Manifesto of a Continuous Thought It’s the summer of 2004, and the golden daffodils have already reached their peek after burning away the spring. Children now play in the streets and the women would shout over busy roads just to tell another of the gossip; much to the driver’s dismay. Your father would spend most of his time down the pub, but you didn’t mind because it meant more time by yourself. Sitting in the room, playing mind games and asking yourself random questions: ‘where’s the humanity?’ Neighbours would smile synthetically against the pale face of your contempt for them. Little did they know that you were God, and only you mattered? …Fuck this ‘holier than thou’ attitude, and spend a night within the four walls of your own room. Confined within your own boundaries that prevent you from unleashing that creativity, that destruction, that enigma that only ‘God’ can utilize. Only then, after your own voluntary confinement can you expect yourself to be any better than another person; but keep telling yourself that, prick, and tolerate no more tolerance. We should learn to adapt our own being to those of others. We should learn to embrace the cultures and feed our own intuition of knowledge; for knowledge is not power. Would knowledge win a battle between you and 9mm? Surely not – Obviously not! You would be a fool to think so. Hitler was not intelligent, yet he managed. 05/05/07 - L. A. Matthews
I created a first poem, Shadows of time but nobody in the millions of users on here gave me any credit. I often feel like Hollow man
Wow, for a first poem, this is great. I can defiantly see you have a knack for this. I like your word choice, it flows great. I'm not sure about the last section, but overall I dig it.
keep it up. Don't think to hard about content and structure as this can be sorted out later just scribe what comes. listen to your heart not just the mind this way true fealings will show in your words. being single and 36 (37 June) made me scribe this one Alone (unfinished) The days and nights are ever so long What have I done,what did I do wrong The radio plays, another love song each hour that passes, feels a full day long So alone I sit, Head hung low No friends to see, No place to go So alone I sit ,with head hung low No loving arms for me waiting to be wrapped arround no warm embrace ever to be found just cold empty spaces, not a sound a sea of silence for me to be drowned So Alone I sit, Head hung low No friends to see, No place to go So alone I sit,with head hung low
Really like the pace to that poem Mr Iceman, flows very well. The beat kind of emphasises the sadness behind it....
thanks peace.when i wrote it i was listening to Heaven by Bri Addams. i always do poetry/lyrics/music/art from deep within. any one can sring words together but to make a person feel thats another thing altogether. i like L.A.Ms scribe cos it leaves you questioning in ya mind
I really like what you said in the 'Good morning' thread John, you're far from invisible. Breakfast in bed
