These are the entries to the very first poetry contest hosted by Feed the Long Neck!

From Glynis Olivia:


By Glynis Cassley

When Adele phoned me, describing her now-ex-boyfriend in words they can’t use on daytime television, I asked her what she would do about it.

Bury him,” she replied.

I arrived at her house to find her shoving every bit of his paraphernalia she could find into an old shoebox. We buried it in the garden. After declaring that it “wasn’t nearly enough” she and I went to the greenhouse. We brought back a rosebush, and planted it above the shoebox and gave the cad over to “Mother %#$&@ Nature!”

The roses did extremely well, even if Adele did throw rocks at them on occasion. The ex-boyfriend moved out of town the next winter.

From Kayla Snow:

1000 Words
I know that you're hiding things,
Using gentle words to shelter me,
Your words were like a dream,
But dreams could never fool me,
Not that easily

I acted so different then,
Didn't say goodbye,
Before you left,
I was listening,
You'll fight your battles far from me,
Far too easily

Save your tears cause I'll come back,
I could hear that you whispered,
As you walked through that door,
But still I swore,
To hide the pain

As you turn back the pages
Shouting might've been the answer,
But if I cried my eyes out,
And begged you not to depart,
But now I'm not afraid to say,
What's in my heart

Cuase a thousand words,
Called out through the ages,
Will fly to you,
Just as though they were all,
Suspended on sliver wings,
They'll hold you forever

Frozen Hell

Sun illuminates the frosty meadow blinding me in spellbinding majesty
Snowflakes fall on my skin reflecting the paleness of the snow on the peck of the
The icy flowers bloom as their roots tangle and freeze anything they touch
Snow birds sing pleasant harmony softly, and it rings gently in my ears
Icicles like glass hang from trees, and sparkle to revel nothing
Your eyes see only but my shadow
I am a ghost among this place of frozen dreams, and silent tears

No wind blows in a grey sky, but air is cold as I freeze from the inside out
My skin starts to turn blue with frost bite painfully never thawing, never going numb
The icicles fall from the trees stabbing me, I bleed, but do not die even as the snow turns scarlet
I hear the screeching of owls hauntingly call over and over, I can't even hear my cries over them
This frozen landscape is frozen hell, where I'm left to my misery
Your eyes see only but my shadow
I am a ghost among this place of frozen dreams, and silent tears

Dance of the Butterfly
Flying in the warm sunshine
The wind and wings entwine in the dance
Colors of sultry red, flaming orange, neon yellow, emerald green
Mingled into the cosmic blue horizon
Softly the butterfly lands on the flowers
Until up like a kite it goes
When it will stop no one knows
The gently flutter of the wings reminds me….
Reminds me of the feeling of happiness found in our hearts
Butterflies are rebirth for I’ll be an angel with beautiful wings too
Flying high in the blue sky
The twinkling of the stars has begun
However the life of the butterfly is done
I’ll remember that butterfly till I’m gone
For I’ll dance with it
Under the yellow sun

Notre Dame

A body is sanctuary, a temple for the spirit as the bible tells
What lies beneath my eyes this night is bewitchment, enchanting spells
Withered in the winter, a garden becomes a path to the gates of hell
In Notre Dame, a cathedral holy, beautiful, but the demon within no could tell
I walk up it's stairs seeking reprieve and sanctuary from this cruel world
Pews empty, statues of holiness exulted, But something in the dark lingers here
Windows let light seep through, and yet from the mother of God's eyes fall an ancient tear
"I've waited for you for many years"
I hear a soft voice call and I almost turn and run ashamed
"I prayed for you, I begged for you, don't be afraid to look at me"
Looking up Mary cries, but her lips don’t move, what cruelty is this?
I feel death on the winds as they blow in through the doors

And before the alter
Lies a organ, and a unholy bride the stain glass widows color her pale skin
The sound makes me fearful, by the sheer powerful notes, and her fingers ooze
"Rightfully so you feel pain personified here,
"Without innocence the cross is but mere iron, without love a heart will rot, and decay,"
"Without sight eyes will turn to stone, without you I cannot exist with purpose, I’ll never be whole again."
Stunned shocked as flows to my feet, and I feel stunned.
"Who are you?"
"A soul lost at sea will be forgotten like the sea itself, there but not recognized...."
”No one would hear the last plea for love in the crashing waves, or the fading away to death...."
Her hair is limp black about her waist, with dead flowers about it, I notice as she lifts her veil
She removes her tattered gloves showing her bloodied hands
Rips a rosary of gold from her ghastly pale neck, parts of bone peek out
Standing, she turns around and I scream as black tears run down her face
Her eyes are gone, only sockets of blackened blood, and yet, I feel them chill me
" You dare to ask who am I? I'm the forgotten one, I'm Faith"

Glass shines brilliantly
It shows what people see
It shows who you are or could be
Does it show into your eyes or your soul?
My eyes are blue
Icy sheets of glass that look strong
Looking in the mirror... I know the image is all wrong
The ice is splintered, broken
I hope my secrets aren't shown
Plain for the mirror to revel
Yes, the mirror revels my flaws
That I'm human
Is that so wrong?
Perhaps the gentle heart in my body is gone
Perhaps my love in my heart is buried under stone
I may be broken and no one but God can fix me
I know I'm not alone
A mirror lies
A mirror shows pain
That’s why I hate mirrors

Beauty and Tragedy

He stands forever in her shadow and the guilt consumes him
Beauty was once stunning and perfect
Innocent and pure as freshly fallen snow
Reality shattered that image
Replaced it with a broken corpse, staring with lifeless eyes
The pain of the world bore into them

But he cherishes and clings to the memories they shared
Once he had it all, money, gardens, servants, surface things
No love did he know, unaware of life's unexpecting joys
Not that he cared, he had everything that a pitiful human would desire
Until Beauty came into Tragedy's life
The one person he couldn't force, get her with his money, or sheer force

It enraged him and he couldn't see what he had done wrong
Until he saw his own reflection in the mirror
He was not beautiful… he saw a beast with eyes filled with sin
When he looked at her she had none of those things
Though he came to feel love…it drove him mad, confusing him
No way to make it all stop, his world flipped in a single instant

By a girl, lowly, unimpressive girl who shocked the very ground he stood on
He screamed, and yowled begging for her to stop, but she didn't know what she had done
So, he did the only thing a selfish, wrathful being would know how to do
He destroyed her, broke her, stood over her and watched her die
But it didn't leave, the sorrow stayed, the guilt seeped in and the pain screamed in his veins
She could have saved him, she was meant to love him, but he was his own enemy
Thus ends the tale of Beauty and Tragedy

Baby Goth Girl

Raven lashes, eyeliner river down a porcelain face
Dear one, my love, who did you disgrace?
Ruby lips, wet like a rose refreshed in morning dew
Sitting in the graveyard, caged in... my mistress, how would I know that's you?
Sultry auburn, long caressing your exposed back
Little girl, covered in ravaged lace, turn around, show the world what you lack
Your torn dress shows glimpse of blue veins and thigh with the black garter
Sinful temptress, what have you come to bater?
Your soul?

Silver cross entwined in the thorns, in the dead of night sobbing for what you yearn
Funny here you lay atop my casket, beauty, can't you see your world burn?
Secretly you wish for heaven while in hell
My long lost angel forever is along time to fall
Think of me long enough to make a memory
Since your are the living and I am the dead... that's all I'll ever be
Gather up your courage, have hope in your heart
Leave me behind, I'll bless you, pray for a new start… not

Shining in the moonlight your final tears
You've sacrificed many things over the long unkind years
Now you make the ultimate sacrifice, let us live again in the land of the dead
End your life as a human being
That's it, raise the knife full of intention
Be the instrument for my resurrection
Love is my sweet redemption
If love is this white hot passion
I feel your body hit the hard stone
You'll bleed to death by the cross all alone
Goodbye my baby goth girl

From Tara Fisher:

The Foolishness of Wearing Wings
by Tara Fisher

They were both alike.
They both needed an escape
and in the middle of their flight
they saw the glory of the sun.

They moved toward it, instictively,
desperate to bathe in the gold.
Their wings caught alite --
they plummeted --

never to have their sun.

Now she understood Icaras:
how he lost thought,
heeded no warnings,
ignored the melting wax.

When greeted by the light
her flight was short, sweet --
she fell a burning mass,
scarred, misshapen.

Now she prepares to fly again --
she needs her sun.

From Emily Burtt:

by Emily Burtt


I want to let my

hair go,

and run barefoot

through the streets.


I feel like bursting

with laughter

on an overcrowded

peak-hour train,

or gently weep

at the library


There are days

when I twirl

my umbrella in my hands,

skip instead of walk,

smile when

everyone else is frowning.

There are moments

in time

when I will sing

at the top of my lungs -

the name of my lover,

and of ancient truths.

I will sail a paper boat

in the ocean,

I will kiss violets,

and let ribbons fly in the wind.

I hope

I will be remembered for my love.

or else for the ribbons.

From J. P. Nichols:

New Topic of Today, Yesterday, and Never

By Joel-Peter J.E.A. Nichols

Take a guess as you walk down to the rest of the world of wonderland with the happiness of the rest.
Insane trips of mesmerized hypnosis and painful regression all over the colored world.
Boredom makes sicken blood turn to black and firefights of your long lost cause.
Read between the lines of my immortal cry
Taking and giving nothing in return.
Back and forth the frost it truly burns.
Helpful transgressions you want to believe.
But nothing is what the illusion it may seem to be.
Ponderous decisions coming to you, darken the feelings of rhythm unbound.
Tossing and turning with no end in sight, making the day seem like the night.
Written on paper with pencil and pen, you have no grace even after death.
What is it that you take me for? A chum, a kid or a sold out whore.
Sanctified meaning of fucked up tomorrow, I don't know if life is fully worth knowing.
Blasphemy and curses are painful obsessions, but where do you go with no guide to bless them.
Is murder and killing worth the sacrifice of legend, how about pissing on government with high treason.
My sorrow of your yesterday's tomorrow is not worth seeing unless your blind.
The vision of today's caring progression is worth every cent.
Are you out there waiting to be known?

Jim Morrison

By Joel-Peter J.E.A. Nichols

Was Jim Morrison the one you wanted to believe in troubled times?
Is his soul dark and black from stupid self-pittied crimes?
Did you really know the man who was lost and sick with grief.
Did you fully understand the man you kneeled and worshiped at the feet.
Was he as great as you made him out to be.
Or was this man a troubled poet just like me.
Did he really want to die and break to the otherside.
Or was it all just a big great facade.
What was his true belief and cause?
Was it to tear down politcal walls or bask in his glorrified presence.
Was it clear to him that the world was dead and he was just a follower?
Or did he know his legacy would live on for the ages?
So what was Mr. Morrison's real purpose in life?
Was the end in reality his true and only friend?


By Joel-Peter J.E.A. Nichols

Peer pressure making up crime.
Paying with your life with cold, hard, time.
Your soul is sold for that amazing fix.
But all you really want is to be loved.
Lunatics running around undiscovered in our screwed up society.
We feel nothing from the strong impact it causes to those close.
People stop and stare, but do nothing about it.
We are a sick species, with selfish tendencies.
Fatal words make up, half our vocabulary.
Painful, hateful, words with no ending.
Darkness surrounds our minds, warping our great thoughts.
Antisocial antics make us feel wanted.
Trends of society, consumes our budget.
Getting deeper in debt, but nothing gets better.
The rush throughout our bodies, makes things temporarily plausible.
We are only human, but not an animal.
Perfection is an illusion, full of sick, twisted, bittersweet misery.
Our sinful natured selves make us happy.
Energy is our gain, lust is our pain.
Making things alright for the better.
Feelings, emotions, scarring our skins.
Sadistic behavior for the young, senile for the old.
Pleasure filled rage engulfs us all.
Words of the many, fallen, and broken.
Lives pulled apart, from the conformity of multiple.
Declining down the steep hill of life.
Endless rides with incomplete satisfaction.
Curses of the damned, blessings of the saints.
Poetry in motion like a high speed train.
Uncontrollable by any aspect except your own.
Ultranationalist points of view, making one feel special.
Believing in whatever is real, shunning what doesn’t exist.
Complete control over words, slaughtering with cover ups.
Dramatic integrity, killing with empathy.
We are forsaken, unjustifiable for the masses.
Exploring our thoughts, exploiting your self.
Sociopathic trials, psychological evaluations.
Blood for blood, a dime for dime.
Getting your next hit on your self pitted victim.
Zero negotiation, impulses take absolute convulsions.
The hated, wicked, savior of today.
The anti-christ of tomorrow.
Possessive friends, true enemies.
Lost and ecstatic, no where to go.
Oxymoron’s for metaphors.
Nothing makes sense anymore.

Untitled Ballad

By Joel-Peter J.E.A. Nichols

Exemplifying the liquidated meadows.
Trickling in slow, constant motion towards the energy.
Tender, sweet kisses as you’re held in my arms.
Love isn’t the feeling since it’s much more then that.
I just wish I could find the right words.
Psychedelics are true passion as we just lay there together.
Tripping out on crazy emotions.
Thy is the fairest beauty out of all women.
Modern day English for the weak minded follows the phrase of I Love You.
If the world hath ended, then our last moments would be spent with you.