I will post some poems here that I have wrote.

Tell me what you think

awe sounds lovely cant wait for this either im a poetry luvah =D

wrote this one today;

"Connect"

The fringes of your syllables

slip into the coma of this room

our pulses escalate

as the surroundings can no longer employ what we want

what we need.

I look into you deep

you feel deeply through me

I ask without asking

You Yes without yesing

I touch,

electricity and heat spiraling up your arms

My fingertips feel you

and quake at suggestions

we throw each other

the harness is our eyes locking

as our lips mesh and frolic along the edges

of who we are.

Taste..

Oh fucking God how good it tasted.

Your answers fucked my questions

the novel wrote itself

as we spread along the floor

melting into the carpet

interlocked

by a poisonous vine

I got sick with you

noone wanted a cure.

We fucked for five hours

and made love for one.

I think about you

when lightning crashes against the glass

longing to electrocute me.

I know you taste me

everytime your lips meet another,

failing to connect like we did.

That was so good

I'm okay at poetry.

very powerfull and seductive <333

Karma Will Catch Up To You, Bitch

her vinagrette smile
poisons the chicken salad
she gets every fucking day.
when she says hello
what she is really saying
is Accknowledge the fact that my rich whored-up ass
has entered the building.
she cuts our hours,
cheapens the materials we work with
and laughs all the way to the next paycheck.
she is heartless
and she has wounded the hearts of so many others.
she is the most cliche boss on the goddamn planet.

when i say hello to her
what I'm really saying is...

When My Face Goes Red

everyone knows when to go away
when that point has reached into me
when there are no more defense mechanisms to shatter
when there are no more reasons to keep it in
when my face goes red.

I have shown this face to few
I have broken this face for many
But everyone I know
seems to know it is there.
From the jerk on the other side of the counter at work
To the homophobe passing me with crystal eyes
To the one I love who loves me and knows who I am.
guards keep their place
in front of the Queen's Palace
because they know only certain people may trespass
against her.

when my face goes red,
i forget who i am.
I, the one afraid of death and too much confrontation without reserves.
when my face goes red,
the one I dream of being under warm blankets at night
runs free to paint colors across the canvas.

But it must be said
when your face goes red,
to never let one color
dominate this box of crayons.

Suffer Unto

suffering is done alone.

if you want attention
or you need attention
you may tell others
of what is breaking your heart.
opinions may comfort.

if you are truly hurting
while the pain is too real
you may not tell others
of what is breaking your spirit.
silence may comfort.

suffering is done alone

Calm And Dark

wilting
slicing off the collected cells
as they pinch
the beating organ.
oh god it hurts
and oh my god does it feel so good.
happiness is just
a sadness away
the blues wilting across
the lazy lampshades

Senses

When I see you flash that smile,
all those wicked ideas come back.
all of my senses open up for you.
my eyes stake out all the nooks of your body
for thorough investigation.
my hands touch you in the teasing places first,
leading to all the other ones, longing for my lips.
I taste you all over. my tongue brushes your lips, ears,
shoulders, stomach, sides, legs, cock and balls.
my nose smells all your natural scents urging me further, with more energy
and affection for each parts desire.
I hear your moans and all the reasons why you love me
and the grunts that tell me what I'm in for after
you expulse your senses into me.
When I see you flash that smile,
all the wcked ideas remind me of how much
fun it is to make love to you.
I can already feel you inside me
in every way the senses will
allow.

Fickle Boy Blue

oh fickle boy
playing tea party with the television
spinning plates and glasses,
tossing recklessly from beneath the couch

oh fickle boy
playing solitaire with the DVD player
splitting magazine pages and decisions
snapping viciously from within your heart.

oh fickle boy
i hope you fall in love
with something
tangible

Trunk

the trunk of the car
is full.
so many things are wrapped around the inside
struggling
to breathe.
the air is tight and the space is
cramped.
people try to shove their things in
but when you try to close it,
you can't get the door
shut.
and inevitably you lose some things
along
the way

Words Are High In Cholesterol


I splattered my words upon the dinner table.
i wondered who may have a slice.
its a shame to let those adverbs
grow stale with the leftovers.
she grasped her fork, uneasy candor upon her fingers.
she was hungry
but perhaps she paused for a diet of silence.
next it was he,
craving the desserts served across the linen.
a spoonful of irony
helps the facts go down.
but he choked on the first bite.
all i was left to do
was have a picnic.
those eight sandwiches went down the hatch
and out of my ass.

Kicking Holes In The Sky


kicking holes into the sky
was always a talent.
those long drives with my voice loud
those times I said what others wouldn't
in
a
million
years.
Heaven and Hell..so debatable.
what is the point of either
if you can't carve the niche
here first?
i will play pinball with the stars
and gather bonus turns,
kicking holes in the sky.

i still carry my picnic basket for the feast.
hopefully the food will not be stale when I arrive.

Germs


sterilizing my hands
after I pass away my chances
and flush the matter away. always important.
I never undesrstood the ones
who leave their denial and time
wedged into the cracks of their slimy palms.

they will shake your hands
and you may become dirty too.
for we send out our messages
in the form of
germs......

Hot Dogs

my mornings can feel the same unless I change them.

there was a guy from Baufort, South Carolina who asked me a question at the hotel last night that I never expected today.
maybe yesterday but not today.
he asked me where the closest bar without "niggers" was..and yes in that bad grammatical way
my mouth hung open and his three friends looked at me as the question were natural.

I am amazed at what America has let George Bush by with.
aren't you? I hope you are. with all of my soul.

I am so disgusted with myself that I began smoking again. after one year without.
my co worker said "I guess everyone needs a vice to work here"
hers is medication.
isn't the world too medicated? overpopulated?

reality is the new fantasy for tv (and it isnt even real).

why do I come home every morning and say everything wrong to the one I love?

I love hearing my eighties song when I feel alone.
I said that twenty years ago too.
today should be no different.

but why does all this feel so different?
why am i conditioned to the changes that has happened?
is a part of me hypmotized?
maybe its just the red dye in those hot dogs last night.
the food of today is the communion of the End.

why aren't I writing that screenplay I keep thinking about?

oh, I remember.

Stars and Bones


papers and pencils
organization will be the death of It.
scrolls of feelings mass produced
to exterior crocodile tears
to remind them what body parts may
still be Real.
ideas jump around like roaches
in a bag of skuzzy garbage.
recycling is the way to go.
formulas are insatiable.

linda lovelace, star of Deep Throat, died a while back.
she was penniless, begging for attention on the streets.
women are beloved
until gravity takes their mothering abilities to the naked eye
away.
colder still, the nipples taint.

they graze the grasses of the concrete heart,
stars enraged across the sidewalks
where brains were spent at one injection
a second.
they seem to wander aimlessly,
forgetting where they last left their genitals
and faces.
scrambling through people with lights that arrest
them, sprawling them along the bone-laden walls
and fucking the fame out of
them.
everyone gets a little jealous of success.

Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie are no longer friends anymore.
That was something to hear in the pop culture sphere.
that article about that woman who married the 14 year old
was the page thereafter.
small print underneath let me know about the eight famous people
who died this week.
I wonder how some people sleep at night.
I know I have trouble.

Some Things On My Mind and My Mind On Some Things

youve seen these openings before.
they are there when you dont actually have one.
anyway..
do you ever stare at the floor so long
the ground cracks open and the foundation gives away?
did you ever have an epiphany when you put your car in park,
waiting on a train for fifteen minutes?
did you ever know exactly how to solve all your intricate bullshit that you ramble to yourself and others about in extensive entertaining run-on sentence fragments while drinking some random alcoholic beverage while harboring anger about a look that some stranger in a wal mart gave that you took entirely wrong because of your weird insecurities and yet....
you know how to solve them and yet
you don't know how to begin.
I was typing on this advertisement box
and felt like asking you a couple of questions.
Hopefully you didn't mind??
I would hate to become a random subject in your weekly bullshit splattering
because you assumed I wrote this about you.
I didn't.
I am just viciously depressed and feeling like I went back into the infant stage
and every simple detail of my life
seems impossible to fathom.
Some would say this poem is narcissistic.
Some would say this poem is repetitive.
Some would say this poem just fucking sucks.
Some would say this poem is a cry for help.
Some would say this poem sucks in an entirely different language.
Maybe Im just tired of jacking off this month.
Maybe I hate my job.
It's not what i want to do with the rest of my life
This I know.
But I suppose its comfortable as your benefits rise.
Maybe its dangerous to be comfortable.
The heat this summer is sweltering.
Hurricane season is coming.
No it's probably the jacking off thing.
Im so tired of the pornos I watch again and again.
I just dont feel like buying anymore.
Why in the fuck am I still smoking?
Why the hell did I have that extra doughnut?
I didnt want it.
I drink too much coffee.
My family is driving me nuts.
I'm driving me nuts.
If I have to fix one more godforsaken thing on this car..
I really like that "Desperate Housewives" show.
I'm sad "Six Feet Under" is over.
that king in the burger king commercials is just fucking creepier than any other
commercial slogan gimmick ever.
he joked with a construction worker today, pretending he was going to throw him over a scaffold.
humor is quite different today.
that damn thing goes in peoples showers, beds, windows.
hes like a crazy pedophile.
i was raped when i was seven.
its so hilarious how that affects the way you enjoy sex forever.
being gay doesnt help when four men raped you at seven.
certain touches still give me shudders.
did i mention those four guys were my cousins?
anyway, back to the questions.
do you ever read a poem that is so long
you start to fall asleep mid way through?
I have.
Infact, I was sleeping through the last five sentences.
What happened?
Not enough.
Im in a big damn city and I barely have a life.
Thers alot to do.
no friends to do them with.
everyone is so afraid of connecting.
Its what I call "The Battleship Disease".
It's like these people think every conversation gets people closer
to sinking their battleships.
Maybe its true.
But I just think they are forgetting to recognize when they put a hit on
themself.
Some people are just too medicated to have a desire.
I miss my father and my grandmother.
I really I could see my daughter.
Have you ever cried so hard your head feels like it's splitting in two from the pain?
Did you ever notice how only tears and laughter can become so extreme to cause such pain?
Sure love is a painful emotion.
But how many of us have actually felt it?
I think most of us had symptoms
but most of us were vaccinated from a very early age.
Why the hell is Paris Hilton such a star?
As Dolly Parton said in that terrible Stallone movie.
"When you get right down to it, a star aint nothing but a big ball of gas"
Double negatives make life much more fun and ironic.
I fucked a priest when i was sixteen.
I didnt know at the time.
Not long after he sucked my dick,
he started singing as he drove me home in his pickup
"Oh When the saints go marching in".
I turned to him with a confused look. (Picture my confused look)
He said "Im a priest. Hope that doesnt offend you. Id also like you to know
what a blessing you were last night.)
I love that memory. Great party story.
Last night I watched a homeless man talk to a bag of m and m's for fifteen
minutes.
No shit.
I have been through too much these last twenty years.
I am immune to most pain. Just the self inflicted stuff still burns.
i just dont want my soul to die
or my creativity to wither away
like that nasty vine outside my apartment complex.
I went to a laser light show the other night.
Pink Floyd may be The poets of the 20th Century.
Apologies to all 50 Cent fans.
Please let this terrible presidents term come to an end
before we lose every freedom still remaining.
What complete idiots marked him on their ballots?
Oh well. Everyone is tired of hearing about that.
Politics and friends rarely mix.
I hope you guys reading are my friends.
I love you and Im your friend.
If you have a problem, tell me.
As insanely empathetic as I am, youll get a lengthy response.
I love movies.
I have thousands of movies.
Nice distractions from how Im wasting whats left of my life.
I have an intensely painful sciattic nerve and Im only 28.
Almost 29. Next month.
Almost 30. What the fuck am I waiting for?
If i could just conquer this depression
I have the rest mapped out.
I have too much emotion.
Kinda like how this poem has too many damn lines.
But hey- you read it.
so leave your reply about how much you loved the symbolism
so i know you never read it to begin with.
I dont blame ya.
I know you got your own damn poem repeating itself over and over in your head
like this poem repeatedly repeats itself in mine and on this "new discussion" on our message board here at APC-HAVEN.
I wonder how many of you will skim to the bottom of the screen to see apc-haven in capitals and assume this is a general message and ask me cruelly why i posted on the poetry board with this run-on message.
People jump on causes like soldiers onto bombs.
Just looking out for the platoon.
Anyway, Ill say goodbye one more time.
Thanks for listening.
I feel so alone as I write this.
you probably do too.
Just like me.
in the dark with the light of the screen glimmering,
glass of your poison beside you (sodas count as poison too),
and thinking one thing to yourself...
who the hell does this asshole think he is?
I could've been watching "On Demand".
why am i still reading this?
my only answer is compulsion.
we so desperately need the answers to riddles.
this isnt really a riddle though.
as you leave the page, you may have found this to be worse than oral surgery
you may have found this deep and profund and full of symbolic bursts of poetry.
you may not care either way.
you may need to take a shit and want this poem to end.
so for all of you who may infact feel like me,
i send a hug so full of human contact and empathy for whatever the hell you're feeling tonight.
I love you, each and every two of you that read this.
This is the end.

(Afterthought- I hope that really gay ending doesn't make them picture that damn king smiling and hugging them, ready to push their unsuspecting burger-loving ass off a scaffold. Anyway.........)

The Magician (For A Friend)

He bids his cards on the table,
naked are his kings and queens.
He antes up with more precision than those other entertainers.
He knows just what to show you
and what you don't need to see.
His happiness lies in the fact that magic is real.
magic is made in more ways than a human can fathom.
His sadness lies in the fact that magic is easier to perform.
magic doesn't come as naturally as the desire for it.
In a world of low attention spans and lack of surprise,
a magician must wriggle his mind upon the table,
giving you and I a chance to stab it.
dissect it like the religious scientists we are.
He may show you his bunnies, hopping in a perfect row.
He may show his deck of cards, each a fate he tosses eagerly.
He may show you his hat, a perfect costume for his mind.
He may show you his tricks, hoping you'll serve the treats.
A magician knows the truth.
And his Magic is keeping you from that very thing.
A magician knows what's behind the curtain.
All you will know is what He will let you see.
A hope for God in some, A fear of the Devil in others.
All the religious scientists sleep better
as the magician wears his cape.
What would happen if he took it off?

Until Then

They got me to.

Being freshly single,
My friends convinced me to come visit the bar again.
The bar is different from the last time I patronized there.
I am different.
My new Ceasar haircut and Obsession Night cologne may do the trick.
Alot of lascivious licks from lips cross my sight
as the pitchers flow freely through my veins.
The Pet Shop Boys want me to.
I just feel so much older now though Im only 28 (most would say).
I always had the skill to say hello to everyone
yet my honesty can quell a conversation quickly.
I believe thats why most want me. I can say hello.
Communication is a delicassey around this country.
I see the one I might flirt with.
he has that lost look in his eyes. I dont think hes came here often either.
The bartender gallops along the trays as the bored men
suck each other off in the video parading across next to CNN on the other screen.
How very appropriate.
Now Cyndi Lauper wants me to.
I have been holding back since my hair began to thin.
He wants me to talk to him. or maybe he enjoys my full lips
and the thought of them pleasuring his Brain one suck at a time.
I go over, leaving the other three to come on to someone else.
There is so much more to me but they don't know that.
Perhaps I sound arrogant.
I'm really not.
I am merely selfish toward myself.
Now Duran Duran wants me to.
I flash to his direction.
I introduce myself and give my resume.
His eyes are wide. His pants are stirring.
The conversation is filled with innuendo.
A few more rounds of draft take us away.
We have so much in common it seems.
He is new to this city too.
I was there two years ago and I know the routine.
I am ready.
Tina Turner made my decision.
Just as I am about to offer an after hours drink after telling him my dream of acting,
He abruptly says "I bet that mouth of yours has alot of talent".
I sigh.
Things are just the same since I last came here (literally)

They got me to.
Maybe something real will envelop my dying soul next year.
Until then..

March To October


march to october
doesnt seem like such a long time.

much has came and went since.
cigarettes came back precisely
pots and pans crept into my hands
there you went to my computer screen
to keep up false friendships..
ones where noone truly has to know you.
hate sprang forth from mouths reciting love
glory seemed close
yet history repeats itself
mourning the ground walked upon
by everyone before.
I saw us aging before
now we age as an after thought

march to october can be quite a long time.

Monday Brings The Aftertaste Of Sunday

Monday Brings The Aftertaste of Sunday

By: Joey Alan Scarberry (TheCrash42)

8-15-05




7:21 A.M.

I deploy my cigarette before me,

watching it blister

luminous in the weepy humid morning.

I trace the smoke rising from the grave of the ashtray.

This artificially magic wand coating it's spell

across the walls and clothes of my bedroom.

I should be asleep.




7:27 A.M.

I have been awake all night,

loaded in liquor and the lackadaisical taste of a Pure night

amongst friends.

Between keyboards and telephones,

We shared a moment we shall never forget.

The secrets of the wee hours only christen

those lucky enough to understand the Moon.




7:36 A.M.

I watched “Cinderella” for only my second time last night.

I rescued it to rescue me from the menagerie of my cynical

Home entertainment.

The headaches of alcohol and the backaches of computer chatting

had me settle for the closest film.

The epiphany of the scathing dreamer

forced the tape inside the exhausted VCR.




7:44 A.M.

My catatonic boyfriend lies nude in our Bed.

His covers shoved away, his breath close.

I am not appreciating

The contours and aromas that are His alone

as I did when we first kissed.

The dagger tatooed across his back

aches for me to play King Arthur.




7:58 A.M.

I have always been this way.

Third shifts bring mind drifts of infinite range

I am showing Age.

I give so much, expectations with a cruel destiny.

That steering wheel is foreign to me.

This journey is just beginning.

I should be awake.

Stiff


the patterns of the floor crossed and smothered the heels
clanking atop the footprints of those before.
My stomach twinged, my soul unhinged.
i tried to make contact
but fresh wounds twitch when you get a stale itch.
i thought about sex, what i was having for dinner
and everything I've missed along this neverending day
asking..myself why
i wanted to remember this forever
but the glimpse of you I loved and looked up into
cold, emotionless, stained into the final seat
covered in that stuff you hated,
I realized I was going to die too
and everyone would eat their chicken afterwards
sucking the bones off
like dates on a calendar
you forget to pay attention to
and miss your most important
appointment.

Four E Mails (For Neil)


Four times in one year he has done this.
my love. the one i know i should be with.
i met him in the lovely closing of 2002.
He called me "an american tourist" who should move to England with him.
He knew my worth.
The complications of the world stifled everything.
He treated me lovelier than any other human being has
ever
treated me.
We had a week so immune to reality..
so much so that when I try to explain it, noone believes such a week exists.
It did.

Every sunday at work in the wee hours Carly Simon knows how to croon about,
I deliver newspapers to our guests at the hotel at 3:00 a.m.
Every Sunday I think about Him in those ten minutes I'm walking alone.
How rarely we are truly alone with our thoughts.
There are a number of reasons I am not there right this moment in his arms.
I know them all quite well yet I know the other end just as painfully.

he has sent me four e mails this year,
one lovelier than the next.
Few and far between.
crumbs of which fill me more than any nourishment my everyday life has to offer.
He says there has been no love in each one.
My heart believes him.
Time is an issue. Family is an issue.
Distance is an issue. Culture is an issue.
But then I think of him and every tranquil piece of his masterpiece soul
delivering drinks in London at his pub
as I toss these newspapers on doorknobs and think of what should have been.
I love him so much, every other relationship is spoiled already.
I know it won't be what I felt for one week in this long life.
I try to write about it and the words won't arrive (just like I).

maybe this year i will get to visit.
maybe this year..

In Love

I can feel it all over.
Stevie Wonder assures me across my headset.
Every song that plays in formation
reminds me of memories I don't even have yet.
I love you so much.
When I fantacize about the day we meet,
I don't imagine only the simple things,
such as sex and how we will fit just right.
I imagine things that people My Age would think
about.
I see us waking up in the crisp morning
and I brew us an hour together.
We walk into town, hand in hand,
as one person.
We do all the things a married couple would do
and then we go home together.
All unplanned,
All together.
When we go home, I know I will have you to
lie next to,
to smell closely,
to feel thoroughly,
to see clearly,
to hear your heart beating.
I am in love.
I am older.
I can feel it all over.
It will only get better from here!!!!!!!!!

Gallons Of Gas


Souls go crass
when a gallon of gas
takes away the cookies
and cracks
that make us live for another
paycheck.
I can get that gallon of rum
the temporary taste will
help me forget about how broken
these mirrors are.
I told everyone not to vote for Him.
but so many uncounted votes are dying
in the woods everyday.
Off to find grandma,
confused red riding hoods,
thinking they are saving the world.
..and and old vampire hides in the shadows,
terrified to be seen in the Light

Drizzle


smacked around by the juice
it feels good if you need it
off to a movie premiere tonight
been sucking the life out of these bottles
drinking is like raising kids the wrong way
and the more you sit in it
the more you drizzle out
across that idea of yourself when sober
we are real
when we are drunk

Delay


just to be alone with a bottle
to be there as it distills
what is left of your conscience
you may do alot of things.
you may regret not doing others.
other people give you many anxious questions
and many obtuse organizations of ideas
as you lay
limber across
and beside yourself.
it's easier this way.
the night becomes adamant delay..........

Sordid Talk


crass and obliging,
that bastard smoked his pipes across
and exact.
He knew just what to say to clear them all away.
I was losing myself in magazines
and cheap distractions
when it happened.
Holding the glue
is the most thankless job
if ever a job were thankless.
I bit into the apple too
when I knew what it tasted like.
Before I knew where the smoke was rising,
I was the tar-
stuck to the bottom of the sticky barrel,
coating the guts of this hateful manipulation.
the reside slithered across my heart
plucking venom from the nastiest spots in the room

Hazard Warning


Crunching across the marble floors,
people cavort and cower.
Consumerism eating off the faces of everyone I pass.
Hollow windows of portly possibilities
try to send my eye for a stroll.
I sometimes think about these people and observe,
knowing too much already about them.
Fifteen minutes can often tell you every single thing about
People.
they should have hazard warning signs at the food court for
more than one reason.
A blip on the radar of time is a fad
twirling on a dime
as the homeless vultures swallow their skirts and DVD's
with asses and egos the size of
a multiplex.
Everyone walks uncomfortably fearing one of these breeding psychopaths
may shit that serenade down the escalator.
So what if they did?

Forgive Us Our Trespasses..


(For New Years '06)

crumbles of what came before
litter the floor

I crouched and cradled the chair
thinking of what and all I had done this year.
the faces fumble together, lost in the
temporary tranquility of a drink.
What have I really done?
30 is only a few months away
and 29 has been all work and no play.
Maybe it's hard to meet new people
Maybe this city doesn't know how to communicate.
Maybe I am ready for somthing else.
Maybe it's too crowded in here.
I get off the chair,
say goodbye
and drive back home.
I have a drink all to myself
and think about the future.

crumbles of what came before
litter the floor.

I've always been the one picking it up.