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sweet nothing + chocolate

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Clintooo

Bluelighter
Joined
Feb 16, 2004
Messages
51
sweet nothing + chocolate (and other things, keep adding more)

Just two poems/songs I'm working on, I like them the way they are but feel that their stories are unfinished and not fully told yet. Perhaps I'll complete them soon.

Please critique if you want, I don't share my writing with people all that often and would love some (hopefully) helpful hints.



Sweet Nothing stares at the stars
smoking cigarettes until the Milky Way
is consumed by the stale scent of bars,
giving her understanding
into the Nothing in which we exist:

a troubled toil of unasked answers
drowned down by drunken propositions
(of love in life on liquor)
while all amaranthine questions
hide out inside the scars
left in wake of our existence.

Sweet Nothing tattoos her scars,
a dove of peace clenching broken heart
slowly leaking combustible ethyl
whose flame only lights in the dark.

I wonder if Sweet Nothing could be
something more than nothing to me.









Chocolate is better than any man
for it will never leave me,
it satiates my shame;
but with its pleasure comes
a guilt that I've indulged.
I have no self-control.

My life is a mystery
with a twist ending
that's being read in reverse.
I fear by the time
I get to the beginning,
it will be too late to correct my course.

So I stick my fingers down my throat until it makes me sick,
sometimes I'll feel that way either way, figure why not make some truth of it.
It's not that I'm superficial,
please judge not by appearances,
can you set me free
from what I can't resist.
 
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"I wonder if Sweet Nothing could be
something more than nothing to me."

^ I like that alot! (I italicized a couple of words to add something extra:))

Overall I thought both songs were pretty good! You should post some more!
 
Bitter!

Here's another one that just got written, hilariously enough to the girl that Sweet Nothing is about, so now she's got Bitter Sweet Nothing. This is somewhat true but not really, I let myself get carried away when writing at times, I'm not really that pissed or anything, we had a good time but just weren't looking for the same thing.


I've never been one for the party scene's
meaningless drunken flings.
Get some rest and call me when you're sober honey,
ha, well take a guess how often my phone rings.

Another horny drunken chick
stone cold sober iceheart bitch
looks to me to scratch that itch
and finds herself drowning
in my crude poetic drool.

But I'm not an idiot, just a fool;
I guess we were both being used,
so I hope you find another fucker,
I'll find another muse.

Sorry this came off so bitter,
we were just looking for different things.
I don't hold anything against her
and probably shouldn't have either.
I hope this rash isn't herpes.
 
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i loved sweet nothing.

please continue to work on that.

...kytnism...:|
 
edit: I posted this way too early and it still needs a ton of work. How the hell do you write a dark, funny, and sweet song to a girl you loved in high school who is now lesbian, in which you offer "consensual religiocorrective sex therapy" if she ever gets back to the staunch Christianity of her youth? lol
 
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When it comes to political or environmental stuff, my writing tends to be very satirical dark humor. Here's a letter to the editor I wrote as a reply to a person complaining about areas of our local beaches being fenced off for endangered birds to have nesting areas. I seriously doubt it'd actually get published as we're a fairly small town and people would probably be far more offended than amused by this, whatever, I think it's hilarious.





Dear Mr. McFeely,

I must agree with your assessment regarding the few thousand square feet of fenced off land set aside for endangered birds at Badwater Beach. Why should I have to walk somewhere else when there are miles of beaches for those birds to build their nests?

I'm not sure how old you are; if old enough perhaps you have an appreciation for "metal" music and have heard of Ozzy Osbourne, or maybe you're older and think that "metal" is the Devil's music. Anyway, if your reflexes are up to it, I propose we duck the fences and try to grab as many birds out of the air as we can and proceed to bite their heads off. I'm sure it will be far easier than pigeons (Ozzy bit the heads off of pigeons and bats during some of his shows): the darn divebombing bugger terns have very small heads.

Perhaps we can sell tickets and call it "art" as we run along the beach, stomping the buggerbird's eggs and grinning maniacally with their blood flowing down our wobbly chins. If we catch enough then next year we won't have to worry about any more fences blocking off access to our precious beach!

I hungrily await your response,
Clintooo
 
i like the fact you're conveying emotions and feelings i worry myself over sometimes. It's reassuring.
 
stratofortress said:
i like the fact you're conveying emotions and feelings i worry myself over sometimes. It's reassuring.
Click to expand...

haha thanks! I'm a bit of an oddball, but I made my peace with that long ago, glad you're enjoying.




augury

nothing is supposed to be,
fate's a lie
fed the blind to read.
(t)ruthless muted eulogies
set in premonitory past while
the present's fading fast
enough to forget this
short soliloquy
before it fully comes to me
 
Really rough, but I've wanted to do something as a response to "The Other Woman" for a while, and this one just came out. I'll keep working on it. (it's now been edited around alot and is much closer to complete, still a few things off but soon it shall be done)


Let me be the second man:

A minute pursuit through passing sands of
time rewinds these calloused hands
against the fine grain of your skin
to a pleading dog's ears of felt
who's begging to be touched or else
he'll take a bite
through tooth or eyes
reflecting innocence.

Ask me if I've ever seen
something so cute it
compelled me to be closer to.
I'll laugh though it takes all I have
to hold back from hugging you
since it seems you're already
involved with someone else,
I'll take your memory home tonight
and write you to myself.

I could be the other man:

Let's forget that you'll be gone
when the season's at its end
as we smell the fading flowers
walking unfamiliar streets
to watch the dried up roses shift
to salmon in your stream

I'd bow down to accept the crown
as this comedy's king of fools:
the misfit who's had his fill,
still hungry for more of you;
but since it seems you're happy
in the arms of someone else,
I'll bow out and play the clown
cramped in a tiny car
by myself.

You'd be my only woman:

You don't have to do your nails.
I'll loose the feathers from your hair
and twine myself into your curls.
Though this flailing fish often flounders through routine
the nights you're at my side I wouldn't cry myself to sleep.
 
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An attempt to take something simple and make it all confusing with words


The hug we had last night
was the best that I've had in a while;
raindrops stall as time winds down
to when most connections fade and separate,
where we readjust and subtly strengthen our embrace.

In my head I feel the breath between our chests,
deep shallow joy-filled sorrow noise,
mute affectionate desire.

I'm not sure why you hold on so tight,
though I'll admit that I don't mind:
your arms are a tropical salve to life's topical hells;
even if they leave me with a bruise,
I'll smile and admire its shade of blue.
 
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