Benjamin Posted May 30, 2011 Share Posted May 30, 2011 where life sweeps past like a torrent of wind high in the trees, while the forest floor is static. And Midwich Cuckoos on street corners, stare at the anaconda throng who stare right back, with nickel-plated eyes and ears. And they slither through the concrete habitat, where neon skies reflect a cold sun to the aggressive sound of rap. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted May 30, 2011 Share Posted May 30, 2011 I'm always impressed with the quality of our members' work, Benjamin. I find it very inspiring how you've taken a cross-section of an urban moment and distilled it into this compact verse. This is poetry. Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted June 1, 2011 Author Share Posted June 1, 2011 (edited) Thanks Tony. I could have rambled on from Ephesus and Pompeii, to Tikal in Guatamala; spoke of vivid scrawls upon the walls: unexpurgated evolutuion, urban art, cartoons, curses, comments, ads for prostitution. Stencils, sprays, turf wars and legacies in wet cement--yambombing or how Lysdexia Lures K.O. Even an absolution of the mind. But there's enough to chew on already so I'll leave it alone. :icon_sunny: Benjamin Edited June 1, 2011 by Benjamin Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
abstrect-christ Posted June 23, 2011 Share Posted June 23, 2011 nicely done indeed ben. Quote Pinhead "Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends. There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh." Joey "I don't believe you." Pinhead "Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume. To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart." "There's a starving beast inside my chestplaying with me until he's boredThen, slowly burying his tusks in my fleshcrawling his way out he rips open old woundsWhen I reach for the knife placed on the bedside tableits blade reflects my determined faceto plant it in my chestand carve a hole so deep it snaps my veinsHollow me out, I want to feel empty"-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreakerhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBPy3xNwwL8 "Sky turns to a deeper grey the sun fades by the moon hell's come from the distant hills tortures dreams of the doomed and they pray, yet they prey and they pray, still they prey"-- "Still They Prey" by Coughhttps://soundcloud.com/relapserecords/sets/cough-still-they-pray Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JoelJosol Posted June 23, 2011 Share Posted June 23, 2011 The poem appeared to me as a collage, shifting from one thought to another. I have to look up Midwich Cuckoo to get the context as well. Quote "Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted June 28, 2011 Author Share Posted June 28, 2011 Hello Joel.Thanks for reading and leaving comment. The Midwich Cuckoos is a famous novel by John Wyndham which was made into a film, "The Village of the Damned". The allusion is to the alien children with a collective intelligence, who operate outside the parameters of normal human behaviour.Benjamin. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
eclipse Posted June 29, 2011 Share Posted June 29, 2011 Hello Joel.Thanks for reading and leaving comment. The Midwich Cuckoos is a famous novel by John Wyndham which was made into a film, "The Village of the Damned". The allusion is to the alien children with a collective intelligence, who operate outside the parameters of normal human behaviour.Benjamin. this is very good-thanks Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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