"Alive or asleep, awake or dreaming, valid or numb, enchanted or plagued. You're a freak, a monster. The most desirable thing I see in site. The wardrobe will only hurt you if you left it ajar. And I'm not letting any jars inside."
~ The voice I heard in an astral projection 12 years ago.
Blended colours awoke the canvas in front of me,
Ten bottles painted the paper on the walls,
Hand heavy in brine.
Time to get up.
Faeces diamonds are my reward.
In the bar I spoke to a friendly gentleman,
Hair gelled to have one spike on the head like a rhino's horn,
Or perhaps something of a more innuendoish tendency.
I look around to see the sea and scan for fish.
Book in left and scribe in right,
You'd never believe I'm ambidextrous but ask anyone and they'll tell you,
"There goes Charlie the ambidextrous whore".
Not that they didn't know,
They were rather aware and let me explain to you why.
Have you ever been in love kind sir?
Because as a 14 year old,
When my mind began to change to the soundtrack of Bugsy Malone panicking at the disco,
I felt that it made more sense just to ensue lust.
Luckily my looks were as dumb as postmen and were relevant to the elephants mouth and I did not find it.
My first love was found on a chatroom that I made for myself,
A real barbie of a women,
5 ft 7,
34-27-35-,
I had all the measurements checked with my approximations.
Clearly she was out of my league but I assumed that I could do it.
I was wrong,
For as long as I told her I was ugly,
She didn't believe me until I pressed "upload picture".
Clearly blemishes are not her cup of tea,
Particularly on the back.
What I found with my first kiss was...regret rather than promise.
It felt wet and her teeth got in the way,
Honestly it made me think I shouldn't do it again.
The brace didn't help either.
But...I did it again,
For the slapping of tongues gave me reason and purpose,
She was a seagull,
And I was her loaf of bread.
If she tried to swallow me she would die and it would be all her fault.
So I continued on in this fashion snogging the unexpected and honing the ping pong,
And I hated it,
(It was art in the sense of sculpting a pot only to attempt to turn it into a pair of udders),
Oak wardrobes were not for our ideas.
ego no diligo ut suus in caput capitis of subsido.
When you do things enough you realise,
Love is a rather disgusting thing sir,
You wouldn't want to try it,
The ambience of the accoustics effects every breath,
You flee your instincts to ensure you don't touch the pink,
You will end up widening the eyes to try and take in the temple,
Your body is a psalm,
People don't have to read the signals it gives.
And therefore,
I practice in the ideas of people,
I look at the pallium pectus pectoris.
My little treasures of metaphors.
I awake again.
Next to me I see a girl and smile,
She smiles back,
There is something incredibly enchanting about the thorn of all flowers,
It's ugliness,
The fact that a single touch of it's virgin flesh will harm you,
These are all ideas we try to avoid,
But if we are to embrace them we are rewarded with a rewarding love we do not need,
Here is where I come in.
"Hello there young lady"
"Hi. I like your shirt."
"It's cotton. Keeps the cows away from you"
"Tee hee. Freak!"
"But the eyes tell me otherwise."
"And what do my eyes tell you?"
"The eyes tell a lot of what the opposite thinks, there is so much that the cameras and neurotransmitters show. If we are to hide that we love our grandmothers it is in our eyes, everything. From what I can see in your eyes you are a 19 year old female with the ambition to be an artist to stop your father from raping you."
"You are correct. Such lovely eye reading skills."
"Vos mos planto a decorus bestia refercio per vulnero"
"What?"
"I just called you beautiful in latin"
"You speak Latin?"
"Only on the weekends"
"You have an awkward sense of humour"
"Small talk is awkward."
This is the point when you touch the arm and look into the eyes,
You see. Vulnerable people that do not wish to open and feel ugly die for the chance of some affection.
And they will take any if it counts as normal.
Waking in a flower that sheds bread on the petals,
The training wheels removed from the bicycle,
Cherries exploding left and right.
And that sir is how you tick and add new names.
The book works in multiple ways,
But it's best you don't use an old bible like I did,
There isn't a lot of room in the psalm section.
Sky shifts left and right shitting on the side,
A dog speaks to the ceiling but I can not listen,
I cough,
The cough releases pus,
And I know that I won't end as a monster,
But because I started,
I will always be known,
Take for an example the analogy of the lottery.
Numbers are picked at random.
But if the numbers weren't picked at random would that really make any difference?
I mean sure someone's bound to win more times but does it change the world?
Why the fuck do I have to listen to people complain about fakeness when they constantly cling on to it as hard as they can?
It scares me.
Help.
Too many names,
Too many faces,
When the last insecured person dies,
The race will be perfect,
Because we will all no longer exist.
"Would you like to dance?"
"Yes. Yes I'd like that. But. What happened to your left eye?"
"I was crying into a bridge and sympathy inverted itself."
"My perfect book? Would be one word and one hundred blank pages. Not only would they boot me at sales they'd have the most openly imaginative book in the world"
~Bjorn Lanson.
Author notes
...for the title quote I changed the last two words into latin (which makes three words)...
...any queeries on the bizarre story I will be happy to answer...I must admit it is a very hard concept...
I have officially turned this into an abstract music/spoken poem...
...the link is too large to put on here...it screws up the borders...if you want the link...contact me...be warned though...it's a very uneasy listen (and about five minutes)...
...and guess what? You can hear the track in the youtube video above...it may alter your concept of the poem...or not...depends how sane you are...
In a list
A contest entry
- Life Among Everything Else Should Be illuminated. by badnovocaine.
1550 points, ended May 1, 20 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - prewrites & critiques by aeolia.
400 points, ended September 12, 87 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Have You Blessed Me With a Silver??? ENTER HERE! by Paloszoo.
1200 points, ended June 28, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The AP Anonymous group prewrite comp. by Mango Memories.
400 points, ended November 18, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Best of the Allpoetriers by wandyway.
550 points, ended December 6, 127 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
...it would be...
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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Bravo!!!
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i have stumbled upon this poem with the same thoughts i stumble across every single poem i grow to love and cherish: "what the fuck is this shit?"
truely outstanding.
i will give a fuller comment later, perhaps tomorow, but right now im too dizzy with awe, and first i want to know the story - if you have not already gone over it.
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Haha; it's alright take your time.
I could tell you what I think the story is, but some times people's different perceptions of poems make things more interesting.
If however you would like a full analysis of the story (to which there are multiple influences) please don't hesitate to ask and I'll try and tell you everything I know about it.
Oliver -
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oh please do. i can make out several narrative lines in this, but i wont say them for fear of sounding silly. please, tell all.
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I loved all the little latin bits[:
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ah i was thinking, shall i click in this or shall i leave it, and thoguht well he might have done a shorter one this time, but then i clicked in and found that was not case
so i did a somersault then legged it. 
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...and the stupid spider said to the curious fly "You came into my web again but I'm going to let you go for free so thank you and come again"...
...I have short poems but most of the time I'm too lazy to make something short and poignant...I prefer long and rambly like a Boris Johnson that is slightly useful...defying the laws of nature but alas...it happens sometimes...it does...
...but thank you very much for the applause...even though I probably didn't deserve them...I also like the Viking Emoticon...therefore you were victorious in this comment...
Oliver
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Wonderfully brilliant and creative. I'm truly impressed. Didn't have a difficult time with it, as I had 5 years of Latin
Fantstic job. Thanks for entering my contest and showing your work here. It's an honor to read it 
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Oops, ignore that, I just strolled through the other comments and noticed you already did the translation part
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I did not understand the latin. I would love it if you shared the translations with me.
I enjoyed this nonetheless. I found it kept my attention despite being of a considderable length, which is always an achievement.
I didn't find the concept difficult to grasp, although I may not be interpreting it the way you intended. It's very raw, and painful to read at times - "(It was art in the sense of sculpting a pot only to attempt to turn it into a pair of udders)"
I think it was very brave of you to write something as personally revealing as this seems to be, unless it isn't autobiographical, which I suppose I am inclined to assume it is.
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When I read this it makes me feel like I'm going on a theme park ride through your head and it's like a roller coaster, I end up in the exact same place I started but my life is different for the experience. And that makes me think of when I was a kid my parents made a sorry effort to get us enjoying nature. They would drive us fifteen minutes down the road and bribe us to go tramping with food and then we would spend half the day walking around a forest that I never found interesting just to get back to the place we started.
I would have always loved a rollercoaster more back then, but I think I'm getting old. Now I feel like I could do with the rest of a peaceful walk.
I sound like my grandma, not a fifteen year old girl barely old enough to legally stay at home alone and get her drivers licence. But that's the humour of being intellectually advanced, you have a habit of skipping adolescence.
Anyway, I've deviated quite a lot. I'm just reading about the outbreak of the Swine Flu virus, it's just potenially arrived in New Zealand.
Goodie.
Anyway, brilliant poem, I actually followed it well. And the latin was nice, I've never been taught it but I understand a lot of it.
--Katie--
P.S sorry about the obscenely long message, it wasn't intentional.
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Oh my you just have an imagination like none other that I have seen on here, and that is being upfront and honest.
And I liked the title also added a new twist to me and is one of my favorites (was really secretly hoping that somone would do this one.)
Its actually the name of a book but I renamed it because I didn't know about copyrights and all that it was originally "My Dirty Little Book of Stolen Time." Which is one book of like 400 or 500 on my wishlist right now, I would so love to get that book.
I can't bookmark this one till the contest is over but I am really going to bookmark this one.
Its one of my favorites.
Oh my thank you.
OHHHHHH and loved the ending by the way.
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this is awesome.
"You flee your instincts to ensure you don't touch the pink,
You will end up widening the eyes to try and take in the temple,
Your body is a psalm,
People don't have to read the signals it gives."
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what a trip... translation please, yeah i need spoonfeeding here.
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...haha...I'm good at turning English words into Latin but when asked to do it the other way round I forget...but here it goes:
ego no diligo ut suus in caput capitis of subsido = I to swim to value highly when his upon head of stay (I got some of the phrasing mixed up...I think that's what I was trying to say though)
Vos mos planto a decorus bestia refercio per vulnero = You will to set in place a decorated animal to stuff very to wound.
...my Latin is a little screwed up seeing as it was self taught...but I'm sure it didn't say that when I wrote it down...either way...I like the effect it has...and since it was in another language no one could understand I could have written it about anything and it wouldn't have changed anything...which is the beauty of language...
Oliver
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