Thread: Poetry of CoLd BlooDed

It's all Perspective

Second time around,
mowing 'em down,
Making the entire city
Our playground.

After a four hour sleep,
Collective minds creep,
Reach into the bag,
Divide 'em and eat.

Go for a walk, come back,
Give ourselves a hearty pat,
Pick up the old guitar,
Indulge in the coming black.

Orange Horses Clothed in Red,
Spending time with old friends;
A new personality
does make this journey mend.

Walking outside in a new world,
Perspective now unfurled,
The sky is fake and
The houses are cute like girls.

There's something to realize,
As I look into the eyes,
Of a woman who thinks
Ten dollars is prize.

Of a man who is drunk,
Yet walking like a punk,
With two of his sons,
Kicking a fence for junk.

It's all perspective,
A golden directive,
A sea of faces,
None subjective.

Watch as the sun shines,
Like my brain as it shines,
With friends that shine,
In a world that shines.
______

Not really here for flow, more of a reminder of the rest of that day.

You Will Die

You know the truth hurts,
and it Will, especially when it comes
and knocks out your teeth.
you're screaming, wondering if you're
going to Die. You travel
aimlessly, complete with a loss of
self... the definition of which
eludes you.

your affinity for natures gifts
leaves your brain wanting more,
yet when you're high you
question it all. am I here?
Are you here? the music reflects
and echoes until it's Dead.

You underestimate power,
overestimate nature,
understanding nothing.
Wander the paths,
inevitably going nowhere,
leading the pack,
learning nothing.
Dregs of knowledge,
irrigate into mindstreams,
everything becoming nothing.

Who is your saint?
Who is your saint?

Great Blue Sky

watching the great blue sky recede into the black space it really is,
listening to the lapping of an active lake under the great blue sky,
feeling the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
smelling the lotion passing into the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
tasting the freedom of summer as the lotion passes into the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
the great blue sky which recedes into the black space it really is.

Pen to Letters, Letters to Words, Words to Sentences, Sentences to Art

what is this so called art
potential gibberish becomes poetic
useless garbage and simplicity
makes a lovely satire, an expression
but who made these laws
these rules of expression

jewel maker man moving dogs in a lot
shining little pups to make diamonds out of rot
knowing needless things that he does know not
living an endless life after roping knots

to many this is a mirror
reflecting themselves and their feelings
but to others these are just words
that are tied together
of no significance

but to all this should be a peek
into the mind of the creative
of the saviors of this otherwise dull blue blob
making life interesting.

I'm smiling,
here's to thinking of you,
that I'm going to put you in my mouth tomorrow.

I'm smiling,
I'm going to suck you dry,
and you're going to make me surrender.

I'm smiling,
we're gonna have fun,
we're going to make music with our fingers.

I'm smiling.

This one's not really a poem, but a draft for a song I'm writing.
_______

Did you ever wonder
why there are no...
Answers from the things
we bring. You see us...
learning nothing,
The children are coming
for something.

Did you ever wonder
why you're you and why I am me?
Why there is law and our society?
Why there's the blind and the free?
Haven't you always known
that we made this world we live in?
That there's no original sin,
That our world is fake and we can't win.
Did you ever talk
about things that made sense to you?
About skies, suns, and moons, to name a few,
About things that were completely new.
Did you ever wonder?

To be completed...

Intro verse

Did you ever wonder
why there are no...
Answers from the things
we bring. You see us
pulling at string...
up your beliefs because
the world is much like you.
Learning nothing,
The children are coming
for something.

Chorus

Did you ever wonder
why you're you and why I am me?
Why there's law and our society?
Why there's the blind and the free?
Haven't you always known
that we made this world we live in?
That there's no original sin,
That our world is fake and we can't win.
Did you ever talk
about things that made sense to you?
About skies, suns, and moons, to name a few,
About things that were completely new.
Did you ever wonder?

Verse 2

Yeah, you've got to wonder
Why we can see without our eyes...
Our mind's are nothing but clever disguises, ('cause)
There's no more surprises,
Our senses can no longer hide,
Logic fades and the truth dies,
You know life is filled
with what's, who's and why's...
Candles are crying,
The children are fighting,
Too bad they aren't mine.

Instrumental

Chorus

Bridge

Gonna do the last verse tomorrow.

Yay...I'm excited to see that you are still writing music. Does this mean we will be hearing the song soon...?

BTW, I think it is great that you keep writing poems. You seem to be able to write in a variety of styles.

Ooh, sorry TS, I didn't see your reply. Thank you.

And hopefully you'll be hearing a new song, if I figure out how to make the quality on this computer better.

I feel another poem coming. Depressing lymerick? I think so!

The Movement Around the Standstill

It's apparent you are blind,
Unknown to human kind,
There you go,
Off to show,
That changes only find.

You are stuck in place,
Faded out of race,
No 'once upon',
No 'ending song',
Just a friendly face.
____________

Description? Mostly refers to how all my friends at this school never really went anywhere since the last year. Meanwhile I have moved to another city, made friends, went through many trials and tribulations to get back to where I started... and nobody is really aware of that. They just see me walk back into the school as I am, not knowing what I've done the whole time they've been in 'standstill.' Still, these are my best friends (hence friendly faces), and that means more to me than anything.

Wow, CB. That really was a bit depressing. Very moving. Honestly, it made me think. That was very awesome. I need to come around here more often. I don't read things that make me think the way your poem just made me think. Thanks for sharing.

Originally Posted by meggy

Wow, CB. That really was a bit depressing. Very moving. Honestly, it made me think. That was very awesome. I need to come around here more often. I don't read things that make me think the way your poem just made me think. Thanks for sharing.

Thanks a lot, meggy, that's a response I love to hear. Actually, I think that's the first time I've heard that, so thank you again. There are quite a few other thought-provoking poems, some with explanations. You're welcome back anytime, I love feedback (good or bad).

Now if I may ask, what did it make you think about?

Originally Posted by CoLd BlooDed

Thanks a lot, meggy, that's a response I love to hear. Actually, I think that's the first time I've heard that, so thank you again. There are quite a few other thought-provoking poems, some with explanations. You're welcome back anytime, I love feedback (good or bad).

Now if I may ask, what did it make you think about?

It made me think about how ignorant people can be, even the people who are closest to you. I mean, you could go to the other side of the world, save lives and do all sorts of life changing things... come back as a changed person and people are so wrapped up in their own personal lives they don't care to notice. They just smile and talk about themselves, don't bother asking about you.

I don't know. I was rambling... it just really made me think about how ignorant people really can be.

Wow, that's an awesome way of thinking about it. Depressing, but awesome, just because it's a different perspective on the same thing. Cool; feel free to share your insights on any poem I post from here on out.

See, I'm Sophisticated Too

it becomes a surrealist estate
as impressionism unfolds and passes
not quite making it past the post
an expressionist of the masses

a sculpter of the arts
the head of a jew boy melted
the stoned uglified on cue?
the beauty of hidden velvet

thoughts of thoughts of thoughts
as a snake-wolf eats God's son,
or a plane infested with bats
with not one thing gone wrong

all I know is that I like it
and I'm not really too sure why
maybe it's that frozen feeling,
where the soul connects the mind.



______________________



Just wrote this one in five minutes, but it reflects everything I discovered about my recent school trip to the art gallery in downtown Vancouver. There were some AMAZING things there that really baffled the mind... what was the artist trying to say? How long did it take them? Blah blah blah blah blah.

Anyways, in this poem I wasn't really being metaphorical, just reporting on the things I saw, for instance:

a sculpter of the arts
the head of a jew boy melted
the stoned uglified on cue?
the beauty of hidden velvet

This is about a really ugly stone sculpture entitled 'jewish boy'. The sculpture itself looked really mishapen; you could tell it was a boy but the features looked almost melted. Anyways, 'the stoned uglified on cue?' questions if the artist intended it to be this way. The answer, out of an obvious assumption, would be yes. The last line of the stanza reflects on how there really is beauty (perhaps not to myself, but to others; enough to want to put this in a big art gallery) in this horrible looking sculpture.

I should also say, in case you didn't know, the first stanza is really just a summary of several different art eras: impressionism, post-impressionism, expressionism, surrealism... which were different sections of the art gallery.

The third stanza talks about some other things I saw there, and the 'with not one thing gone wrong' referring to no matter how ugly or surreal or big the art is, that was the intention.

The last stanza is pretty basic, it says why I like art. Really makes your mind try to connect with the painting as well as your soul... three important aspects of art that overlap each other. There's not always a true definition to a potrait, a surrealist painting, or a sculpture; it's whatever you observe and take into personal consideration.

Anyways, I like how this one turned out. Perhaps one of my more uplifting poems!

Originally Posted by CoLd BlooDed

Ooh, sorry TS, I didn't see your reply. Thank you.

And hopefully you'll be hearing a new song, if I figure out how to make the quality on this computer better.

I feel another poem coming. Depressing lymerick? I think so!

The Movement Around the Standstill

It's apparent you are blind,
Unknown to human kind,
There you go,
Off to show,
That changes only find.

You are stuck in place,
Faded out of race,
No 'once upon',
No 'ending song',
Just a friendly face.
____________

Description? Mostly refers to how all my friends at this school never really went anywhere since the last year. Meanwhile I have moved to another city, made friends, went through many trials and tribulations to get back to where I started... and nobody is really aware of that. They just see me walk back into the school as I am, not knowing what I've done the whole time they've been in 'standstill.' Still, these are my best friends (hence friendly faces), and that means more to me than anything.

so much meaning. made me think too much of myself...
though.. i really loved it.

Thanks cloudwalker, glad you liked it.

Does it make me sophisticated, also, because I knew all the different eras of art? I've taken Art History and Intro to Graphic Design... so my art education is rather well-rounded. It really made me smile, though. Because it was indeed uplifting. This poem was really easy to interpretate for me. What a great feeling after the day I had. Thanks, again, for gracing us with your splendid talents!

Hey meggy. I'm glad you enjoyed it, and yes, it does make you sophisticated.
The evolution of art is one of the coolest things I've learned about... especially how people decided to break the norm and eventually that revolution turned into modernized painting.

I find that easily interpretable poems make me happy because you understand what the person is trying to say.

Originally Posted by meggy

Thanks, again, for gracing us with your splendid talents!

You're too kind, thank you, and feel free to drop a comment at any time.

Originally Posted by CoLd BlooDed

You're too kind, thank you, and feel free to drop a comment at any time.

That's the second time you've said that... now you're just begging jk still love ya!

Haha, no way, I just love when people respond to my poems. It's interesting to see what they get out of it.

The Spindle

It's wrapped in wire,
Always moving but never spinning
like it should.
Every thing is for hire,
The wood made for those who could.

No one has ever seen it,
But all assume the balance is
carefully asserted.
Who knows what's going on?
The future paved by several men.

So this Spindle could be down,
Or wobbling from side to side as if
the world itself is trembling.
I can't hear myself yelling in this distinctive resemblance.

...at least not yet.

I need more numbers than voices,
more originality than choices,
more brains than Rolls Royce's,
to watch as time rejoices.

It's time to see the world for what it is,
nothing more than a giant curtain.
It's for certain that politics are hurting
the trees and the birds that are chirping.
Why is it so accepted that our ideas are worthless,
one mass, a collective success,
yet outspoken by men of recess,
with one say, of the Spindle that falls
which is wrapped up in wire, and not moving at all.

_______________

Alright, this one may or may not be a little confusing. I changed the tone throughout, gets a bit 'rappish' on the last stanza, but I like its message. I want to see if there's anything you can get out of it before I post the explanation (this goes for anyone who is willing).

There is no right or wrong answer.

Alright, when I wrote that I was a little bit stoned. But here's the jist of it. Basically, the Spindle is a metaphor for the balance of society, and how one little obstacle could make it topple. More specifically:

It's wrapped in wire,
Always moving but never spinning
like it should.
Every thing is for hire,
The wood made for those who could.

This is pretty much saying how society as a whole is always moving - forward or backwards - but is never fully structured. We created society (wood made for those who could...) and it's obvious there are structural flaws in the way we live.

No one has ever seen it,
But all assume the balance is
carefully asserted.
Who knows what's going on?
The future paved by several men.

The stanza starts off by saying that no one really see's the way things work behind the scenes. For example, there could be some gigantic global crisis going on right now (Headlines: "Terrorists plan to blow up the Earth!") and we'd have no idea. We all assume that society is okay and balanced and focus on our lives. 'The future paved by several men' is an easy one... basically saying our world is being shaped by the choices of people who have power (emperors, presidents, prime ministers, etc). This on it's own is a weird thought; one person, just like you or me, has the authority to change our lives or planet.

So this Spindle could be down,
Or wobbling from side to side as if
the world itself is trembling.
I can't hear myself yelling in this distinctive resemblance.

I like this stanza the best, mostly because the Spindle metaphor meets with its literal meaning ("...could be down, or wobbling from side to side as if the world itself is trembling"). Society could be failing for all we know.

Then the meaning of the poem changes: the last line means that it's hard to speak up in this world because so many people are trying to do the same thing. This could refer to fame.

I need more numbers than voices,
more originality than choices,
more brains than Rolls Royce's,
to watch as time rejoices.

Again, the fame thing. Everyone who's famous nowadays is so generic and boring. No one does anything crazy anymore. This stanza is pretty straightforward: me wanting to be popular amongst people because I'm different.

Last stanza is very straightforward.

Thank ya, thank ya.

Mmmmm, hungry hungry hippos.

Oh White Rider

oh white rider,
spoke the lad,
oh white rider...

a description unknown,
going to tell your friends
when you're on the phone,
about the white rider,
oh the white rider,
can't be the night rider
with his wetlocked hair
and his long sleeved shirt.

oh white rider,
you are so old,
oh white rider...

to this little girl of seven or eight,
never had a kiss or a first date,
looks up to this white rider
in a stance of bliss,
maybe ol white rider might be her first kiss.
but does she stand here looking,
batting the eyes,
or makin' images spin in the back of her mind?

oh white rider,
take me home please,
oh night rider...

but this white rider,
oh the fuckin' night rider,
has his own life, going home to get stoned
no idea what's going on in this chica's dome,
who slowly undresses him, and she's doing just fine,
taking off the sleeves and pants with her eyes,
but this white rider, the fuckin' night rider
hops on the different roamer and clicks open his phone.

oh white rider,
my mind passed blank,
oh night rider...

now these two cubs, split off in the woods,
cutting off the source of this swirl of foods,
feeding the mind one kick at a time,
no more, no way, no one destined to shine.
she takes the bus, goes home and forgets,
and this man once in sight disappears in the wrecks.
oh white rider, you motherfuckin' night rider,
why couldn't we keep in check?

but maybe he'll write a poem,
that fair highschooler him,
I just wanted a husband,
it can't be a sin.

__________


Wooooooah, trippy.

Hey Cold Blooded,

I've read some of your poems and they are damn good. You really do a whole variety it seems. Keep it up, I really like them.

Hey, thanks a lot man. I'm glad you enjoy them.

Originally Posted by bro

You really do a whole variety it seems.

It's true, I find this to be the most interesting. Sticking to the same 'style' would get boring, right? Plus, it makes me well-rounded as opposed to being really good in one way. But... what does it take to be good at poetry anyways?

Anyways, thanks bro. Analysis for White Rider comes later.