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Saturday, September 24, 2011. The Old Gods (A Poem). The old gods sing. In our bones still, humming through. At our teeth and along. Our lips, their names. When the old rage comes, the jealousy. Of immortals watching the living stumble. Toward Death, rushing there, laughing,. Sowing pain along the way. We feel the devil's horns. Sticking through, hell's heat stoking. Our skin - we want more. Than mortality allows, than immortality. Too And yet,. There at sunrise, there along the river's. The poor, caring.

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badlovepoet | badlovepoet.blogspot.com Reviews

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Saturday, September 24, 2011. The Old Gods (A Poem). The old gods sing. In our bones still, humming through. At our teeth and along. Our lips, their names. When the old rage comes, the jealousy. Of immortals watching the living stumble. Toward Death, rushing there, laughing,. Sowing pain along the way. We feel the devil's horns. Sticking through, hell's heat stoking. Our skin - we want more. Than mortality allows, than immortality. Too And yet,. There at sunrise, there along the river's. The poor, caring.

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1 badlovepoet

2 skin buzzing

3 hardly forgotten

4 for worship

5 no comments

6 labels nature

7 poetry

8 labels music

9 nature

10 blue a poem

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badlovepoet,skin buzzing,hardly forgotten,for worship,no comments,labels nature,poetry,labels music,nature,blue a poem,in the morning,a white cloud,drowning,by matthew stalbaum,labels fiction,short story,funeral a poem,dress me,see steps,i'll never take

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badlovepoet | badlovepoet.blogspot.com Reviews

https://badlovepoet.blogspot.com

Saturday, September 24, 2011. The Old Gods (A Poem). The old gods sing. In our bones still, humming through. At our teeth and along. Our lips, their names. When the old rage comes, the jealousy. Of immortals watching the living stumble. Toward Death, rushing there, laughing,. Sowing pain along the way. We feel the devil's horns. Sticking through, hell's heat stoking. Our skin - we want more. Than mortality allows, than immortality. Too And yet,. There at sunrise, there along the river's. The poor, caring.

INTERNAL PAGES

badlovepoet.blogspot.com

1

badlovepoet: September 2010

http://badlovepoet.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html

Thursday, September 9, 2010. A Room of None's Own (A Poem). So yeah, nothing else more to say really. Feel free to leave comments and criticisms! Every bit of feedback helps really. I'll see you again next week, internet! A Room of None's Own. How sad is the empty room. Filled with one's belongings, one's. Life in fact, but empty. Of the heart, the steady beating. Against drawers and drawings, practicalities. Of coughing, late night snoring, dreams. Wheezing out of contracting throats,.

2

badlovepoet: Backfield Football (A Poem)

http://badlovepoet.blogspot.com/2011/09/backfield-football-poem.html

Friday, September 9, 2011. Backfield Football (A Poem). The summer sun, glistening. And strong, are eager. For contact. Unrelenting,. Their charges crash,. Rarely breaking; and when. They fall, they lift. Each other from the dirt. As brothers. They laugh. When they bleed, scarred. With the day, their limbs. Matthew Stalbaum, 7/18/11. Criticism is always loved, even the negative stuff, so feel free to say something. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). All the Stuff I've Written. The Old Gods (A Poem).

3

badlovepoet: April 2010

http://badlovepoet.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html

Wednesday, April 28, 2010. Kisses Too Soft (A Poem). This is one I wrote earlier on in the semester. I'm gonna have to start writing some new ones to post for next week! Anyways, this is a poem I got the idea for in my poetry class while we were writing other poems. The professor was hurling abstract questions at us, as foundations to build poems out of, but this wasn't in answer to any of them. All I had was the beginning and end lines really. It's still in need of heavy. Great even when we kiss space.

4

badlovepoet: October 2010

http://badlovepoet.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html

Sunday, October 31, 2010. NaNoWriMo Hiatus/I Dropped the Ball. Well, for those who remember my latest postings, I am doing NaNoWriMo during the month of November, and I highly. Anyways, that's my story right now. I'll try to write some poetry to post here sometime though. Wish me luck for NaNoWriMo! Sunday, October 10, 2010. NaNoWriMo - Do It! A friend of mine just introduced me to NaNoWriMo. Two friends and I talked about it, and we decided, yeah, why the fuck not! I've actually been planning on writing...

5

badlovepoet: Build (A Poem)

http://badlovepoet.blogspot.com/2011/08/build-poem.html

Friday, August 26, 2011. A country, find yourself a house. To grow your trees around, to shade. From summer heat and showers, to keep. Cool and still;. Your flowers and gardens, nurse their seeds. Until to your horizons stretch. Your colors, your fruits, and pick them. Gently, into vases and bowls,. Enjoy what you've mothered. While you can;. Your house, build it again from the inside. Out, blossoming with the tables you built. From your trees (you choose what goes on them),. Take it all, fill.

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A Boy and His Cat | The Nobody's Rambler

https://nobodysrambler.wordpress.com/2011/10/23/a-boy-and-his-cat

The Nobody's Rambler. I live, I love, I blog. A Boy and His Cat. My cat, Taylor, was more than just a cat. To me, he was dearly loved, a companion of sorts. To many others, he was the Devil, Satan, evil incarnate. He was a myth, a legend, the scourge of my neighborhood. I miss him. Everyone who came to our house invariably saw Taylor’s reign of terror at some point or another. A friend’s little brother got trapped in our basement with him once. My parents heard him yelling for help. When they...What surp...

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The Script Reads Me! | The Nobody's Rambler

https://nobodysrambler.wordpress.com/2011/10/01/the-script-reads-me

The Nobody's Rambler. I live, I love, I blog. The Script Reads Me! Subtlety and nuance and believability are surprisingly more complicated to pull off, especially when the character you’re playing off of is attempting to seduce you. And she was seducing me, not-Holden Caulfield. This time it was the eyes, the eyes of someone who could sell their body for money, who could separate any pleasure from the act of sex, who was looking to seduce a john to make some cash. All this from her eyes. She want...Addre...

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Fuck Yeah: The Blues | The Nobody's Rambler

https://nobodysrambler.wordpress.com/2011/09/24/fuck-yeah-the-blues

The Nobody's Rambler. I live, I love, I blog. Fuck Yeah: The Blues. Everyone gets the blues. And I mean that in two ways:. 1) We all feel the blues. 2) We all understand the blues. So what are the blues? Nothin’ if you don’t got the feelin’. God no, otherwise all blues musicians would do is mope around feeling sorry for themselves. They’d probably start playing blues songs about having the blues because they have the blues, a cycle that would explode in a fiery-blast of meta-bullshit. Are You Nobody Too?

nobodysrambler.wordpress.com

To Be In Like With You | The Nobody's Rambler

https://nobodysrambler.wordpress.com/2011/09/16/to-be-in-like-with-you

The Nobody's Rambler. I live, I love, I blog. To Be In Like With You. Kelly Thomas, black with chipmunk cheeks and big eyes and a bigger smile. It was 6th grade, and she was the first girl I ever seriously liked. And this was true like-liking someone right there. This was stay up at night thinking about her liking someone, looking forward to school just to see her liking. Well, I didn’t. Can anyone understand the stupidity that was younger me? How did you ask someone out though? The end of the year appro...

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Saturday, September 24, 2011. The Old Gods (A Poem). The old gods sing. In our bones still, humming through. At our teeth and along. Our lips, their names. When the old rage comes, the jealousy. Of immortals watching the living stumble. Toward Death, rushing there, laughing,. Sowing pain along the way. We feel the devil's horns. Sticking through, hell's heat stoking. Our skin - we want more. Than mortality allows, than immortality. Too And yet,. There at sunrise, there along the river's. The poor, caring.

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