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Tell me this isn't a good poem

 

http://www.waste.org/bauhaus/l/departure.html

 

He was in his room, half awake, half asleep

The walls of the room seem to alter angles

Elongating and shrinking alternately

Then twisting around completely so that he was on the opposite side of the room

A trick of the light and too much caffeine, he thought

Then came a knock on the door

And this sound was the same dark-brown tone as the wood of which the door was made

At first, he thought he'd imagined it

Because it would not have been out of place with the other strange hallucinatory events of that night

But then it came again

Only heavier this time

With a sense of real urgency

So pulling himself up

And stepping through pools of moonlight and shadow

He made his bleary way across the room towards the door

And slowly, apprehensively, raised the latch

 

The latch became a fingertip, touching his own

 

Energy sapping as a new form, transversing the edge of his emotions

His power became his agony, his power knew no bounds

Whereas before, his peace withstood the vastness

His prerogative became an endless force of the all impossible

His final soul is flying with contempt only

Even the legendary glance backward to meet with eternity's stone in peace or save his already destroyed

You cannot share, the temperature is rising

The ghost and monkeys make a choice

This...

This...

 

He tried to will himself back to bed

He wanted desperately to feel the reassuring crisp, white sheets once taken for granted

To be back home, safe as houses, protected by walls covered in familiar patterns

But even wallpaper had become sinister to him

He remembered staring into the paisley print and seeing a repetition of skulls

At night he would listen to the click of heels on the concrete outside

And try to imagine the facial features of the unseen figure

He would always see his own face

And another realization of this prophecy rang terrible and true

For at this moment, it was indeed, his own feet that filled the shoes

Shoes that no man would want to wear

 

Into the hills then to search for another searcher's closely held goals

Into the forest under the billowing leaves

Under the dreadful birds, the singing soil, the decrepid babies, the unhappy new loves

The preaching alphabutics, the long-lost lovers never to find the safety of their mothers

In fact, all the guilty clouds he will move into a playground

A sense of moonlight and shadow

All the stars touch to the cold molten sunflower, fly to his middle eye

The wallpaper had sinister tones

Alas, white cold

Alas, rainbow's middle infinity's destination.

All life's drums drink from bottles and visioins are blinded

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It's an awesome poem, but as I said above it tells a story, it gives you a feeling, it isn't just sentences in a line, it entertains you.

 

 

AWESOME/ SLIGHTLY CREEPY

 

THE ONLY POEMS THAT SHOULDN"T RHYME ARE HAIKUS AND IF SOMEONE HAS A GOOD STORY THAT IS TOO SHORT FOR A SHORT STORY.

 

It is pretty awesome though. I love the Bauhaus, most of their songs are poems with amazing sounds. But that's a topic for a different day.

 

(But if you are interested-listen to Bela Lugosi's dead or all we ever wanted was everything.)

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Forum ruler? I would call no member -except for Thrik-a forum ruler.

 

A great contributer, fo' sho'.

 

She hated drawing the Psychonauts pictures though and I don't blame her at all. It must have been a bitch to draw all the **** we told her to.

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This is a thread to post all your hate and get some stuff off your chest.

 

I might as well start.

 

I HATE people who think they deserve respect, and belive they should be treated higher than everyone else.

Okay, not me. Hold on, somebody get me a soda. :p

 

I also HATE people who just say really dumb things, and other people laugh. I mean, making a comment about someone's hair IS NOT FREAKING FUNNY. I mean, they could say anything, and their friends will laugh. I mean, he could relate Geoge Bush to Hitler, and they think it would be hilarious.

Yeah, yeah... those people sure do... suck...

 

I also hate people with photographic memories, or can remember things easily.

Gruducuuz I get the feeling you're starting to dislike me.

 

My last rant is of people who think they can draw. Drawing, in my perspective, is taking things, and putting them down on paper in your perspective. DRAWING A PERSON FROM A VIDEOGAME OVER AND OVER UNTIL YOU CAN DRAW LIKE IT FROM MEMORY IS NOT ARTISTIC, CREATIVE, OR IN ANYWAY MAKE YOU GOOD AT ART.
That one hurts me, AND most of the fanartists here who draw Raz all day in their notebooks.

 

I'm getting the feeling you have something against me, Gruducuuz

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I'm getting the feeling you have something against me, Gruducuuz

 

Those are just a general statement, its not directed at anyone specific, and if you act like that then yeah, I might not like you too much, but this is the internet, where you can be everything youre not!

 

And Smon got my meaning.

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