NationStates Jolt Archive

I've set up this thread so everyone can read the poetry of Trulin and hopefully send me some thoughts/praises/criticisms.

Untitled
--------

Would like to see,
health.
Would like to
see health
Would like to see,
Health.
Its not there
Its not there
Its not,
There.

Unfortuanatly i've lost "Ode to a snail" and another untitled poem, but those that visited the league of nations can remember always.

Concerning Horses
-----------------

Its sad to see a horse run
when nowhere it can go
into an empty field
but no love for the horse.
It made friends, but they'll never know him
He just stands and stares at what might be...
a forest he sees...
and along this way, I heard him mutter
something in horse-language
and i couldnt understand until i looked into his eyes
and saw the lonelyness and depair
he'd been ripped from birth and brought here
and i saw him run.
And i saw him run.

The True Story
--------------

Its smaller than you are eyes.
Faster than you are ears.
I cant hear. It.
When i'll come home.
When i'll come home?
thats when.
When are we.
When will i say what all don't want.
Its not here now, its in the FUTUR.
Its all in the futur baby.
The futur's where its at.
And then we can all watch our televisions in peace.
Our visions.
Our televisions.
I can see, mother!
I can see!
What can i see? (not much)
Its too much for us all to take and we like that,
we love that.
That'll be us.
Us.
Bus to work on a sunday: Bus to work on a sunday.
He'll be off by then mother!
He'll be round the bend! far away!
he'll be crying for our lovely munns.
Its all in the futur.
For a man to see the one true sight.
Of sight and might and fight and fight.
"He won't fight! he's too scared!"
He's not alone and he's not at home but he can see...
Oh he can see alright.
He can see us all in our homes.
From the home of the one true.
The one true man.
From a beast.
A big one.
Jiggling inside the bucket, beast-like and all.
For the man its not here.
Its it the futur.
And he'll be listening to Erik,
and playing on the mellow-string,
while all the men around him sing, sing,
sing.
Its all in the futur, baby.


The Lonely Frog (A childrens poem)
---------------

Once a year, when it was summer
frogs rained down from the skys.
And there were billions of them,
and they all looked very green.
Like a big green grassy gint.
But one year, one frog out of a billion...
was slightly less green than the others!
"My my my we cant have this!" said the leader froggy.
And so they strapped him up by his frog-legs,
and tied his eyes to a lamppost,
and hit him with a big hammer on the noodle.
And sat on his hands until they were very red,
and then cut them off,
and ate them up. Yummy!
And when he fainted they woke him up,
and grinded his wilkson, and hurt him all over!
And then they cut him into a billion pieces!
And they ALL ate him! yummy!
and then they all died, because the frog had a disease which was why he was slightly less green than the others.

I try and get one done every couple of days, so it should be regularly updated. Thank you.

And the legalisation of LSD moves one step closer
*applause*

hmm. I've read much worse.

And the legalisation of LSD moves one step closer
*applause*

Thank you monkey.

I would like to point out that these poems are not intended to be strange, at times humorous maybe but i'm not trying to be surreal.

your peotry has touched me...in a bad place, i declair war on peotry!

:sniper: :mp5: :mp5: :sniper: :gundge:

hmm. I've read much worse.
Christ really? Link please.

Thank you very much, at least it has provoked an emotional response. Baby.

hmm. I've read much worse.

What exumptly do you mean by worse?

I also like the idea of peotry, it has a nice sound.

What exumptly do you mean by worse?

"Worse" as in "worse poetry". In other words, I'm not saying that it is dreadful, nor fantastic.

I'm positive it would be better spoken.

I also like the idea of replacing certain vowels with other vowels in words. This will certainly featore mere on my oopcoming peoms.

"Worse" as in "worse poetry". In other words, I'm not saying that it is dreadful, nor fantastic.

Could you give me some reasoning dad?

The Lonely Frog (A childrens poem)
---------------

Once a year, when it was summer
frogs rained down from the skys.
And there were billions of them,
and they all looked very green.
Like a big green grassy gint.
But one year, one frog out of a billion...
was slightly less green than the others!
"My my my we cant have this!" said the leader froggy.
And so they strapped him up by his frog-legs,
and tied his eyes to a lamppost,
and hit him with a big hammer on the noodle.
And sat on his hands until they were very red,
and then cut them off,
and ate them up. Yummy!
And when he fainted they woke him up,
and grinded his wilkson, and hurt him all over!
And then they cut him into a billion pieces!
And they ALL ate him! yummy!
and then they all died, because the frog had a disease which was why he was slightly less green than the others.

I try and get one done every couple of days, so it should be regularly updated. Thank you.

A few questions... 1. Was the misspelling of "skies" in line two intentional? 2. What is a "gint"? 3. Since when do frogs have hands? 4. What in the world made you think that this poem was appropriate for children?

I wrote a poem.
This is my James Bond Haiku,
I'm so proud of it.


BOND ASKS FOR A MATCH.
GRINNING, HIS CONTACT REPLIES
"YOUR FACE AND MY ARSE"

A few questions... 1. Was the misspelling of "skies" in line two intentional? 2. What is a "gint"? 3. Since when do frogs have hands? 4. What in the world made you think that this poem was appropriate for children?

1. Yes it was intentional, i changed it at the last minute, mainly because i thought it reminded me too much of skiing.

2. OK the reason that i use the word "gint" here is basically because sometimes i want to use a word which doesn't have a specific meaning. With a made-up word every person will have a different picture in their head of what it is, seeing as the word here is describing a scene. I also like to put in words that seem to just sound right. My poetry really must be read aloud to be understood fully i think.

3. Well, a "frog" to one person may be just a frog as most people know it. But in this poem the "frog" could be anything really, it could take any form. Although to someone who is reading it and thinks "hey a frog doesnt have hands!" it kind of throws them off course, and as this a poem directed at children it gives them a chance to dream of things only possible in stories.

4. The poem is meant for children and i think that although it is violent in a way i think it send across a very decent moral message. Also in many newer childrens stories or poems you find that there is some kind of twist at the end. Sometimes morbid. And when i wrote this originally the less green frog would die at the end, giving the shock twist. But instead i thought hey why not make the frog dying the main part of the poem and then make the twist at the end all the frogs dying! I think children can really relate to this poem too as it shows themes of extreme alienation which is familiar to many kids.

Hope that answers your questions sufficiently enough!

The strange life of a man without any name or clothes
----------------------------------------------------

Kind if funky little blaster that sounds like a bathtub,
"It wasn't early tonight baby!"
Thats the sound of your face man!
Knew it was coming here to geet him.
"Oh yah i like the way you move with your body meester!"
Stinkingly naked boy! Thinkin' out loud muffin-magnet.
Its good to see he sees. And riding was always a pastime of his.
Land o land where is me land?
But often he'll see where he wants to come from and he'll like it!
Striking.
And striking.
While the molten baby-boiler succumbs to the way of things.
Fook look anbd drook at my bicycycyle tyres man!
He wasn't interested.
I wasn't ineteresed.
Flapping like a seal in the wind from a key on a tiny-toy-piano.
Flapping in a wind of gusty, gusty, gusty.
He felt gutsy.
"Hey man come over to ma ranch an' we'll cook it up reall good good!"
He went with a man.
And i saw his god-damned and neat, naked face.
Whoa i like the face but stay and stay from the cat-cat face.
Its like a one you'll never very understate what is inside the cat-cat.
Face.
And like a lightning bolt of thunderous bulby notion,
he went inside like a leetle girly girl and sat all over the room.
"He's a grosh darn loser, boy"
Yo darn right grosh.
Sit down and sit he sat down on a chair of glass and cat hair and dicky.
Flapped over to the chainball and let me see you now.
Now?
now!
Sit on the dry side oh god!
Sit on the dry side!
Oh god please don't let him sit on the dry side!
Flap flap flap.
Flap flap flap.
Exit MAN.
"Phew boy ah thought ye were gonna haf a heart attack oh boyo!"
Oh boyo he knew the lovely, and crashing down onto a sitting.
He sat for a small time and looked lovely.
"Hey, whats the man man name huh?"
He bent over and tripled his bill in half.
"Stick it on the slate, carpy"
Oh lord he don't know?
He dont know!
Oh ye lord.
He don't know man man.
Flap.
He, oh gog gog gog.
He's inside the building an' he don't know.
He's inside the building an' he don't know.
He's inside the building an' he don't know.
He's inside the building an' he don't know.
He's inside the building an' he don't know.

Yo ho ho
And a bottle of rum

now there's some poetry for you

Yo ho ho
And a bottle of rum

now there's some poetry for you

Hey Mickey
You're so fine
You're so fine you blow my mind
Hey Mickey

Nothing constructive to say, beat it winrker!

Nothing constructive to say, beat it winrker!
okay, here goes constructive:

This isn't poetry. This is a train of thought

okay, here goes constructive:

This isn't poetry. This is a train of thought

Well how exactly do you define what poetry is and is not?

Well how exactly do you define what poetry is and is not?
there's no definition... I just think this isn't

Well clearly you must think there is, babbage-boy

there's no definition... I just think this isn't

It feels like prose, to be sure.

OK, well what did you actually think of it then? did the last one make you think about life as a dog? are you sure?

2. OK the reason that i use the word "gint" here is basically because sometimes i want to use a word which doesn't have a specific meaning. With a made-up word every person will have a different picture in their head of what it is, seeing as the word here is describing a scene. I also like to put in words that seem to just sound right. My poetry really must be read aloud to be understood fully i think.


I tried to read your latest poem out loud. It didn't work very well. That is one of the problems with changing and adding vowels in words. The extra cy that added an extra sylable in bicycle or the word "anbd", for example.

Fook look anbd drook at my bicycycyle tyres man!

If you are going to do something like that in a poem that someone else is going to read out loud, you should probably provide some notation as to how to pronounce the words.

This isn't poetry. This is a train of thought

Christ, I'm glad my train of thought isn't like that.

Christ, I'm glad my train of thought isn't like that.
you're not on LSD either... are you?

My brothers i regret to inform you that our holy brother Trulin has been deleted from this stinky-hole. But to not fear as I will continue to feed you the poetry of trulins passed mind.

My brothers the sad news is going over lots of people. Our holy brothers Trulin and Infinata have passed away. I would like to view this thread as a memorial service of sorts, where people can share their stories of both great nations and commemorate their passing. I love you trulin.

i love trulin and all he has done for us, i truly do. Once he let me eat a whole bag of garbage and then without looking he told me that i loved all. That was a good time. I love ye trulii

Who is trulin?

Who is trulin?
Yes, forgive our ignorance but who is this person?

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=378551
Here lies the place where he only started to write his first few poems and yet we can see the man is clearly a genius. All the best die young...

I declare this thread dead due to extreme stupidity.

Is it worth it to look?

Do you? well I will keep posting poems for the few that love.

good god yes

Mmmm, puppety goodness.

Sammy the Sosige
------------------

Stink up the sosige
said sammy the sosige.
And i'll walk by the way of the briggy.
Finally said sammy
its was his name called sammy
and he looked like a leetle tiny sauce
And it was time for the sun to rise,
and everyone was very happy for him
and then they all sang all were too happy.
Happy for sammy
and he was a sosige.
Brack Exclaimation Mark and Mark This I Will Not Be Here.

Do Not fear! Trulin is BACK and BETTER than ever!!! fantastic!

noooo!!

No more "poetry"

Well if you dont want see the TRUTH then fine, but i'll keep posting until you all realise.

*slaps his genitals agains "The Poetry of Trulin" *

The Poem About A Fictional Animal Named Lumpy
-----------------------------------------------

When the God gave the earth a basket of animals,
he purposefully did not insert one
because he was very very frightened
of what it could become.
The Animal was not a Flumpy,
or a smelly, stinky Cat,
God named the animal Lumpy,
for he slept in a barrel of hay.
But one day a man did say in Hong Kong
"I don't believe in God"
So just to prove the stupid man wrong
He sent down one hundred and fifty three billion nine hundred million Lumpys.
They went around the towns,
and terrorized the men,
and when they couldn't stop them,
they has to call "Uncle Ben" (The man who invented rice)
So Uncle Ben went up to one lumpy,
who was chewing on a mans face while simultaneosly kicking his dog,
and said
"stop it you nasty little thing, don't you know i'm the man who invented rice and we all know that rice in the food of the gods and gods are good and so you should listen to me because i was in a war once and i killed four dogs who were looking at me funny and so i took out my pen-knife and stabbed them in their livers and one of them bit me so i called up the dog-taker-awayer and he took away the dog but i didn't survive the bite so the war people had to take my face and stick it onto the rice packets that i invented but they got my face muddled up with an old black man and so my face was lost forever but now i have come back to life to warn you that if you don't go away from my planet earth then i will have no choice but to hurt you and your mothers by eating your faces and kicking your dogs simultanously and you will not like that will you hmmm?"
And the lumpy ate his non-face and carried on.
Years and years were passing,
and lumpys and lumpys were gassing,
humans in huge chambers,
like the nazis.
The lumpys heard the news,
the humans had the blues
so the lumpys felt quite bad,
that they had made the humans sad,
and so they left them all in peace for five full minutes.
And these were the best five minutes of the mens lives (not the womans)
and they enjoyed it very much.
One said
"Thank you, you lovely bitches!"
And when the five minutes were up,
the Lumpys came back,
and everyone thought they were going to hurt them,
but they didn't!
They stared at them,
and stared and stared and stared.
Why oh why oh why would they do this?
And after five minutes of staring one man hit the lumpy on the head!
"Oh no!"
The lumpy fell over and collapsed while reciting a few dykes.
The men walked about and hit the lumpys on their heads,
and after a while there was only one Lumpy left.
But it was very big.
and no-one in the whole wide world could reach it.
So the men built a big big big ladder to climb up,
and it still wasn't big enough!
So the Lumpy killed four hundred men by eating their faces.
And all the men burst into tears,
as they realised they're fears,
and they wanted to shout at the Lord,
but they couldn't,
or could they?
No!
Yes!
No!
Yes!
"I hate you lord you smell like bad cabbage in a stinky room of flowers!"
And the Lord hit him a big hit.
The Lumpy continued to eat and kick and eat and kick.
The Lord was now joining in the killing, and maiming.
Until there was only one single tiny little man left.
And his name was Jesus,
and the Lord said:
"Jesus boy you aint got a toy so i got to bo froy i want you to doi (die)"
But the Jesus just stood there and made rude comments about Gods wife.
Mrs God.
"Mrs God is a bad cook and she smells like cabbage in a stinky room of lump!"
What did the Lord hear?
A stinky room of Lump!
The Lord was frightened.
The Lumpy was advancing!
Oh no watch out Lord!
The Lumpy ate the Lord.
The Jesus ate the Lumpy.
The Lumpy became itself.
The world was now the earth.
And we all now what happens next.
Baby.

Hero and Angel
---------------

Sick sadistic flowery singing,
God may see them and for what?
He won't become any one of them,
and he will not die to save their souls.
I would rather think of God,
as a silly man,
without a muse.
He won't last as long as me 'cause,
i like little things that make the big things go.
He won't listen to the song of the flower,
and i'd have to let him go.
For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
which nobody can deny.
And i will not deny that.
But he's not as big as the world,
he's smaller and more buttery.
Living in a world of brown over white,
and tripping around a town called "Dover".
He's probably satisfied.
He's probably content.
He's probably retired.
And gone to his bed.
But the lonely few will wait on his return,
they'll be waiting a long time...

Sad Mad Dad
------------

He's a crazy man,
he aint got no feelin'
he only got a basket of wrath.
He eat the apple from the tree and said
"Lord, what a disease!"
and sat back down and shit in his pants.
Oh Lord why didnt you call him back?
Oh Lord why didnt you call him?
That man was sad 'cause he liked the why you dress,
he liked to sit on tractors and ride around on
Mess.
He flossed his teeth and they were clean,
he flossed his teeth but they still looked obscene.
They were brown, they were brown,
they looked like a pissy cat that fell over.
He was mad because he cared,
and sat around on tractors,
t-r-a-c-t-o-r-s
yeah boy thats the way it goes when yo ass is a farmer yee!
I was glad i was glad,
his ass was mad,
it was mad.
His ass was clean,
he was into the scene,
Then he bit off his own balls and ate a kid.

Tolerating Hawk
----------------

"sad to see"
"bad to be"
"he wish a star be him"
"but he's no star"
"he disgusts the worst of them"
"got a feeling though"
"love them all"
"follow goodness, boy"
"watch him fly by"
"i'll watch him fly over my home"
"he'll find it"
"he'll find lovely goodness"
"no he won't he's heartless"
"listen to me, man"
"i know this"
"he's good underneath"
"and he can be real good?"
"sure can."

Dyke on a Bike
--------------

There's a girl i know called sally,
she's a big bloody lesbian!
and she rides a bike to her work every day!
They call her the "dyke on a bike"
and she doth ride into the sunset.
With her lesbian-friend wilma.
But one day, exactly halfway to her workplace,
rideing her bike,
with her lesian-friend,
she encountered a little glinting gumpo.
"Don't touch it baby" said wilma.
But she did,
and her hair fell out,
and she fell off of her bike.
And into a hole which the glinting gumpo had created.
"Wiiiilmaaa!!" she cried in vain to shout for her lesbian-friend but she fell more.
And into a black hole she fell,
and felt pain like never before in a human-lesbian.
For so many years,
she had lost count of them.
And she wished death upon herself,
but then on March 4th 1978, she fell right through it all and back to earth.
But this was not ordinary earth!
It was some kind of parellel universe!
And here she was not a big bloody lesbian!
She was a normal man.
And she was loved.
And she didn't go to work.
And she walked backwards.
And there was no air.
So that was the end of that!

The Christ-Mass Poem
----------------------

Every year,
we celebrate Christ-Mass.

The Lovely and Great Party
---------------------------

Its a party,
thats going to happen sometimes.
I'm not going to say the date because then:
the government men will know where i'll be.
And get me.
But its going to be great,
#its going to be fun.
And i really hope that Karleen,
chokes on a bun.
At sophies party! its the best in the world!
Its a party!
For the boys and the girls!
Although i don't have a girl.
OH GOD I'M SO DESPERATLY LONELY I'M GOING TO CRY.
But its OK, 'cause i'm going to sophie's party,
its the best in the world,
its going to kick lots of ass,
and maybe i'll see a murld.
OH yeah yeah yeah,
its sophies party,
yeah yeah yeah,
its lots of fun,
i'm going to spit everywhere,
because that'll be fun,
but i'm not going to play piano or guitar because that'll annoy,
Sophie.
OH yeah man its going to rule ass,
OH yeah man its going to bule bass.
Its Sophie's party!
Yeah!

I Am Going To Shoot You In The Head With a Rifle
------------------------------------------------

Walking around,
sculking around the masters chambers,
its actually a stupid corner shop.
And i usually buy my rolls there in the mo-o-orning.
But not today!
I'm going in with a rifle and i'm going to shoot the store-owner.
Right in his head!
So i browsed through the newspapers,
and picked up the sunday times.
And flipped to the personals.
"10 year old female named Simon Guttersnippet seeks 12-86 year old male. Prefers the ones without genitals"
I vomit on the print and leave the shop.
Lord why have you forsaken me?
Why have you forsaken me.
He will come and destroy you all,
and when it is done, it is done.
So i toddled back into the shop with a "happy" face on.
And then i saw him!
He was a lonely misery steel pathetic.
I took me Rifle and then walked all the way over the bumper.
And i shot him straight in the face with my Rifle and then he died.
I WISH DEATH UPON YOU ALL.
YOU WILL ALL DIE WHEN THE LORD COMES,
AND HE WILL HAVE HIS REVENGE
YES HE WILL.

Flabbergasted
--------------

The slowly trickling fountain river-park.
Will glide through an ocean blank,
When twenty men will give themselves for the blue,
and they never knew.
Seated peasants watch while white willows wail without warning,
and when time reached thirteenth past the tenth,
they found more than the blue could offer.
Strapping explosive rocketing red,
jumping yellow and blinding red,
believing inside the boat and calling for the out-house in.
Which, when crowded mass of blue,
trickling like fountain,
never near a river-park.
It blew into blue from the elementary.
Second wave and they hit back at the red.
Fantastic to watch the red blow to colour unknow,
and gliding along a waterfront, showing vast black,
entered the black,
but cannot see the end,
show black for white; dress into dres.
Shine like the light they cannot see,
won't seem to find yellow, blue, red.
And green like hills from Green.
Twelve and thirteen grow to epic,
and size will matter to the green.
Grow from green into Green and watch the flower shrink.
Flower shrink,
Boat and call to sea,
Flippant waving sea-monster.
They save us all
and from the starving girrat
to mouse and small shop.
And back again.
Round the bend and forward and onward,
jonward and sonward,
onward and onward.
Zebra-crossing metal-like shapes with beaks for Beaks,
known for their knowledge.
But they cannot sing,
and they cannt dance
to the tune of the old piping master.
He turned face and hand and glove into fourteen past the hour.
And green will never return,
for the blue of the century will last us until our end,
inevitable and forsake.
The blue will last,
and past the red.
Through to a brightly coloured tomorrow.

Want to go to the Fair?
------------------------

Yes i do and i want to go now.
I think it will be fun.
And maybe i can do lots of fun things.
I will eat food.
And keep things for myself.
And eat food.
And dye cats purple.
And stand on top of hills.
And smell the doggies as they go by.
And quote an intelligent man.
And follow the instructions.
And go where everyone else goes.
And do what everyone else does.
And follow the cats to the church.
And never go back to the fair.
And then the next day i'll want to go to the fair.
And i'll go to the fair.
And it will be fun.
And i will have lots of fun.
And i will eat things.
And keep things for myself.
And destroy nothing.
And eat things.
And launch myself into grass.
And watch as the trees are all taken away.
And watch as the men are all taken away.
And see the little children play in their fields.
And watch a man become himself.
And eat food.
And destroy nothing.
And watch the tap drip.
And watch the water flow out of teh tap.
And sit everywhere.
And eat food.
And never sleep.
And never get ill.
And always be happy.
And always be very nice to people.
And never get ill.
And never d*e.
And always eat lots of things.
And look and the lovely birds as they fly away.
And never think.
And never wonder.
And never try to explain.
And always be nice.
And always care.
And always look left.
And always be nice.
And always eat food.
And nevre sleep.
And never get ill.
And eat for the men who eat for me.
And talk to people about the past.
And talk to people about the future.
And talk to people about food.
And run away from people.
And run from everyone!
And destroy things!
And never eat!
And always get ill!
And!
And!
And!
AND DIE!!

Reformed Rocky Rabble
----------------------

Move with the sea,
work,
work.
Watching! Towering man-mountain!
Sleep and don't wake up.
Fill yourself, will percentage.
Accent, ascend,
Work,
Work.
Fleeing! Mine the mine!
Watch the man-mountain!
Spanish-born man,
believes in past,
believes in past!
work!
work!
Make loud noise,
and make louder noise for people.
Don't let people bring you their monkeys.
Don't let them deceive you! take their monkeys!
Work!
Work!
"This is the struggle of all mankind"
Walk to them not away from them.
S-l-o-w-l-y.
Creep up when their not looking.
(Slower!)
Jump from behind!
(Jump!)
Grab them by their kiwi fruit!
Work!
Work against the fruit!
Against the fruit!

Wishing Like a Lovely
---------------------

Urg!
Flannel!
Burgle!
Flap!
Grishup montey fliggop,
Warpi bagg-frump liddle.
Skara-bara-mara,
cara,
eeble sirgot wishing.
Shipwrip,
mippy,
blungly.
Carrir bogor sminy.
Washing.

The Battle Of Orioth San-Tribuus
---------------------------------

Time, watch for time!
As the crow-like men speak of their future!
A new age is upon us,
like a stumbling sand-monster.
The good and nice people of Orioth San-Tribuus did not yet know their destiny,
in the eyes of their Lord.
They knew not the way of things,
for in their tiny village they pondered only small,
like thoughts of dwarven men who swims in river, oh so tiny.
But in this village lived a seer,
a man who could see many things, (like an eye)
but an eye he was not.
He was a man.
Fifteen-nine feet of height and tweny-two of breadth.
He stood next to his kinsmen like goliath stood next to a midget named smalliath.
Of course he knew many things,
but even he did not know the fate of the village,
although he sometimes pretented to know.
But he did not.
There was no man in this tiny village who knew,
and so when It came they were caught unawares,
and what fantastic unawares!
But not for them,
For It was a bringer of much sorrow among the people of the village,
and It destroyed many a life worth living,
and many a home worth staying,
and many a boat worth boarding,
and many a shoe worth wearing,
and many other things.
It destroyed much of the village and when It left there was not much left,
except for one man,
but he was not a seer,
nor a gorgith, who lives for twenty hundred years,
nor a samtooth, who lives everywhere,
nor a buckywuck, who can eat many things,
nor a flapcross, who can walk for miles,
nor a sardon, who can talk many words.
No, it was none of these super-men,
it was an ordinary man named Tim,
and he lived a noble life,
and never questioned his life,
and so his life was spared by It.
After nine-or-so years Tim wanted bloody revenge,
he wanted his village to look nice again,
and he wanted to kill It in cold blood.
During the nine-or-so years Tim had been promiscuous,
and his many lady-friends bore him many a baby.
They were all known as the son of Tim,
and were all taken to the village to be trained.
And they were the first of the new age,
the new village people.
In the thirteenth month of the ninth-or-so year since the destruction of the village,
All sons of Tim were fully trained and optimum.
And on the fifteenth month of the ninth-or-so year since the destruction of the village,
Tim spake thusly:
"All sons of Tim who is me.
Today is a great day for the village,
for today we will take back what is rightfully ours,
and destroy It.
And i know that none of you are scared,
i know that you all probably want me to feed you,
but not until after we have taken back our village!"
And many a son of Tim cheered.
And on the sixteenth month of the ninth-or-so year since the destruction of the village,
Tim and the sons of Tim (for there are many)
Marched into the city of It,
and there was much bloodshed,
and many a son of Tim died,
and at one point there was a tiny wittle dog crawling about,
until Tim himself met It.
And spake thusly:
"It you will always be the bad for me,
i wish death upon you!"
And Tim took his mighty man-sword,
and plonked It on the end,
and It was slain,
And the remaning sons of Tim and Tim cheered a great cheer.
"yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"
They cheered for eight-and-a-quarter days full,
and each son of Tim brought back the land of the great Orioth San-Tribuus,
And so they lived forever in happiness,
although there was much incest.

The End.

The Lovely Little Poem About Lovelyness
----------------------------------------

There once was a man,
who lived inside a ship,
and he did like to flip
off lots of men.
He especially liked a sailor,
or a lovely blonde tailor,
or even a tiny little midget. (no smaller than 3 foot)
Oh yes he had lots of fun,
flipping off the sun,
because sometimes he did that,
because he thought the sun was fat.
And he didn't even burn himself,
even though it was hotter than himself,
he thought that he liked the sun,
but it turned out that it wasn't fun,
to flip off the sun.
So he ran away from all that trouble.
And he found himself a lovely butler,
and a new home to live in futler.
And he wasn't a fan of Hitler,
Oh no he wasn't a fanh of Hitler.
But he like to flip off men,
and send them round the bend,
and paint rainbows and lovely things like that,
Oh yea he liked the fact that he wasn't fat.
He was a happy little dog.
Oh yeah he really was.
And he really liked to sing as well,
whenever he heard the bell.
Its time to flip off men!
and eat their faced lovely!
He liked to do this,
even though he was swiss.
And he was fantastic.

A Man Who Tries To Find His Way Out Of a House And Can Never Succeed
------------------------------------------------------------------------

In April, May, June and July I live inside a house that does not belong to me,
I live there because I am afraid of the world outside of this house,
And I do not particularly like this house.
The colour of every wall is grey, grey, endless grey.
All and every wall is between the Black and White.
Apart from the door which i assume is pure White,
although I have never once seen it.
I find that every day in which I live here that I feel suppressed, constricted,
like a transparent snake around my neck and head.
There are two stories in the house,
and one I have never been in, which is the one nearest the bottom.
And I always think of it as the only place in the house which i like,
and I have never been there.
I do wish that it would come to me,
why wouldn't it come to me?
Have I forced my will upon it like some paper-cup-string-man?
I hope it doesn't hear me calling it,
although I do not know its name,
but it hears me, oh yes it does i'm sure of it.
There are no windows at all,
none of which I am aware of.
There is one other who lives here, and he lives on the landing,
at the top of the stairs.
And i have seen him many a time sometimes we talk and sometimes we don't.
But I know he's real because I touched him.
I leave the house, I try but how can I?
There are no windows of the top floor!
I cannot walk through brick!
Nor break it with my fist!
I'm sure I feel inadequate and yes that I am,
but for me, there is no way to go.
"How can I Go?" I ask the man at the top of the stairs one day in August,
"You can" He replies.
"I cannot, the walls are at least twelve inches thick"
I stare at my feet.
I walk away.
After a long while of misery I feel the man at the top of the stairs enter my room,
"I shall leave and then you will know how to leave"
And the man walked into the wall and disappears.
I cannot believe it and will not.
I sit on top on the bed that I have made today and believe that my own eyes decieve me.
And I sleep in my made-bed,
and wake the next morning and the man at the top of the stairs has disappeared.
And I do not believe it.

modalert: spam

modalert: spam
what the shit are you talkin' 'bout brother?

what the shit are you talkin' 'bout brother?

I'm not your brother.
Second of all, all this stupid trulin shit is pointless no one cares.

I'm not your brother.
Second of all, all this stupid trulin shit is pointless no one cares.
If you think it's pointless and nobody cares... then don't post in the thread. Particularly refrain from flaming in it. Or inappropriately calling it in for spam.

If you think it's pointless and nobody cares... then don't post in the thread. Particularly refrain from flaming in it. Or inappropriately calling it in for spam.
Thank you brother, we all love the great trulin and should all respect his lovelyness

Resureccted.

And this one!!! Yaay for brother Trulin!!

Let it die.

Let it die.
Maybe i should take all the poems and condense them into a thread without comments?

Maybe i should take all the poems and condense them into a thread without comments?
Maybe....what you shouldn't do is bump a 6 month old thread

Maybe....what you shouldn't do is bump a 6 month old thread
Yes but this is no ordinary thread discussing a monkey. This is art.

Yes but this is no ordinary thread discussing a monkey. This is art.
Art. :rolleyes:

OK now it can be deleted