Built my own website: Punk Poetry
would really appreciate some feedback...
I see what you mean about moving the logo over...I put it on the left with the intention of filling the "white space" with additional cover art as I release more titles. I'm on schedule to have the next volume up and running soon.
Thanks again for taking the time to check out the site.
Thinking I'll post up a few just for the hell of it....
I can feel the
in her subtle movements.
beneath her smoky whispers.
behind her ivory smile.
I can not look away,
Blackness wrapped in purest silk.
Skin, smooth like bullet proof glass
that warms to my touch.
She knows my
Iíve chosen my poison,
and drink deep
No turning back.
Until the end
When the words wonít come
most guys stare at a blank page and wait for it to happen.
Thereís no inspiration on an empty page for me.
But the hands that hold the pen and pad are my salvation.
Worn and scarred.
Days of dirt, and nights of blood.
Dipped in oceans
and calloused by fire.
Smooth against the small of her back
or clenched tight
on her ass.
First to fight, and aching to create,
they speak to me in the
for the masses...
Are there colors that we fail to see?
Hidden in the dark places,
shadows in our minds.
and all their spawn
fill the world.
But is that all there is?
I hope not.
Others have used this palette for far too long,
and while beautiful things have been created,
I am bored with societyís rainbow.
Give me a chance to bleach it from the sky,
and I will paint in hues
that have yet to see the sun.
You should really post these in the poetry thread
another one from the dark places...
Dead of Winter
Untouchable, and unapproachable.
Her cold stare fixed
and unable to see my true intentions.
A chrysallis of ice
cannot hide her beauty,
but it insulates her from my
We are seperated by miles,
and yet we share a bed.
Days and nights
into the abyss,
as I watch
for the tiny fractures;
signals of the Spring thaw,
and bind us again
in the Summer of our
Feeling a bit overwhelmed today...thought I'd share:
I am drowning dry land,
in thin air,
a thousand feet above sea level.
Not a drop of water
touches my skin,
and still I struggle
to catch my
hold me under,
to ease their grip,
but I will not go down easily.
Fighting rising tides
and crashing waves,
I snatch quick breaths
between the swells,
treasure the fresh air
that fills my aching lungs.
These small breaks to the surface
are what keep me
They grow farther apart
and shorter in duration,
I know they will come
if I am willing to swim strong and hard
against the dark currents
Here's Your Chance to Get Your Poetry Published
After getting bombed with requests to post submitted poems on the No Rules Press site, Iíve decided it would be cool to give my readers a chance to strut their stuff for all the world to see. Iím going to be putting a punk anthology together, and I'll be selecting thirty of the best to be a part of it. Thought some of you might be interested in taking a shot, so here's the link:
Looking forward to the places you'll take me.
Have been neglecting my creative side for too long...
time to begin again.
I met a beautiful girl
at a gig in the city.
Raven haired and ruby lipped.
Her ivory skin set ablaze
with technicolor tattoos.
and I tell her…
I carry my tattoos on the inside,
revealed only to those of my choosing.
Her eyes pull me forward
and the space between us
I would loose the counter at the bottom. I don't think its working and is fixed but loose it. It's very dated and instantly puts me off a site. Install analytics if u want to track your traffic
The top banner is too big. It forces you to scroll down quite abit to get to some content. Tends to be a big now in web design. People want the content straight away
Haven't been around in a while....
There's a wolf in my bedroom closet.
under lock and key,
by his pack.
He claws at the door
and fights to escape
on lonely Winter nights when strong drink
I feel for him...
and cut off from the forest where he used to run
I am tempted to release him...
to let him tear out my throat
and taste my blood,
to let him return to the dark woods of his past.
One turn of the rusted iron key
will change both of our lives
but only if I am strong enough to
His snarls call to my desire
as the latch swings
Crimson footprints fall
on virgin snow.
His howls echo under a silver moon,
and we are
in the shadows.
east coast steve
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