I Come To Topix Especially To Read Po...

I Come To Topix Especially To Read Posts By

Created by Lucys_Fur_Coat on Jan 28, 2011

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Noah Vail

CatMomDu

stacked and proud

Sweetie-Pie

Marissa2

Hippichick

Purple Gurl

Adrian DeVine

Any Troll I Can Copy

Write In

Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#3836 Jan 23, 2013
"THE BROTHER I DID NOT HAVE."

We were not brothers, but we were close.
Death, first son of his mother
And I, we made one.

As an eldest brothers would, he’d constantly advise,
prod, goad me toward my good.

He was brusque, even mocking, but without guile.

Most people found him hard: in fact,
my close friends called him Bone
(secretly) and told me he was too exact,
severe in his perspective, he was cruel.

Perhaps he was, I never noticed.
I followed, hero-worshipped him because
he was calm, wise, deep in the ways
of everything which lived – each leaf, bird, beast
or man.

He taught me how to see.
There was a clarity, each thing was haloed
when Death, my brother Bone
pointed it out to me.

I never was alone.
I loved him, for his cold light that showed
the truth in things.
I miss him now.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#3837 Jan 23, 2013
Let your latticed shades relax,
And flow on, you tender trees
Drown out the pavement,
Your outpouring will sniff off the sun’s burner.

But my eyes will light up as lamps,
Their joy is in your soft whispers that
dances in night’s tranquility.

The Tree…
One branch only
Crying, crying, crying,
Its tears becoming a wood.

The leaf, green,
calling me.
The leaf, when I call it,
is yellow.

The green branch
Approaches,
approaches the black face
of the earth,
approaches.

Why?
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#3838 Jan 26, 2013
You claim a flag of tolerance
It’s waved with pride and flare
But little you see
Your hypocrisy
A hate that soon will be made bare

A victim of social intolerance
You yell it from all the street squares
A great parody
Of what’s meant to be
Yet love is still not found there

Your war has shown to be odious
The tactics employed don’t seem fair
A mask made for me
To bind what is now free
And silence the hope I now bare

Vengefulness takes hold of ignorance
And blindly proclaim to know where
Life’s road leads to see
True identity
Yet peace has eluded me there

Truth Indeed is self evident
If you would just truly but stare
A sweet harmony
To find and set free
An image of love that’s impaired

Yet Love has its own set of imminence
We’ll all see it when where all there
But I know I’ll be
At last free from decrees
Of societal judgmental glare

“Want A Friend, Be One..”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

Don't Change For No One..

#3839 Jan 26, 2013
We were given two hands to hold, two legs to walk, two eyes to see ,two ears to hear but why only one heart? Because the other was given to somone for us to find...!!!
Level 6

Since: Jan 10

Location hidden

#3840 Jan 27, 2013
Princess Hey wrote:
We were given two hands to hold, two legs to walk, two eyes to see ,two ears to hear but why only one heart? Because the other was given to someone for us to find...!!!
Beautiful.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#3842 Jan 27, 2013
Your hands are larger than mine.
With business-like nails and veins
that slide down between the tendons
blue-grey and still as the canals
between venetian streets.
The web between thumb and forefinger
is soft yet could hold a robin’s egg
hammocked there in safety,
without a tremor to disturb it.
Your fingers have strength.
Picking through newly dug potatoes
that you bring to me in triumph.
Holding out your left hand
while dark soil sifts and follows your footsteps
as if the garden would keep you for a longer time.
Left-handed people have different skills you smile,
flexing fingers like a crab.
Then gently touch my face and delicately tweeze
a leaf from my hair.
And in the evenings silence
you slide music into the air.
Playing a guitar that lies the wrong way
and coaxes the last sigh out of the day.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#3843 Jan 27, 2013
The static explosion
of spiralling branches.
The black shape
of the old schoolroom
lit from within with gold
against the enormous evening sky.

A stirring.
That familiar feeling of something
familiar. And a yearning.
But not for those branches
and not for that light
and not, really, for that sky.

Can we trust our own responses?
The marks in the snow
are not hieroglyphs –
there’s no help there,
nor in the blank face of the horse,
its empty eyes.

That day in the Dales,
I struggled to sense a thing
in the cold, clear air –
but driving home
a glimpse of trees on a ridge
and my heart leapt up through my skull
and out through the sunroof
skywards.

ADRIAN DeVINE

The Gap, Australia

#3844 Jan 27, 2013
I could have kissed you
under cherry blossoms,
pale petals drifting down
like the trees wanted to
pretend they could be
snowclouds.

I could have kissed you
in the rain, drenched to
our bones and not even
caring that the skies
opened up above us
and tried to wash us out.

I could have kissed you
in a clearing in the most
secluded woods, with
just the sound of wind
rustling through the leaves
and a few voyeuristic
finches peeping at us.

Instead, I kissed you
in the parking lot of a
Waffle House, just shy
of two a.m. in the middle
of a hectic week, with
our waitress grinning
at us from the other
side of the window,
because, honestly,
how could I not?

Level 9

Since: Feb 12

Location hidden

#3845 Jan 27, 2013
ADRIAN DeVINE wrote:
I could have kissed you
under cherry blossoms,
pale petals drifting down
like the trees wanted to
pretend they could be
snowclouds.
I could have kissed you
in the rain, drenched to
our bones and not even
caring that the skies
opened up above us
and tried to wash us out.
I could have kissed you
in a clearing in the most
secluded woods, with
just the sound of wind
rustling through the leaves
and a few voyeuristic
finches peeping at us.
Instead, I kissed you
in the parking lot of a
Waffle House, just shy
of two a.m. in the middle
of a hectic week, with
our waitress grinning
at us from the other
side of the window,
because, honestly,
how could I not?
Still plagiarizing there a drain?...
Reported...

“ROCK ON ROCKERS!!”

Level 8

Since: Mar 11

Rockin' USA ;)

#3846 Jan 27, 2013
Adrian. WERE you NOT banned??.... You rascal.
Shhhhhhh....
ADRIAN DeVINE

The Gap, Australia

#3848 Jan 27, 2013
Colorado Chick wrote:
Adrian. WERE you NOT banned??.... You rascal.
Shhhhhhh....
I have been building in the dark
Crafting a monument of stone and clay perfection
Tight and square and empty
Dedicated to no one

Building the monument on my own face
Proving to society who I am who I can be
The clay has become familiar
A dull second skin
But it's still not me in the mirror

Beads of sweat gather beneath my mask
The clay is so heavy, weighed down by reality
Truth beats my heart faster
Beating up a heat
A heat that threatens to melt this once sculpted facade

This life is a story
Of blind craft and misplaced will
Of foes and friends with x-ray vision
I am no longer the sculptor

Level 9

Since: Feb 12

Location hidden

#3849 Jan 27, 2013
ADRIAN DeVINE wrote:
<quoted text>
I have been building in the dark
Crafting a monument of stone and clay perfection
Tight and square and empty
Dedicated to no one
Building the monument on my own face
Proving to society who I am who I can be
The clay has become familiar
A dull second skin
But it's still not me in the mirror
Beads of sweat gather beneath my mask
The clay is so heavy, weighed down by reality
Truth beats my heart faster
Beating up a heat
A heat that threatens to melt this once sculpted facade
This life is a story
Of blind craft and misplaced will
Of foes and friends with x-ray vision
I am no longer the sculptor
You are the thief of others poetry...
Reported...a drain...
ADRIAN DeVINE

The Gap, Australia

#3850 Jan 27, 2013
I Am Enzo - The Baker wrote:
<quoted text>
You are the thief of others poetry...
Reported...a drain...
Enzo, this is how I write,
you see:

You're like sparrow droppings
underneath the holly tree,

A slow accumulation.

Level 9

Since: Feb 12

Location hidden

#3851 Jan 28, 2013
ADRIAN DeVINE wrote:
<quoted text>
Enzo, this is how I write,
you see:
You're like sparrow droppings
underneath the holly tree,
A slow accumulation.
Really? Well if you don't like shit in your trailer park you may want to consider getting up off your lazy ass and clean it up...

“look up and laugh”

Level 9

Since: Jun 08

guess, where

#3852 Jan 28, 2013
Billy R

and

Gloop

The Gloop
Level 8

Since: Sep 08

.

#3854 Jan 28, 2013
jdmdusa wrote:
Billy R
and
Gloop
Gloop!

Level 6

Since: Jan 12

Location hidden

#3855 Jan 28, 2013
I read Gloop! <giggles>

“"*" Always Thinking "*"”

Level 8

Since: Nov 12

Greensburg, IN

#3856 Jan 28, 2013
The Gloop wrote:
<quoted text>Gloop!
Makes much more sense than most posts.
I think that's the pont (he's) trying to get across?

“"*" Always Thinking "*"”

Level 8

Since: Nov 12

Greensburg, IN

#3857 Jan 28, 2013
=point= Ops!
Which makes me think...if I was a Gloop I'd only say ((( Ops!)))
ADRIAN DeVINE LeORIGINAL

The Gap, Australia

#3858 Jan 28, 2013
I Am - The Baker wrote:
<quoted text>
Really? Well if you don't like shit in your trailer park you may want to consider getting up off your lazy ass and clean it up...
a single “truth” would

dispose of your motivations,

against me

something so recognizable

that the head could no longer be

turned away,

something that bubbled on the fine

line between a stomach full of

butterflies and a stomach full of

wasps---

a single “truth” would condemn all

the lies,

holding up a mirror to the world

with a hacking of a phlegm wad

into the wrongs of history,

regardless of whatever liar was

lecturing and if you knew the difference

a single “truth” could get the heart

pumping again, out from this

deadened accident---

a single “truth” like the one great

work that the artist dreams of,

could change the former word to

“can,”

yes, a single “truth” could

glue the puzzle pieces with

permanent fixture and

if unyielding, maybe it would stand

the test of time and

if unyielding, maybe it would start the

positive ball rolling and

if unyielding, maybe it would end the

need of a world like

“maybe”---like your sorry life

it might be

something that could illuminate,

it might be

something to feel and not feel guilty

about feeling,

it might be something as beautiful

as

a soundtrack to die to,

but it would bear no explanation,

for it would be pure and

it would bear no need for purity,

because it would eliminate the

other, but then it would have to

present itself in some kind of place

where all was diametrically opposed and

yet the grey area remains---the one you proliferate

the discovery of just how naïve

a short human life can be,

comes slapping like a hard hand to the

face on the briskest of Winter days,

reminding that all the inner workings of

the actual body,

churning, twisting & grinding all aspects of

this biomechanical thing called a

“self,”

you do so on its own, Enzo

without the need of any questions,

any “truth,” any meaning, any

song to sing to.

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