Howling Madly

wolfbittenpoet · 03-26-2011, 06:58 PM

Inkstains
One by one words fall
From shaking fingers
Inkstained by memories unsaid
Written in a fading hand
Unaware the pen has run out
Scribbled on the back of envelopes
Til the space is gone and the words remain
Always the words remain
Tattooed on the soul
Inkstained memories burning with unlit passions
And half contained madness
Just trying to bleed through
Until even your eyes are inkstained red
From liquid tears splattering on the floor
Leaving tearmark tragedies

wolfbittenpoet · 03-26-2011, 07:05 PM

Ghosts
I watch the mirror
Expecting to see the ghosts of myself
Each a little different
Each still the same
Grading me on the man I am becoming
Each haunting with the girl, the boy, the changeling I was
I watch expecting a glimmer of a different face
But they are all me
They are in my eyes
Laughing and crying
Watching the world as it changes around us

wolfbittenpoet · 03-26-2011, 08:02 PM

I am not the road traveler
I am no Kerouac
Though I know his ghost
I am the mad eyed poet
Forever lost
Howling to a universe
That does not know how to listen
Banging my head against a wall of bureacracy
Too scared to find the door
I am not the underpaid overworked poor
I am the man who lives on goverment checks
And air
A whole lot of air
I am not the wandering lover
I am the midnight whisper in the air
The howl of ghost wolves on the wind
The secret that only the stars know
And only the moon will ever tell

Diva · 03-26-2011, 08:07 PM

I have subscribed to this....You ARE very Kerouackian!! <smile>

wolfbittenpoet · 03-26-2011, 08:15 PM

Burn, Burn, Burn
I know not what else to do
I laugh at my own incompetence
Delighting in my striking madness
Dripping ink on pages typed by a typewriter
Older then me by 50 years
I listen to the sound the keys make
Tap,,,tap,,,tap... ching
Page after page after page
Meaningless letters
Go back through and correct
With bitten up pencil
And that G-d damned leaking pen
Fingers stained with progress
Or is it defeat
Murdering innocent words
Give up put it away in closet
Use computer for a while then there's delete
Don't change it now post direct
Only form of courage is hitting send
And even then it's mostly madness
But madness given form
Given breath though little depth
No crime in being shallow
As long as you admit
Now where did I put that G-d damn leaking pen
It's time to bang on the typewriter again

wolfbittenpoet · 03-27-2011, 06:03 AM

I watch it drip
It's all I can smell
Even the antiseptic doesn't overpower it
It's a crimson that is beautiful
I stare at it knowing it will stain
Oh well that's what peroxide is for
I lay back and turn on music
Just a couple of hours
I can handle it
Just a couple of hours
Glance at the clock
Only 15 minutes done
G-d I hate being confined like this
If you call me princess one more time
No I do not have a girlfriend yet
Even if I did I wouldn't tell you
Swallow down the near involuntary snarl of frustration
Smile glance at clock
Why the hell did I forget my computer
Try to ignore the beeps
Try to ignore the moans
Try to ignore the smell
Med time oh joy
Nausea for another day
Glance at clock
Only 10 minutes left
Okay I can handle that
Pull the needles
Damn but this always hurts
But I've had worse
Tape me up
Leave trying to ignore small talk
Oh it's finally light
Thank G-d I have a full day off
Then I go back
To ignore the copper scented hell again

wolfbittenpoet · 03-30-2011, 06:34 PM

Hey Mr. Kerouac
Got a question for you
Did you know what would happen?
All because of that book you wrote before 1952
Did you ever guess you'd be the voice of a crowd?
Did you know that your screams would be so loud?
Hey Mr. Ginsberg
I really loved Howl
I loved the passion the pain the...
Just wow
Could you of guessed
You'd bring the red stamps down
Or were you really just writing to make a sound
Hey Mr. Burroughs
We haven't yet met
Your voice isn't as loud as those other guys yet
I know we've got some shit in common
Maybe tomorrow I'll find you
Forgotten mustering in the stacks
And then a friendship for the ages perhaps
Beatnics Beat Sound Repitition Unscripted Prose
Different voices
Screaming Words
Painting Pictures
Making sure we all were not lost
The American Voice given sound

wolfbittenpoet · 04-03-2011, 04:29 PM

Tearstained tragedies
Bitter with hurt and memories
Falling onto unforgiving pavement
Where they spread finding cracks
From madness induced rage
Slamming down a sledge hammer of heartache
Mixing with inkstains from memories
There they lay staining the blood of our souls
Made real

wolfbittenpoet · 04-03-2011, 06:42 PM

I have a stack of vintage photographs
What used to be called french postcards
Naughty women in black and white and sepia
Heavenly creatures with sultry curves and dead eyes
Did those old pictureboxes truly take their souls?
Trapped on paper and tin
Held there as they fade
Until only crumbles of paper and dusty ink last
In the cigar box under my bed

wolfbittenpoet · 04-03-2011, 08:05 PM

If words were like raindrops
Noah's flood would only half approach
The untamed longing in my heart
To please my gentle lover
She who whispers in tender carresses
Inspiration
Yet I drown sometimes when cruel mistress she becomes
Trying to swallow around words
Being torn to shreds by emotion
I cannot convey
Until I lie in broken sharded sanity
Weeping ink and sobbing sonnets
A broken battered beloved
Yet still I shall crawl
On hand and knee to worship at her feet
For she is inspiration
My muse who stands hidden
A ghost in my shadow
Brave daughter of memory thy name is Calliope

Diva · 04-05-2011, 05:28 AM

I love "weeping ink and sobbing sonnets"......

Lovely!

Talon · 04-18-2012, 11:28 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by wolfbittenpoet

If words were like raindrops
Noah's flood would only half approach
The untamed longing in my heart
To please my gentle lover
She who whispers in tender carresses
Inspiration
Yet I drown sometimes when cruel mistress she becomes
Trying to swallow around words
Being torn to shreds by emotion
I cannot convey
Until I lie in broken sharded sanity
Weeping ink and sobbing sonnets
A broken battered beloved
Yet still I shall crawl
On hand and knee to worship at her feet
For she is inspiration
My muse who stands hidden
A ghost in my shadow
Brave daughter of memory thy name is Calliope

Just beautiful...you are quite the poet.

03-26-2011, 06:58 PM	#1
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	Howling Madly Inkstains One by one words fall From shaking fingers Inkstained by memories unsaid Written in a fading hand Unaware the pen has run out Scribbled on the back of envelopes Til the space is gone and the words remain Always the words remain Tattooed on the soul Inkstained memories burning with unlit passions And half contained madness Just trying to bleed through Until even your eyes are inkstained red From liquid tears splattering on the floor Leaving tearmark tragedies __________________ Burn Burn Burn

03-26-2011, 07:05 PM	#2
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	Howling Madly Ghosts I watch the mirror Expecting to see the ghosts of myself Each a little different Each still the same Grading me on the man I am becoming Each haunting with the girl, the boy, the changeling I was I watch expecting a glimmer of a different face But they are all me They are in my eyes Laughing and crying Watching the world as it changes around us __________________ Burn Burn Burn

03-26-2011, 08:02 PM	#3
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	I am not the road traveler I am no Kerouac Though I know his ghost I am the mad eyed poet Forever lost Howling to a universe That does not know how to listen Banging my head against a wall of bureacracy Too scared to find the door I am not the underpaid overworked poor I am the man who lives on goverment checks And air A whole lot of air I am not the wandering lover I am the midnight whisper in the air The howl of ghost wolves on the wind The secret that only the stars know And only the moon will ever tell __________________ Burn Burn Burn

03-26-2011, 08:15 PM	#5
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	Burn, Burn, Burn I know not what else to do I laugh at my own incompetence Delighting in my striking madness Dripping ink on pages typed by a typewriter Older then me by 50 years I listen to the sound the keys make Tap,,,tap,,,tap... ching Page after page after page Meaningless letters Go back through and correct With bitten up pencil And that G-d damned leaking pen Fingers stained with progress Or is it defeat Murdering innocent words Give up put it away in closet Use computer for a while then there's delete Don't change it now post direct Only form of courage is hitting send And even then it's mostly madness But madness given form Given breath though little depth No crime in being shallow As long as you admit Now where did I put that G-d damn leaking pen It's time to bang on the typewriter again __________________ Burn Burn Burn

03-27-2011, 06:03 AM	#6
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	I watch it drip It's all I can smell Even the antiseptic doesn't overpower it It's a crimson that is beautiful I stare at it knowing it will stain Oh well that's what peroxide is for I lay back and turn on music Just a couple of hours I can handle it Just a couple of hours Glance at the clock Only 15 minutes done G-d I hate being confined like this If you call me princess one more time No I do not have a girlfriend yet Even if I did I wouldn't tell you Swallow down the near involuntary snarl of frustration Smile glance at clock Why the hell did I forget my computer Try to ignore the beeps Try to ignore the moans Try to ignore the smell Med time oh joy Nausea for another day Glance at clock Only 10 minutes left Okay I can handle that Pull the needles Damn but this always hurts But I've had worse Tape me up Leave trying to ignore small talk Oh it's finally light Thank G-d I have a full day off Then I go back To ignore the copper scented hell again __________________ Burn Burn Burn

03-26-2011, 08:07 PM	#4
Diva Timed Out How Do You Identify?: Diva Preferred Pronoun?: Diva Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: Chez Diva Posts: 11,879 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 9,263 Thanked 17,180 Times in 5,238 Posts Rep Power: 0	*I have subscribed to this....You ARE very Kerouackian!! <smile>*

03-30-2011, 06:34 PM	#7
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	Howling Madly Hey Mr. Kerouac Got a question for you Did you know what would happen? All because of that book you wrote before 1952 Did you ever guess you'd be the voice of a crowd? Did you know that your screams would be so loud? Hey Mr. Ginsberg I really loved Howl I loved the passion the pain the... Just wow Could you of guessed You'd bring the red stamps down Or were you really just writing to make a sound Hey Mr. Burroughs We haven't yet met Your voice isn't as loud as those other guys yet I know we've got some shit in common Maybe tomorrow I'll find you Forgotten mustering in the stacks And then a friendship for the ages perhaps Beatnics Beat Sound Repitition Unscripted Prose Different voices Screaming Words Painting Pictures Making sure we all were not lost The American Voice given sound __________________ Burn Burn Burn

04-03-2011, 04:29 PM	#8
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	Tearstained tragedies Bitter with hurt and memories Falling onto unforgiving pavement Where they spread finding cracks From madness induced rage Slamming down a sledge hammer of heartache Mixing with inkstains from memories There they lay staining the blood of our souls Made real __________________ Burn Burn Burn

04-03-2011, 06:42 PM	#9
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	I have a stack of vintage photographs What used to be called french postcards Naughty women in black and white and sepia Heavenly creatures with sultry curves and dead eyes Did those old pictureboxes truly take their souls? Trapped on paper and tin Held there as they fade Until only crumbles of paper and dusty ink last In the cigar box under my bed __________________ Burn Burn Burn

04-03-2011, 08:05 PM	#10
wolfbittenpoet Member How Do You Identify?: Typewriter Boy Preferred Pronoun?: He Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Sep 2010 Location: FL Posts: 534 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 891 Thanked 1,578 Times in 402 Posts Rep Power: 7303676	If words were like raindrops Noah's flood would only half approach The untamed longing in my heart To please my gentle lover She who whispers in tender carresses Inspiration Yet I drown sometimes when cruel mistress she becomes Trying to swallow around words Being torn to shreds by emotion I cannot convey Until I lie in broken sharded sanity Weeping ink and sobbing sonnets A broken battered beloved Yet still I shall crawl On hand and knee to worship at her feet For she is inspiration My muse who stands hidden A ghost in my shadow Brave daughter of memory thy name is Calliope __________________ Burn Burn Burn

04-05-2011, 05:28 AM	#11
Diva Timed Out How Do You Identify?: Diva Preferred Pronoun?: Diva Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: Chez Diva Posts: 11,879 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 9,263 Thanked 17,180 Times in 5,238 Posts Rep Power: 0	I love "weeping ink and sobbing sonnets"...... Lovely!