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In utero

PostPosted: Mon Jan 15, 2007 10:43 am
by Saturn
In utero

My life has shrunk
To a little measure,
A small dark room.
Umbilical wrapped,
A cocoon of safety.

Fourteen inches
Black, shiny plastic.
A world entombed,
Knowledge at fingers
My arms empty still.

No point embracing
A cluster of pixels.
No comfort comes
From printed words
They only disappear.

Yet still I continue
Pouring my misery,
Loneliness, despair
Into the gaping void
Looking for relief

Only heartbreak,
Echoes will return.
Cold mirrors glare
Reflect this pain
Back to my soul.

PostPosted: Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:23 pm
by dks
I'm going to say, Stephen, that you have a great talent for writing to the times. That's difficult to do delicately and well, you know. I find all the recent birth/death/unborn baby imagery very interesting...it seems you have been inspired as of late. This I love in particular here:

Fourteen inches
Black, shiny plastic.
A world entombed,
Knowledge at fingers
My arms empty still.

No point embracing
A cluster of pixels.
No comfort comes
From printed words
They only disappear.


'pixels' is indeed a fantastic word, isn't it?

PostPosted: Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:27 pm
by Saturn
I absorb everything and regurgitate it at a later stage.

Pixel is a fine word indeed, I've always liked that word. Certain words just delight the tongue when spoken.

Sometimes its just the sound of word that's important, more than its meaning even.

I'm full of ideas for poems at the moment because I'm alone most of the time now - If I wasn't going out of my mind I would be grateful.

Such is the price of the muse I think. :? :(

PostPosted: Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:30 pm
by dks
Amen, brutha... :wink:

PostPosted: Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:34 pm
by Saturn
I'd rather never write another word and be happy to be honest with you.

All these poems are not just barren metaphors, but real brutal descriptions of what I'm feeling and thinking.

I don't "do" abstract...