Tragicomedy
Member
Poetry is my favorite, and the only form of writing I've ever tried my hand at. I've written poems consistently for the last 15 years. It's very therapeutic and has helped me relive the best and worst moments of my life. The vast majority of what I write stems from military experiences in nasty places. Some day I might flesh out some of the better ones and collect them together. We'll see.
Poems also make wonderful gifts, as an added bonus. Even when you suck at it like I do, it's terrifying and exhilarating to watch someone's reaction to reading something you put down on paper for them.
The Garden of Forking Paths
Like Borges' "Two bald men fighting over a comb,"
you and I never knew what we wanted
or why we wanted it.
All we knew was the want.
Our appetites were never satisfied;
insatiable desire was our only common ground.
We fed off each other's souls that way,
always taking and never replenishing,
until the rainforest of our love was left desolate.
-----
Arabian Knights
To sleep is to slide surreptitiously away
from this forsaken place,
in hopes of drifting to safer environs;
some nights I end up trading
one nightmare for another.
The earth cries out with a resonating thud
as hell personified rages down from above,
sending shockwaves through her surface.
I'm no longer asleep. I scramble
for my coat-of-arms and trip out into a darkness
filled with a thousand wailing sirens.
As I navigate through the stinging dust,
a steady stream of gunfire
rings out in the distance,
like a metronome, keeping time
to death's soundtrack.
-----
In conclusion, read poetry!
Poems also make wonderful gifts, as an added bonus. Even when you suck at it like I do, it's terrifying and exhilarating to watch someone's reaction to reading something you put down on paper for them.
The Garden of Forking Paths
Like Borges' "Two bald men fighting over a comb,"
you and I never knew what we wanted
or why we wanted it.
All we knew was the want.
Our appetites were never satisfied;
insatiable desire was our only common ground.
We fed off each other's souls that way,
always taking and never replenishing,
until the rainforest of our love was left desolate.
-----
Arabian Knights
To sleep is to slide surreptitiously away
from this forsaken place,
in hopes of drifting to safer environs;
some nights I end up trading
one nightmare for another.
The earth cries out with a resonating thud
as hell personified rages down from above,
sending shockwaves through her surface.
I'm no longer asleep. I scramble
for my coat-of-arms and trip out into a darkness
filled with a thousand wailing sirens.
As I navigate through the stinging dust,
a steady stream of gunfire
rings out in the distance,
like a metronome, keeping time
to death's soundtrack.
-----
In conclusion, read poetry!