Elijah Hudley Present's - Trial and Error

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is an compilation of the poems I've written over the years. The name Trial and error is to suggest the difference in my writing style as I progressed everything in becoming a better writer. This compilation is filled with lust, love, happiness, and disgust.

Submitted: April 02, 2011

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Submitted: April 02, 2011

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Elijah Hudley Present’s
 
Trial and Error


 
 
True Power Lies Within
 
Trying to plug there values into me
They treat me as an outlet
Values that are better left worthless, watts that can’t power my life line
Imperfects surge through my body
My paint bronze and strong, my 3 prong socket generating electrons that only I can adapt to
But there are some who don’t like that
Because their devices can’t find charge in my presence
People who fail in their trade, unable to take advantage of power that has long since dried up, try to craft me it their image
They want to re-do my make and model so that they can screw in their light bulbs
Thinking if they could get the one spark it would go off
Engineering ideas of changing my AC to DC
Flowing currents to their homes and trapping me in circuits and batteries
While in-sighting faces of shock and disgust, they tell me my voltage is much to low
That there is much more potential in there
But If only they can get inside my head, re-wire my connections
They see another battery for their flash lights
Another charger for their cell phones,
Backup generations for their own amusement
A free source of electricity
But what will I be to let another adjust my output
Who am I to, let them reroute my power source to another destination
When my output is far greater than these people trapped in triple A cells
Populations trying to build on my emaciation
My force can cause hearts to stop beating
 Wall and electric barriers do nothing to keep me from my goal
Between steel fences, and my power alone
Power that they would love to have
Power they wasted on shorted out sockets and devices
In my presence, they see lightning before them
When Compared they feel like puny sparks
Trying to set off a flame that will never begin to smolder
I feel no envy for their endowments,
When the world is my outlet
And they are stuck traveling through power-lines
 


 
 
A Normal Conversation
(This poem is a pantoum, in which the 2nd and 3rd lines of every stanza are repeated as the 1st and 3rd lines)
 
I’d just like to say that, if you got hit by a bus…I’d like to be the first one to see
Not that the bus driver won’t see you when you walk out in traffic
But he will look you in the eye, rev the engine three times and somehow work in the sounds of a choo-choo train when he presses on the gas
Trampling you under its heels likes a battalion of marching soldiers
 
Not that the bus driver won’t see you when you walk out in traffic
But that you see glaring red eyes, deep red skin, and some weird colors smoke that bellows from what looks like its mouth
Trampling you under its heels likes a battalion of marching soldiers
Maybe your face will be on a t-shirt that nobody wears, but there will be no flag for your coffin
 
that you see glaring red eyes, deep red skin, and some weird colors smoke that bellows from what looks like its mouth
Taking your ashes and scattering them in the fumes of burnt rubber
Maybe your face will be on a t-shirt that nobody wears, but there will be no flag for your coffin
Finding any good out or your memory would be like picking a needle out of a burning barn house that you should be in it
 
Taking the ashes and scattering them in the fumes of burnt rubber
Stirring your legacy in a melting pot with all kinds of pain and suffering chopped in just to make you bitter
Finding any good out or your memory, would be like picking a needle out of a burning barn house that you should be in
Pictures melting like the wax figures you made your smiles out of
 
Stirring your legacy in a melting pot with all kinds of pain and suffering chopped in just to make you bitter
Pouring lemon on open wounds, burning away the sour taste I have when I say your name
Pictures melting like the wax figures you made your smiles out of
The gaze of your eyes, long forgotten is now the medusa of my heart so that’s what I put in your stalking on Christmas day
 
But what pisses me off the most….Is that you look just like me
The background of your image is the same one I’m standing in as your lips, move the same way mines do
The floor littered with bottles and feathers
You’re wings, once as radiant as a supernova now tattered and beaten, like a fly’s
 
Yet and still you tell me you’ve never been more alive, when you’re playing in death’s backyard
 And as I look at you through light and reflections, I know that our though process is on the same wave length
It’s as if, you never had wings to begin with
 
You swallow glass hoping that populations could see a clearer picture of you
Cutting your tongue will every blade put to your arm?
So I’m not saying you should go to hell…I’d just like to say that, if you got hit by a bus…I’d like to be the one driving it
 


 
 
Feels like morning everyday 
 
A star rains
protruding out from beneath skin
and all lies broken like bones-shatter
The ground- wet and filthy
Think about the need
wanting only sugar
moving with fire
no where to run

open by faith 
pins speak with mind
the morning sun is full of intent
A star falls in beautiful eruptions like supernova
Strings wrapped around the waist
tied by fate
grown by violence
love went to hope
hope fell in love

knees are scrapped and scarred 
rain washes it away 
forget the melody of war drums
fading in the sea
rain washes it away
shouldering blistering bitterness
conversations full of dramatic intent
move closer to the stars
rain- washes it away

catch a falling star
arms brought down 
rain stops pouring
the ground wet and filthy
grateful enough to embrace 
drown by the pillow
fingers wrapped and gray and black
begin another cycle 
the ground wet and filthy

draw life from mirror 
beggar asks for food
left starving
relinquished all liquor 
difficult decisions much better
sky not blue still 
head still valiant 
experiment with glamor 
dirt is still moist

clouds almost black in the sky
skin stops hiding from the sun
arms stay strong
images of cherry waves from combat
still arms stay strong
body stays shivering
mouth stays teething
Live with one thing
stabbed by needles 
written by pins


 
 
Triggaman
 
Yes I want to love you, 
You were just thee innocent bystander walking down my street but 
I wanted to make this real because you were so outta this world 
Yes I have taken aim and I’m too anxious to pull the trigger 
My crosshairs lay over your heart as I hold my breath trying to keep my hand steady 

But I can’t help to feel this chill up my spine because of you 
I found myself afraid that if I miss you’d never be there again so 
Carefully I can fire from this bow the arrow that will make your heart throb 
I can hear your heart beat but is it calling me 
With this weapon I feel much stronger than ever 
So I would like nothing more than to shoot you from the sky and have you land in my arms 

There for I will patiently watch you like a sniper waiting for the right chance where I can 
Pull the trigger and guarantee to you that I can be the one would heal your wounded heart 
For I’ve seen how your deflected every attempt to catch you off guard and sweep you off your feet 
But I will take the time to insure that my love will be of armor piercing round 
Able to borrow deep within your heart and stay there for eternity 


 
 
Blank Stare
I walk among a thread of emptiness
I awaken my mind
My heart
In satisfaction
Instantly I am consumed by my own irrationalities
Hearing a blind voice tell me my inner secrets aloud
I cower in the face of embarrassment
My worst fear
Being watched by the empty sky as I recede into the shell of the lonely turtle
As if I was scared ….being my worst fear
Smoke bellowing from the lungs as my eyes become charcoal
Genetically inheriting dark thoughts and traits
From one who has waited for nothing to happen
I guess….this is how it feels…
To want nothing…
Siren
Made up of days on end
I journey down the lone rode without light
Constantly I am consumed by the sound of elegance
Leading me off course….
I think I’m about to crash
She sings a mellow voice that enchants my every being
Her touch, demonic in nature consuming the nerves of my sweaty skin
How can I not lose control of myself!
She sooths my burning lungs with a kiss from the sun
Therefore do I fail at every attempt to find myself
And forever will I remain ignorant of the path she leads me on
I will always find comfort
In the love of a siren


 


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