| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Fluffy |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 12:55:59 PM
Here are 3 poems TR wrote. The 3rd one was performed live by TR at The Bluebird in Denver during the final show of the Dec CO dates.
" Pretending"
appearances appearances
the most important thing
a blatant lie
infinitely repeated
forever right now
bankrupt
illegitimate
there is a process in place
sovereignty is guaranteed
the constant vision
consistantly pretending
" 0 to Infinity "
Let's see how many flies
have been born into this house
I'm afraid the number is unimaginable
the curtains are spotted
with their bodies
facing the sunlight
from 0 to infinity
newborn hungry
and ready to consume
beasts with many eyes
hunger to feed off of decay
their numbers grow
they are waiting
" Skull and Bones "
Skull and Bones
rats eat shit
Skull and bones
sinking ships
Skull and Bones
chemtrail skies
Skull and Bones
soulless eyes
Skull and Bones
the final takers
Skull and Bones
movers and shakers
Skull and Bones
from the rotten depths
Skull and Bones
the kiss of Death
I know this is the TRelated section, but feel free to post your own poems on this thread. I know we have had a few poem threads in the past so I know we have a few poets out there so if you feel like contributing, feel free here. |
| 16 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| Fluffy |
Posted - 12/26/2004 : 1:16:44 PM
posted by KevinLesko elsewhere on the board: quote:
Pam, you honostly might as well cut and paste what you just said into the thread about poems because it was truly a beautiful piece of writing.
Maybe we owe Kev a debt of thanx as maybe he inspired you to post a poem over here and I for one think it was fantastic!! Don't sell yourself short Pam, you have alot of great qualities and I would say you can add POET to the list. |
| Zachmozach |
Posted - 12/25/2004 : 3:00:06 PM
Pam, what do you mean you're not much of a poet? I liked it a lot! Definitely some kind of buddhist trains of thought in it. Well stated stuff though that can go a lot deeper then surface level. |
| PJK |
Posted - 12/25/2004 : 2:14:14 PM
I am not much of a poet, but my thoughts rage all the TIMe. Here is my contribution to this thread.
With what do we measure a mans life?
Ethics, a peaceful soul
Wisdom, passion, kindness, philanthropy?
Will our very existence end?
Or will we part of the universe blend?
What device do we use?
What factors define our soul?
Who am I? On antidepressant, is this the real me?
Or is my true self the one who fell apart?
Life mimics ocean waves
Highs and lows, good times, bad
Will it end for us while we are riding high on top?
Or when the breakers are pulling us down?
Will our last words be one of happiness, peace and love
Or will we erupt with profanity?
And what of chance? To whom we were born,
Country rich or poverty's scorn
Would we have the same soul
If circumstance reversed?
Just what measures a mans worth?
|
| Macht |
Posted - 12/24/2004 : 6:39:39 PM
I can't write poems
But this here is a haiku
And I like your stuff
:P
I liked the poems you guys wrote. I used to write a lot of poems, but I haven't had anything good recently :(
|
| Fluffy |
Posted - 12/24/2004 : 2:42:31 PM
As requested and as promised Erich, may I present......
"Headed for a Hurricane" by TR
fearless and foolish
clouds creep over mountain sides
cool and damp open their eyes
forces push with
wind displacing
forces pull with
rain embracing
in her heart she
loves us all
even in death we
hear her call
heading right into
fate
hope we're not too
late
|
| Fluffy |
Posted - 12/20/2004 : 1:55:22 PM
Past threads with POETRY by our board members:
http://www.timreynolds.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=3599
http://www.timreynolds.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=2498
http://www.timreynolds.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=745
http://www.timreynolds.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=1361
I am sure there are more if you look around. The search feature is always good for that.
As for your question Erich, yes, TR still has the poem inspired by the hurricane. He said when he got back to NM he would try and locate it and get it to me so I could post it for ya. |
| Arthen |
Posted - 12/20/2004 : 02:42:54 AM
Man, I remember that. It was during one of my "lurking" periods. It's strange reading posts from those who are gone now, PCB, Liz, Xar, Black Lotus, etc.
Voices from the past ringing in the ears. |
| Zachmozach |
Posted - 12/19/2004 : 6:33:07 PM
Thanks it was like reading something from a history of the board. I guess it's a good thing I probably wasn't here though for it as I probably would have just ignited it further. It reminds me of the time I got sent to the principals office for arguing with my fourth grade teacher over some indian history. It's really just part of our history that people won't live up for and by that I mean they continue to do the same thing their anscetors did by taking away the rights of the natives. Anyway I don't want to pick at old scabs anymore. Although I will reccomend watching The Mission. It's a great flick.
I still would like more people to post some poetry though as I like to read poetry from real people and not just the professional poet. |
| PJK |
Posted - 12/19/2004 : 11:36:10 AM
For all who wrote here, WOW, nothing more, just WOW! |
| Zachmozach |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 8:54:00 PM
What is Art
Words from heaven fall upon the page
An actor's tear falling on the stage
A trail of notes weaves through the air
A painter's brush painting a lady bare
Emotions, Feelings, sights, and sounds channeling through me and you
A poet's rhyme, An actor's line, a musician's tone, a paintings hue
All give form to what we thought impossible to express
Yet as to what art is, I can only guess
On an Oregon Beach
The cold salt water pushes the foam on the sand
The cold salt water takes the warmth of my feet
This walk isn't going as I planned
The rain so cold it's almost sleet
The wind pushing through cloth, flesh and even soul
Chilling all that was once so tender and warm
Yet I care not what the cold has stole
There is something much worse than a storm
Something that hurts deep inside
Yet it's something you could see in a glimpse
Something that only the ocean can hide
The cold salt water washes away only one set of prints
Just Us
There is a tale in history
Of a certain man of mystery
Who felt something always missing
What it was though kept him guessing
So began a search looking for the lost
He would stop at nothing, nor spare any cost
He climbed a nearby mountain to look from the top
Then he continued down till at a town he did stop
He looked around, and he beheld quite a scene
Just us men and women dreaming a little dream
So he continued on till he reached the eastern shore
And in those large cities he stayed for a score
And he looked around, and beheld quite a scene
Just us men and women dreaming a little dream
So he got on a boat and ventured to the sea
Till he landed at a place with many a palm tree
And he looked around, and beheld quite a scene
Just us men and women dreaming a little dream
Onward and Onward till he'd travelled the earth
Back to the begining, to the place of his birth
And he looked around and beheld quite a scene
Just us men and women dreaming a little dream
And that very moment he dropped dead to the ground
That which was missing couldn't be found
He found Just us, everywhere, in every scene
But never justice which was the peoples dream
That's all for right now. Hope there isn't too many typos and there not too doctor suess for you guys. And since I didn't mention it earlier 0 to infinity is really great. |
| Erich |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 5:56:30 PM
quote:
Originally posted by Zachmozach
Erich keep posting 'em. I'll post one or two more myself. Pretty soon we'll have a book of the space pod poetry. I really liked Seperated as well. I guess it reflects something inside most people.
thank you  since I really would like to rework the others slightly, i'll just post something I whipped up a few moments ago from an old work in progress.
A Boy And His Blob
Harry was a giant blob
He did alright in class
But one should much consider
He was just a mass of mass
It's hard to be a giant blob
When you gots no arms or legs
Its hard when other peoples see
What floats about you head
And kids, they plays you dirty tricks
They poke, push, stomps and stamp
Or they lights you chair on fire
Just to watch you Lava Lamp
But Alice was the soda boy
And she loved poor Harry so
His viscosity attracted her;
If you spill her, she would flow
But to Alice, things soon come to pass
Like liquid to the floor
So she spilled herself on Harry
And poor Harry was no more |
| Zachmozach |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 5:26:27 PM
quote:
Originally posted by Fluffy
Zachmozach, I don't know if you knew this but I am Chickasaw Indian and that poem blew me away. I was wondering if you would mind if I sent it to some friends. I think they would love it. Wish you had been around for the whole Isaac fiasco, it might have been nice to have your poem for him especially since it would not have been coming from me LOL. I loved it!
Fluffy feel free to share it with anyone you like. I had no idea you were part Chickasaw. I think in about third grade I read bury my heart at wounded knee, and that was my begining interest in the subject. I think I wrote that after I read the first chapeter in People's history by Zinn. It's just always been something that bugged the hell out of me that people in this country celebrate their heritage like it's something great when the heritage of this country is one of the largest massacares in history. So if it counts for anything my forefathers were bastards for doing what they did, but I guess what would be worth more is living my life in a way that helps to correct the wrongs.
Oh and you'll have to let me in on the Isacc fiasco...
Erich keep posting 'em. I'll post one or two more myself. Pretty soon we'll have a book of the space pod poetry. I really liked Seperated as well. I guess it reflects something inside most people. |
| Erich |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 4:33:37 PM
thanks for the kind words :)
You know the feeling you get, on a cold but crisp and clear night, when you just finaly get to your front door? and as much as you want to walk into the house, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh is the most refreshing thing you can do? thats the inspiring feeling for that poem. So I wouldnt call it sad, but I wouldnt call it happy. more of a longing, if you get my meaning, though for what, i don't know. |
| Fluffy |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 4:22:59 PM
Zachmozach, I don't know if you knew this but I am Chickasaw Indian and that poem blew me away. I was wondering if you would mind if I sent it to some friends. I think they would love it. I loved it!
And Erich, Seperated is how I feel most of my life. I think you really hit the nail on the head with that one. I was curious is was that a positive or negative(happy or sad)poem for you. It is really left open to the interpretation of the reader and I think that is one of the things I liked most about it. Personal, yet accessible to the reader. I could identify. So many TIMes, at least for me, I feel like you need to get inside the head of the writer to understand it. When one speaks to me regardless of the writers feelings I am even more impressed. KUDOS!!(2 both of U) |
| Erich |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 2:39:47 PM
those are great, fluffy. Maybe you can ask tim if you can post that one he wrote about the hurricane last year.
Here are some of my favourite originals.
They Is As They Does
If I could be one man
I'd be Mr. They
Cause that's what they thinks
And that's what they say
To be they would be great
Much better than you
Cause whatever they does
Wouldn't you do it too?
The Made Up Ghost
Child, on a night exquisite
To you, there, your ghost does visit
There he dances round your bed
The centuries dead where he resides
And sings you songs of ghastly woe
That of which he only knows
Plays games and lullabyes
Child, though, he asks you more
To dress him as he lived before
Though clothen comfort he feels none
And in the sun he pales away
A whisper of his former self
Tattered shrouds on empty shelf
Linen, like his eyes, of grey
Child, Mother at your door
The clothing, quick! Strewn on the floor
Brash, demands what events passed
You dare not ask so I erupt?
Explain, you may, she wont understand
Like stubborn hue on white stained hands
Your ghost that you made up
Separated
And so another day subsides
And evening lays on daylights eyes
And snow to blanket naked streets
Fur to blanket naked feet
Nightfall's chuckle dressed in grin
Remnant of the daylight's din
And in slumber, I confide
Alone, another day subsides
Ive got some others that i like but are reallly long and need to be reworked slightly. If anyone wants me to post them, I will. |
| Zachmozach |
Posted - 12/18/2004 : 1:27:12 PM
Sweet. I must confess poetry is kind of a hobby of mine, although I don't write as much anymore. Tim never ceases to amaze me though. Incredible human being. I'll put one in that I wrote just for fun.
Sins of our Fathers
A little while back on a branch of the family tree
A handful of people crossed an ocean to be free
With them came sickness, and disease of every kind
And the most deadly sickness was the greed consumed mind
Their eyes had a gaze that could see far across the land
They wouldn't stop till they had consumed all from sand to sand
What a rich treasure they had discovered in this place
A continent full of resources inhabited by an inferior race
So they took, and so they plundered, killing along the way
Shedding the blood humans, and nature to this day
Divine destiny the battle cry that kept reason in check
And if you thought differently a rope of unpatriotism was hung around you neck
The sins are far to many to number, the crimes far to great
But, the sins of out fathers, built this nation and state
Yet how am I supposed to forgive the sins of our fathers
And worse yet where can I find anyone else it bothers
All I can do is say I'm sorry for those maimed and killed
And hope that their just reward will be fulfilled
Sins of our fathers many and great
Sins of love, Sins of hate
That crossed an ocean to be free
Only to enslave a continent from sea to sea
I'll maybe post some more later, but thanks to Fluffy for sharing this stuff with us. |
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