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   Author  Topic: green is the colour  (Read 1141 times)
Kid-A
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green is the colour
« on: 2004-09-10 20:58:24 »
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sorry for the lack of punctuation, it can be read at varying speeds, I just left it as is, so make of it what you will. It's about a girl i once knew, comments would be nice



What flooded the cobbles of soho unravelled memoirs a bloated heart once rowed....along lights which shaded the darkness of an acute night...a tide of sorrowfull music which became a matter of numbness to any reality concerning unconditional love...rats...noaring....yet sifting through a mind blanked with willfull love...constant waiting for a lodger to look over and fix my searching eyes tainted by mourners crys...which at the time were oblivious lies....lost in his colourful range of vintage skinny ties and a courted suit down saville row... tears need not be cried tonight for i've seen lifted by a quilted contentness.. a free born kite dancing not 'at' the clouds but with them.. not 'for' them...curiosity lingers in my tabacoed stained nails 'which star does she stare at tonight?' which toenail will she choose to knaw and bite?'''

He called her up to say 'hello ..i miss you'', it's that feeling when you lay next to someone who's lost in sleep yet your eyes are peeping and your heart creeping all you want to roar in bitten whispers 'i love you' a song on replay...

banging on the walls of midnight for a bloody fight.. as i sit tight in bed .. the wolf longs/thirsts for pleats in little girls feet reminiscent of a babys teat the spider hops landscapes of carpet..anonymous to the blinded dust mites who spend their days  causing mice to sneeze ..appease in a sneeze, strike of a second second..eyes closed..gunpoint posed... and i would suppose... that would be the end of that malarky......the girls of the moulin rouge lost in the dance of rouge can can can


Identifiable through the scent of 2'oclock dreaming on a freshly cut rock...rocks which underworld of the contradicted. quitting tricks.. i'll place my magic wand over your pillow so at least in your dreams you may willow with me, sit uninfatuated with anything but 'we'... timely stirrs of whispered cures... do we ever quite succeed? in what? she nods.. the tree sketches as the wind....another note is censored.. contemplate the plate of reason dealt daily.. filled up by 'ifs' and all ye imaginary mates quiffs. the candle burns slowly yet furnaces have become part of the furniture.. all too friendly.



Today, as always green is my colour, of my eyes, the skys i see and the bottom of the sea, the colour granted when all the colours have been planted....


      ..letters of love read too late kept under 'the hat'.... kisses swept...now living under an east end door mat..who takes their shoes off at the door anymore?

Ted lives under my bed... in the depths of my head..feeder of words in the darkness of woods... the wisher of clouds.. the greeness which turns beliefs into leaves....waits with me till dawn...till the nights picture has fully been drawn..then rests with me a while...as i under go another days taunts and tests..dies as another page has been turned...lives in the moment another memory has been burned on the tops of roofs puncturing all of proof.....'elizabeth why are you so aloof?'



2:33am she should be sleeping by a lamb in the hay..not searching for a way...passage through the humidity of a thursday night. midnights glare stare wailing in my bedrooms air...fates chest spun open today...papers orchestrated by as she does not know yet the places she means to go, thoughts of paree in a cellar attic room nightlamp the eiffel tower...parading walks and talks with chaps who paint fountains of fainting ladies....parees staircase spirals for her...but she doesnt fall the stairs.... yet watches lovers in their pairs




....oh she was seventeen all the places she had seen resembled all the nowheres i had been...
« Last Edit: 2004-09-10 21:55:31 by Kid-A » Report to moderator   Logged

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David Lucifer
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Re:green is the colour
« Reply #1 on: 2004-09-11 09:41:34 »
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Kid-A you are one talented frood. I don't remember reading a piece that was so perfectly transfixed between prose and poetry. What would you call this genre?
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Re:green is the colour
« Reply #2 on: 2004-09-11 19:58:57 »
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Quote:
Kid-A you are one talented frood. I don't remember reading a piece that was so perfectly transfixed between prose and poetry. What would you call this genre?

haha I'll quote you on that

I'd call it a jumble of continuous prose with a bit of an auditory pleasing rhyming scheme.

It was originally written as 2 seperate poems, the first containing only verses 1 and 3. It's actually about two different times in my life, the first about 2 years ago when i was extremely messed up and was considering suicide as a viable way out, not wanting to go into it in depth as it would bring back very bad memories, i just made it about a girl.

The second part I wrote several months after the first was written, and is actually when I first met said girl.
I decided to just mix them together and with a little tweaking here and there it started to sound like a story.
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