Mythical Tales

I know the shortest story is:

"For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn." by Ernest Hemingway.

But I'd like to know when a poem stops becoming a poem. I really enjoy writing short poetry, because I feel you need to condense poetic themes in such a short piece of work.

I had a very neutral comment reported and removed. I will be emailing the Yahoo team, but I'm just curious as to why they delete it automatically.

I cod say, "The Earth is beautiful" and if it were reported, I'd lose my ten points and that post. Doesn't seem fair to me.

Am I wrong?

I haven't been on in a year or so, and a lot has changed.

I have been, and will be for the foreseeable future, post a poem a day. Thank you for any support/likes.

https://www.facebook.com/schizobunny

How can I make my videos look good? Are there programs to add photos and voice enhancement? I'm not looking to buy microphones or nice cameras though.

If so, what have you done to reach out to people with a similar sexuality? I also heard of Gray Asexual, from what I know they engage in sexual activity, I would if I found a boyfriend (and have), so I guess I need help finding gay guys that would be open enough to date someone with my sexuality, or lack of.

I was on the bus before leaving school. A blinding white flash occurred, then my friend said, "Who the f**k took a picture?" Then the bus shook: twice.

Any theories?

I think a lot of people would use it.

This question got flagged, so I'm re-posting it. I've been researching peoples' hallucinations, and none of them seem to approach mine. I stopped smoking because it can be overwhelming.

-I hallucinate EVERY time I smoke, whether I take 1 hit or more.

It's not laced because no one else I smoke with experiences what I do.

-I walked to one room, then back, and thought I had traveled for three days through a jungle.

-People around me - friends, brother - will all turn into strangers.

-First time I smoked, the room was breathing and I saw pictures floating in the room.

-I switch through different worlds and realities when high. If you have the light on, then turn it off, I go into a totally different world, or if we go to another room I go into a whole new world.

-I have a smile that won't leave no matter how hard I try.

-When I close my eyes the room spins, and if I keep them closed long enough I see a blue C shape coming from my body.

-Three friends were watching a music video, and I couldn't comprehend what a song was.

OK, so this must be strongly abnormal. If so, is it abnormal enough to suggest something about my brain?

Thank you for taking the time to read.

The Core of Cherries

Each thought grows

like sun-burnt yellow wheat,

and each stalk bends their neck

exposing raspberry arteries

(in costume of course)

to a naked-toothed scythe,

asking, “What if,

We were born of cherry cores?”

Eye-Seeing Dog

Two rotten candies,

Elevated and dry,

Like chocolate tootsie pops.

Below the equator, a satellite;

A noose or a tie -- (elegance in different ways)

To keep something close by.

This dog has quite a nose,

To smell the indigos,

The violets, orange, sapphires, and cherry-blood signs.

To smell the candies of the other planets,

The sugar-rivers, frosted-toped mountains, all star-coated in dyes of vibrancy;

The spray-painted skies, emerald-oozing ground and charred sticks;

White chocolate dribbles in a halo, that of the Earth’s dark chocolate fedora

Where the night creeps off the belt of the world.

Two lemon-sweet balloons hover

Over vicarious machinery,

Barking at two tons of silver, solid sugar,

Rolling upon four tar truffles.

Two lemon-sweet balloons

Misunderstand the use of deflation,

Slipping out his nail-pink tongue,

Greeting his world through water;

Something understandable.

I didn't mean for this to be offensive or anything, I just really like the strong relationship (the necessary one) between two living things. One is supplementing the other's sense, but it's more than that, there's a connection.

I feel like the only place I make that clear is the last stanza, and it doesn't seem like it was made well enough. Any suggestions, comments would be appreciated.

understandable should be changed to relate-able?

Lovesong

such heavy teeth

music was born with,

fat bone

white as cloud

gorging on empty space.

what monsters, songs are,

stealing things away

like leech-tongue

and we sit there

like hang-

nails.

The spiral of the nurse-house

Is an armadillo of sorts - in laced girdle -

In a state of free paralysis.

I’ve been tugged to these apron-dressed doors

Of this unorthodox hotel. Don’t touch my flesh;

Only your baby feet were barefoot, is why you’re unqualified.

Their feet are no longer useless,

Nothing jiggling in stride, but their hair.

It was my scent that alerted those cloaked nudists.

Under their touch I become a boy

Drowning in morphine,

And my clarity falls as concrete snowflakes.

One single bed is my boarding lump,

One ticket to further saturated veins.

You can touch my belly, but nothing else, ladies.

This is the first 5 stanzas out of a planned 15*

Your words are more than I've asked for; thank you.

Even though Sylvia's my favorite, she killed herself at 30; I might want to live longer than that. I thought H.G. Wells had an interesting life, also Marry Shelly (all those people from "Prophecies of Science Fiction!).

You guys? And why, did they do something cool in their lives that you wanted to do or accomplish?

Why is it too late ;)

Autism brings about creativity, and new ways of creating solutions to problems; ingenuity. I was wondering if schizophrenia and autism, and perhaps more mental "labels" tend to have synesthetic tendencies associated with it.

I say label because I don't like the sound of illness. I think mental "illnesses" can be more gifts than anything else.

Chocolate-made stumps

peak from the depths of Earth's basement -

the pillars that once held a roof over the bugs,

the squirrels, the spiders and snakes,

are shaved like burnt-out candles

and the roof is no longer green,

but decides to be blue for half the day

and the other - grey.

So dark a grey, it reminds the daughters of the forest

to rise again and claim their color.

Remember. Remember. Remember,

here the dead come to life,

here the animals have important issues to discuss,

not which squirrel’s a slut, and which is a saint.

I’ve seen life climb the trees,

forgetting about the ground -

steering its valiant cocktail to the skies

asking the toes to be rooted

requesting the animals to work together -

because the grey sky makes them remember:

they work together.

The Homosexual’s Prize

Melon’s guts, sliced out,

Tracing a line down the length

Of the surrendering body,

Pulling forth your prize:

The puppet within.

A century of bloody cursive;

Do you speak totalitarianism?

Slaughtering the collected identity

Of resurrected dirt.

I’m next.

Like the puppet’s remnants,

Future aspects burrow between my jaws.

I too, will be raped:

The famine did it

With radishes clenched in palm.

An aborted carriage

Pierces the air with potentiality,

But it mocks us all,

One by one,

By leaving us to come back.

I came from that,

That crevasse,

That insolent home?

It said, “Now breathe your suicide.”

Is when I died.

Not nature, people, etc. I'm more interested in the sociological aspect; how has work/art made by the hands of humans, inspired your work/art.

We are like ants, we feed off each other and work in groups, expanding and growing.

does it help your expression?

how is it beneficial?

what's something you like about it?

Same if you like to read foreign poetry.