Poetry of CoLd BlooDed

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-16-2007 11:32 PM

Alright, since a lot of people come around these parts, I'd like to see what you make of some of my written works. This'll be the one thread that I will continuosly post on. Poetry is something that I love to do and feedback is much appreciated.

If you read, please tell me what you thought, and what your personal interpretation was.

Let's start it off with my first written sonnet, which I thought I had to do for homework in English (I didn't really, but it turned out awesome).

Thanks.

Beneath the Floor

Time to take a look, past the web and dust,
This life is all dimensions—forgotten
Lies take on the form of ghosts, without trust;
But there is the Thinker, thinking rotten
Thoughts that linger back and forth, finding faith.
Digging deeper, searching for the headless;
It worms its way through time, through frozen space,
Around stars, suns, slaves, hiding from success.
Finally found, the answer lies in cracks,
Inside a mirror of a mirror, glass
And body impeding a hand of black;
Tempting, touching, but the truth has no mass.
The Thinker thinking upon a glass floor,
Not the while knowing his mind and more.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-21-2007 03:03 AM

Wrote this one today.

And seriously, no replies?

Searching

It comes with age,
A life mundane.
For now a room,
Conned with cocaine.

Don’t even touch,
Or give a look,
The bliss will fade,
Or your brain cooks.

The answer misleading,
Your addiction feeding,
Constantly, and awesomely,
Searching and bleeding.

But as you grow,
To break the locks,
The temptation fades,
With cage to box.

A fist will fly,
A Wall is torn,
The fruit will fall,
And you’re reborn.

The answer fulfilling,
Your freedom succeeding,
Constantly, and awesomely,
Searching but breathing.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-21-2007 10:28 PM

Why

does

The

rock

fall

slower

and

slower

until

it's

back

where

it

started

**Rainman** · 05-22-2007 09:36 PM

I like your style. Really. Do you study poetry or do it as an amatuer like me? You're very good. It sucks, I guess us poets get no love here!

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-24-2007 12:22 AM

I'm just a teen who enjoys everything about poetry, so pretty much an amateur.

It's always been something I've naturally talented at, and it's been said that I have a way with words.

I enjoy making poems that baffle the reader but make perfect sense to me. You know what I mean?

And thanks, that does mean a lot.

If your poetry is on this site, I will check it out and comment.

**Twoshadows** · 05-24-2007 12:31 AM

Originally Posted by CoLd BlooDed

I enjoy making poems that baffle the reader but make perfect sense to me. You know what I mean?

Oh, okay, that actually makes me feel better that we are supposed to be at least a little baffled.

I really like the way they sound. But I don't always understand completely what they all mean.

Anyway, keep it up......

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-24-2007 03:23 AM

Haha, yeah! They're meant to be like that. When you read poetry, usually you're supposed to connect on a personal level. What you read and intrepret may not be what the poet/author had in mind, but it definately isn't wrong.

If you want, I can 'decode' my poems and tell you what they mean.

**Twoshadows** · 05-24-2007 04:21 AM

Yeah, I'd like that.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-24-2007 05:13 AM

Ever feel the parting,
and the discovery,
where you are

trapped in between the walls
of self concern, bloody
bricks layer

dark feelings which occur
on a daily basis;
avoided.

Breathe and everything can
go this way and that, it
will be fine.

Sit back and relax one
last time to project the
resentment,

and let the dark seep through
the pores of emotion.
And I live.

Not where I want to be,
but not so far that my
brain is gone.
_______

Wrote this in the span of two minutes. It's about a realization I made today. As some of you know, I moved to a new city and had to change schools and make new friends and whatnot. This poem concerns how I will never be as attached to the people I met out here as my other lifelong friends, but also how my attachments to people in the old neighbourhood are lacking.

More noticeably:

trapped in between the walls
of self concern, bloody
bricks layer

That walls represent the barrier between friends in Abby and friends in Port Moody, and how I have a touch time making a deeper connection with people in the new city. Sure, I'm friends with them, but they've all known each other since they were young... they have inside jokes, old memories, old connections... which sometimes it makes it tough to join in on a conversation. I'm just the outsider.

And then there's the fact that since I don't live in Port Moody, I don't know everything that's going on there anymore. I don't know the new people, the new jokes, the new memories... friendship isn't lacking, per se, but it's definately at a standstill. It's hard to keep communication when there's nothing to talk about.

The rest of the poem pretty much says how I've dealt with it, and still am dealing with it, and how everything will eventually work out for me.

I'll explain the other three soon.

**Twoshadows** · 05-24-2007 05:10 PM

Thanks. That one was nice.

I do feel for you in your situation. That must be really hard.

But I'm glad to hear that you believe things will all eventually work out. One thing I've noticed about you is that you always seem to have a good attitude about things. I'm sure that has really helped in this transition. And will help in all you are involved with in the future.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-26-2007 08:38 AM

Repetition

repetition makes you question things
repetition makes you question words
repetition makes you question yourself
repetition makes you question reality
repetition... what is repetition?
_____

No real deep meaning to this. It's just about when you repeat something so many times that it begins to lose it's definition. For instance, say any word a number of times in a row and it'll 'lose all meaning'. Could this be applied to life? A repetition of lifestyles, a repetition of society... what could this mean on a larger scale to people? I guess what I'm saying in this poem is how this world should be questioned, but those questions should be questioned too. Get it?

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-27-2007 08:10 AM

CoLd is in the metaphorical mindset at present.

I call this one,

The Buried Lie of Plastic

You see, I can tell you everything;
All the hatred will stand before me,
And shout, and whisper,
Then rights to live would go and cease.
To please.
To breathe.

After commiting this act of revolt,
I scurry back and forth,
Much like a moth,
Buried deep in the north.
No worth.
No earth.

I hid the plastic, buried the lie,
Of overused tape, and water,
Shoved it deep, man,
Made it cry.
To buy.
To try.

Then I donned the discolored socks,
Each one representing harmony amongst the world.
Black and white,
Fearing from an imaginary girl.
No world.
No world.

The tasks are not so,
But journeys instead,
My philosphy, my stage,
Disappears slowly in my head.
To tread.
To mend.
______

No time to explain right now.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-29-2007 01:23 AM

I call this one, Bless You

Achoo
the two flies buzzing in a windstorm
not really going anywhere fast
but not going slow either.
it's sort of like a standstill
when you're frozen in time
but you don't know it
because when time picks up again
you carry on your way without knowing.

Bless
it's hard to believe little words can
carry such meaning such delivery
is crucial. no mess
is guaranteed but why let the
thoughts flow through the fingers
why let the wolfs pound your ears
but most of all why let life boss you
around like a ragdoll in boiling water.

You
think I will change my mind? hah
like you know everything about me.
so many sacrificial concepts based
on a fake or temporary scripture
but it doesn't matter because we are
two flies buzzing in a windstorm
not really going anywhere fast
but not going slow either.

**Oneironaut Zero** · 05-30-2007 01:08 AM

I like your heavy use of metaphor, but I'm afraid I'll have to sit around and wait for the explanations on most of them.

I do like the untitled piece about your new living situation, though. Very nice.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 05-30-2007 06:18 AM

Originally Posted by O

I like your heavy use of metaphor, but I'm afraid I'll have to sit around and wait for the explanations on most of them

Hehe, thanks... my metaphor use is pretty overloaded, but it's my style. The descriptions will come soon. Thanks for checking this thread out man.

Originally Posted by O

I do like the untitled piece about your new living situation, though. Very nice.

Thanks a lot. Actually had some structure to that one... each stanza has 6 syllables the first line, 6 the second, and 3 for the third.

Stay tuned.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 06-03-2007 05:50 AM

There's No Answer

There's a truth and a birth to sayings,
But where do they start?
And where are they heard?
How is it spread from mouth to word?
From word to heart, heart as pure
As winter mornings on December third.

Time only moves fast when it's not being watched,
Capable of the timid, a universal clock.
It slows when eyes wander, and runs when mind stays,
The world moves faster, but where are the days?

A corporeal, mistrusting ball of rock,
Hanging uneasily in the lack of reality.
When's it gonna fall, or fly?
When's it gonna drop and die?
Set the tee, and just try,
To let it explode in a blast of professionally designed metal.

**Indecent Exposure** · 06-03-2007 03:14 PM

i love your poetry, espeically the one you explained regarding your situation, the structure is good, it flows well.
It seems your poems are really ambiguous which can be a good thing. Its good stuff, you have an unique style

If youve got msn hit me with it?
Maybe we can discuss and share some more of our work?
Maybe weave our style and do something together? =D

Imran

**CoLd BlooDed** · 06-03-2007 10:43 PM

Originally Posted by imran

It seems your poems are really ambiguous which can be a good thing. Its good stuff, you have an unique style

Yeah, that whole ambiguous thing is really what I go for. I like it when it's more broad so there's a wide range of people for it to connect with. Thanks a lot, man.

Maybe we can discuss and share some more of our work?
Maybe weave our style and do something together? =D

Definately.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 06-05-2007 06:27 AM

I think it's about time to give you the analysis on my poem, for 'Beneath the Floor'.

Originally Posted by CoLd

Beneath the Floor

Time to take a look, past the web and dust,
This life is all dimensions—forgotten
Lies take on the form of ghosts, without trust;
But there is the Thinker, thinking rotten
Thoughts that linger back and forth, finding faith.
Digging deeper, searching for the headless;
It worms its way through time, through frozen space,
Around stars, suns, slaves, hiding from success.
Finally found, the answer lies in cracks,
Inside a mirror of a mirror, glass
And body impeding a hand of black;
Tempting, touching, but the truth has no mass.
The Thinker thinking upon a glass floor,
Not the while knowing his mind and more.

The overall meaning of this poem is the meaning of life, and how there are so many people trying to find it. How there's so many theories on what life is and isn't about.

But there is the Thinker, thinking rotten
Thoughts that linger back and forth, finding faith.

The 'Thinker' refers to all the people in the world who have 'confirmed' the meaning of life, people who have all these ideologies on what life is about (whether it be religion, cult worship, or even atheism). He's finding faith through these rotten thoughts that may or may not be true.

The lines after that pretty much refer to how the Thinker is always looking for the 'answer' (through time and space basically refers to how it is impossible to catch) and then it finally builds up to:

Finally found, the answer lies in cracks,
Inside a mirror of a mirror, glass
And body impeding a hand of black;
Tempting, touching, but the truth has no mass.

This was by far my favourite. Have you ever been in a bathroom with a mirror in front of you and a mirror behind you, and the reflections just keep going and going through an infinite vortex, yet you can't see anything behind you because you block it. I'm saying in this section that even if you could remove yourself and see behind you in this vortex, you would still not find the answer to life (a large metaphor).

The whole beneath the floor thing is saying how you should look a little deeper when thinking about the meaning, and how it may not even be there at all. That's why at the end the Thinker is thinking on a glass floor... so for someone who thinks a lot the answer should be evident (which to me, is always a personal answer, something that relates to the individual) because it is so easy to see beneath the floor.

Thanks, hope that covers it.

If there's any other questions just ask.

**Twoshadows** · 06-05-2007 08:04 AM

Thanks for sharing the explanation for that one. I had been curious about it. Okay, I do have a question.

He's finding faith through these rotten thoughts that may or may not be true.

But I still don't understand why the Thinker is thinking "rotten". If he has found faith in something that is true, are his thoughts still rotten?

**CoLd BlooDed** · 06-06-2007 03:29 AM

The thoughts are impossible to prove. Personally, the meaning of life should be an individual thing. Could mean something else between different people.

If he has found faith in something that is true, are his thoughts still rotten?

That's the trick, for he/she doesn't know if his faith is true. Still, the Thinker could be a religious leader, ideologist, etc. who is forcing their beliefs on others. Conforming.

Does that help?

**CoLd BlooDed** · 06-10-2007 08:45 AM

Microscopic

Here's to
seperation of Universes, of Galaxies, of
Suns, of Moons, of
Earths, of Countries, of
Houses, of People, of
Cells, of Molecules, of
Nucleus's, of Quarks, of...

of what, exactly?

**CoLd BlooDed** · 06-13-2007 04:31 AM

Turn That Frown Upside Down

It's like light at the end
of a tunnel, slowly
growing with

intensity, making
you feel like you're on top
of the world.

It's like gold underneath
A pile of dirt, which
makes it all

so much fucking better,
makes you truly believe
things work out.

It's like finding fam'ly
after a tsunami,
relief and

true bliss becoming one.
It's over. Finally
done and gone.

On to the next chapter
of the biography
starring me.

**CoLd BlooDed** · 06-19-2007 03:21 AM

Stare it straight in the faces,
Prayers and praises,
Racing through mazes,
Eats it or Tastes it.

Tastes it or eats it,
Humor doth beats wit,
Let it fall and then sit,
It sits in the dark pits.

It sits in pits dark,
Watching its mark,
Stars in raw parks,
Breaking from locks.

From locks it breaks,
Knowing the date,
Where it does place,
The brace of the faces.

Stare it straight in the faces,
You'll realize it's you.