Hi BE Try to find The Great Day of His Wrath - when I first saw that hanging in the gallery I was gobsmacked

Thanks for the feedback on my material as ever

other couples

I can be your Romeo
And you my Juliet,
Despite the fact we haven't seen
That Shakespeare classic yet.

When you are Maid Marian
I'll twang as Robin Hood,
Not in Sherwood Forest though,
We'll use the local wood.

I'm thinking about gangsters,
You as Bonnie, me as Clyde
Without the heists they pulled of course,
Who wants a stretch inside?

Be my Esmeralda
Then our fantasies won't slump,
I'd love you as the Hunchback
And I'd never get the hump.

Egypt's Cleopatra
You'd do great, a sexy hit
But would my Tutankhamun
Make you see me as a tit?

Time could turn us into George
And Mildred's warring sorts,
Maybe we should be ourselves
For now, on second thoughts.


©

Blinding stuff Musty.

A hugely enjoyable read.

A darkly beautiful and haunting poem about the forbidden complications of love. Yet another masterpiece of writing

I love the style of your poetry and the Shakespeare references are genius. A lovely poem

I'm not a huge Morrissey fan but your poem is beautifully written and a very affectionate tribute.


I love your use of words in poetry Musty, they have charm and humour while still conveying a serious topic. You are indeed a very skilled talent. I myself have written a poem about man's cruelty to nature but as usual you have completely out trumped me lol




Brilliantly written and I love how the worship of money is compared to religion..very clever


Ahh, that's the second Shakespeare reference I've read today which can't be bad This is a very delightful poem, which shows your use of names in poetry perfectly. I escpecially like the last verse - the greatest couple of all time, George and Mildred

I have a little *cough* poem for you:

Oh Musty, Musty, Musty
your poems are never dusty
because each time you write
you fill us all with delight
so you'll never become an old crusty!

I haven't had time to polish up any of my poems for posting this week and I'm off on holiday at the weekend but I didn't want you to think I'd abandoned the thread. As Arnie would say I'll be back ..with no doubt a lot of catching up to do!

Seren thank you for those kind words, Frank.

The Girl of My Dark Dreams

She is here, the girl is here-
She has returned, to calm my fears.

The girl of my dreams
Adorned in black;
She glides to the beat
Of her own Gothic soundtrack.

Her pale white skin,
So soft so clear;
With her cherry red lips
She has the aura of a seer.

She can foretell my future
In one moment of truth;
Or drag memories crying
From my wasted youth.

But she is not real-
This girl of my dreams.
Still, my heart pleads to meet her:

As it screams and it screams.

Star Slayer

The shattered sun collapses inwards, tumbling
Into invisible night; a void of sight and sound;
The tomb of entropy that awaits the fallen ones.
And the Angel of Darkness bathes in remaining strands
Of fading starlight, as desperate sunbeams become one;
With the destroyer of worlds.

WOW very powerful words, I especially loved the last verse. It plunges me into a world of Wuthering Heights. Your poems create so much atmosphere and always make me want to know more about the people they are written about.

Another beautiful poem

I'm in awe of your use of words. Simply stunning!

Thanks Seren, enjoy your holiday and I'll look forward to reading more of your stuff when you return.

The Sun Still Shines

The girl with dreams
As pure as ice;
Her journey just begun.
The white rose lights
Her path of life;
And shadows are undone.

The truth is borne
By restless winds;
Into cities cold and grey.
And freedom shines
Throughout the land;
On evil's judgement day.


This is a tribute to Sophie Scholl and her fellow activists.

Beta God.

"Let the killing begin"
said the man to his kin
"and with God on our side
we may slaughter with pride.

"Fear no evil forces
or faithless discourses,
for our way is right
at the end of the night.

"All praise be to Beta.
With Him we'll defeat a
whole planet of lies.
We shall poison their skies
and swat them like flies.

"Turn their lakes into fire
and, if they enquire,
as to whom we obey
Simply say -

'We come from afar
and our guiding star
man has finished with you.'
and then force them to do
anything you desire.
Then kill them with fire.

Cheers Troy


I was grateful for all of your comments Seren but honoured to receive a poem Have a great holiday and I look forward to more of your poetry when you get back


This is close in context to an oldie of mine BE. It's called There goes the Gothic girl and I was thinking of reposting it

Apocalyptic and visionary - another fascinating and well-written delve into the dark side.


I had to Google Sophie BE, although the name rang a bell. This is a fine tribute. You can't get much braver than defying the Nazis and the White Rose group paid the ultimate price for it


This reminded me of the Spanish Empire's decimation of the Aztecs Archiver. Whoever the killers are here, the principle's the same. An excellent poem that highlights the eternal problem - not giving a damn about others. Good to see you back in the saddle my friend

There goes the Gothic girl

There goes the Gothic girl, walking along,
She failed to blend in with the rest,
There goes the Gothic girl, knows right from wrong
And what shade of darkness is best.

When she hit sixteen her outlook turned blue,
The bright world seemed pointless and dull,
Nor much inspired, so a rebel-sense grew
As well as the void in her soul.

School was a chore, in the main quite a bore
And while there she only liked art,
A face in the crowd with two friends and no more,
You could say a true lonely heart.

Dark sounds and clothes were the things that blessed life,
Her parents weren't pleased yet still trusted,
It wasn't her fault how she cringed at Westlife
Or that other girls preferred Busted.

Boosting the volume with treble and bass,
Led Zeppelin helped conquer the stress,
Deathly white paint on her happy-sad face
And black was the tone of her dress.

Drinking with friends, each tin can cracks the shell,
Occasional comforting ciders,
The rules of society work very well
For millions but not for outsiders.

There goes the Gothic girl where ravens fly,
Loves the occult but won't dabble,
There goes the Gothic girl, holds her head high,
Star in this great mundane rabble.


©

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

“The Square Root of Three” by David Feinberg

Hi Subversive Great poem, but the moderators have specified that we can't post works by living poets, only those who've been dead for a few centuries.

Unless you're David Feinberg of course

Thank you very much Musty. I hoped that by hinting the aggressors were from another world I'd steer clear of offending the faithful of this, but it's largely inspired by currently esteemed religious texts.

Thanks and noted for future posts.

Loved reading this one; great sentiments about indoctrination.



A nice story like feel to this one Musty; enjoyed it.

I Awake One Radiant Spring Morning

I awake one radiant Spring morning;
A dancing smile of contentment playing on my lips.
Spreading its joy to the rest of my tear stained face.
Washing away the pain and dread of the night before.

For one brief, passing moment;
Happiness and tranquility reigns.
And the dark clouds; misery's messengers;
Are kept at bay.

Then suddenly, cold reality strikes me;
Like a speeding arrow formed of ice;
Piercing my mind with its ghastly frozen touch.
Shattering my comforting illusions into a thousand
Tiny and fragile pieces.

And the awful questions begin again;

Where are you?

Why did you leave Me?

What did I do?

Tears begin to fall again as the black clouds
Of despair and anger shroud my vision;
Forcing me back deeper and deeper;
Into the furthest reaches of my warmest childhood memories;
The only place that I feel safe and loved.

And Wanted!

I've given up treading softly for both believers and atheists Archiver. It cheesed me off when a poem I posted here about a child-abusing priest was deleted. It was fictional too. If poetry can highlight our finer aspects it should be allowed to shine a light on our worst ones too - however vile they've become. That said, I've just found out I've had four poems banned in America, including one about Quentin Crisp, a true hero. I didn't have copies of those either Don't you just LOVE freedom of speech?


Please post again Subversive


Ta BE


I know that feeling BE - forgetfulness on waking, then the crash back down to earth. The bright start to this made what followed all the more poignant. A great last line too