The Where-was Baseball Field In River Nonsense

[TheIllyricist]

I watched a pale drowned girl
Murder a man thrice
While he stood alone in the junkyard
With his lit cigarette.
She swam through mass and form
As though everything, all
Was water.

Me, the flying serpent
Watched with the eyes
Of a fourth person
Lost in skyward streams
Painted with blacks and whites
From that divine ceiling,
A brush stroked grey.

Here am I, I there is
Of the this for which
I was made, me mine
Mind mined of the eye
That is broken time, I?

Yes, me, or we? Us,
All inside the asylum,
Hello and welcome,
Goodbye, stay for dinner,
We’re having pancakes
Glazed in blood,
Worry but don’t
For it’s only genocide;
All says laugh,
And all time is up and gone,
Saying are what you, no
Real.

Forever midnight
On the eternal clock
Upon the wall; I
Did turn the hands,
And spin the wheel
With loaded chambers
I crafted, or was it you?
Walk through the barrel
With me so we can meet he,
He that made me and drifts
Still, over the river rage.

Welcome, this needle layered
Baseball field is my home
So sit down; the corpses
Are in the box
And we can make snow angels
With the ghosts.

Oh,
He is here?

By the chimney on the cliff,
He stands by the fire
Where I died, paper in hand,
Wonder what the scores
Were, today? Bang,
I shot my father.

My sheets are warm
With his blood,
My warm sheets,
My sheets, sheets--

[Emily]

I watched a pale drowned girl
Murder a man thrice Everything that can not be, is. And already I know a whirlwind of possibilities is in store.
While he stood alone in the junkyard
With his lit cigarette.The imagery is huge here. You know, I can imagine this scene as a painting.
She swam through mass and form
As though everything, all
Was water.These last three lines are stunning. They omit a sense of air and lightness that lifts my emotions and puts
them in a hazy, dreamlike state. The poetic nature is really beautiful.

Me, the flying serpentNice that you've got that role to play in this play of yours. I like that you're flying and are able to see from all dimensions/perspectives.
Watched with the eyes
Of a fourth person Fourth person is interesting. So you are the extra eyes and ears of a scene that you yourself are in.
I think.
Lost in skyward streams
Painted with blacks and whites
From that divine ceiling,
A brush stroked grey.These descriptions add so much to your work. They not only paint a picture but they have a sense of constant movement to them. That 'devine ceiling line is bliss. And the way you ended that stanza was cool too. Very impressive writing.

Here am I, I there is Here we go in the merry go round of dreamlike states, where everything and anything is possible.
Of the this for which
I was made, me mine
Mind mined of the eyeThe third eye?
That is broken time, I? Weird disturbing music is playing in my head. This is good.

Yes, me, or we? Us,
All inside the asylum,Of our minds I'm guessing. Damn that's good.
Hello and welcome,
Goodbye, stay for dinner,
We’re having pancakes
Glazed in blood,I wish I'd thought of that sentence. I love sick lines like this. Pancakes glazed with blood is gold.
Worry but don’t lol. Niiiiice.
For it’s only genocide;
All says laugh,
And all time is up and gone,
Saying are what you, no
Real. All this bit, I find it really creepy. The mood is brilliant. It's got a sinister atmosphere about it.

Forever midnight
On the eternal clocketernal clock is great.
Upon the wall; I
Did turn the hands,
And spin the wheel
With loaded chambers
I crafted, or was it you?..or was it you? lol. I like it.
Walk through the barrelThis is up there with my favourite lines.
With me so we can meet he,I find it really beautiful.
He that made me and drifts
Still, over the river rage.and that drowned girl/river rage imagery is so strong. Great line here. River rage is amazingly good.

Welcome, this needle layered
Baseball field is my home
So sit down; the corpses
Are in the boxYou've got a romantic sicko in you and it's the highlight of my day.
And we can make snow angels
With the ghosts.No. THESE two last lines, are my favourite. The mayhem of the dead, and then the snow angels, that oppositional imagery just does something to me. Great writing here.

Oh,
He is here?ahhh, creepy. That vibe is ugh, just creepy. Good stuff.

By the chimney on the cliff,Beautiful descriptions again.
He stands by the fire
Where I died, paper in hand, a poet, dying with paper in hand. I like everything you've written here.
Wonder what the scores
Were, today?[B]And this question out of no where, man, it's a creeper isn't it. Bang,Stunning.
I shot my father. NO> THIS is my favourite line. I LOVE IT.

My sheets are warm
With his blood, alright, ok, I like where you've taken this.
My warm sheets, Shit, I think this might be another favourite line. I like the repetivite nature of it. Just makes it even more spooky. It's got that eerie balarina music playing in the background lol.
My sheets, sheets--Yeah thats great.


The Illyricist, this is probably a tenth of what I wrote last night lol. I really went overboard. My fault. I'll def have to shorten my feed. I learnt a good lesson. Don't get carried away with feed. I do all the time. You know, I try to not read pieces until I'm ready to feed it. That way the read can be fresh and not something old I've read. I loved this. I really, really enjoyed it.
More than what this feed shows.
I think you're such a talented poet and such an asset to this board.
Thank you so much for this read. It was beautiful.
I loved every bit of it, and I have nothing negative to say about it.
I think it had a great atmosphere and the dream state you're in talks to me.
It's got a little bit of everything meshing, just like real dreams do.
Like I said, everything is possible and anything can happen.
And it does. Because of your talent.

Thank you.


Great Read.