Poetry Spurt

[moonchaser]

I'm on a NIN kick.. -lol- forgive me

"Suck"

There is no god up in the sky tonight
No sign of heaven anywhere in sight
All that was true is left behind
Once I could see now I am blind
Don't want your dreams you try to sell
This disease I give to myself

How does it feel? [x2]

She makes it sweeter than the sun
I get too tight I come undone
I bow my head to confess
The temple walls are made of flesh
Runs up my arms 'til I'm on track
Itches my skin right off of my back
I'll heal your wounds
I'll set you free
I'm Jesus Christ on Ecstacy

How does it feel? [x2]

[whispered]
I am so dirty on on the inside [x4]

How does it feel? [x2]

Suck [x4]

[whispered]
A thousand lips a thousand tongues
A thousand throats a thousand lungs
A thousand ways to make it true
I want to do terrible things to you

[leakyspider]

if i was a male and read that...i would have wood right now

[Mamie]

can you beat that?

[leakyspider]

yes if i had a boner i could probably beat it.

[Artistguy]

A poetry spurt eh?

Well then, i'll spurt one out of my own *L*


Before I Die


Before i die one must remind
me of the anguish i left behind
Many sins to bear, deserving only a sigh
my consolation before i die


The spurting poetry of....

Artistguy

http://artstudio.freehomepage.com/

[Mamie]

But since I am coming again
there is on my parade - no rain

[leakyspider]

MUSHY BUT...

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times--or maybe just his smile--
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Oil-streaked daisies covered the living room wall
He put water-colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I love you, I want to give you mountains, the sunshine
The sunset too
I want to give you everything as beautiful as you are to me."

'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, an art to live by
They painted every passion, every home, created every beautiful child
In the winter they were weavers of warmth
In summer they were carpenters of love
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow

'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was wrong
She went running through the orchard screaming,
"No God, don't take him from me!"
But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone

She got to where he lay, water-colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, "Damn you man, don't leave me
With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits
To remind me!"

He said, "Love I leave, but only a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we created with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still
My body may die now, but these paintings are real."

So many seasons came and many seasons went
And many times she saw her love's face watering the flowers,
Talking to the trees and singing to his children
And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening,
And how he seemed to laugh along, and how he seemed to hold her
When she was crying

'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover
How he left her and of times long ago, when she used to color carelessly,
Painted his portrait a thousand times, or maybe just his smile,
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
Yes, she and her canvas still follow

Because they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely world