| Blueprint of a Schizophrenic Mind
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unknown
| Grotesque beauty frames a monarch within a landscape of perilous flame. | 1 |
A singe of death hangs in the air like a feud between candles. | 2 |
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In the gears and teeth of this underworld, there is no recourse to privacy- | 3 |
Dominion lies in the thoughts of the many; in the twilight whispers of the singing voices. | 4 |
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11 Apr 05 |
Rated 9 (7.3) by 4 users.
Active (4): 3, 10
Inactive (7): 2, 3, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10
(define the words in this poem)
(1 user considers this poem a favorite)
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Add A Comment:
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Comments:
I really like the imagery. I love line two. This is really well written. I'm just not sure I'm entirely getting it, which considering the title and everything, may have been what you were going for.
-Rixes
— unknown
This is good because it is. And because it is, it is good.
— ramher
not so sure about "blueprint" in the title
but this is brilliant
2 is bright and clear
1 murky - a bit schizo - but then, that's as it should be.
— Bloodfetish
Wow. I am speechless in a good way. this is truely a good poem.
— icey_blue
Lovely as you wanna be. That is superb. 10.
— themolly
Enjoy your time on the top. I have a feeling someone's gonna come in here and fuck you with a 1 for this poem. And no, it won't be me. I already rated it.
Zr the prophet
— ramher
nice poem. i want to replace the 'A' starting line 2 with 'The' though. don't quite know why. just my opine. well done.
— hank
Grotesque beauty frames monarch within landscape of perilous flame.
Singe of death hangs in the air;
A feud between candles.
In the gears and teeth of this underworld, no recourse to privacy.
Dominion lies in thoughts of the many; in twilight whispers
of singing voices.
— unknown
Nice, nice work. It aims for chilling reality and hits it near dead-on. And that's from someone with a mentally ill brother.
— PodPoet
good. very deep
— infinity
i really like this, especially the last line. great work
— Valerie88
sorry, not quite my cup of tea, but moleishly majestic
— ningyochan
The garden stretches in torn landscapes
of the flesh of the universe,
a canvas is folded.
Random spurts of meaningless doodles converge like
sea-wave frothing pure energy.
a vast ocean of fractured infinity
which the sun's eye cannot spear
and truth flickers above the surface
in shark fin silver lear
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i dig it :)
— unknown
thank you for writing this, I have schizophrenia and when I first saw the title I figured it would be written about the stigma. awesome job man, i feel a bit more normal
— unknown
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