Author Topic: Huzzah! It's Brijesha's Poetry Thread! (Read 184 times)

Brijesha · « **on:** September 25, 2013, 03:23:34 am »

So I'm going to share some of the poetry I've written recently,
but I encourage others to post their own or favourite poetic works as well.

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"My Sweet Mexico"

There we were,
Amidst a sterling night,
Our lives not going right,
and I didn't even know we'd end up here,

Her beautiful brown eyes had me captivated,
Her strong will had me intoxicated,
and her herself, had me in bliss,
She said it was the conversation of her life,
and hours passed,
It was the witching hour,

Why does everything have to be so damn confusing, she said.

She lived for her daughter,
I was a loving father,
and we knew the moment our feet touched the floor,
reality would come back,
I told her to wait,
and with that,
she said..

I love you.

She fled, and it seemed so unfair to be left in such despair.
Why does everything have to be so damn confusing.

---------------------------

"Untitled"

I come from a town popular for its poisons and their consumption,
All the locals are imploding, and most of our minds are corroding.
A big part of living here is some sort of liberal regression.
I'm filled to the brim from the effects of social tension.

Giving into impulse with familiar feelings, but unknown,
I started to tie a rope so I can leave without exiting home,
but I don't want to die here, this four cornered room won't serve as my coffin-
So instead, I took to packing my bags and wondered where I'd go.

At first, my mind drew a blank,
Secondly and put simple, I thought 'far away',
Thirdly I took action, and to my dismay-
I landed back in bed where I lay with my soul distraught..
Unless I get a move-on, my pain stays and my soul rots.

I'm ending this written piece, sadly with the notion that I'll sleep on it.
It seems this vicious cycle shall continue.

---------------------------

"Perceived out of Foreign Eccentricities"

Chemically inclined to spend another night spoiled and pondered-
Soft thoughts spawn when I quench a sense-
felt best when bewildered by;
A gulped down "up," that helped settle a rut into a calm indifferent sigh.
The backwards infant memoirs, solemnly revelled from apathetic lullabies.

Personally- I'm under the assumption that I perceive a lot of my existence with a necessary bit of plausibly honest indifference.
Contemplated through an elapsed duration of my own irrational and wayward thoughts;
I've seemingly concluded that my consciousness felt more and more prone to dwell upon foreign eccentricities;
Being that of countless sorts, I sought to gratify my senses.

We felt several sensations of eclectic anxiety through jest,
In the basement of many- an irregular few too heavily medicated.
It was amongst these wild folk that I was struck!
To examine with them, again and again-
THEN I was caught! Without any sought social clues!
Right there and then, feeling f*cked-
I was wondering if the carpenters who nailed these med-heads' walls together, even survived.
What could they be doing with themselves now?

Spoiled nights spent polishin' off an ol' tramp's bread and wine.
Bewildered by soft, spawned thoughts- seldom to the chemically felt,
and best gulped backwards through apathetic contemplation.

---------------------------

"Brijesha Uma Nahuel Coombs"

Outwardly appearing as another finite man-
and epidermically wrapped in a pale and soft complexion of features,
this presence before me seemed fleshed from a variety of unmarked and blemish-free tissue,
common in frailty and softness to that of a newborn child.

Brijesha Uma Nahuel Coombs;
known as an abstract folk-tale explorer of distant lands.
He can plausibly retell to you;
“Scarless young men are unknowns- they’re unseen!”
Inwards and outwards tales speaking catchy bytes of sound,
Words of what- out of this folk-deity’s many delusions!

On whom frownst thou that ol' grief fawn upon,
In mending of the spirits he hath sown,
So dim lit, dark corners bend,
Calm they've been not,
So then I dare, traveller, rest souls despised.

Taken advantage of by a wily trickster:
Our ol' humble and eccentric governing rule,
He- a corporeal form of our own homes’ balance; Brij.
Truly a lawful embodiment of Krishna.
However- on eerie and drunkard waves of thought,
Weary of travel and mumbling art and experience:

Ah! Oni, hex dark charms swift like spiders' hands,
Within his bending tendrils curses come;
Ol' grief on whom oaths of thy kindness kept,
Demon ransoms yours, and yours must ransom him

Solving a series of puzzles:
I've sensed you trek across this land a many both to and fro-
In countless caught glances through many seasons passed!
With neither the utterance of a mumble or a slightly faint bristle,
A non-entity thats’ presence resonates social control!

With which tucked face hides your life, and shows not half your parts.
That thou in losing him shalt time bore much:
Breathed forth the sound that said you bait,
O! from what power hast thou blind spirits' sight,

In some sort of wayward, yet content conclusion:
He- a small fragment of lawful truth that passes over the subconscious.
The ghost of the tramp that just is- in the land of his own name.

Brijesha Uma Nahuel Coombs;
His smoke oer-brewed and bareness every where:
hash'sh of thyself- lest' kin'-hearted in indifference.

---------------------------

"Naked In My Automobile"

([size=85]*NOTE: This is one of the first poems I ever wrote back when I was a wee-wittle teenager, it was inspired by a day I spent exploring a riverside with two friends during the end of winter. Its a little tough to read, and for that I apologize- however when I first wrote it, it was a solid paragraph with barely any punctuation! I hope you guys like it.)[/size]

I have felt delirious and gazed into the hypnotic infection of evil and insanity,
As I stood amidst the tombs and willows- I studied the design that the spirits created in return for another life,
and amongst the beds of the dead people, when I reminisced to the good old days,
I looked a stray to my enemy and behold; there she was.
A woman in green with an innocent smile and two shadows formed behind her.
These shadows took shape of lovers I known; a fiery formation of whiskey and symbolism to life, and the other girl cold, and shy.
This woman in green, to whom I’ve seen and the other two behind her.
I continued to wonder, why must this be, why can’t I flee, and a weird light was shining behind the silhouette that to my surprise was the hand of god, and on top of it was a native spirit laying back with a book.
I was ready to begin the ritual of decay until dismay took hold, and I appeared to be under the road.
A long and twisted0 bright bridge,
With cabriolets and horses crossing on top.
This area I consider a hovel, as it is a home to some type of others and as I stood there,
With grief I saw mother prepare to make her jump.
Another soul fallen under the ice, which quickly froze over and soon forgotten,
The artistic graffiti that the peasants make, would splatter on the wall marking their piece of cake, and a home to the mice who never live long...

The woman in green, the woman of fire, and the shy girl whom to me lost the will to inspire, would soon come higher as smoke filled the chaotic cries of butterflies and than we wandered down into the lake, where underneath was the sky with flowers on the clouds and while the girls wandered amidst heavens illusion I quickly fell up and found myself hitting the ground- or was it the sky?
This "ice" that grew and froze to die.
Mother approached me and grabbed my neck,
with black pits as eyes,
I drowsed into the flash back moments- in which we all heard of before we die,
and the three girls appeared before me again, throwing me in the sky,
but I fell into the institution...
A scary place with too many masked faces, and a facade of idiotic mortal beings,
a head ache or heart ache would best describe my punishment in this institution of dramatic illusion.
I felt reminded of my will of suicide, and than I was reminded of my reasons for life, and a war raged on in my head as the battle of life and death went on instead. Sadly death was taking control, and I felt the need to bleed internally, mentally and physically, and I fought the need to sleep for centuries.
I considered the philosophies, of poets like the insects of music, or the lizard king who fought for a spot in America, why the bugs of foreign land stole our minds.
I reminisced through my interests and dislikes and thought what it would be like to be liked or disliked,
and I can feel frozen tears make trails of ice down my face.
Why was I disliked, why was I a disgrace?
and now I felt erosion come from my chest, like a volcano and it’s blooming eruption of life.
I crossed time and space, with lotus’s surrounding me and I remembered the arts of Zen and Thai Chi, but I was never sure of what it could be.

I found myself in a dazed like state, naked in my automobile, driving down the highway of a downtown city during four in the morning, and instead of a car radio, the fiery girl held her record player and I was able to see and taste the music, as if I was evolving.
The girl in green was in the back seat, with her arms around my chair, just holding me tightly.
I felt so free and vigorously I turned the car into a tidal wave,
Strangely enough as it was, we found ourselves driving through the ocean,
and the shy girl who was in the back seat was humming to the chorus of the records song.
I could hear the lizard king call me his friend, and soon there was a chant about and of the end.
So soon I found myself gone with hands around my neck, sitting on the ice of the big white bridge.
and on the bridge; the three girls near me as we stared at the corpses that flowed down the river,
the messenger native walking on the water only to be supportive giving advice through the scarred soul I can see rather than the physical mortal form I was bewildered with in our previous life.
Masked children walked in the sky, as the lizard king sang.
It appeared they waited for the summer rain, and soon insects holding cannons or guns,
shot happiness throughout the west, and soon we sat on a patch of broken ice,
and the river reminded me of a hoard of mice,
or should I say a family that was hunting for a place to flee and scurried along with the corpses that flowed with it.

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Author Topic: Huzzah! It's Brijesha's Poetry Thread! (Read 184 times)

Brijesha

Huzzah! It's Brijesha's Poetry Thread!

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