My words are the cold steel after taste of life's ironies and the stories of people who've fallen in the cracks and are unable to stand and speak their imagined misery themselves do to drowning in self pity
my life is a constant 'love-hate relationship with myself'.
If you can't reach me on here, send me a message here http://www.myspace.com/allisonlampkeofficialspace and I'll get back to you! I'll posting several new poems very soon everyone!!! Be sure to look out for them!!
Some of my 'poetry' is more that of a lyric or two then 'poetry' but music IS poetry so i apologize if you do not see it that way. Too bad.
Some of it is good and I am quite proud of a few and some are just tiring and I'd love to delete them but, seeing as I am an honest person, I'm showing you it all, the good and the bad, because every piece of every line no matter how cliche or absurd or obscure, every piece is a part of me and poetry after all comprises of the thought and views which makes us well...us.
Time. . .
Wow . . .
this . . .
just like a rusted wheel
that turns the second hand on Big Ben
that fits into a seven year olds palm.
Winding down the time that you have to count the time on a brand new invention
made before man was called human,
and it was inhuman to beat a little child to teach him a lesson
but it was perfectly fine to kill an innocent creature for sport.
There is time to change; time to change even that.
To make something lesser be equal again in an unequal tic of the clock that tocs.
Finding the gap between the hour, and the minute, and the second;
pointing to the end of a new revelation while clock wising counter-clockwise
to the beginning of an unseen event
that is found in plain sight.
Which decides what you can or can’t do, see, feel, hear, cry, or silently think
in a real ting of the bell toll?
Is there even a toll for the bell to ting off of?
Fascist bastards that don’t have anything better to do
with their gearless time than to publicize our unruly plan of world contemplation.
To kill time, or those on the clock.
Your hands,
my blood with your head on his shoulders
glaring blankly into what used to be the past of the future.
Wondering what those timeless eyes could possibly see in that colorful picture,
I can see it now . . .
the Mona Lisa in a straight line;
or a Van Gough in a song.
The song that has no time . . .it just simply keeps going.
Sound song in a timeless rhyme that has no meaning but to be played for the emotional enjoyment or pain.
Just to play without the malicious sting of the chime of the clock on the hour
for no longer than forever.
To the end of what time called the toll . . .
to the end.
my life is a constant 'love-hate relationship with myself'.
If you can't reach me on here, send me a message here http://www.myspace.com/allisonlampkeofficialspace and I'll get back to you! I'll posting several new poems very soon everyone!!! Be sure to look out for them!!
Some of my 'poetry' is more that of a lyric or two then 'poetry' but music IS poetry so i apologize if you do not see it that way. Too bad.
Some of it is good and I am quite proud of a few and some are just tiring and I'd love to delete them but, seeing as I am an honest person, I'm showing you it all, the good and the bad, because every piece of every line no matter how cliche or absurd or obscure, every piece is a part of me and poetry after all comprises of the thought and views which makes us well...us.
Time. . .
Wow . . .
this . . .
just like a rusted wheel
that turns the second hand on Big Ben
that fits into a seven year olds palm.
Winding down the time that you have to count the time on a brand new invention
made before man was called human,
and it was inhuman to beat a little child to teach him a lesson
but it was perfectly fine to kill an innocent creature for sport.
There is time to change; time to change even that.
To make something lesser be equal again in an unequal tic of the clock that tocs.
Finding the gap between the hour, and the minute, and the second;
pointing to the end of a new revelation while clock wising counter-clockwise
to the beginning of an unseen event
that is found in plain sight.
Which decides what you can or can’t do, see, feel, hear, cry, or silently think
in a real ting of the bell toll?
Is there even a toll for the bell to ting off of?
Fascist bastards that don’t have anything better to do
with their gearless time than to publicize our unruly plan of world contemplation.
To kill time, or those on the clock.
Your hands,
my blood with your head on his shoulders
glaring blankly into what used to be the past of the future.
Wondering what those timeless eyes could possibly see in that colorful picture,
I can see it now . . .
the Mona Lisa in a straight line;
or a Van Gough in a song.
The song that has no time . . .it just simply keeps going.
Sound song in a timeless rhyme that has no meaning but to be played for the emotional enjoyment or pain.
Just to play without the malicious sting of the chime of the clock on the hour
for no longer than forever.
To the end of what time called the toll . . .
to the end.
- Last seen 2 days ago. Member since December 12, 2006.
- I'm a diamond love poet for 191 comments.
- My mood is , and quote is You can always rely on makind to express their God given right to be stupid.
- I am a woman from California (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm an American Soldier.
- Visit my homepage at www.myspace.com/allisonlampkeofficialspace
- I am in the groups Beautiful Minds Dark Addictions, Musicians Urgently Required
- I have 191 comments, 5 contests
Poems I'm focused on
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'today I'm going to use my far greater intelligence to find a way to...' / you're boring... / 'quit talking to me...I'm trying to write my
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We cannot deny / The truth which inhabits the backs of our minds / It scars and it burns while sending icy shivers down our backs... / She73 lines, 3 comments, June 28, 2007
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Men / Made of plastic / An angel / Only cut-out and drawn / Snow falling / Frost forming / Upon pink nose and lips / Ears ripped and frozen / Heart beating slower and slower in time with harsh winds / C23 lines, 4 comments, June 25, 2007
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You called me perfect and then behind my back you said how much you wished that I would die / I tried to say hello and you just stared at m59 lines, 14 comments, June 13, 2007
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This whole life is an hallucination / a product of this 'hallowed' nation / and we're all living it... / Somebody hold me / Don't turn the lights out / I've got nowhere to go but further down / Pressure60 lines, 10 comments, June 6, 2007
My Poetry
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One thousand life stages
one hundred years
To go through the phases -
You're my masterpiece You are the missing shade of my favorite color40 lines, 2 comments, May 30
My Stories
1 - 4 of 2
Show all at storywrite
Visitor Book
1 - 4 of 4
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X-Queen-Georgia-X on September 29Hi thanks for joining my group I hope you can help me
x great page btw xx -
Lio Alexander on July 29, 2007hi =]
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Uniquely-Scarred on July 20, 2007im so pleased you liked my stuff, as i do you my friend, i love the reality in your work, i truely got that feeling when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you read or hear something that touchs you deep from with in .
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Tavil : Great writer on January 5, 2007Really good writer!
Captures inner-thoughts well.
