Surgeo Church's blog

This place is not as sincere and
Welcoming as I imagined.
'Twas a bit secretive and eerie,
More so than I had fathomed

It is watching me from behind
With it's screened and wooden eyes
That say to come, but never
To depart

Inside withered my thoughts
That were once in bloom.
Through the crack of the door
I swear, I was not afraid...

Bathtub streaked with dust
And the creaking porch outside
Spoke with bitter words
In poetry that still survives.

i feel star-stuck!
it's so exciting, i'm so completely
filled
with
joy
i almost can't remember why.

i met him!
it's just incredible for me
english
class
today
he was there, he was there.

geoff gevalt!
the untouchable ywp being
shook
my
hand
wow, am i going overboard? no.

it was fabulous.

he is haunting, do not get me wrong
a deep and cracking tone
those strange eyes that have no point

but something about his inspiration
artistic talented ways
ties me in and will never let me go

thank you for letting me climb on

I worry not, my dear friend.
Because I will not stand for a tie
Nor my being behind
I will conquer your nation of poetry
On this wonderful site.

And I will, in fact, defeat you
In this ongoing battle
Of YWP and English Class
I will triumph over you
And win this war.

listen, this door speaks
wrecking ages of green envy
to overthrow it's beast within

wait a second, what the heck am i writing?
forget it, i'm still just trying to beat sarah.
i try.

this is not a revolution
it is only a series of thoughts
that have dug themselves into a solution
like the roots of yellow birches and forget-me-nots.

springing buds of passion and fury
that spiral to a rock bottom pit
because there purpose does not serve me
and here, still i sit.

waiting for the moment where i realize i am wrong
in my way of preaching louder
of what i believe is love in song
yet, still it has a trace of fading powder.

because your words do not revise
or more so, compromise
for the heart that sits without a ribcage near
it has been torn in every corner, not so soft and nearing worser

you are wilting my peace inside this hole.

No one can see it
It's an invisible knocking rap

It has a beat to it
But the waves never change in lap

Oh, it's nothing you can do
But it's something you can't see

Nonetheless it's the falling of your tap

There once was a girl named Sarah
Who thought she could win the war of the era
But I beat her in blogs
And posted my logs
Then I was the winner, not Sarah.

I WIN.

Think, if you'd like, of your victory
For yes, all it may be is a curious thought
Because I am just like a runner
And you are in second place
Hearing the rip of the finish line
That my torso has just bounded through.

I am going to win the war.

It must be the
Maniacal laughter
in the back of my head
Driving me to have
One or
Two
More blogs than you

Like firing shots
I post
Spontaneous, stupid poems
But it doesn't matter how
Fantastic they are
Because I am winning
THE WAR.

Is this how it will be forgotten?
With a tear of the leopard
That lay in the corridor to your room

A leopard insignificant and alone
Is this how it feels to be forgotten?
If all you are is a shed tear

I cannot get up
By body is ice
Because I am the leopard

Show the secrets of cellar door
Entrance to world beyond, no more
It's been shaken with power
But not the power of autumn shore

He had inched closer
To the radio in his bedroom
White noise was blaring
But it had a monotonous ring

It was a soft, light hissing
Of words in another tongue
But he understood every vowel
Every consonant of the slithering

Sentences that grabbed his neck
And held on tightly 'til his eyes went black
Water began to drip from the speakers
Somehow enticing him

A bath had formed around the boy
He was on his hands and knees
In a trance by the whispers
That penetrated his mind

The boy stood on command
By the glass-shattering stereo
And he stared without purpose
At its immoveable plastic shell

The water then stood before him
Extending its wet core into arms and legs
Until it was what one may call human, but strangely that
It's body had absolutely no fat

It's thin fingers grew out into freakishly long
Fingernails while it's head gradually grew black hair
The eyes, deeper than the ocean, shined with a darkness
Which was surrounded thickly with more black.

It's teeth grew sharp and rotten
Along with it's forked black tongue
Which still sang the white noise of the radio
And it's skin was almost translucent in it's whiteness

It stared at the boy, eyes and mouth open wide
And a sinister, sinister, lick of the lips
It stepped closer to the boy, dripping water
And it screamed

It was a paralyzing shriek
Louder than any white noise lighting the background
Shaking the room it screamed
"Listen."

Picturesque place where no man can step,
Drops of sunlight seeping through the towering trees.

Green leaves flutter in the forest breeze.
Forest floor living harmoniously with the beings.

Twilight hits the perfect lone dragonfly,
Sun sails down and appears the crescents shape.

But, when the darkness hides the sleeping divine,
The predator comes out of hiding.

Curious eyes see through the rustling branches,
Finding their now known prey.

The silence is now suffocated by destruction,
And what world is complete without destruction?

Xanadu is untouchable, unable to be found or created,
A lie and a dream in my heart.

Ariel; the moon.
bright when surrounded by the darkness of the night.
wise, all knowing eyes of graceful silver above.
pure intellect matched with a deep, grey heart.
innocent crescent of a shining smile to guide all below,
and always there to look up to.

Erin; the sky.
sweet covering, holding arms of grey and blue
never failing to see how great the world can be.

I think it's fun that no one on here,
Has met me and it's all mysterious,
and unknown.

Because I haven't seen one person,
That I know on here.
But I still feel connected and welcome.

I like it.

The works of my mind in the darkness of the night,
Come up with such interesting stories.
I occasionally have to write them down.
I create interesting pieces with these midnight subconscious thoughts.

When I do this, however, I feel as though I'm doing something illegal.
Because I didn't just think this up, my brain did without my input.
It makes me feel as if I've
Cheated.

The cessation of the rain on that humid summer night,
Provoked me to surrender my loneliness to the canals of Venice.
I had been sitting in the attic of my dimly lit home,
When I walked creakily down the stairs to my front door.
I wandered through the cobblestone streets to a bridge made of marble.
I stood looking over the water below, dark and shimmering in the moonlight.

I, myself, have been to the crystal city on the water.
I have stood on the glass balcony which reflected back below.
I have traveled endless miles into the sky which this place sits,
Where the shows are the thunderclouds far down where we row,
Above the clouds where storms cease to exist.

The marks upon her skin scream!
Like nails on a chalkboard.
Cover your ears,
Cover your ears!

You don’t want to feel,
That blood pouring down.
Her tears are crashing,
She doesn’t want to return!

She will never go back,
To that home.
Where the screams still echo,
Where her cries were first called out.

Don’t listen to the walls!
They know so much more then you ever will.

why does applause sound so quiet,
when you hear it from his mind?
he tends to blur the focus,
of all in ticking time.

style it
drape it
try it
wear it
button it
zip it
sew it
pin it
tuck it
cut it
make it
do it
FASHION.

MAKEUP.
tint the lid, shade of blue not so crude.
line the eyes, black as coal fiery heart.
apply the lips, plump pink oh so swift.
blush the cheeks, bright slow motion.
CLOTHES.
fit the jeans, tight and straight just in.
wear the heels, black sky high such a thrill.

Why
the heck,
do you post
a million comments
to each other in poetic

form?

I walk my own path. I write my own story. Go ahead and point out my differences; I don't want to be you. You are not living my life, and I am not living yours, so don't act like you're any better than me. You aren't perfect. I'm not perfect, but at least I can embrace that. I try to be the best person I can be by my own standards. Too bad for you if I don't live up to yours.

i hate the way
they smile and act
like they're your friend.

but when you turn the corner
they're at it
once again.

you're the subject of
their conversations
and not in a good way.

you can hear their voices
and know every single
word they say.

they lie to you
and tell you
they think you're great.

but when you're
not around
it's all about hate.

they point out

I heard a sigh in my opening line;
My heart beat was ticking like a time bomb.
I spoke my words unto the air,
And poise bled my coruscating thoughts.

Hundreds of ears heard my soul,
Spilled out like tumbling raindrops.
As silent as they were; my voice alone echoed the hall;
I felt the trembling excitement and hope.

But, oh astonishing audience,
Must I not think so much of thee?

Disbelieving.
Golden lion doesn’t yet know
What is to become of him.

Brother sits across.
Weary and dull.

Sirens faintly heard through their ears.
But lion doesn’t comprehend.
Nor does golden lion run.

But they’re here.
And golden lion’s cries
Cannot be helped.

And then on.

These two once like brothers,
Together again.

Pacing golden lion.
Caged.

they’re afraid.
laugh it off.

but if you look again
you see a glimpse
of questioning
and fear.

they have to be a man
make it gone.
because they feel
in their heart
gay is wrong.

their eyes wander
across the room
filled with
laughter.

and they hope
that no one
realizes the truth.

our world.
is just a spec,
compared to the universe.

we are nothing
against the endless darkness
past the galaxies.

going
and
going

does it ever end?

is the universe
just a drop of water
on a blade of grass
in the next world?

are there more like us?
is earth not the only place of life?

do other intelligences watch us?

His jet black hair falls into his face
A smile so irresistable it could make any girl faint
Screams come from the crowd, for him and only him
His hand on his hip, microphone in hand
Dark eyeliner circles his gorgeous eyes
Teasing the audience, and singing the lines
Tight black pants, and "The Black Parade" backdrop
Cannons and blimps are his backup acts