Built my own website: Punk Poetry

[east coast steve]

would really appreciate some feedback...


http://norulespress.com/



thanks,

Stephen

[Dave.]

Originally Posted by east coast steve

would really appreciate some feedback...


http://norulespress.com/



thanks,

Stephen

Looks great. One thing though. Could you have the symbol over the 'recent posts' section and have the blog part beside them?

[east coast steve]

Originally Posted by longan

Looks great. One thing though. Could you have the symbol over the 'recent posts' section and have the blog part beside them?

Thanks longan...I'm still tweaking the site as I learn more about adding structure and content.

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.


Steve

[Dave.]

Originally Posted by east coast steve

Thanks longan...I'm still tweaking the site as I learn more about adding structure and content.

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.


Steve

Ah right, makes since. And great work

[east coast steve]

Thanks longan.


Thinking I'll post up a few just for the hell of it....

Succubus




I can feel the
evil
in her subtle movements.
Hear the
anguish
beneath her smoky whispers.
See the
darkness
behind her ivory smile.

But,
I can not look away,
or
leave.

Blackness wrapped in purest silk.
Skin, smooth like bullet proof glass
that warms to my touch.

She knows my
weakness.

I’ve chosen my poison,
and drink deep
from
the
well.

No regrets.
No turning back.
Only desire
and
release.

Until the end
of my
days.

[east coast steve]

another ....

The Well






When the words won’t come
most guys stare at a blank page and wait for it to happen.

There’s 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
silence.

[east coast steve]

for the masses...

Kaleidoscope






Are there colors that we fail to see?
Hidden in the dark places,
shadows in our minds.

Red
Orange
Yellow
Green
Blue
Indigo
Violet
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 society’s rainbow.

Give me a chance to bleach it from the sky,
and I will paint in hues
that have yet to see the sun.

[Dave.]

You should really post these in the poetry thread

[east coast steve]

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
touch.

We are seperated by miles,
and yet we share a bed.

Days and nights
pass,
wasted,
into the abyss,
as I watch
and

wait

for the tiny fractures;
signals of the Spring thaw,
that will
release
her warmth
and bind us again
in the Summer of our
love.

Steve

[east coast steve]

Feeling a bit overwhelmed today...thought I'd share:

S.O.S



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

breath.



Debt

and

responsibility

hold me under,

and refuse

to ease their grip,

but I will not go down easily.



Fighting rising tides

and crashing waves,

I snatch quick breaths

between the swells,

and

treasure the fresh air

that fills my aching lungs.



These small breaks to the surface

are what keep me

alive.

They grow farther apart

and shorter in duration,

but

I know they will come

again,

if I am willing to swim strong and hard

against the dark currents

of

suburbia.

Steve

[east coast steve]

After getting bombed with requests to post submitted poems on the No Rules Press site, I’ve decided it would be cool to give my readers a chance to strut their stuff for all the world to see. I’m 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:

http://norulespress.com


Looking forward to the places you'll take me.



Stephen

[east coast steve]

Have been neglecting my creative side for too long...

time to begin again.

Conception




I met a beautiful girl
at a gig in the city.

Raven haired and ruby lipped.
Her ivory skin set ablaze
with technicolor tattoos.

We talk
and
connect.

She asks…
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

slowly

disappears.


Lips meet
and
she becomes

poetry.

Stephen

[nendo]

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

[east coast steve]

Haven't been around in a while....

Release



There's a wolf in my bedroom closet.
Kept secure
under lock and key,
hidden
from view,
and
forgotten
by his pack.

He claws at the door
and fights to escape
on lonely Winter nights when strong drink
stirs
my
soul.

I feel for him...
trapped,
and cut off from the forest where he used to run
wild.

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
forever,
but only if I am strong enough to
commit.

His snarls call to my desire
as the latch swings
free.


Crimson footprints fall
on virgin snow.

His howls echo under a silver moon,
and we are
one
in the shadows.

east coast steve