Poetry Corner

[mistysakura]

an invitation: Hey, this reminds me of PancaKe's style. She used to post a lot of poetry. Anyway, I like the details in the second verse and in the chorus (fifth stanza). The second verse has nice ways of phrasing things and the chorus makes 'you' a unique person. It's sweet. However, the use of the word 'agenda' is strange to me. To me, agenda has either business or evil (secret agenda) connotations. It doesn't fit the loving tone. Also, some of the phrases such as ""oh my love", you are my fantasy, with you i've learned to fly" sound kinda... Hallmark. Maybe the ideas could be phrased in more original ways, drawing attention to the unique qualities of 'you' and of the relationship. Keep posting! We love new people.

Mikachu: Hehe, I could read the Japanese! I was never really into sigs. But I was a Misty person, as you can tell.

[Gavin Luper]

vade mecum

is this all I’m good for?
you want to borrow my luggage and so much more
but you haven’t come around here for weeks now.
I’m not proposing a fight to tear us apart
I’d rather defuse it before it starts
and keep the ulcers as souvenirs to rehash

and isn’t it appalling
how I can be so self-absorbing?
I rock up an hour late to everything
and I lack class or the courtesy to even ring
seems I’m living somewhere up my own butt.

and all the stuff I’ve been ignoring
fundamentally abhorring
every day, in everything I make myself do
I run and it chases me

so I’m just meant to grin and bear it right?
my lot’s been cast as awkward in life
and dude there’s nothing I can do about it.
I throw a cricket ball like a girl
and my voice is too much like a constant slur
and I’m too weedy to back my mates up

and I’m so bored I’d rather be anywhere else
feels like I’m doing nothing ad nauseum
and there’s nobody more sick of my voice right now than I am
I’ve become the most self-aware hypocrite ever.

and all the thoughts I’ve been obscuring
fundamentally enduring
every day, in everything I make myself do
I dodge but it still finds me

and does it mean I don’t love you
if I can’t say that I’m missing you?
I must be the most frigid bastard.
and how am I supposed to know
what I will feel tomorrow?
it’s only OK if I stay nescient.
‘cause there’s a surly masochist
bouncing off the padded walls inside me
so many dormitory floors I’ve yet to pass out on.

and all the things that I've been doing
this resentment that’s accruing
every day, in everything I make myself do
I drink and it swallows me

and I’ve already got enough dictators around me
even if I’ve no trophies to bear as such
and when I come to your cocktail party
in my beanie and the oversized shirt you hate
I’m still not sorry if you’ve had enough.
and yet I’ll sit there,
take another plastic glass of punch
acquiesce while you psychoanalyse me
I always keep this poker face
always, all for you.

and all the stuff I’ve been ignoring
fundamentally abhorring
every day, in everything I make myself do
I run and it shadows me