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Grind (Free verse) by INTRANSIT
I dug a hole and buried myself. I took everything I had and put it underground to decay, and welcomed the invisible world. A world of the unseen vitamin, where thoughts become the granules of life. Where dirt is edible and tastes like the sun. Where moisture rinses the nerve-bones back to conciousness. This fathom My fathom underneath a garden of park-weed, meant to mesh with the grind-stone until I am a solid part of the broken earth. See my epitaph it has not been written.

Up the ladder: Out of a White Hole
Down the ladder: Cicada Years

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Arithmetic Mean: 6.888889
Weighted score: 5.9444447
Overall Rank: 1383
Posted: November 25, 2003 6:40 AM PST; Last modified: November 25, 2003 6:40 AM PST
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Comments:
[n/a] Joe-joe @ 170.28.4.4 | 25-Nov-03/8:44 AM | Reply
I hope you wrote a tell all letter and placed it in a location where it could be easily found.....otherwise I would not count on seeing that epitaph any time in the foreseeable future.......
[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 205.188.209.41 > Joe-joe | 25-Nov-03/11:38 AM | Reply
Is it so wrong that I leave something to the readers imagination?
[9] SupremeDreamer @ 204.31.160.55 > INTRANSIT | 25-Nov-03/12:03 PM | Reply
Well.. yes, because theres a sickness with a good amount of readers- they think we have to imagine for them. (or be clear spoken and snub out the element of mystery.)

Its ok man, I'm on your side- everyones yammered at me for being "cryptic". Oh, and heres a ten.
[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 205.188.209.41 > SupremeDreamer | 25-Nov-03/12:18 PM | Reply
I suppose we're a different breed of poet. We prefer to let people get what they want from it vs. making them see or feel a certain way. After all, life itself is open ended, yes?
[9] SupremeDreamer @ 204.31.162.36 > INTRANSIT | 25-Nov-03/2:02 PM | Reply
Ofcourse it is! with imagination? its up to the minds delight.
Sadly though, not many will actually go through the trouble to unravel a poem- its amazing how many people get turned off when they might need to jolt up the noggen.

In the end though, I feel a poem that has room for movement and is flexible in meaning and thought lives longer: theres room for it to evolve on its own.

[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 152.163.252.198 > SupremeDreamer | 25-Nov-03/2:18 PM | Reply
I'm sold. I like you. ...so spaniard, we will go to rome together, and have bloody adventures and the great hall will suckle us until we are fat and happy and can suckle no more....
[9] SupremeDreamer @ 204.31.169.184 > INTRANSIT | 25-Nov-03/2:55 PM | Reply
Sounds wonderful! But ofcourse, we must begin the journey in Liege... then travel cross- sampling nipples ranging in size, form, and flavor- washing away various scarlet knuckle spots before we stroke a fresh bosom.

My comrade.. we will carve a hall to rome; and it shall be great.
[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 152.163.252.198 > SupremeDreamer | 25-Nov-03/2:58 PM | Reply
aye, aye, we shall.
[7] peaceseeker @ 24.97.224.6 | 25-Nov-03/10:21 AM | Reply
Um, refreshing?
[10] Dan garcia-Black @ 66.159.206.11 | 25-Nov-03/11:33 AM | Reply
Real.
[8] Shuushin @ 207.5.211.177 | 25-Nov-03/9:03 PM | Reply
interesting.

I have pause with this bit:
"This fathom
My fathom underneath " - was this intentional; the abruptness and lack of punctuation with the next line capped makes me scratch my head.

the line with edible dirt has a very nice impression to it.

not sure what to make of this one, but generally I'm the happier for it.

have a sideways infinity (and yes, I have that line in something already)

-8-
[5] kingit @ 67.68.51.140 | 26-Nov-03/8:50 AM | Reply
I dig your hole! jugular, vascular
[10] Caducus @ 195.92.168.165 | 27-Nov-03/3:16 AM | Reply
This is my kinda thing and as a writer of death, graves and balh blah blah i give you maximum respect on this one. I'm tenning ya baby !
[10] Caducus @ 195.92.168.165 | 27-Nov-03/3:17 AM | Reply
oh yeah ! By the way the name please of the grandfather clock (ripping its guts out poem please????)

I took everything I had
and put it underground to decay,
and welcomed the invisible world.
A world of the unseen vitamin,
where thoughts become the
granules of life.
Where dirt is edible and tastes
like the sun.
[6] Jill Stockinger @ 127.0.0.1 | 28-Dec-20/5:06 PM | Reply
Love the last 2 lines.
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