in line with Stix's emotion of upset. This is about honesty, and more exactly about religious differences between Wordsworth and the Catholic church in his village.

From low to high doth dissolution climb,
And sink from high to low, along a scale
Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail;
A musical but melancholy chime,
Which they can hear who meddle not with crime,
Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.
Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear
The longest date do melt like frosty rime,
That in the morning whitened hill and plain
And is no more; drop like the tower sublime
Of yesterday, which royally did wear
His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain
Some casual shout that broke the silent air,
Or the unimaginable touch of Time.


I also like things less dark, like this by E.E. Cummings

i was considering how
within night's loose
sack a star's
nibbling in-

fin
-i-
tes-
i
-mal-
ly devours

darkness the
hungry star
which
will e

-ven
tu-
al
-ly jiggle
the bait of
dawn and be jerked

into

eternity. when over my head a
shooting
star
Burs

t
into a stale shriek
like an alarm-clock)


So, hopefully you will find these worthwhile, too. Good Luck.

Wow, thanks for those, I can really draw some inspiration out of them!

Contortionist Cognitions

A contortionist dreams away a verse.
A single-verse of many.
To evolve and disperse.

The spark that ignites
carries this fabled verse.
Alone and desolate with a conformists curse.

In moments we step to dance in time,
towards the front and never behind.
When time revolves to decide,
our events unfold to oppose rewind.

Unraveling in sequence,
A contortionist holds the yarn.
As within so without
As above so below
As ahead so behind
We all have to die.

Molotov Regression

Hawk of depression,
bearing down from above.
Flight of anguish,
Diseased to inflict our souls.

Crows of contamination
breeding cancer and cupids itch.
The sorrow of the suffering.
The shrill cry of the squalid.

The sun shall never rise.
Black clouds, depressing skies.
A joyless spirit of darkness
descends towards our decay.

On this bleak funeral day,
we relinquish our hearts,
give-way to a forlorn melancholy.
Our discontent confesses proof.

To disembowl this heart-sick truth.
Our black tears flow to distress,
carve anguish into our faces.
With guilt and regret
The molotov shall burst at our feet.
Agony.

Well, you are certainly expressive.

Dark poetry such as this is effective, to a point. I have my natural line in the sand, but understand worthwhile art.

But, you seem to be genuine, and not affectatious.

In fact, the first poem, C.C. (within without) is very worthwhile. I was a little surprised.

It has a rhythm, too.

I think I know it.

And, I have made one personal change. I prefer another ending. A dash of difference.

So, I have an example of the rhythm, as a musical accompniment, and an ending
which is my way of saying universal consciousness is eternal, difficult as that may be-

Dance Rythym For Poem


A contortionist dreams away a verse.
A single-verse of many.
To evolve and disperse.

The spark that ignites
carries this fabled verse.
Alone and desolate with a conformists curse.

In moments we step to dance in time,
towards the front and never behind.
When time revolves to decide,
our events unfold to oppose rewind.

Unraveling in sequence,
A contortionist holds the yarn.
As within so without
As above so below
As ahead so behind
Until these identities we unwind!

OK, we need to discuss something.

Do you understand what you've written?

It is really very good. In fact, you might call it a true POE.

A poem of everything. And, with my ending, or transcending completion, I am going to
add this to my forthcoming book- POEsy TOEsy!

YES!!! WOW, I do understand what I have written... and that last line was a bit of a thorn in the poems side... that is a wonderful ending you have added, it fits perfectly!... you are writing a book? Edgar Allan Poe is my favourite writer... in-fact I own a book with all of his writings he had ever published. In grade school I wrote a report on "The Pit And The Pendulum" ... I believe he used fear as a tool for revealing a deeper part of humanity.

I'm so glad you have understood it!! so many people have not ...


You want to publish it in a book!?!?!?!? that is amazing, I will let you, only if you give me credit... and If I am going to use that ending officially then you should recieve credit for that ending. THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!

Hmmm.... I am going to see if I can publish my own book...

Infinity... Timelessness... Consciousness and Existance have always been things which have plagued my thoughts... Ponder this possibility: There has never been a non-existence in the past, as there would be no quality to sustain a non-something in time, and thus non-existence could not be even for an infinitely small moment. Nor is it possible that all existence ends in the future, because, as simple as it can be said, being has no alternative. This is fundamentally why we exist. It is the ground of timelessness. The existence of a universe is not unlikely as it sometimes seems to us. The most fundamental aspect of nature, the foundation of reality, is the basic principle that existence is inevitable.

That is a little spleel I wrote about a year ago after writing this poem:

A perpetual motion
of wind earth and ocean
relies on a balance
of some profound notion.

An acceptable terming,
believed to be true,
describes how we're turning
with peer led review.

Now I’m estimating
there's more here to see
but Its my last clamation,
too late to succeed!

This sculpture I’m carving
It’s future’s untold.
When your world is starving
Alls left is the mold.

And one day... we are all called through.

A perpetual motion
sweeps me to this ocean,
in my wildest dream
I’m filled with this emotion.

But unlike this force,
the dream was misleading,
the song was so hoarse,
the dream had no meaning.

But it still had a function,
it made me understand,
that to swim in the ocean
I must stroke my hands.

I’m washed up on a shore,
the sunlight is blinding.
With nothing in tow...
just pain that’s reminding.

So I looked up to see...

Hold, my dear lady!
Your sight does relieve!
I’m not here to harm,
just lead to believe...

...A falsified habit
of some vague review.
He was our white rabbit,
our minds he did skew.

I’m twisted and turned,
I’m toiled and burned,
our skeptical nature
condemns your favor.

“Do not fret my child”
she said with a smile
“Your life is not over,
just paused for a while.”

Here, all injustice will be undone.


That was a bit about timelessness...

I am glad you enjoyed my work and am really flattered by your saying it was a true POE... Thats a very very good compliment. KUDOS!

I know I have not reached my poetic peak, but I will keep striving for it!!

This World - A Living Illusion.

Follow
the feelings you have.

Free-liquid-choice like dreams
pour into our grail.
From our sips,
experiencing inverts.

Forget
the sights have been.

Forming by force,
our council has no choice.
To be-found how we crave.
Our pre-disposed voice.

Affirmation of death.
Our artificial souls - sliced.
A binary-fission of reality.
This World - A Living Illusion.

I re-invented the previous poem, " Molotov Regression "

American Obsession

Hawk of depression,
bearing down from above.
Flight of the anguish
like a thin winters glove.

Crows of contamination
breeds of cancer and itch.
The sorrow of the suffering.
Of a torn, worn, stitch.

The sun shall never rise.
Over dark clouds this hawk flies
A joyless spirit of darkness
With concrete bombs and Lies.

In this bleak death parade,
Tarred hearts of remorse cry,
give-way to forlorn melancholies,
with crows cawing in the sky.

Dis-assembled some heart-sick truth.
Our black tears flow to distress,
Add weathered anguish to our faces
With pain, guilt and regret.

This hungry hawk does devour,
along joyless spirits of darkness.
Relinquishing our hearts
of their torn, worn, stitch.