deviant art





Login
Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour Lost Password?
Deviant Login
Buy Art Buy deviantWEAR Buy adCast Buy Premium Upgrade
Shop
 Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
Download File
HTML download, 1.4 KB
[x]

More from ~LazyLinePainterJohn

Theme and variations .

           Today I saw a young man with a cello. He

           sat primed and alert for some minutes while

           the CD orchestra strode firmly to his stave.

           Drawing his bow, he groaned the strings in

           catgut agony the space of one fuzzing bar.

           Sheepishly returning the baton to 00:00, he

           shrug-smiled and glanced at his earnings.

           Today I saw a nun on a bicycle. It seemed

           the perfect conjugation of woman and machine,

           that in the harmony of holy tendons and well-

           kept gears was the promise of some brand-

           new enlightenm
In solitude, in entropy .

                        In solitude, in entropy           In solitude, in entropy

             In edgeless cadences of heat            In edgeless cadences of heat

   Unmake me here with summer skies           Sun smother me in summer's sheet

       And fall on me, a star that shrives           And I will bear a summer's high

     And scars the kneeling day, repeats          A kinder cavalcade to find

                        In solitude, the enmity           To soothe silent cacophonies

                 Of solitude's relentless beat

                                                                    Unmake me here with summer skies
Seven people you know .

   Indie boys and girls who lack the basic wit to just admit

                 they can't articulate their isolation.

  Still they rise above the hordes who haven't time for minor chords

                 they pray to Zane Lowe for a revelation.

  Scenesters and suburbanites who stroll the city wrapped up tight

                  against its cold and spiteful sense of purpose.

  Whimsy and ironic laughs, and corduroy, and chiffon scarfs

                  are no defence against the urban circus.

  World-weary adolescents hopeful for antidepressants

                it would beat pretending to read Nietzsche.

  Nihilistic rage
This song is for you .

         This song is for you and your winsomest charms,

         This song is for all those who've wished that some harm

         Would befall you and cause you pant-wetting alarm

         This song's against shouting and wouldn't mind calm

         While it stays tuned for tickets to Dar-es-Salaam

         Are we ironic? What think we sarcasm?

         Maybe we'd rather have poststructural-asm

         Perhaps I'm possessed by Derrida's phatasm

         Or maybe we wouldn't know Foucalt from Adam

         And long words just give us a verbal orgasm

         This song is for you and your local MP

         This song
Grim systems         

         You were just cold

          hands and a foreign

          scarf, a crystalline

          elegy to yourself

                    -- brutal and brittle

                    and bruised and serene --

          finding a truth you liked

         in nameless ennui

          and apt-black mirrors.

         I was just a temperate

          screen, a kite

         before uncertain systems

          I sought defeat in

          your lacerating smiles

          that stole me from

         myself, so gladly,

          into your thrall.

          Foolishness makes lovers of us all.

               -- as physical f

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

December 31, 2006
1.4 KB
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 48
Favourites: 11 [who?]
Views: 1,232 (0 today)
Downloads: 43 (0 today)
[x]

Short poems 2006

by ~LazyLinePainterJohn

Lookunlike


This could be a photo of Irvine Welsh

If only he looked more like somebody else




This Is The Third


For several days now

I have had two poems in my head

Balanced, as it were.


Today I wrote one down

And as I did the second vanished.

           
This is the third.




3 lines


I wanted to fit all you are into three lines

Will you wait till I improve

Or will I wait till you diminish




No, no, no, no, no


My father lies

Full fathoms six.



Contrary git.




Oh My Scars


'Oh oh my scars, my wounds, my scars'
     
You flaunt your scabs for all to see

And reckon that it's poetry

That comes out if you squeeze them hard.




This Actually Happened


Today

I found my wallet

Underneath

The Communist Manifesto
:iconlazylinepainterjohn:
A collection of my better 2006 shorts, rounded up, shot, and mounted, for your pleasure.
:icon:
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
:iconnon-the-road:
~non-the-road Dec 21, 2008
Hey, found this through a mention on One Night Stanzas ([link]). I like this, particularly the first and last poems.

--
Buy my pamphlet, 'You Old Soak', published by Read This Press, here: [link]

Submit stuff to Read This Magazine: [link]

"The good times are killing me..."
Reply
:iconb1gfan:
*b1gfan Jun 27, 2008  Student Writer
delicious clips of genius :)
Reply
:iconlazylinepainterjohn:
~LazyLinePainterJohn Aug 10, 2008
Shucks, and thanks.
Reply
:iconb1gfan:
*b1gfan Aug 10, 2008  Student Writer
:D And Shucks?...heheheh that's funny
Reply
:iconreadthismagazine:
~ReadThisMagazine Dec 6, 2007
Hey,

We've featured this piece on our new account ~ReadThisMagazine. We've disabled comments and encouraged all viewers to come and look at your gallery. Go check it out, let us know what you think - and if you would rather the dev wasn't featured, drop us a note.

Best wishes!
The Read This Team

--
WRITERS: READ THIS!
[link]
Reply
:iconlazylinepainterjohn:
~LazyLinePainterJohn Aug 10, 2008
Read Them.
Reply
:iconmyloveliestsequence:
~myloveliestsequence May 4, 2007
i really like "this is the third" and "this actually happened" enough to weigh them against my not-so-great impression of the rest of your bunch (esp. "oh my scars" and "no, no, no ,no ,no"). the first two mentioned are really great and could easily live on their own without being brought together with the other ones. "lookunlike" is funny and, to an extent, reflective enough to make me like it, so all in all the positive impression prevails. keep it up.

--
the sky
to night's last city
Reply
:iconlazylinepainterjohn:
~LazyLinePainterJohn Jun 29, 2007
Thanks for the comment, and apologies for my breathtaking tardiness in response. I'm glad you like three of them; what don't you like about the ones you don't like? Is it a question of the humour (or lack thereof) or something else?
Reply
:iconmyloveliestsequence:
~myloveliestsequence Jul 4, 2007
'oh my scars' is too overt and preachy for my taste. 'no, no, no, no, no' just didn't do anything to and for me. and i guess that's it.

--
the sky
to night's last city
Reply
:iconlimited-fantasy:
~limited-fantasy Feb 3, 2007
A few of those greatly amused me. I liked the last one the best. XD
Reply
:icon:
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
Little Perce .

                   "This stupid generation's dumb"
                   Yelled little Perce
                   To one and all.

                   "And when the revolution comes,
                   You'll be the first
                   Against the wall."

                   The indignation seems extreme
                   (Perce fit to burst
                   With rage and gall)

                   But let us not apportion blame.
                   Considered worst,
                   And not that tall,

                   Selecting teams before the game
                   He'd been picked last.
                   Little Perce by ~LazyLinePainterJohn
The Flower Inches from his face, the flower was even more beautiful. A clovering maroon centre margined by an elegant yellow. So far removed, Alex thought, from the histrionics of colour that surrounded it. He did not raise his head to indulge them. They would not have that satisfaction. The aroma was heavy, and his body seemed a faraway, unfelt curiosity. He wondered if he might simply drift away here, and if he did, who would find him. Alex was still trying to remember the flower's name as their boots forced his face further into the dirt, as they broke another rib.The Flower by ~LazyLinePainterJohn
Vincent Curtis + the Pure Form "Since music is the only language with the contradictory attributes of being at once intelligible and untranslatable, the musical creator is a being comparable to the Gods, and music itself the supreme mystery of the science of man."
       -- Arthur Schopenhauer

The rain beat down on a humdrum town; I know that Vincent would not have had it any other way. Vincent John Curtis, the lonely, sweet obsessive, studious misfit, failed writer, suicide. One of those we lazily dismiss as life's victims, as if to shift our guilt to providence. Vincent, my friend, sparse funeral completed, whose pitiful legacy was now my possession. A life described Vincent Curtis + the Pure Form by ~LazyLinePainterJohn
To imagine ourselves unique .
                

              You were the very sweetness of invention

              a blinding alpha who met my own rhythm

              where the curves flowed out and crossed

              the chaptered points. From the first rooms

              and heaving skies to the next, a gradient

              that raised us to a silence like long grass.

              Some furious lust unpicked our locks

             We did not. We were its brief and willing

             subjects, eager in the shedding quiet to

             abet the crescendo, the compelling sighs

              For the first time, to imagine ourselves unique

     To imagine ourselves unique by ~LazyLinePainterJohn
Grim systems         

         You were just cold

          hands and a foreign

          scarf, a crystalline

          elegy to yourself

                    -- brutal and brittle

                    and bruised and serene --

          finding a truth you liked

         in nameless ennui

          and apt-black mirrors.

         I was just a temperate

          screen, a kite

         before uncertain systems

          I sought defeat in

          your lacerating smiles

          that stole me from

         myself, so gladly,

          into your thrall.

          Foolishness makes lovers of us all.

               -- as physical fGrim systems by ~LazyLinePainterJohn
©2012 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy