My Poetry.

**Bloody Cara** · 05-06-2010 12:52 AM

box

i hold on to my memories
some like toxic waste
can't throw away
gotta box to stay

can't waltz into the office with mud in your shoes
so you go out to drink beer instead
can't gaze upon the moon with your sunglasses on
or at least it doesn't pay to

loneliness ain't my forté
crowds ain't yours
gotta have someone constantly talking, whispering, singing
right in my ear
but you prefer the quiet and the solitude
right in your ear
so we join forces and guess what? it's a great thing

listening up your conversations and the records i bought
and what have i learnt so far? nothing, nothing much
listening up the kills on my computer and reading the lyrics
and what have i got so far? nothing, nothing much

i'd like you start a movement, band or religion
as long as i get in on the action
it's a lil dull, a lil dry in here, beige and all
a little dead soul and the grey didn't see it coming at all

don't pedestal

she says i'm the master of
gotta give the benefit of doubt there
i say i'm still only exploring of

don't say that
you might not think of the meaning in the flesh

he says i'm cool
gotta arch the eyebrow there
i know i'm a fool

don't pay me that compliment
you might not know what's its true cost

don't pedestal me up
i'm scared of hitting the ground
don't say about me anything you can't tattoo on your forehead
don't print in newspapers what you can't carve on your chest

just leave it at hope
just leave it here in the start of the unknown

Gone with the feeling

My moments have a feeling filling
with a life-in-five special

My conversations have shading changes
and the choice to change is nowhere near mine

I'm gone with the feeling
You could ask the same thing from me
and get different answers each time
Just because I'm prone to change my mind with
every season upcoming
every day heading to exit
every moodswing
every differential atmosphere of view against

if the social climate is unfamiliar,
I get cold-frozen

**KlitEastwood** · 05-06-2010 01:10 AM

Very Creative

**Bloody Cara** · 05-06-2010 03:11 AM

Thanks

What's with the Chuck Norris fetish you seem to have?

**KlitEastwood** · 05-06-2010 08:50 AM

Im not sure what my issue is with Chuck

Chuck Norris will never have a heart attack. His heart isn't nearly foolish enough to attack him.

**Bloody Cara** · 05-11-2010 03:31 PM

Chancer

All your assumptions which were
never meant to make sense -
you'll explain your way out of
a n y t h i n g .
You'll go with whatever flows
- anything that can sail you out of
these storms shall do

Chancer, I wish I could
forcefeed you reality.
Talking to a constant social liar
about responsibility?
What am I doing?
It's a thought born comatose,
limited chances to get through
to someone like you.

World's not a good sport in your hands
it's an opportunity wasted or used
You don't play any game fair
because you're stuck on kindergarten values
- the only thing you value is victory.
I'll just say one thing: had you been my baby, I wouldn't have let you out so unfinished.

Clear

Never able to get enough
Of soaking, dark joy
Rain today
Sorrowful tone
I am happy

Maybe this is me
My place I was born into
Outsider in the inner loop
A strange shadow somehow vivid
Still bleeding

See these scars
Only a week old
Nothing special
They tell of no tragedy
It's just me
My attraction to blood
And pain as a scapeway

Why do the phantoms
keep on summoning?
I am not of their world
Trapped in between a window
Tween of two glasses
Looking both ways

Face in the mirror looks strange
As if I'd morphed into something new
But still it is me
Still the tears are mine
My heart, withering for nothing
With nothing to keep my dreaming going
Nothing to hold my breath running
I still breathe

With no reason to exist
I am on a quest to find a meaning
Got too tired of distractions
I keep on living
Searching
Dreaming
Fame and fortune will not do
Although crave for them, I do

What's this backyard of forgotten realms?
Happy on their own,
swans have sang their song

Clear on the water
Clear on the mirror
Clear on my eyes
I've never been closer
to vivid nothing.

Burn My Eyes in Red

I must go now
Free this Nation of Ticking Clocks
Flee this Eve of Dust Burial

Burn my eyes in Red
Stick your hand in my chest
and turn my heart about

Sucha

You are such a...
Sucha I can't describe
All control over this
All yours

It could have been sexier anyhow
Even when you break it and unallow

And there's nothing I can do
Nothing can make you
All we have is all up to you

You're sucha.
You don't decide
but change over and over and over again

kick me out
put me on a pedestal
I'm confusion spread a l l o v e r
weak limbs useless,
sour heart stained by you

You're sucha

Sucha I don't know what else to call you,
can't find another word to describe you
sucha you are - a thief, a traitor,
Lover, sweet and sour saviour
a coat turner, a heartbreaker
Just sucha

Spit fire and clog the room up in smoke
I eye you as we are starting to choke
It's alright, I'm powerless
You love me even less

You're sucha
I cannot tell
All of this belongs to you
All, everything, none's mine

And it doesn't even matter anymore
No it's alright, I'm numb and you're a bore
this is how it'll go on and on
I'm used to being used

No this isn't the dreamland adventure of love we grew up hearing of
It's not true love, no real thing, you're not my soulmate
It is just realism and it looks ugly.
But it's here and it's now and
I don't have anything else to do
So I stay here and I stick by you

**KlitEastwood** · 05-11-2010 06:32 PM

Great, i liked Clear

**Bloody Cara** · 05-18-2010 04:40 PM

Thank'ee

**Bloody Cara** · 05-20-2010 10:50 PM

wish

wish i could sing like that shirley
wish i could voice my opinions in key

but i can't, so i don't
still i'm here starting band of my own
i'm bad, i'm shit
still i'm here standing and singing

wish i could sing like that whitney
wish i could both think and stay in key

but i can't, so i don't
still i'm here screaming out of my throat
i'm stupid, i'm it
still i'm here and you're listening

don't wanna be like sid
don't wanna be punk
but that's the only way
i'm ever gonna get this thing rolling

wish i could sing like that shirley
wish i could know to stop early

but i can't, so i don't
still i'm here laughing my lungs out
i'm worse, i'm worst
still i'm here having the time of my life

**Bloody Cara** · 02-04-2011 07:22 AM

Armour

I'm fed up with your "You don't know" drama
I'm sick of your hollow drama queen armour
Baby, you just don't get it
I'm not stupid and you're not It

**Bloody Cara** · 02-24-2011 07:06 AM

the grieving process

i guess when you grow to a certain age you begin to realise
you had more friends than you have now
all of us had someone who's left us behind
the older we get the bigger the numbers grow

and those who are older than us
they just simply keep dying
at an age so young
that we wish the others were lying

the grieving process
always starts with disbelief:
you accuse the others of lying
then comes in the shock
"it's not possible"
followed by anger
"how could he leave me?"
and after countless efforts and states
comes the fading of memory...
"i'll never forget her" he says at first
but the ugly truth is,
life must go on
sure there will be pain lingering
but scents are forgotten easily

**Bloody Cara** · 02-24-2011 08:08 PM

Ahh please, someone, comment! I'll even taken criticism, as long as it's constructive

In fact constructive criticism can be much better reaction than a simple praise. I'm kinda sick of praises, hearing "Oh they're really good", because that leaves me no ground to grow.

**Like2spray** · 02-26-2011 05:44 AM

Oh, they're really good!

Sorry, I just couldn't resist!!!

**Bloody Cara** · 02-26-2011 07:18 AM

What are you apologising about? Not giving me criticism? Hey, if you like them, it just makes me really pleased, Likey!

**Bloody Cara** · 02-28-2011 05:50 AM

Originally Posted by Bloody Carablea

the grieving process

i guess when you grow to a certain age you begin to realise
you had more friends than you have, you know
all of us had someone who's left us behind
the older we get the bigger the numbers grow

and those who are older than us
they just simply keep dying
at an age so young
that we wish the others were lying

the grieving process
always starts with disbelief:
you accuse the others of lying
then comes in the shock
"it's not possible"
followed by anger
"how could he leave me?"
and after countless efforts and states
comes the fading of memory...
"i'll never forget her" he says at first
but the ugly truth is,
life must go on
sure there will be pain lingering
but scents are forgotten easily

I changed one line. To rhyme it better.

**Bloody Cara** · 03-09-2011 05:51 PM

crying in a dark room at 2 am over a box of tissues;

you at a party ramming the bone
of your words down a skinhead’s throat,
calm like a zen master;
me perched on a sofa, you cross-legged,
the skinhead half a breath away—Marilyn Manson
with opinions about keeping Finland for Finns;

and you, Hannu, tall, Ultra bra t-shirt, big round eyes
so I put some eyeliner on you,
pleased you would let me do
what my boyfriend wouldn’t;

then meeting Päivi a week later,
Päivi broken apart, crying among sanitarium
plants, beds, and a doctor in her office
saying nothing, and she says,
‘When I tried to call him
a friend answered and he was dead,’
and how she dreams you’re alive
and is talking to a priest although an atheist
and wants to believe you exist
in some place somewhere;

you, and my sister’s friend's husband
who went missing for days, who wouldn’t pick up
and just turned up
having been drunk at a bar

and my cousin who died at nineteen
driving her BMW into a pine tree
and who my dad said ‘was killed in an instant;’
it was my birthday so I had to go on
eating crisps, watching some movie,
hollow as a wino’s bottle,
my body mist, wanting
to crawl under a quilt and never get up.

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