i'm jeremy and these are my poems

[canola4life]

The Spiral

what i see of the world in me
offends and depresses every dream
i can't live up to my goals in life
subversive acts against my future wife
they flock to my mind and kill the cells
internal torment, lukewarm hell
a fight rages on in the chamber with my skin as its walls
every time my kind can rise it can predict a mile fall
slime encrusted on the walls i touch
hobbling along on lyrics, guitar for a crutch
compose a song for your biggest fan
music, build me something grand because
i need a life to call my own
an identity that i can own
love, life, passion, mine, to own
schemes are old and words are clones
nothing's new, i can't create
love's been written, so has hate
there's something bubbling and i'd love to let it surface
if only cloned words would serve the purpose.
i'm trying, i'm crying, i'm reaching out
my voice is raising to a shout
i have to find the answer myself
there's no one like me, no one else whose
felt what i feel and loved what i love,
to see my life as from above
no wise old friend, it's all on me
to determine exactly who i'll be
what is wrong? what's wrong with me?!
why can't i see?! i'm gonna scream!!
it's over now, i pace my cell
on your face, unleashed my hell
i killed my father in the night
a crimson smear, a gory sight
escape my fears for fifty years
doped me up with heroin tears
i can't deny that i still cry for
a life of lies and satanic fright
but at least i'm locked up safe at night
and i can't hurt myself anymore
just pace my cell and walk the floor
i feel an emptiness instead of
the answers i found inside my head
the answers to the questions that questioned all the answers
terpsichorean shadows, my mind full of demon dancers
relics of the past when i tried to figure out
my final destination, when i got so scared i'd shout
alone in my room in the darkest place
that i could find to pour my face
into a rag that contained my death,
depression, grace, and choking breath
gasping cries that rag absorbed
for fear and hate spurn salty orbs
that crawl from my eyes and eat the land
upon which they fall when they miss my hand
the hand that throttled my dear old dad
the hand of a very different lad.
my words aren't clones even if they exist
outside my mind, my wrinkled pink cyst
that i call a brain, for it calls me
its house, although i hate to see
what a house my body would make
if it were made of wood and metal and cake
and wedding vows and happy men who know themselves and how they'll end
under the groud, their lives complete for they belonged and fit in neat
in a way so different from how i live
from what i know and how i give my every day the best i have
and yet it seems that nought but grav
ity affects the path i follow
the plummet of a suicidal day ends in a doubtful tomorrow

[canola4life]

my dad found that on my site, btw. i feel bad for him, but that line about the murder just kinda wrote its way in. here's another. this one is called Only Everything.

i wilt into myself every day
and not because i'm weak;
it's just everyone.

i'm crippled when i'm spoken to
and i never know how to react
all the time

and in the face of any stranger,
i freeze up or run
and it hurts inside.

i set fires and cut my arms
i write poems about killing people
i see wet vaginas when i close my eyes
i can't smell anything.

my friends are withdrawn like me
and i can't even always talk to them

life junkie
too much empathy to live the way i'm expected to live
i can't even try

i think i have yellow blood
what am i, a monster?
i think you'll hurt me
what are you, the devil?

i'm not depressed, it's just that everything gets me down
and i'm not hateful, it's only that everyone pisses me off
fuck you, i'm fine

[Ich Liebe Rammstein]

those were great!! I loved the first one.

Keep writing and posting!! *must read more*

[canola4life]

that was encouraging. let's get into some of the more raw stuff. this is Stutter.

i go off
it's sonic and tough
it stings like a nipple
fights hard to make itelf hurt
i rip it up
it's out of control
it's like going all out
digging my own hole
yeah
i lose myself to me
fly a mile free
unbound by forces of earth
a new ethereal birth
..... i
wheel off on a current of ice
pressureless atmosphere burns all around
sleet and hail feel so nice
my feet have never touched the ground

[canola4life]

Gravel

the spongy spring of her throat refused my knuckle one last time
my knees suffocated her hands at her sides as i fought to push holes in her jaw with my thumbs
her pupils mutated and opened
vomit slopped from her eyelids, taking blood's place coloring her face
sorry weak limbs spasmed eratically and other-worldly sobs were born and murdered in her crumpled larynx
a head like a lightbulb in a scrotum, caved and crunchy, conformed to the gravel below
four knobby claws set at dismembering an arm, shredding and crackling at her armpit

his face radiating the liar glow of insanity, hunched like a demon
acrid sweat broiling under his skin
trembling strong hands ripping at her hair
her life is leaving
his spiny gums yet gnash at her collar
she spews and chokes her infertile blood from her cuts

gravel hacks maniacally and opens the taut skin at her ribs

humidity and sun do to her noise what he does to her body
life does to my soul what he does to her body

[Spazmatikal]

^^
i know, being his girlfriend, that i shouldn't post my critiquing on this thread because i'm more than likely biased as hell - but the above poem kind of sickened me until the very last line. then it made me cry. it completely changed everything about the poem for me.

[Ich Liebe Rammstein]

i loved that last one... i don't know, i'm just weird i guess....

[RebDoMINe]

I love it, Jeremy. It's awesome. You're really talented, and I usually hate poetry, so there ya go.

You and Tiffany are awesome, you both deserve each other Keep up the great work.

[Spazmatikal]

^ i know one line posts are frowned upon, but your post made me smile. thanks

[canola4life]

: ) thank you. that felt good.

this poem feels kind of immature to me. all i remember aout writing it was the mental picture of this hacklebacked thing and its fingernails, not proper claws but more wicked. i worried a lot about the sound of words. some of the lines, like the last, sound corny in retrospect, but i'm not into changing things once i've gotten past the mindset i was in when they were written. here it is.

his skeleton is set on edge as yet his teeth chip at bullets slice
razorback, hackles raise along his bony mutant spine inhuman
your long chipped priest nails, yes, and they are scythes parchment
into your freaked deposit hands, yes, curled like a wince pain
my humanity is oppressive up out into oblivion spiral bright
her colors
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
she twists
does it lie or is it God? what hurts?
hope for blows yes wish want knife slice inhuman OH AGONY

[canola4life]

i wrote this at my girlfriend's house one night. i kept a focus for the majority of the poem, and i feel like i let it die. there might have been more things i needed to say, but i know it didn't end where i wanted it to go and conseuently it loses personal relevance and honesty and feels weak and random to me. nobody said the poetry we put up had to be good.

i'm living in my mind
my third eye is going blind
nothing feels real anymore.

i flower into a beast at night
my concrete scars convey my fright
and in the morning i wake up on the floor.

the raw salmon tissues of my insides
are the elastic walls i use to hide
depression? nah, kids will be kids

so no one sees and knows who i am
they see a side i present to them
without ever being it or seeing what it is

and how is it that they say they care
but never look to see what's there
in the sick perverted mass which is a head?
my head's not real, and neither are
my toes, my fingers or my arms
every feature of the world is dead.

my girlfriend and i, we lounge
on her bed, by day we scrounge
to produce the cash to buy a coffee drink

we drink it down and then it's gone
and our economy rolls on
why do we never stop to look and think
about the money that we spend
and how consumption is a dead end
we fuel our bodies with money and pass away

we all end buried in the ground
to me, it seems, it's quite profound
to feel like all's not real in the first place

want irony? behold the day
as cobain said, everyone is gay
look at him now. beloved kurt is gone

i give up now. i'll try to lie
and forget that i feel like i have died
because it's not important and life goes on.

[canola4life]

like the first one i posted, there's a rhythm you have to find in this piece... i had a phase here i wrote poems you could run with, like the two, and then there are bizarre drug trip poems, and there are snarling masochistic poems. based on a true story.

yearning, churning, in my tummy
reach for her, that girl so lovely
the one i know i can't make mine
she's out of my reach, she's not my kind
look at the ground and kick a clod
admit that i can't have a bond
without someone who's a step beyond
both created by the same god
why can't i have her? what's so wrong
with thinking big and thinking long
not short and over within the week
teenage love is just so bleak
i want much more, a love for life
i woman i can call my wife
to share my mind, be part of me
because less than that is pointlessly
devoting one to that which just
can never surpass simple lust
can never tread on love's soft ground
a greater good cannot be found
by him, my seeming competition
with this girl whose heart i may petition
with a promise of a life greater than he can give
a life that's not pointless to live
with bonded minds and unified entity
am i just thinking sentimentally
or does this greatness truly exist?
i found the love that i had missed.
those other girls were immature
but the love we have is snowy pure
and i know it will endure
evading every unclean tease
can i have a kiss now please?
because i love you, tiffany
i finally found the girl for me.

[canola4life]

Today

My body erects painfully and I stumble out of a mental abyss
The new light makes me shake
How can I live?

My desk is a womb, and i am fetal, in utero
Stabs of noise; the room is pregnant
I am borne in a seeping gurgle of amniotic humanity

I cannot leave. I cannot move.
They squawk, jostle, discriminate... they hate me.
The matrix perturbs my bowels.

Radiation introverts and i liquify
Shivers
The sewage in my skin churns and curdles

I hug myself for comfor, and make myself small
Nothing is made for me. Nothing is friendly.
I am as a mouse in a drunken room; a child's toy on the field of the loss of a thousand lives

There is a line of sorrow sharpening what light comes in
The matte black blade absorbs life
Abyss welcomes me

I float, and smile
I embrace this knife
and Death whispers end in my ear.

[busybodies]

Hey Jeremy!
Those were amazing. Especially Gravel. I was turned off at first because of the graphic descriptions, but last line changed it all. It's beautiful. Keep it up! I can't wait to read more.

[Ich Liebe Rammstein]

i loved alllllll of them!!! they're the best!!!