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Filmspotting Message Boards => No Movie Talk Allowed => Idle Chatter => Topic started by: colonel_mexico on November 05, 2013, 04:52:29 AM

Title: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 05, 2013, 04:52:29 AM
i apologize if i offend anybody, but i like to write a bit of poetry and i begin with this...(will probably be banned sorry guys i am weird)

the whisper that was left

an echo of a word
you once said
a lost voice in a world
of pain that led
two of us to a destiny
a potential blessing
turned violent epiphany
of how hopeless our beloved blasphemy
and both of us to blame
inventing lies to hide shame
bewildered and powerless
lonely and thoughtless
we were the ones waiting
for eternal happiness
too blind to see
lustful sexuality
our stupid fantasy
undone by false vanity
and who were we
to believe this could be anything
but a painful calamity
you were everything
and now regret left grudingly
each other for loving
the other when longing
and tears were all we shared
no matter how much we cared
the disaster is the beware
a warning no one heeds
the pain everyone feeds
and in all these things
i just see you
in songs and true
spoken words of passerbys
id give anything to trade lies
for one more kiss
a laugh a smile and a wish
i shall miss
those beautiful lips
placing my hand on your hip
my arm over your slip
take this bit
of me, my soul
the hole can't grow any bigger
how low it is to get to the trigger
may my end be the godsend
you were waiting
happiness dating death
whispers remembered whats left
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 05, 2013, 05:12:27 AM
I wanted to throw this in as well, I used to be the CFO of a small phone-app company (see any android device, RX Defender company Triumvirate Studios now defunct), don't download it that bank account it also defunct lol.  Anyway, I love to write and after my company dissolved this past August I wanted to keep making games with my artist, but we have failed to do anything, this is a story we basically came up with watching some Tool videos.  I wanted to make a video game out of this one, but it never happened.

In this drawer i woke into darkness, my life wasnt always simple but never was it this difficult.  I understood my role as the master's toy, the puppet of its only joy and I loved being the main character in his depraved story.  One day my drawer opened up into madness my face disfigured, my limbs removed save my smaller weakened arm, and my fear screaming for the nightmare to end.  For an instant i thought the nightmare was over, drawer opened and master appeared, but his face was not one of joy, but of sorrow.  The drawer closed as quickly as it opened and the fear became anger.  Pulling myself along in the darkness I found the drawer's edge and pushed.  Pain was almost as good as the joy of my former life, it soared through what remained of my mangled form.  Forcing the drawer open I could hear a humming that sounded like honeybees trapped in a drum.  Peering over the edge I saw the workshop, the play area where I once was king now strewn with all kinds of parts and new toys the master obviously intended to make his own.  The floor strewn with similar puppets with no names, some alive, some insane.  This was my time, this was my game to play, and Id win.  Pushing the drawer a little further, I climbed out and fell to the floor.  Darkness consumes me.

Awake.  The smell of burning wax stings my nose, I look over and see a small female doll with smeared paint and no arms and one eye.  She peers out almost begging for death but says nothing.  I crawl towards her and she watches intently saying nothing.  When I reach her she almost smiles and I whisper, 'This is not because I hate you.'  She sighs, nods and I rip her head from her small frail form.  Next I remove her legs and realize the feet are scarred, burnt and useless.  If I felt grief I might have cried, instead I ripped the feet off throwing them next to the one eyed head which now smiled in its death gaze.  I look up and see a drawer open, if the legs had feet I'd be able to reach it, but not yet.  I continue on, there are other drawers.

Flesh.  This little wax man so lifelike and almost a puppet but missing the marks that make a puppet a toy. His plastic parts discarded somewhere amongst the wasteland of the workshop.  He has no eyes, yet perceives me and his anger is manifest.  He attacks in short, choppy punches and kicks.  I smash him with no intention but to bring peace to his violence.  Hollow creatures like him only find peace by obtaining revenge for being born.  Smashed I almost know sadness, I never wanted this and would have let him live, he had nothing I needed.  Something, wait, yes his flesh hold something small and black.  A key, yes a key to a drawer, but which drawer there are so many locked ones.   Thank you my dear friend, I pack his meat into a small cross, like the one that hung from masters neck.  I hope it means something good, for he was evil.

Pain.  An open drawer, empty save a small vile of puppet lacquer used to strengthen our plastic parts.  I take it as the cracks of my age and use can no longer hide.  I stand on the edge and attempt to open the adjacent drawer which opens and allows me to climb up to another level.  Inside are 2 puppets in a grotesque pose of rapture.  The description of love would not make sense for two being combined by wood glue to fuse 2 into a centipede one.  One armed puppet cut in half sitting on the back of his brother puppet who had no head and walked on arms and legs, like a headless horse and its bottomless horseman.  Upon seeing me the horseman shrieked, and the horse walked toward me.  Arms stretching out, the glue dripping down like wax off a candle, it approached.  I wanted to keep going, but the horse brother's feet looked useful.  The horseman shrieked and violence was his intention, for all the pain suffered he and his mute conjoined brother would have their vengeance on any who crossed their path.  They were like my brothers.  "Please know I understand," i said quietly as I destroyed them, brining peace to their tortured souls by separating them to pieces.  My prized feet weren't so prized, one was so worn it wasnt even a nub, the other still had its faint outline and could be used, but what's one leg and foot without its brother?

Savior.  The tower of drawers brought me to a lofty view of the workshop and I could see another set of drawers across from the hall of homes this realm of puppets share.  In a small corner I could see a bunch of dolls of all sorts piled, but smoldering forever forgotten, the graveyard of silence.  "How peaceful it all seems" i thought as i heard a sound below me in a half opened drawer.  It was a small old doll mostly used for decoration in studio scenes.  Blood suit seemed to be his color, but i must be imagining things, this sort doesnt bleed.  I dropped down to his level and he whispered, "Oh harbinger of destruction can you have pity here today? I only wish to die tomorrow for there still may be a chance for one more scene.  The master comes tomorrow I know"  My desire to end this poor bloodsuit's small puppet life was exceeded by a desire to know of the master.  "Tomorrow?"  "Yes tomorrow is his time for his show, his desire must be sated and we must assemble correctly or dying will be pity compared to what he will do."  "What do you need bloodsuit?"  "That lacquer will sate me, bring me round one more time."  This bloodsuit i should destroy, his pain is nothing more than an inconvenience, but my path finds keys to a center I must know.  The show must go on.  Lacquer wasted on no one, time wasted on a vain pursuit, but better to know if truth can be found in bloodsuits.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 05, 2013, 06:39:55 PM
colonel_mexico,

Does the puppet ever find out why the destruction happened? Do you know the end already? Did this story come from a dream? :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 05, 2013, 07:13:10 PM
I actually don't know the end yet, but I think tonight is a good night to write.  I will try and wrap up this crazy little story of my puppet.  My dreams are something that haunt and drive me to be better, if that makes any sense lol.  Thanks so much for reading, I really do appreciate it :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 05, 2013, 09:02:10 PM
I'm just hoping he'll come across another arm he can use. :) Best of luck with your creation.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 05, 2013, 10:18:11 PM
The Show- The bloodsuits were the offering, ready martyrs who enjoyed the pain.  The Master dressed in his darkness, the shroud of night that shelters no light.  I had always assumed the Master was chasing pleasure, but seeing him like this made me realize he was chasing pain.  Insane it was to me that destruction was his life's opus, a production of innocent puppets born into night with no chance at a good life.  First he chose two bloodsuits, both new to the order with strong limbs of first class build.  They assembled with small knives standing at attention, little soldiers of a sadist army, the Master smiles and signals for them to fight.  Soldiers without training the act is carnal and bloodless, but with both losing limbs.  Once the head is removed a puppet ceases to exist and in this case the youngest wins.  The Master is pleased and raises the puppet for all to see, cheers are wooden cries that have no echo.  The Hero is placed in a box wherein replacement parts will see him live to fight another day, the parts being taken from the vanquished foe.  The bloodsuits bow and are dismissed, followed by a dance.  One single female doll, they call her Ipomoea.  Dance, beauty, desire all become one in my mind as I watch.  A single doll, almost shiny she sparkles in the darkness like a distant star in the night sky.  The Master watches, but seems jealous and angry.  This would have been the opportunity to get close to the Master, for what reason I was not sure.  I don't think I could kill the Master, nor did I really want to, I wanted answers.  She twirls.  I can not take my eyes from her and don't realize the bloodsuit has returned.  When she finishes her reverie the master shines a light and she withers into the shadows.  Instinctively I feel anger, but the gentle touch of the old bloodsuit soothes. I look down at a single foot.  Discarded during the battle, forgotten and headed to the fire.  The bloodsuit doesn't speak, just nods as if in thanks for another festive  year of darkness.  Another year of prison, a prison of pain which he loves more than anything else in his dark life.  The feet are a pair now, I can walk again.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 06, 2013, 12:24:26 AM
Well I was supposed to be finishing up my story about the puppet, instead I started writing this.  It's pretty lame by any standard, but something that had started swirling in my mind when I watched The Quiet Earth last night.

Hello System, My Name Is John

if in the darkness is where we began, doesnt it make sense that is where we would go to begin again?
i was born in a small lab on the orbital space station genesis, james one of the other newborns says the name genesis is supposed to be ironic.  he reads a lot of the old literature and 'pop culture' rhetoric.  when we talk he says the world was saved by science, not by some myth written by the ancient people before they even knew what technology was. i wonder if he really knows what hes talking about.
james and i were born two days apart, but i suppose that isnt accurate, we were in test tubes, then incubators and finally released into a small robotic cell that nursed, fed, cleaned us until we could function enough to move about and understand basic commands.  i love the computers they are what has been described as mother to me. i use the word love loosely, as i dont feel any particular compassion for any one program or automated voice, i just enjoy their quiet whirring company.  i understand their place on the bubble and i wonder what they think of me.  i asked this to james once and he burst out laughing.  laughter something so foreign to me, i dont find anything funny.  james says im a sociopath with noob-nerd-tendency.  im not sure what that means because the definitions throughout language urban, technical, or otherwise dont make any sense, well at least to myself.  ive asked the computer what he thinks of me and system 2144 always says the same, growth rate 96% normal, oxygen intake 95% normal, no malignant anomalies or other abnormalites detected, "you are looking great today" the last part is done in some high pitched voice (not belonging to system 2144's basic program) that seems so contrived i feel stupid for even asking the question.  yet the question remains, they all have their place, what am i for? the oxygen re-breathers have their purpose like so many plants the planet once housed.  the warmers maintain a static temperature that keeps our frail human forms alive.  even the waste evacuation mechanisms, so small and living in awkward places ensure no bacteria or disease invade our little bubble.
all of which make me wonder, why?
the overwhelming sensation of them serving me almost makes me feel like im the master, when in fact if one of those tiny mechanisms or an error in a program could destroy me instantly, i realize im their small, entrusted package, their fetus in the womb.
james says i think too much and i need to 'chillax'
i think he stole that from a show starring bernie mac.
a television show james showed me about humans that didnt rely on machines as much as us and the others do.
they seem very tough and scary, like they are at odds continually and dont really like one another, but in critical moments they always come through for the other.  love is so strange to me.  im not sure if i understand the reason for its existence.  it depresses me in a way, but i never lose sleep and once 2144 says goodnight master john i feel comfort.  i could live like this forever.

chapter 2

a beeping sound awoke me earlier than usual and it was resounding throughout the entire cabin.  james came to me and said we had to go to the main cabin, it was time.  i had known about the others, but they were all older than i and none had bothered to try and meet me so i never reciprocated.  i found there were almost 20 others.  an older version of james was sitting at the head of a small dining room.  he spoke with a tone that commanded more authority than any of the other programs on the ship.  "the time has come for us to return to the planet.  there are 24 of us in total and we will be divided up by 6's to return to the planet.  we will leave by pods that will deposit you in safe zones that are ready to be re-established." nobody said a word, i was utterly confused, "leave why should we leave here?"  just a question.  "young master john we were created to repopulate earth after its destruction.  we were made to return when it was safe, the computers can no longer support us.  don't worry we will supply you with instructions to wipe your ass." laughter all around, the mood suddenly changed.  james senior continued "the six's will descend starting at 0400, the first group knows who they are, everyone else remain here and instructions will be given.  good luck and may we prosper."
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: St. Martin the Bald on November 06, 2013, 05:13:01 PM
  I am just passing through while I am working on school work - BUT - colonel_mexico, never apologize for sharing your creativity. It's just my thought - it takes a lot of courage to put yourself and your work out there and I commend you for it.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 06, 2013, 06:28:55 PM
Thanks so much St. Martin, I appreciate the comments and I understand.  Thanks for reading too :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 07, 2013, 07:41:56 PM
Two feet now. That's a good start. :)

How old are John and James, do you surmise? They are going to have a rude awakening, learning how to be self-sufficient!
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 08, 2013, 02:23:25 AM
Two feet now. That's a good start. :)

How old are John and James, do you surmise? They are going to have a rude awakening, learning how to be self-sufficient!

They are somewhere between 16-18.  Thanks so much for reading :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 08, 2013, 02:25:35 AM
I watched Tree of Life tonight and well it made me think of a lot of things and people, relationships, friends and family.  I lost a few people over the past few years and while I will not be discussing anything specific, this is what came out tonight.  Thanks to all who read.

An Unknown Blasphemy

have you ever seen pain on canvas
or how blind madness can be in sadness
yeah its a joke and we are all laughing
when silence is the last thing
we whisper in moments of tragedy
cry, speak, reach we learn in these moments
of spoken torrents of foreign
names of people known and unknown
those that last and stay til the last gasp
we dont know each other anymore than
that last chance to say goodbye
so sweet to smile and say hi
vain greetings and hollow lunch meetings
i cant remember what we were eating
but it seems so simple
so happy and plain
these memories so thoughtful
it could drive you insane
we didnt really try to be friends
family is the type of thing
left for those who really care
about blood and what it shares
even inside forgotten abortion stares
divorced glares
we never dared to try
to be real and alive
with someone willing to die
for something special felt inside
its so easy to lie
and fake our way through life
keep this trip its on your side
ill tip extra she has your smile
happiness contrived from a story
everything good seems boring
we are all ignoring
things that matter
trying to be happier or sadder
who wins, who cares, in the end it doesnt matter
and i know this, my wish
for a last kiss, that isn't
coming i hope your pain
equals mine, even though its asinine
its one thing we had in common
broken creatures with overdue karma
i wasnt wrong i
just played the wrong song
and i hope in the long run
you find some kind of peaceful drama
wish i was stronger
and tried a little harder
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 08, 2013, 08:41:50 AM
There are stories in there that I can only conjecture about, but this line jumped out at me:

Quote
vain greetings and hollow lunch meetings

and even though it may mean something entirely different, it made me look up at a sticky note on my desk from Our Town.

"Oh Earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do human beings ever realize life while they live it - every, every minute?

Something nice to be reminded of today. :) Thanks for that.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 08, 2013, 04:31:17 PM
Thank you for reading Sandy and yes that is essentially what it means, to realize that you are living life and every once in awhile its worth realizing your living it.  Memories are nice, but isn't making them the better part?  There's a little more, but I'd rather not go into it for personal reasons, again thanks so much for reading.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: oldkid on November 16, 2013, 12:58:02 AM
  never apologize for sharing your creativity.

Yep.  Be confident.  Who knows what will happen if you let people make their own decisions about what they think about your work? :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 16, 2013, 06:41:16 AM
Thanks oldkid, I will and I hope to post something again soon!
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 21, 2013, 05:08:56 AM
A Beginning (Foolish Paradise)

Cedar Creek, Texas what a place.  Buck stopped at a place called The Foolish Paradise, it's exterior made one warm in the heart by way of trailer park debauchery.  Luckily a few porch chairs were warmed by the sun and partially shaded by an aluminum shed that no longer had walls and was mostly a serviceable porch.  Buck went inside and I took something rusty that appeared to be a chair.  The day was just getting hot and Texas heat is something to admire, if nothing but for it's humid animosity.  A dilapidated 1980s Camry pulled in, a gorgeously, decrepit blonde in pajama pants and a Wal-Mart hairdo decided to join this happy affair.  She looked at me and smiled with disgust, "Buenasss diat, you intende ingles?"  Rage to such greetings were long in my past, "I speak english quiet well, is there something I can help you with?"  "I'm looking for your friend Rolando, he's supposed to be here," she said approaching closer adjusting the tight fitting halter top that somehow seemed wrong for the adult section of Wal-Mart.  The name Rolando seemed to cause a breeze and when speaking of the devil things do seem to quicken.  Buck opened the side door of our porch lean-to holding two already sweating beers.  Nodding at Buck, "I apologize Miss, but I don't know Rolando, but if you would care to have a drink and pass some time with my friend and I, perhaps he will show up."  Calamity Jane looked at Buck, the beers, then back at me, almost curious, but not quite, "No I'll be back, tell that pendejo if he's here he better have my money."  I nodded and took a swill, "Buck I believe we have come to the right place."  Buck sipped his beer and leaned back in his groaning chair.

Rolando had lived in Elgin, Texas his entire life.  He claimed a lot of things in his life, his parents were wealthy ex-cartel restaurant owners from Mexico, but the truth was simple a few hard working Mexicans who bought a bar in the middle of nowhere and left it to their degenerate son.  Using the remainder of his substantially small inheritance he managed to set himself up as some kind of playboy looking for love.  Eventually, upon one of his drunken soirees into Austin he had met someone who did not live in the city.  She was the sister of someone supposedly so important it warranted the entire family being unknown.  Every time he beat her it was for a very good reason.  "Yes, her brothers have to know how crazy she is," a sip of whisky to wash down a soothing outloud comment to nobody.

Bastrop, Texas, Linda loved being in the country so much, but she needed city things.  HEB was her place of solace she could walk around for hours and they had all sorts of youth creams, organic foods, and life giving remedies which seemed to hold the same scientific esteem as any National Enquirer edition.  Today she wore heavy, dark sunglasses to cover up excessive eye makeup which failed to hide a forgotten black eye.  Linda knew who, but the how was always rather fuzzy, many of her life stories had that fuzziness attached to it.  A rather kind of mold that no amount of money, treatment, or brother's attempts to fix could ever rid her of.  She had seen her phone and knew that a phone call had gone out, one which if she did nothing would hold terrible consequences.  Rubbing her temple and creeping toward the damage, "I wonder if they have any nude face creme?"  She pushed her lonely revenge cart down another aisle, on sale screaming for attention.

The old Texaco outside of Elroy, Texas had a small game animal deli, one where an old, sober psychopath could find a delicious roadkill menu.  The coyote tails were something of legend, but the sales would indicate a smaller audience of appreciation.  Jorge went inside and stopped basking in window unit air conditioning.  "'elo George," the storekeep who was obviously a fastidious gentleman with his greasy jeans, yellow teeth, and unwashed hair, Jorge just nodded.  Walking to a Coleman cooler with a paper list of the drinks and their values, Jorge grabbed a 'Mexican coke' and briefly desired to smash Gentleman John's face, but instead set it on the counter.  "A man of routine, I can respect that.  Coyote tails and a mexican coke 9.87 slick."  Jorge placed a 20 on the counter and a small mouse buzzed in his pocket.  Psychopaths with phones aren't usually a danger to anybody as long as they are locked behind high walls and the comfort of potent medication.  Jorge's desires heightened and suddenly food and drink became disgust.  A smile at Gentleman John and a quick, quiet exit that left John thinking.  Thoughts are lost quickly on those with simple, fiscal desires, Jorge had to work.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 21, 2013, 04:15:07 PM
A Beginning continued

The cemetary was in the eastern part of Bastrop heading toward Smithville and was the weekly meeting place of Kaytlin and her Romeo Sergio.  Kay had known Sergio her whole life and she had always watched him from afar. Her father was one of the wealthiest and influential men in town, Sergio was the son of a pair of restaurant owners.  Bloodlines such as these are not supposed to mix, but then again forbidden fruit has forever plagued the female species.  Serge's desire was no less apparent, yet he restrained himself out of one part respect, one part fear of a truth he could not reveal to her.  The relationship failed to blossom until near the end of high school, they both had planned futures, but neither really enjoyed their respective life plans.  As fate seems to always play out they finally met one night, colliding stars couldn't have been brighter.  Full blown lust bloom shared in hotel rooms and a dark corner of the city cemetary became their weekly haunt.  A crackle of gravel and Kay looked up to see the same Sunday afternoon beat up brown Ford Ranger approaching.  Serge parked behind her and got out, her grey Mercedes offered much more room for amorous conversation. 

Jackson Shipley was originally from Round Rock, Texas, but now Bastrop was his home and place of employment.  After failed attempts to play football and graduate college, Jackson had taken a job as police officer in downtown Austin.  A few complaints that numbered almost as many as a few lawsuits, Jackson found work as a small town city cop.  As long as he didn't beat anybody up and passed out a fair share of tickets he was left alone.  While he wasn't a good cop in any sense of the word good, he did try to uphold the law and he began to notice an ever increasing amount of out town vehicles.  Bastrop was known for it's pecans, but to believe a rise in the amount of hispanics looking for nuts alarmed and offended him.  Ship brought this to the attention of his chief, whose last name was Iglesias, didn't feel it was that big of a deal and warned Ship that making waves wasn't good for his already damaged boat.  Ship said his usual, 'Yes, sir' and went back to hiding out on his stretch of highway.  An Irish coffee was a good way to help the day ebb by. 
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 21, 2013, 05:43:28 PM
"...but then again forbidden fruit has forever plagued the female species."

 :D

favorite line
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 21, 2013, 09:51:18 PM
Thanks Sandy yeah just something new that I started working on and we shall see where it goes.  Hopefully, I can get somewhere with this instead of stalling out like last my few attempts lol.  Thanks again for reading Miss :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 22, 2013, 05:21:44 AM
Foolish Paradise (Beginning Part 3)

Corpus Christi, Texas a small city by most standards, but big enough to have an influence that borderlined a stranglehold over south Texas.  While the local police were blind to most things, the Highway troopers, Immigration enforcement, and the DEA all seemed to have an opinion which rarely aligned with the others, but would always err on the side of so-called justice.  Corpus Christi had it's fair share of influential citizens, the owners of Whataburger had a large home on Ocean Drive, the president of the double-A baseball team had lavish parties at the Omni hotel, and there was one man who everybody knew and loved, but rarely interacted with outside of social and charity events.  Sergio Montalvo was a wealthy oil man according to his IRS records and his wealth seemed in accordance with such a business.  This morning Senor Montalvo was having a meeting with someone that no one in the IRS or anyone in the Federal Government knew about, but would certainly spark more than a keen interest.  "Hello Mr. Guerra, a surprising visit to be sure, but a pleasant one...I hope."  Mr. Guerra was a quiet, almost unassuming man, but his shadow wasn't lost by anyone, including the darkness, "Senor Montalvo it concerns your son.  We know that he has nothing to do with the business, but we have a severe concern with an indiscretion by your son."  Senor Montalvo leaned back, and just gazed into the distance.  Any fringe player of the Corpus Christi social and business scene knew that Senor Montalvo had no children.

Sandy had lived in Cedar Creek, Texas for almost 3 years ever since her son had passed away from complication of leukemia.  Richie would have been 7 this year and Sandy remembered in her own way.  She had tended bar at Foolish Pleasure for just over 2 years, it was an easy job and was far away from Austin.  Sandy hated the city with all the society types, particularly her husband who was an insurance analyst trying to climb to a vice presidency.  Schism occurred due to long hours at the hospital and Sandy's pure love of wanting to be with her son the entire time.  Richard Sr wasn't a completely bad man, but his love had a limit and as a first time father and a part time adulterer made it easy for him to check out.  Sandy had given him a black eye at the funeral when he wept, she knew the depth of his love and shallow ends don't deserve full depths of pain.  A friend let her stay in a trailer on a small patch of dirt off 183 near Austin Bergstrom International Airport and she found the solace she needed.  To sate simple needs a small bar down the road was the place she called work and while the drunks were continuous, they were usually harmless.  Today was interesting as a well dressed, good looking tall drink of water entered the bar and ordered two beers.  Sandy was polite, "How are you doing today stranger?" handing over the two beers and taking a crisp 20 from his hand.  "I'm fine thank you ma'am."  The tall man tipped generously and Sandy couldn't help herself, "Thank you sir, I'm Sandy, if you need anything else just let me know."  "Thanks, I'm Buck, but this should do."  Shaking her head Sandy wondered what to think, scary or something special.  Silly thoughts, she began her daily beer inventory. 

Three Rivers, Texas was a small town that suddenly found itself in the midst of a huge oil boom.  Fracking had swept through south Texas like a plague and Henry 'Red' Fitzgerald found himself in a brand new Holiday Inn right off I-37.  Red was a Marine, they were never ex Marines, but now worked as a roughneck after a less than proud exit from the military.  His roommate he had despised at first, a dark Mexican who chatted on and on like he would die if his mouth was closed longer than a few moments.  But Chapalo was cool, not being more than 5 foot 4 he was strong as almost any man he had ever encountered.  Working the rigs in Odessa proved how tough Chapalo was and a knife fight in a bar in Laredo showed his loyalty.  Red had grown up on the Gulf town of Mobile, Alabama and everything he had been brought up to believe faded quickly in the Texas heat.  Chapalo was from Corpus Christi and always talked about the money that could be made down there.  There was an oil guy that didn't really deal in oil and they could make their 3 years salary in 3 months.  Chapalo talked about a lot of things, but Red always sensed that as many lies Chapalo told, truth lurked and if it lived well a better life might be there.  Red went to the mini-fridge and grabbed a beer and threw one at Chapalo who was silent because of slumber.  The can hit Chapalo in the back "Aye Cabron!"  Red laughed "Wake up Chapalo it's Sunday holmes, time for mucho cervezas guey."  Chapalo looked angrily at Red, livened up picking up the beer, and started blabbing away.  Red sipped his cold brew.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 22, 2013, 09:14:26 AM
Ha! I always suspected that I'd have a decent left hook, so am particularly happy that I get to share a name with a character that landed a jab, producing a well deserved black eye. :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 22, 2013, 12:09:22 PM
Lol well I'm glad you liked it Sandy :)  yeah she's had a rough road and while I'm not sure which way I'm going with it yet, I imagine things might get a little tougher....
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 22, 2013, 12:32:55 PM
 :D

I'm sure she'd say, "Bring it on!"
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: oldkid on November 25, 2013, 02:26:16 AM
Lovely language, colonel!
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 25, 2013, 02:43:04 AM
Hey OldKid thanks so much for reading!  Yeah I love to write and I was hoping to at least finish my introduction before going out of town, but as my usual plague I have gotten stuck and don't know where to go lol....it's funny having an ending to a story and not knowing how to get there LOL!  Thanks again for reading :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 25, 2013, 04:04:37 AM
Foolish Pleasure (A Beginning Part 4)- this will conclude the beginning and I hope to post chapter 1 soon, thanks to all who read

Round Rock, Texas Colonel (retired) Jesse James Rowe who was known as JR to his friends enjoyed cigars at the Aliante Club and the Sky Bar off 6th street in downtown Austin.  JR was known to have lunch with University of Texas athletic director Deloss Dodds and he received a Christmas card from the Mack Brown family.  Jesse was another silent figure of a world whose grimy wanderlust made for a beautiful Texas.  JR retired from an Army Ranger outfit, though the particulars were never clear, even from the drunken moments of clarity he delivered upon whatever audience he found himself amongst.  JR's ace in the hole was his not so young little brother who was Chief of Police of the Travis County metro police department.  Jason John Rowe had started out life as a drunk and with some help along the way found sobriety and anger.  Jason had lost something special to him and now when he could inflict similar pain he did, but he had noble desires.  His older brother Jesse was the patriarch and while he did not approve of his activities, Jason appreciated the desires of a town that should be civil, orderly, and done the Texas way.  Every week he went to church at Our Lady of Guadalupe, (his Catholic leaning was from his lost wife, something that everyone ignored, but did not approve of) he silently cried his sins to Laura and hoped for a self-imposed venegance. Jason needed to lunch with his brother, something was happening with his daughter that he found rather alarming.   

North Austin, Texas, a fine home purchased on good, going great credit by Trenton Owen Esquire, he loved the Esquire even though no lawyer had used that term in any capacity for at least a century.  Trent Owen, also called T.O. by his friends, had come to make an impact on the Austin political scene.  His family truly were wealthy oil people of the Sweetwater and Odessa persuasion.  Trent remembered having Thanksgiving dinner with Powers Boothe the famous actor.  The Owen family were here to remove the corrupt influences of the South Texas and Mexican cartels, the corrupt judges and police who operated within in the city, and ultimately the Texas Supreme Court Justices who let it all happen.  The fine line between heroes, cowards, and ingenues are so fine it is sometimes hard to discern, and Mr. Owen Esquire shared traits with all three persuasions that it was hard to know what Mr. Owen truly believed in.  One thing was for certain he had come to play and his chip stack was worth noting.

Las Vegas, Nevada Adam began his ride home, having lost another sizable amount of his small empire of dirt.  He had never deliberately sought out to be a degenerate gambler, but his desire for cards and lust for winning had led him to so many losses that the lust of winning was so whimsical it could have been just a dream.  A phone call had to made, and he only had enough money to maybe make New Mexico, "Damn what would Buck say again?" he thought to himself as he took a sour-sweet pull of a 3 year old that shouldn't be sold outside of a moonshine auction.  Adam wasn't without skills or family, but he know his clock was ticking and chance cards do eventually run out.  Adam lit a cigarette and drove towards Phoenix, "I'll call in a few hours, I can still work," quietly he looked at a duffel bag in the back.

Bluewater Bay, Florida Danny woke up at the bright and early hour of 3 PM.  A cigarette accompanied a morning cough and shudder of another day.  Danny was left a small dock and bar by his father who had served in the Navy for almost 30 years, he had died a year after purchasing the place.  Danny was given full ownership when his brother had decided a woman in Alaska was worth his share and departed without saying goodbye.  Danny loved the small place, but hated everyone who attended his small bar even with their monetary gestures.  His only friend was a guy that had long disappeared, but he knew one day he would appear again in some form.  An old, but sizable 100 foot boat lingered at the end of a makeshift boat slip at the end of Danny's dock was the constant reminder.  Danny walked in and nodded at Lois a Lauren Bacall type that had aged badly, but still could carry a tune.  Danny often wondered why he never made a move on her, but then she wasn't the type to be easily persuaded the drunks in that place were always rebuffed.  "Hey sweetheart, is the boat guy coming down today?"  Not a smile or even a glance, "No Danny, he will be here next week.  I don't know why you care about that old wreck you never go out," she looked up at this, "Unless you want to take me out?"  Danny was always awkward, but covered by being obliviously uncaring, "Sailing is for idiots and Navy pukes."  "Thought your dad was a Navy puke?"  Danny didn't say anything, held up his drink and continued on with, "Boats are for idiots, let's drop it please fill this up and let's get the T.V.s on in here.  Damn, we need the business ok."  Lois shook her head, quietly laughed and refilled a small jigger of a 7 year old whose name is also of unnecessary mention. 
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on November 25, 2013, 10:12:20 AM
I feel like I'm getting a great geography lesson in your introductions, which I'm very happy about. Geography was what I studied in school--people and places, the best! Can't wait to see how all their worlds collide.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on November 26, 2013, 05:51:00 AM
Thanks for reading, I hope while on my travels I can at least begin writing Chapter 1....I will post as soon as I have hashed it out....again thanks so much for reading :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on December 08, 2013, 09:42:10 PM
Not my best work by any means and mostly stream of consciousness stuff, thanks to all who read....

A Warning and A Prayer

how long can you live a lie?
how long will it take to eat you up inside?
we live this life
any way we like
and when it's never enough
stupid becomes the stuff
we do with no thought
to who or what we hurt
how could we let this burn
because we yearned for
something that's not real
wanted a dream to feel
instead making a nightmare
that seals a dare
whose debt will take far
more then you ever meant
to lose all you care for
gone, lost forevermore
what is pleasure in a moment
when you will spend years in torment
memories shouldn't be regret
they should be love you won't forget
so easy to do what we want
and ignore the right thought
the harder path is wrought
with choices and voices
where are you going in this boisterous
world filled with update status
and pictures of your brand new stratus
one big email/twitter/facebook apparatus
if you were above wouldn't you be mad at us?
these words are a warning
and a prayer, don't let your final morning
be the failure, don't ever waver
let every memory be your favorite
enjoy every moment and those around you
passing through time, just us these few
family and friends passing through
life who love you too
this may seem cliche
but from the experience of my way
it's an honest old man trying to say
i wish i had lived my days
this way, and i wish i could stay
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: verbALs on January 21, 2014, 05:54:43 PM
Can't see anywhere to write creatively, so I'm co-opting your vehicle Colonel sir!


"Hey, I phoned a few times, she isn't there or not answering, and I'm definitely not leaving an answer phone message about this"
"She works late then takes her boy to football, I don't think she's working tomorrow, try her then"
"I think three times is enough, if she wants to call back that's fine, but that's enough hard work from me. Look when you speak to her, just tell her that I'm apologising for being a .......I don't want to swear. What's a clean word for it......idi-"
"Unreasonable?
"-ot. Hey there's no need to join in. I'm beating myself up here, there's no need to help with the kicking."
"But you have been unreasonable. All this time you've been ignoring her, stopping her from seeing the kids. She really misses them"
"Well that's really terrible, maybe I should apolog..... Oh hang on. I WAS apologising. It was such a great idea, I had it first."
"I've thought that for years..."
"Let me finish your sentence; "but you wouldn't have listened?"
"Yes exactly, smartarse"
"So now you think I'm listening you want to tell me I was wrong all this time. I can stop listening just as quickly again......I'm joking. I'm done with all that nonsense. Nothing has to come out of this apology, I'm not expecting to become best buddies from this distance, but at least I've done the right thing."
"Yes eventually."
"Yes eventually. Have you had satisfaction? Are there any other colourfully descriptive words that you've been saving up to tell me, once you could be sure you had a captive audience."
"You're not dying are you?"
"No. It's only this conversation that's killing me."
"So why now?"
"Why not now?"
 "That's evasive."
"and YOU are hard work."
"Thank you"
"I'm joking"
"You're hilarious"
"I like that word better. Can we settle on my main characteristic as being "hilarious"? Unreasonable, won't help me pick up girls."
"Really hilarious"
"Tell her I'm sorry OK"
"That's where you came in"
"and that's all I can say. Bye for now. Cya soon."
"Bye dear. Take care"
....
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on January 21, 2014, 06:18:29 PM
That's cool man go for it!  Also, interesting piece here, I hope there is more to come.   
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: verbALs on January 22, 2014, 02:39:42 AM
Thanks. I have this thing that writing dialogue is the hardest element to it and the purest. I wouldn't consider I was writing properly at all unless the dialogue was right. Writing from inside a mundane conversation and making it readable.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 04, 2014, 10:39:09 PM
Preface of a tidal wave

The preface of all prefaces, with a beginning
That makes no sense, save to say that
Some sort of story about a fool's journey
Lies within the depths of these confusing
Musings about a fan and a singer coming together
In a circle of lyrical mythology, poetical insanity, and
The stark contrast between imagination and reality.

Circuit Engineered Destruction (1)

Breaking my distractions up with
Nostalgic musings of the long gone past.
Thinking about opening my wrists to see
If the circuits can be rewired for time travel.
Just to the time when I let my life unravel
To this un-parallel course that is far south
Of my dreams. I wish reality had seams
To tear away and sew out the bad things.
Were the sheets bleeding?
No, remember the sweat was beading
And you were freezing from the nightmare
Of the wasteland you actually share
With reality and subconscious.
Which blood vessel re-connected to a blood vein resets the dream reality closed circuit television one more chance?
Now I've made a mess and not sure
If the medics can replace the dynamics
I've restructured according to the book of Dianetics.
We'll all return to the alien planet in cargo jets
Where every fantasy is all you can get?
Wait your not L. Ron Hubbard, but more like
The devil incarnate with smiles that start with
My damnation from which I'll never receive pardon.
I've forgotten why I would try my hand at bio-vascular circuitry soldering surgery
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: oldkid on August 05, 2014, 01:34:13 AM
Very concrete images.  A solid poem.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 05, 2014, 07:56:44 AM
Thanks for reading Steve, appreciate the comments as well :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 05, 2014, 08:06:41 AM
Decision to Rescue Disaster (2)

Awakening into hospital light bliss,
The calming drugs nursing my sense
Of darkness and depravity into something
Sweetly enrapturing.
Could I change my philosophy?
No, because then I'd be addicted to chemical euphoria.
I need to link together my enjoyment of fantasy
And the reality which governs me.
Maybe, let's see-oh yes the cd of infamy,
That supposedly leads to some remarkably
Profound nirvana that could break my depressing mantra.
(Music starts) Oh that sound that lifts
My spirit, body, and soul from the ground.

And here comes mom to the rescue
I can smell her moth ball perfume
As she asks "Whats wrong with you?"
Nothing I can really pick and choose
To tell you as its all misunderstood
Nonsense I make believe as prophecy.
A new seed planted in my hand to grow a plant
That the whole world will understand and make
Everything in between seem that much more
Sad. Now the doctor speaks
As Peanut's parents, or Maynards
Vain attempt to make us realize
We're just monkey's deaf, dumb, and blind.
Doesn't really matter because I'm going to seek out Saturn
And make a home with the master who left the clues to a secret
I shall discern with a keen eye and ear that will
Make my sad little world clear.
Press eject, give me the tape, and I know what is good for you.
If we elect to take our shape, then woe will be true for you.
Its a give and take world that will present arms to you.
I shall avenge the rape done to our minds by the governors of swine.
I'll take my time and we shall dine on liver and red wine, just like Ced
Said in the storybook rhyme, 2nd album track 9 last line.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 05, 2014, 09:15:08 AM
Profound nirvana that could break my depressing mantra.
(Music starts) Oh that sound that lifts
My spirit, body, and soul from the ground.


What music does that for you? Listing songs that lift so high, would make a great music thread. :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 05, 2014, 10:05:52 AM
Maybe this...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Okd3Oyii7E
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 05, 2014, 12:41:43 PM
Oh! That would do it! Makes me think of something oldkid said:

Sometimes you just have to Floyd.

:)


I remember really being transported by Dogs and the one you posted does the same things. Thanks for letting me see the poem better through a music example.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 06, 2014, 09:27:17 AM
Searching for Ced (3)

And so the search begins.....

We stopped before the show,
It seems so long ago, but
Maybe I was just stoned.
Fought to the front, crushed
Against the gate, yelled
As loud as I could, you'd
Thought I was nuts.
Screaming the words to every
Song, enjoying every frenzy,
Listening intensely and
Drinking in the insanity.
Break the inner gates of my mind!
Let the music be the portal that takes
My soul to the world next!
Take me hence and never let me rest!

Cedric left his voice screaming
Into the wind.
I stood on the fringe trying to
Catch some meaning.
"Knife me in hobbling" I'm the
One talking in my sleep again.
Philosophy shrouded in veils?
Comical musicians with false tales?
Lost musings of mine left in the hotel
And the phone call warning me of
The farewell.
Who holds the key to the tower?
When knowledge is power you'll
Find the rhythm and its beautiful blessing.
Its quiet in the dark hour as
We seek those who know nothing
Of peace everlasting.
Some truths are better left undisturbed,
Yet our curiosity begs the shrouds be removed.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 07, 2014, 04:33:10 PM
Chasm of the Empty Desert (4)

Seeking shelter in desolate lands
Ced used to roam, the people he
Could understand because they were just like him
All the memories I wish I had,
But making my own as I follow
The directions in Album 2 The Sorrow.
Not all of us can cope with creation,
But are exalted by recognition
Of the strength it takes to see
Patterns on vaulted ceilings
Given to a select few in beautiful harmony.
I'm no poet just a passerby that
Gives pause to pay respects and say hi
Aspiring mountain climbers of the mind.
Showing us things we'd never find
On our own. This place is dirty,
I almost feel home. Though
I wish I could understand a little
Clearer, all this madness is crazy.
Must avoid losing my clarity
In this land of lost souls and muddled sight.
Play the first song first track last album,
'Languished in the light.'
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 07, 2014, 06:05:15 PM
Sounds like the workings of my mind :), trying desperately to grasp the hidden meanings.

Really evocative writing, Col.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 08, 2014, 10:06:22 AM
Incarnate Pattern Against Ced (5)

This makes no sense, why would he
Bring us hence? To give pause and
Question our sense of right and wrong
And if we should've even come?
I sought this place and no going back
Is the case I'm presenting the practical
Side of my mind that likes me to
Question the action set into motion
From previous conversation of some
Mental observation. With stern
Consternation I'm reminded of outcomes
Long gone, mistakes forgotten and
Choices stupidly remembered as nothing
But a few drops of ink in my diary.

What makes it smile like that?
He's bleeding in every smile
As he grasps another victim in the way.
Its singing to show us the place-its a grave.
We know the sound-it showed us
Warmth in a gaze.
It gave me a chance when the odds were laced
By the mechanics.
He said he was lost
And then he was gone.
Wandering the highways, why are these
Byways to paths of forgotten heroine users?
This is the taste that abuses
We give strength to the muses,
Let's abide and try not to lose this
Rant he left us with trying to confuse us.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 09, 2014, 08:56:14 AM
Quitter's Sin (6)

He'd given up the gift long ago.
Wanted nothing to do with his former show.
On top of the world were the clichés
He created.
His voice was left silent to be
Unheard by many.
The few left were forgetful, but helpful
To those that seek refuge from destiny.
What did words mean anyway?
They're left dying in the world
As soon as your tongue utters them.
Words from some forgotten generation,
Or some forgotten book that
Someone mistook for prophecy-
When they were just a joke about
Life and all its fallacy.
Trying to forget his past,
He drinks alone and enjoys his silent repast.
He used to live life in the fast lane,
Now he sleeps past midday.
'Why can't I wake and find a place
That will give way to comfort and slake
My thirst with a taste of a million summers
Never ending and always beginning?'
He drinks deeply to help quicken the forgetting.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 09, 2014, 10:11:49 AM
A tug of war between feeling like his words are obsolete now, forgotten and wondering if they lacked value in the first place? That is the worst kind of rabbit hole.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 09, 2014, 12:06:24 PM
This is the main character of this little epic Ced, I suppose I should have named it differently.   He doesn't care for his words anymore, they were just something he used to do and wants to forget the words, his show, and everything associated with it.  He just now spends his time hiding out away from the fame and glamor of that life. 
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 09, 2014, 01:09:55 PM
He became disillutioned with his own message, realizing it didn't provide any answers?
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 09, 2014, 02:45:20 PM
More that he became this revered idol when he wasn't really doing anything except performing his music and somehow this mythology around him sprung up.  When it became too much he stopped performing and went into hiding. 
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 09, 2014, 06:07:54 PM
Alles klar. Thank you. :)
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 09, 2014, 06:12:19 PM
The Enemies That Blind Us (7)

...And happening upon a bar, not far
From Rifle, Colorado, a stranger meets
A False hero. Two minds about to battle,
One weak and shallow, the other lost and hollow.
One sad rabbit hole is what follows....

An unnamed character listens to
Cedric explain unexpected terror.
"These are letters about a phone call you'd
Not like to receive.
A choice between violence
And a chance for reprieve.
We're prisoners of some ego-maniacs dream.
And I'm tearing at the seams.
These are my wrists as they bleed.
I am not the hero,
I am not the teacher,
Not here to lead people
Or shepard a flock like some preacher.
Seen the light lost in the
Gleaming eyes of a young life.
Stealing scenes from a movie I really liked
To try and give clarity to those with muddled sight.
Not blind, just lost in a myriad of
Dark and bright light.
What is right to love or kill?
To kill to protect against foreign evil?
To love so much you willing to sacrifice
Your own people?
The world is lost and I'm the last
Person to be leading a crusade.
I'm not the first to use a false charade
For entertainment philosophical propaganda parade.
Sure, we'll take on the world and dominate.
Let the lambs search for a river that slakes
The blood thirst. Peace to rebellion and it will all
Be violently pleasant and sinfully decadent.
As we overthrow conservative sacred traditional
Forgotten mythology. Its ideology
That got us here in the first place, its the failure
You've found in this place, nobody welcome to nowhere."
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 10, 2014, 08:47:47 AM
Lost Angelic Faces (8 )

...A hero in barwench garb
Seizing a quiet moment to speak
To Ced in a torrent of calming
Gestures and liquid medicine....

"On the bubble again," she whispers.
She spoke with an unwavering tremor,
More like a tremble that gave way to clamor.
Tumble of words muddles in a mixture
Of drunken passings.
"Passing the pleasure is the terror
You'd like to forget.
We chose the site of where you'd
Rest forever.
You needed to see it again,
The nightmare revealed as prophecy.
As the power of vampires and unknowns
Becomes the status quo.
You only know that evil comes
In square packages,
And nothing ages like the devil
And his dancers."
As the blue lines gain precedence
He takes his throne with confidence.
She steals from the scene to create
Perfect dissidence
Amongst the court's residents.

Now face to face the unnamed lowers his eyes
And steps back half a pace, almost
Bowing, almost kneeling-such a strange
Feeling it was to be in the place of all places.
At least in his mind the bar
Was far from the dingy place
Ced chose to till his own grave.
This is where he's supposed to be saved.
Strange faces staring at the stranger's false
Grimace turning to despair and the ocular
Fire now broken beyond repair.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 10, 2014, 10:06:01 AM
Rifle!

My little town of repose, during a long road trip.




A choice between violence
And a chance for reprieve.
We're prisoners of some ego-maniacs dream.
And I'm tearing at the seams.

The world is lost and I'm the last
Person to be leading a crusade.
I'm not the first to use a false charade
For entertainment philosophical propaganda parade.

Tumble of words muddles in a mixture

And nothing ages like the devil
And his dancers.

Strange faces staring at the stranger's false
Grimace turning to despair and the ocular
Fire now broken beyond repair



Such great phrases. This poem is meant to be heard, aloud.






Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 11, 2014, 08:45:12 AM
Thanks for reading and the comments Sandy I appreciate it. 
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 11, 2014, 08:45:54 AM
Rage Against Personal Demons (9)

So the unnamed made a mistake
And took a chance with an old cassette tape,
"Its a fools fable to believe
I wouldn't take you there.
Would I lie to you?
Doesn't it seem like your here?
Never fear, Ced is true, Ced is you...."
-Alpha Centauri, Song 6, Album 6, Titled 5 Almost Evil...
Such a song raises unholy spirits amidst
A false hero's vanity,
"This is about a song? Some
Show long forgotten in my mind
That you keep alive in vain
Plights to aspire to my height.
You can't seem my sights
Without my eyes-your blind
To plain realities hidden in sight.
I should laugh at your blight,
And revel in the thought that
My word has become gospel
To the faithful that follow.
Its sad to see a fan so hollow-
And its my practical hand that
Must release the light."
Ced stepped with a sigh and a
Touch on the shoulder and asked
Him to get up. And with silent
Wondering eyes his mind shifted into
Ghost Bach-Turner Overdrive, with
Pedal to the metal of the artificially
Implanted artery that pushed his heart
To some dangerous frenzy that the singer
Remembered with such violent memory
He acted in reality!
A smack to the face followed by
A thousand fist kisses and foot kicks.
He spoke his philosophy without any rock show tricks.
This had always been his stage and he
Approached it with all his own personal rage.
"For finding me this is what you get!"
-Ced Opening Track 2nd Album OutHotelIn
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 11, 2014, 10:52:14 PM
Return to Quagmire (10)

Raking the wrist with a half broken fist
I don't remember it feeling quite like this.
The nestor who loved to roost is fighting
With wing and tooth drawing blood on
Every move. Sanguine lies expulsed
On every truth I tried to lay at its feet
And now its trying to eat me.
Isn't this spire for only the worthy?
Isn't my presence a recognition of something extraordinary?
Is my destruction really necessary, when we can share this territory?
A bird of prey and its howl of frenetic violence
Is nature's way of replaying the first angel's malevolence.
Suddenly I'm falling the mountain song is rapid
And now space is sucking me into its vapid mouth
From which not even light can escape and will void
My existence on earth for all eternity.
Such a calamity it is to me that everything
I've done will not greatly be remembered as anything
But a madman's last chance at
False redemption. Please let me feel the ground and soil,
Let the worms eat this shell and
Turn me into oil, please release this mortal coil.

Epilogue

....And isn't always a sad tale of woe
About some Juliet and her Romeo?
Or just some average joe
That becomes a millionaire Fausto who
Finds out the other side really isn't grand
Just more money at hand and a thousand
More lies to fake and faces to take.
I suppose all these stories are the same.
I'd envy the unnamed, if I only could be insane,
Or at lease fake it all the way
To my cross with fate.
Let is bear me where it may,
Just let everyone remember
That it was great.....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SD5Qj4Ocits
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 12, 2014, 08:06:43 AM
This brought it all home, showing Ced's and the unnamed man's perspectives and the emptiness of both.

Without my eyes-your blind
To plain realities hidden in sight.
I should laugh at your blight,
And revel in the thought that
My word has become gospel
To the faithful that follow.



I'm not sure if I was supposed to, but both of these lines made me smile. :)

And with silent
Wondering eyes his mind shifted into
Ghost Bach-Turner Overdrive


A thousand fist kisses


On the other hand, this line and the ones that followed were very somber.

Isn't my presence a recognition of something extraordinary?
Is my destruction really necessary, when we can share this territory?


What if there really was something in Ced's words that held real discovery and the unnamed man was onto something immense? His quest meets with devastation and Ced, who may have at one point been on the verge of understanding truths, has lost it all.



That song! Which came first? If it was the song, then it was a perfect jumping off point to build the story from and if it was the poem, what a moment it must have been, when you heard the song for the first time and realized it was your story!


Thanks for sharing your poem Col. You have a real gift.
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: colonel_mexico on August 12, 2014, 09:43:16 PM
The song came after and it really fit the theme of what was written.  Yeah Ced and the unnamed end up in the same place and what could have been an interesting friendship didn't or maybe it ended the only way a crazed fan meeting his idol can end, I'm not sure what I was endeavoring lol.  Thank you so much Sandy for reading and the comments, I'm very grateful. 
Title: Re: colonel_mexico's poem thread
Post by: Sandy on August 12, 2014, 11:43:34 PM
 :)

My pleasure. Hope you share more!