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Forrest Barden Poems
'Explain pain in the same phrase You use to explain it away. Remain plain and lame, stained With ever pervading rage.
'8' 'I would like to tell a story, but they all end up a morbid allegory;
All of this is assiduous And making me feel nauseous; The acidity of the worlds stupidity Can be classified as 'caustic'...
'Create a Way to Create'
I would take your hands in mine, But they cut my arms off at the shoulder So every night would grow colder As, all alone, i slowly grow older.
I am dead, thus I am death, Thus I can choose life for those around me..... Astoundingly,
Last thoughts of a dying atheist: 'Such pain we face on this plain in which We live, or at list persist to begin And end; sublime did I exist.'
Sometimes i get hold of a little hope That i wont wake up in the morning. That i wont have to keep pretending That everything will be alright...
Slowly we explode; Erosion is motion in an ocean Of 'dos' and 'donts' when Donut eating imperialists patrol it
'A Life Alone'
Once again, a day alone... As it was meant to be.... And so, as it has always been, I alone befriended me....
So I flick the ash of all I have left Off the end of this cigarette. I try to look forward to anything, But all I can see is her silhouette.
Never a dream That didn't wake me. Shake me lightly, Lovingly hate me.
'I Know Something You Don't'
Riddle me this, riddle me that... What is this weight that I feel on my back? Why can't I tell where it is that I'm at? And whats real when fairytales become flat fact?
I'm not lost, So please dont come looking for me... I am gone. I'm in a place not warm
'The Man Who Ate The Snake'
Quietly... I'm screaming to rattle the spirit Of oblivion. Silently...
Comments about Forrest Barden
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
'Explain pain in the same phrase
You use to explain it away.
Remain plain and lame, stained
With ever pervading rage.
Contusions and bruises
From the confusion are utterly useless;
Stupid foolishness eulogizing
Excluding the usages
Of useful hallucinogens,
My too skewed rude views
Are my tools against super boorish friends.
Yet, in the end.....
We recycle this cycle again and again;
Blood diluted by convolution
States far more then its ever said.
(Or ever will say again...) '