NationStates Jolt Archive

Make up a poem, recite your favourite poem, or show off what you've written!

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
The man in the mirror,
hasn't a clue.

He stares with wide eyes.
Judging the man that looks back.

Bothered.
Bothered is his soul.

He mourns for what he has lost.
He is alone.

~ Emo Ruffy

there once was a man
he possessed a can
it was full of spam
then he exploded

i'm sitting in my living room,
watching sum of all fears,
there's so much crap on tv,
i wish i had more beers.

instead i'm drinking rum,
it's more potent that those beers,
the problem is the coke,
it's gross enough for tears.

i'm a poet and i fucking know it, yarrh!

Write one for me! *puppy dog eyes* (http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l192/whereyouthinkyougoing/chichi1.jpg)

i'm sitting in my living room,
watching sum of all fears,
there's so much crap on tv,
i wish i had more beers.

instead i'm drinking rum,
it's more potent that those beers,
the problem is the coke,
it's gross enough for tears.

i'm a poet and i fucking know it, yarrh!Aye!

Here is one of my many poems. I'm not exactly known for my brevity...

Little Fox Spirit

Hey there little one
You’re too quiet
I never hear you
You crept up behind me
You pounced and caught me
In a fit of giggles
We laughed heartily
I held you close my little sister
And listened to your soft words
Your gentle voice
Little fox spirit

Come here little one
Let’s talk about life
Let’s embrace sisterhood
Let’s smile together
Let’s cry together
And decry boys
And try to be ourselves
In a world of ugliness
Not changing for anything
Our identity
That’s our pride
Isn’t it, little sister?

Get out of the rain, little one
The hunters are nearby
They seek to gun you down
Crouch between the bushes
Come to safety my dear
Before they come for you
As the bounty and prize
In their sick little game
Of catch the prize
And escorting it on display
As an intoxicator for that ego
That bruised ego

Run little one
Run like the wind
Don’t look back
The world is yours
Little fox spirit
No one can trap you
Not even you
Taste that freedom
And mock those guys
Who have the lock of hair
From that long, beautiful
Bushy sexy tail of yours
Wrapped in a mere ribbon
And no bounty

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Your mum would be great
If it wern't for the queue :)

Me, in one of my Cthulhu moods. Nazz will recognize the form I'm using.

In ancient halls the dreamer waits
Dead sleep in the tallest tower
Devoid of all our petty hates
Wreathed in ungodly power

Dead sleep in the tallest tower
In his castle of basalt spires
Wreathed in ungodly power
Fettered in deathly mires

In his castle of basalt spires
He waits for the stars to come right
Fettered in deathly mires
Til he breaks free to rule all the night

He waits for the stars to come right
That great beast from the stars
Til he breaks free to rule all the night
Sweeping aside man’s petty wars

That great beast from the stars
Devoid of all our petty hates
Sweeping aside man’s petty wars
In ancient hall the dreamer waits

This is a poem that I wrote a while ago. I know some people here have already read it.

Farewell, Christine

When I first looked at you from behind your mirror,
I knew that you could have had no idea
That you were being watched by a man,
A man with the face of a demon,
The body of a skeleton,
The mind of a genius,
And the voice of an angel.


When I called out to you,
Making sure that my voice was everywhere and nowhere,
You believed me to be an angel.
Before I play my requiem,
I wish to reflect on recent events.

How you triumphed in that gala!
Strengthened by my tutelage,
Your voice was allowed to soar!
That very same day,
Joseph Buquet, the chief stagehand, stumbled upon my torture chamber,
My ingenious, hexagonal, mirrored invention which drives men mad,
With which I amused the little sultana-
How I used to make her laugh in those rosy hours! But enough of that!
I wish to forget those days-

Anyway, it was not my fault!
Buquet killed himself!
True, my torture chamber led him to it,
But it was not my fault that he chose
To use that rope
Which I conveniently left by the painted iron tree.
That day I played my requiem for him.
Do not cry, my dear!
It was not my fault!


I remember the first time that I brought you to my home,
My little home in the fifth cellar beyond Lake Averne-
How frightened you were!
You realized that I was not an angel.
I was not even a ghost or a genius!
I was a man, a man who loved you.

When you asked me to play you something from my masterpiece,
From my Don Juan Triumphant,
You did not realize
That my music has the power to scorch even the purest of souls.

Now my opera is waiting in my coffin,
Waiting for me.
It will not be waiting long!
Soon I will play my requiem for myself,
But not before I remember some more.


When you tore my mask from my face,
My horrible demonic face
That not even a mother could love-
How angry you made me!
Then you knew that a corpse loved you!
A living cadaver loved you!
How could you ever love me now?
How could I ever let you leave me now?


Eventually I did allow you to go.
I let you go to the masked ball,
And I followed you there.
I went the masquerade as the Red Death,
And I didn’t even need a mask!
You kept coming back,
And I began to trust you a little bit more,
Enough to let you see that young nobleman,
That Vicomte de Chagny,
Because you said he’d be leaving in a month.

But you lost my trust that one night,
That night when you let him kiss you
And agreed to run away with him.
Did you know that your poor unhappy Erik was watching you even then,
Clinging to the statue of Apollo and his lyre?
Or did you believe that the glowing light of my eyes
Belonged to a bird, or perhaps a pair of stars?
That is certainly what your Vicomte thought,
That night that he shot at me!
He must have believed that I was a cat!
After all, ghosts don’t bleed, do they?


I remember later when I whisked you off the stage-
How shocked the audience was!
I shouldn’t have left you alone in my home, half-chloroformed.
Perhaps I should have known that you would try to kill yourself,
But do you really hate me that much?

The next time I left I was careful to tie you securely to a chair.
It’s not my fault that that poor chap came by
And fell victim to the siren’s trap!
It’s not my fault at all!

When I returned I played his requiem.
(It’s strange, how familiar the poor chap looked!)
Why are you looking at me like that, my dear?
I am all wet? Ha!
That is because it is raining!
It is raining on the shore of Lake Averne!
That is why I am all wet.


I played his requiem in front of you,
And I knew that those in the torture chamber heard it, too.
Yes, I knew that they were there, and I knew that you knew.
The way you begged me to untie you
And then rushed to find the key
Quite gave it away, my dear!

Now you were faced with a choice:
Would you rather hear the wedding mass
Or listen to the requiem again?


I gave you until 11 o’clock to decide
Whether you would have us all blown up or become my bride.
You were presented with a grasshopper and a scorpion,
Both made of bronze,
To represent your choice.

If you chose the scorpion, we could go happily to a church
And hear my wedding mass performed for us.
We could be happy together!
We could take walks by the shore of Lake Averne,
and maybe even get a house on the surface of the world, above the ground!

If you chose the grasshopper, it would hop jolly high!
It would hop jolly high,
And take with it into the sky a quarter of Paris.


Come now, my dear, it is time to make your choice!
The hour of life or death is nigh,
And we mustn’t keep the Parisians waiting,
The Parisians who are currently watching an opera right above our heads!

You turned the scorpion, hoping to save the peoples’ lives.
There was a moment of silence between us,
And then, the flow of water into the torture chamber drenched the gunpowder.
You had saved the lives of a quarter of the city,

But those in the torture chamber
Would soon be up to their necks in water.
You pleaded for me to save the lives of your fiancé and of my friend, the daroga,
But I laughed and told you that
You needn’t have two fiancés!

But then you swore that you were willing to become my living wife!
You wouldn’t kill yourself!
I believed you, for you swore it upon your very salvation!

So I saved them, the Vicomte and my friend, the daroga.
I brought the daroga back to his flat,
But I knew that I couldn’t do the same with your fiancé.
So I chained him up in a dungeon where no one would ever hear him scream.


But then, when I returned, you...
You let me kiss your forehead,
Something that no woman had ever let me do!
And I cried, and you cried with me!
That was when I knew that I had to let you leave,
And let your Vicomte leave, too.
So I went back to the dungeon and brought him back to my house.
(The lover of trapdoors never needs a key!)
When I returned, I gave you a golden ring,
And told you to come back someday to bury me with it.


And then…
You kissed me on my forehead!
Soon, my dear, you will fulfill your promise.
All of the arrangements have been made.
By now, the daroga will have placed my obituary in the Époque.
I trust that you will come soon to dig my grave for me.

I am playing my requiem now, my dear.
I can feel that my broken heart is slowly beating its final beats.
After I finish playing my requiem mass,
I will lie down in my coffin with my masterpiece
And sing myself to sleep-
And this sleep will last for eternity.

I hope that you will find this note,
Written in red ink,
The last note that I will ever write.
As I am playing my requiem for myself, I finally feel at peace.

Farewell, my dear Christine.

A simple little poem I wrote...

Little star, how high you are,
Shining high above the sky.
Like diamond tears of Gaia’s face,
With wings expanse to fly.
Little star, how bright you are,
Gleaming and twinkling away.
Blessed with Venus’s love
And kiss of Queen of the May.
Little star, how far you are,
Ever beyond my reach.
Drifting in your leisure sea
Away from my forsaken beach.
Little star, are you magical?
Can you stop my fate?
As if wish upon your grace,
Help me end my hate.

I don't generally like what I write after I've finished writing something, but these are two I actually like.

Untitled -

Careful emphasis
Of a point unwanted.
The hope is crushed,
The dream is shattered.
Please take me away,
Take me to a better place,
A place where I may live
Out my hopes and dreams.
A place where I may feel
What I cannot feel.
A place where I may taste
The pleasures of the flesh,
And drink the pleasures of the mind.
Take me from this hell on earth,
This desolate wasteland
That is the center.
Replace my sorrow with joy,
My hate with love.
Allow me the freedom of happiness,
And relieve me of my burdens


"Where Machines Rule"

Walking through the metal world
Where machines rule
And fires burn.
Endless mounds of wasted
Workers. Giant pools of energy,
Stacks of heat.
Clotting veins, thinning arteries,
Hordes of life force
Held by fat, sweaty meat.
Thick, slow flow,
Metal monsters,
Peaks over broken down.
Long necked birds idling by,
Neglected.
Thousands of wired hair connecting.
Smoke bellows from the pipes,
Stagnant greened ripples,
Swirling in no direction.
There they stand,
Huddled together
In all their power,
Reaching into the sky.
Revision of glory,
The ugly in a state of continual undoing.

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Your mum would be great
If it wern't for the queue :):p

Alright, so I can't write poems for shit. Doesn't mean I'm not going to comments on others'. <.<

Alright, so I can't write poems for shit. Doesn't mean I'm not going to comments on others'. <.<

What about mine? Admittedly it was a bit short, but I'm neither sleep-deprived nor drunk, so my abilities are somewhat limited.

What about mine? Admittedly it was a bit short, but I'm neither sleep-deprived nor drunk, so my abilities are somewhat limited.

Seconded, on both counts.

What about mine? Admittedly it was a bit short, but I'm neither sleep-deprived nor drunk, so my abilities are somewhat limited.Made me laugh. :P
And since I can only comment on silly poems, that wraps up my commenting. Lucky for the thread.

*compliments Chandelier in every way which is OK with her*
That was brilliant. :D
Phantom of the Opera fans unite!

As to the poems I've written...

Many, only two of which I'll post here today.

A nice, short one to start you off:

Beauty

"Beauty comes from the heart, beauty comes from the soul, beauty is the rarest art, and one that says your role.

The beauty of a poet, the beauty of a dawn, beauty as you know it, beauty welcomes the morn.

Beauty comes from deep inside, a beauty inherent in your mind, the beauty of those tears you cried, the beauty of the lost you find.

Beauty was as beauty is, beauty lives as beauty dies, beauty pure in a kiss, beauty confessing as it lies.

A mask, a truth, a revealer of past wrong, a task, forsooth, memory that lasts everlong.

Beauty, as Christ and Hope died on the Cross.
Beauty is as ever it was."


And now a nice long one:


You were a criminal,
You were a Jew.

I miss you, a Jew,
I loved you, a girl.
If the world is,
truly, an oyster,
then you were a pearl.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

I write this poem
to you, a Jew.
How many of you
survived, well,
only a few.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

Churban, the Holocaust,
call it what you will.
To Jews it is destruction,
of those the Nazis
deigned to kill.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

Their evil designs sped
forward, your evil fate.
To die like worthless dogs,
And Auschwitz's
appetite sate.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

Tears unnumbered would,
later, fall for your race.
But in those days,
the only tears were
mine at sin so base.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

A sailor you were, once,
a fine sea-borne gel.
But a criminal you were,
yes, at least the Nazis felt,
and then they put you through hell.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

The Nazi reign
would pass, you felt.
And it did, eventually,
though twelve times
the winter ice did melt.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

You would stand but,
then, you grew old.
And now I see
your corpse, stilled,
your hands so cold.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

Tyranny and oppression and,
later, the gas.
But you were brave
and feared it not,
a truly Polish lass.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

Britain lay powerless, the USA,
neutral, and they did weep.
Misfortune and death never,
never scared you, but then Churban
sent you to eternal sleep.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

And with each year
you closer crept,
to death and fear, and,
as the War ended, the
great Reaper leapt.

You were a criminal,
you were a Jew.

You were a criminal.
You were a saint.
You were a victim.
You were a Jew.

Lifes a joke.
Then you croak.

Big Jim the Poet.

i dont write poems. this one always brings a tear to my eyes.

Chiang chen tzu

Ten years living and dead have drawn apart
I do nothing to remember
But I can not forget
Your lonely grave a thousand miles away ...
Nowhere can I talk of my sorrow --
Even if we met, how would you know me
My face full of dust
My hair like snow?

In the dark of night, a dream: suddenly, I am home
You by the window
Doing your hair
I look at you and can not speak
Your face is streaked by endless tears
Year after year must they break my heart
These moonlit nights?
That low pine grave?


by Su Shi b.1037

Made me laugh. :P
And since I can only comment on silly poems, that wraps up my commenting. Lucky for the thread.

:p my poem was deadly serious i'll have you know :p

Rocks

As I sit and watch the world go by
I think to myself
Life abounds in everything I see
Except rocks
So I ponder to myself
Do rocks grow?
Do they simply exist or do they grow?
So I sat and watched the rocks grow

I could not comprehend
The speed of life
I felt left behind
Confounded by nature
So I sat and watched the rocks grow

A pall settles around me
Like a six foot snowdrift
I’m buried within
Or is it truly out?
So I sat and watched the rocks grow

A hawk precipitously land on my hand
Only to fly away soon after
Fleeting visits
Leave no mark
So I sat and watched the rocks grow

Morning sun shines through
Branches; on, about, around the
Trees and their leaves
Like wind it fails to be seen
So I sat and watched the rocks grow

As I sat watching
those damn rocks grow
I realized
Quite to myself
It is what it is what it is what it is.

And then they grew.

Babble On in Babylon
Author unknown

Brimming closets, shoe racks bulge.
One in every color; I’ll just indulge.
My wildest whim will oft be met
Bigger, faster, give me, get.
Travel on in Babylon

May I go first, do you not care?
For my time’s precious, you’ve lots to spare.
I’ll slip in front and off I’ll go
See I’m quite fast and well, you’re quite slow.
I and me, fast friends life long
Prattle on in Babylon.

Nip it here, just there a lift.
I just turned forty. It was a gift!
The eyes, the lips, the bosoms do,
Sculpted, lasered, injected too.
No wrinkles left; the tummy’s gone.
Journey on in Babylon.

Enough of me, how do you view me?
You get one, but give me three.
I couldn’t bear to just say no.
It’s my desire and rightly so
Add another and on and on
Shuffle on in Babylon

No end in sight that I can see
Today’s blocked by the mirror in front of me.
A wreck, a death, tsunami tide
It mildly stirs me, I must confide.
TV claims, tens of thousands gone.
Oh well, let’s see what else is on.

Numb to stunning sight of each new dawn.
Sinking fast in Babylon.
Like a lobster in a pot
Who begins to like the water hot,
I’ve been duped, been tricked, been had.
Convinced that truth was somehow bad.

Evil coddled and cooed and purred,
And beckoned me and called and lured.
Now in a place with the light turned on
I’m racing home from Babylon.

kidnap poem
by Nikki Giovanni

ever been kidnapped
by a poet
if i were a poet
i'd kidnap you
put you in my phrases and meter
you to jones beach
or maybe coney island
or maybe just to my house
lyric you in lilacs
dash you in the rain
blend into the beach
to complement my see
play the lyre for you
ode you with my love song
anything to win you
wrap you in the red Black green
show you off to mama
yeah if i were a poet i'd kid
nap you

Write one for me! *puppy dog eyes* (http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l192/whereyouthinkyougoing/chichi1.jpg)

Whereyouthinkyougoing?
The dog cried;
The woman sighed;
The man died.

Thank you, thank you. Cheque's payable to Mr Phil O'Sopy, c/o Nationstates.net.

Whereyouthinkyougoing?
The dog cried;
The woman sighed;
The man died.

Thank you, thank you. Cheque's payable to Mr Phil O'Sopy, c/o Nationstates.net.That was awful.
Like your name, though. Very sophisticated.

That was awful.
Like your name, though. Very sophisticated.

Pfft. That's the last time I do anything for you.

The greatest artists are never truly appreciated in their time...

Pfft. That's the last time I do anything for you.

The greatest artists are never truly appreciated in their time...

Oh, go cut your ear off. :D

Oh, go cut your ear off. :D

ROFL!

*compliments Chandelier in every way which is OK with her*
That was brilliant. :D
Phantom of the Opera fans unite!


Thanks. It felt awesome to write it. Felt kind of like it wasn't me writing it, like Erik was in control. Awesome.:)

I like some Catullus poetry, and Ovid's nice, too.:)

Oh, go cut your ear off. :D

Cutting off my ear,
Would be quite sincere,
But really stupid.

See, I'm good at this.

I love this century's American culture
It pleases the feminazi in me.
Why, who can say our pop culture is sexist?
America is SO not sexist!

Politicians totally support America's women
Banning abortion because it's wrong!
You just can't destroy a fetus with anencephaly--
It's murder, for God's sake!
Why don't we ban birth control too,
Because it leads to America's women
Turning into European sluts!

But America's women shouldn't worry
Their pretty heads over their bodies
Unless they're fat and obese, especially
If they're over a hundred and twenty pounds!
If they're taht fat, then ugh!
Who would want to go out with a fat chick?
Anorexic twigs are the best girlfriends!

Who says our pop culture degrades women?
It's an honor for a young black woman
To dance half-naked all over a rapper!
It's every woman's dream to be
the Sexiest Star Ever!
It's our dream to be a media star,
With a good voice and brilliant ideas,
but more importantly, a great body
And a sexy dress
To look good for all the guys!

Who can say America is sexist?
Those European sluts don't count!
American women are ten times as free
Because we're not leading ourselves
Into the sins of those sluts
Who run around Europe!

Feh, I have better ones...

Cutting off my ear,
Would be quite sincere,
But really stupid.

See, I'm good at this.
Let's face it, O'Sopy,
Your poetry has
Long gone a bit sloppy
As has your ass.

:)

Let's face it, O'Sopy,
Your poetry has
Long gone a bit sloppy
As has your ass.

:)

Your rhymes still,
Make me ill,
Because they kill,
Beautiful words.

Thanks. It felt awesome to write it. Felt kind of like it wasn't me writing it, like Erik was in control. Awesome.:)

I like some Catullus poetry, and Ovid's nice, too.:)

I was once listening to Music of the Night, and during one of his lines I had this sudden inspiration for a rewritten version.
Unfortunately I neglected to write it down and now I can't remember...

I was once listening to Music of the Night, and during one of his lines I had this sudden inspiration for a rewritten version.
Unfortunately I neglected to write it down and now I can't remember...

I translated that into Latin. It was fun. :)

I don't think I ever got my Latin teacher to look over the last line or so, though. I can post it if you want.

Your rhymes still,
Make me ill,
Because they kill,
Beautiful words.

Your poems amuse
But beware. Bad poetry:
God eats a puppy.

My word! With such accomplished and... long-winded fellow poets I feel as if I am not even worthy of posting! I suppose this is because I am able to write only of what I happen to be feeling at the time...

But I'll post one, and hopefully the public opinion won't be too harsh...

Obviously, it's titled "Does it show?"

Here you are:


Does it show?


Does it show in my eyes, how affected I am?
How mind-numbingly powerful
my connection is with her?
How two vastly conflicting desires reside
within the same mind?

Does it show in my eyes, how affected I am?
How each hug I receive,
brings nigh immeasurable joy?
The reticence with which I toil
day to day?

Does it show in my eyes, how affected I am?
The complete and total lack,
of any detectable emotion?
The absolute and irrevocable consumption of thought,
that never seems to stop?

Can you see in my eyes, how much
I want to escape from this gilded cage?
Can you see in my eyes, this monstrous
insanity threatening to envelop me?
Can you see in my eyes, the conflicting
dreams struggling for their fruition?


Can you see in my eyes...

Anything at all?


Tell me.

Julia among the butterflies,
dancing as they fly around her.
Her hair so gentle.
Her skin so soft.

Her dress flows as she spin.
She finds cave,
wonders what lies within.

As she steps into the darkness,
the butterflies by her side,
a bear cub awakes.

She fears the mother is not too far.
She flees to shitty car.
But only after capturing a butterfly in a jar.

~ Ruffy

Your rhymes still,
Make me ill,
Because they kill,
Beautiful words.
Get it into your head
You're defiling this thread.
I'm not much better
So I'll write you a letter
For no one to see
Except you and me.
Then again, that is stupid
Along could come Cupid
And who would want that now?
Surely not this cow.
"WYTYG O'Sopy" -
That's not a good name.
I'd end up all mopey
With a name that lame.
So, my dear Gus,
We never can be.
Starcrossed, that's us,
As in you and in me.
But let us not dither
And run from this thread
Or else it will wither
And keel over dead.

Get it into your head
You're defiling this thread.
I'm not much better
So I'll write you a letter
For no one to see
Except you and me.
Then again, that is stupid
Along could come Cupid
And who would want that now?
Surely not this cow.
"WYTYG O'Sopy" -
That's not a good name.
I'd end up all mopey
With a name that lame.
So, my dear Gus,
We never can be.
Starcrossed, that's us,
As in you and in me.
But let us not dither
And run from this thread
Or else it will whither
And keel over dead.


*applause*

This is a poem that I wrote a while ago. I know some people here have already read it.

Farewell, Christine



Mind if i put this one on facebook? Its really really good!!! Want me to just use your screen name as the author?

Mind if i put this one on facebook? Its really really good!!! Want me to just use your screen name as the author?

Go ahead. Put invaderoperaghost as the author, as that's my name on FanFiction where I posted that before.

Get it into your head
You're defiling this thread.
I'm not much better
So I'll write you a letter
For no one to see
Except you and me.
Then again, that is stupid
Along could come Cupid
And who would want that now?
Surely not this cow.
"WYTYG O'Sopy" -
That's not a good name.
I'd end up all mopey
With a name that lame.
So, my dear Gus,
We never can be.
Starcrossed, that's us,
As in you and in me.
But let us not dither
And run from this thread
Or else it will whither
And keel over dead.

The lady told her tale,
Picked up in a sale,
Wrapped in the Mail,
Turning all quite pale.
Spam, the Mods declared!
Eating a delicious éclair,
Stuffed with chocolate and cream,
A wonderful dream,
Floating up stream,
To build their team.
So, to the thread, farewell;
Promise to never tell,
Or it will not end well.

The gerbils are coming.
Beware.

Moonmaiden

Sunset; the light dims away
Leaving the cold under heatless lamplight
Drifting shadows pass without a glance or greeting
Night has fallen

Another nameless figure passing by the street
Edging his way through the masses
Faceless darkness on his way
The shadows shift
Distorting, changing
A pale mistress emerges from the clouds
The shadows are shadows no more
Clarity.

This is the only piece of poetry I have ever written, excluding school assignments. I wrote it a couple of years ago, and it's based on a nightmare I had. I would have written a short story, but I didn't remember enough of it. Comments?




I brought the plank upon the hole, weak and weary on the whole,
barely dragging to my goal, and jammed it peeking out the sand.
I carved it with my knife so dull, under it I soon would lull,
when the hole'd be once again full, 'cause there's no stone at hand.
On this island I had to improvise, as there's no stone at hand,
and carve a plank of iron wood.

I served them with all my might, fighting battles left and right,
hellfire would not see my flight, and still my honor they abused.
Twenty years of hateful brooding, underneath foraging and shooting,
on my plank I am grooving, and I'm just slightly amused.
They cleared me away, but wouldn't kill me. What was the word they used?
That was it, liability.

Just 'cause you'd not be mine. My feelings were all benign,
but I thought about you all the time, and they surely saw your game.
I don't care what women say when they try to take my heart away,
I would've forgotten you today, if you weren't to blame.
They feared me. Or maybe they feared you; it's all the same,
I carve your name on my plank of wood.

My name, a date and Rest In Peace, though there's not much rest on seas,
I face the ocean with soldier's ease, and my body I shall lay.
My head will stay there sitting, and my arms slightly jutting,
beneath the iron wood marking; I can't bury myself all the way.
Crabs and ants will eat my flesh, it being of more use today
than it ever was for them or you.

Twenty years I waited here, burning fires and praying for mere
glimpse of friends or ships pass near; no such luck could I ever see.
Pour in the sand and close my eyes, along with me the evening dies.
Take my body home, here it lies; so at least in death I could be free.
Someday they will come back, but in place of an angry old man, they'll be
greeted by my plank of iron wood.

No feed back on my long-winded crap?

Fine, since no one had anything to say, I'm posting more! You don't boo me, I keep posting my poetry.

This next poem is NOT for the weak of heart. It is easily a PG-13, if not R poem, though it contains no explicit material beyond vague descriptions in Shakespearean English about Medieval torture devices and eternal damnation.

Die a Thousand deaths

Die a thousand deaths
Lie a thousand years
In the fiery realms
Deep in the purgatorial fires
Deep in the heart of hell

By my hand, I swear
By the teeth of Lucifer
Thy death shalt not be…
Thine end merciless
In mine world

Cat o nine tails
The thousand lashes
Methodically stripping thee of skin
Blood seeps from thy wounds
In a small puddle upon the floor

How thou dost bleed unreservedly
The pungent odour rising
The scarlet fluid crusting
Droplets raining from thy wounds
Into rivers at thy feet

Taste the Heretic’s Fork
Thou art speechless, admirable
A collar around thy pretty neck
Four prongs cutting thy flesh
Freeing more succulent blood

The gashes are wide
The snide smirk upon
My lips so cruelly
The cat’s paw down thy chest
Pleasuring those wounds

Sweet piercing screams
They echo from thee
Thy body twitching
In pained convulsions
The blood flowing infinitely

Thy head in a vice
The skull crushed into mush
The bone shattered like crystal
The blood oozing out
From the cap of the skull crusher

Aren’t thou dead as of late?
‘Tis thy timely fate…
Thy blood spilt
Thy soul left for feed
My ravens art ravenous

Canst thou expire?
Why dost thou haunt me?
Vile ghost, thou art an illusion
Vanish, be gone wicked image
Or die again

Die again… another thousand deaths
Lie in thy cesspool of blood… another thousand years
Still in the heart of the realm
Deep o so deep within
Buried in those burning flames

Perched o so high
On that pedestal of Judas Cradle
Balanced at a point
So delicate o so painfully

A wrong move
Upon my part, a slip
A mere utter of ‘opps’
And thou art impaled
Via thine ass… through and through
Thy mortal being

Silenced so sweetly
O so simply in that trap
The binding scold’s bridle
Muting thy blinding foolhardiness

Thy tongue chained
Thy words a muffled incoherency
A trickle o blood
From the corner of thy mouth
Words in thy eye, naught on thy tongue

And if thou art vivacious
Thou shalt be made an example
Bound in the stocks by thy ankles and wrists
Made a fool in the eye of God
And in eyes of thousands

Thou shalt crave o so sorely
Thy death instantaneously
And thou shalt die
Die again…

Die again and over… another thousand years
Lie in that bed thou hast made… another thousand years
Trapped in solidarity for eternity
In the burning inferno
Deep in the heart o the purgatorial fires o hell

And die a thousand deaths
By my hand
And only my hand
Shall justice be served
Upon a silver platter

I dont have a title

No more! No more! You must abhor

The evil lore from days of yore

That commands you off to war

To charge madly to the fore

The evil enemies you kill

Are actually your friends

At home they go and farms they till

Their children they do tend

But when your bombs drop from the sky

Their wounds will never mend

For one and all, they all have died

Your generals, they feed you lies

They don’t have to risk their lives

The foes children still do cry

Madmen beat the widowed wives

Madness rules, who lives must die

And bombs still rain down from the sky.


The Beast


The rage that lives inside us all

Waiting for the time to kill

When it hears the pain-filled call

It arises, to eat its fill

It eats at death, it eats at pain

It showers blood like it was rain

And even when the need’s no more

The pain is gone, the rage has soared

The world will bleed from every pore

When the beast within arises



Why?

Why Do all the leaders lie
Why does no one listen to the cry
Of the child who is about to die
Why doesn’t anyone think
As civilization begins to sink
Into the murky depths of total despair
Why doesn’t anyone care
Why does everyone just pursue money
Like mutant bee’s who steal others honey
Not caring what they destroy along the way
Not realizing that they’ll have to pay
As children die of wrenching hunger
Fat rich men rest in peaceful slumber
As lives explode in total war
The greedy filth just reach for more
Why doesn’t anyone try
To make the world a better place
Why doesn’t anyone try
To advance the human race
Because the world is filled with greed and lies

Still another with no title


Humanitys a stupid place
People are a stupid race
Killing others just like them
For glory, honor, pride, or gems
When bombs are made and sold and shipped
People from this Earth are ripped
But we don’t care
How could we dare?
Realities a frightening thing
So much easier to sit and sing
We give a dollar maybe two
And then we feel we’ve paid our due
While death goes on and we say nothing
Instead going out to buy a ring
Run from reality, hide and shrink
You will never have to think.
Until they come for you.

Another with no title

Infernal darkness rolling in.
Millions of lives ending in sin
plague and sickness bringing pain
acid from the skies like rain
torture becomes commonplace
Humankind gets evils face
and even if one dares to hope
he soon dangles from a rope
as society begins to fall
From the bounty of natures hall
When people start to kill in fear
there is no doubt, the end is near

President Bush

Arrogant and cocky as wades through the dead
Bad reports fail to penetrate his head
Stupidity and greed rolled up into one
He may ruin the world, when all is said and done
A fundamentalist fool who can’t read or write
He thinks he is god and has the power to smite
Manipulated and confused, with no mind of his own
He just does whatever he is shown.
When innocents die and his friends get rich
He thinks his plans have gone off without a hitch
And before he plunges the world into war
Its our job to show him the door

some of them are pretty unpolished

Julia among the butterflies,
dancing as they fly around her.
Her hair so gentle.
Her skin so soft.

Her dress flows as she spin.
She finds cave,
wonders what lies within.

As she steps into the darkness,
the butterflies by her side,
a bear cub awakes.

She fears the mother is not too far.
She flees to shitty car.
But only after capturing a butterfly in a jar.

~ RuffyFor a second there I thought it'd be a spider in the cave...*glowers*

*leaves thread alone now*

No feed back on my long-winded crap?

Fine, since no one had anything to say, I'm posting more! You don't boo me, I keep posting my poetry.



Your poetry leads me to wonder... what inspires you to write thusly? I've got no preconceptions, and this is an honest question.

Your poetry leads me to wonder... what inspires you to write thusly? I've got no preconceptions, and this is an honest question.

Unlike some of my poems, this one was written in conjunction with a story I wrote for a friend. I have others; ones not as violent. Though they are rather nasty in nature still.

EDIT - here is the fanfic... Let it Bleed (http://www.fanfiction.net/secure/live_preview.php?storyid=1393435)

I have only ever writen a poem once, because my school teacher forced me to because i had forgotten/lost/burned my biology book (it was a poem on forgetfulness).
I got the last laugh tho, it was published in a book of childrens poems :D
Sadly i cant remember it for the life of me, and the book is 200 miles away from me.

Unlike some of my poems, this one was written in conjunction with a story I wrote for a friend.

Weird...did you just edit your post?

What a douchebag.

How does that make Kryozerkia a douchebag?

What? Whos that?
Is that a demon watching or my cursid shadow?
What mysticism will I sink down to
while I sit there to ponder the heavens
does any one man, a simple man read
does he read with eyes open, the tears
the tears of this poem, nonsensicle rubbish it may be
the aim of pretentiousness, meaningless
random words, only the beauty can see

How does that make Kryozerkia a douchebag?

I'm almost certain that she edited her post because I was commented on a post she had made about her exl. If she didn't, in fact, edit her post, I'm halluciating.

And no, you're not a douchebag.

I'm almost certain that she edited her post because I was commented on a post she had made about her exl. If she didn't, in fact, edit her post, I'm halluciating.

And no, you're not a douchebag.

Ah, I see.

I translated that into Latin. It was fun. :)

I don't think I ever got my Latin teacher to look over the last line or so, though. I can post it if you want.

Please do! :)

Please do! :)

Unfortunately, I can't seem to find my folder from last year. I think maybe I'll try re-translating it, though. I did that last year before I had studied any Latin poetry. Although I'm not even going to bother putting it into hendecasyllable or dactylic hexameter or anything like that. I'll look for it more, and if I can't find it then I'll start working on that again. :)

Let me post a few. They'll look ugly as heck without my beloved linebreaks, but just try to imagine them looking like beautiful things:

Prometheus Falling

let me illuminate you

i want to see you fall
like Icarus,
with the same curve
in your spine,
but with more fire in you.


Speeding

i've got the words
"without you, I am nothing"
in my mouth,
but i don't know where they came from.
you see,
i'm walking from the school,
& i feel okay,
but i look like sh.t,
& i smell like sandwich meat.
i have to take the bus.
i have to sit in that
disgusting pleather seat,
& watch my ugly white snail face
reflected in the window.

& i think i used to love that

yesterday i drove,
& along the highway,
i thought i saw your brother's ghost,
& i nearly swerved into the ditch.

i'm going crazy. at 80 km/h.
way too fast.

Untitled

i am absolutely sick.
a whole afternoon
with you.
a whole afternoon
finding clocks where we could
&fighting till my arms were bruised.
today, i couldn't
look at you,
& you couldn't look at me.

the morning after.
too much wanting.
i was hungry,
but sick,
all the same.

then in the girl's washroom,
your girlfriend,
wearing a character
more like herself
than she can admit,
talking about you.
& well,
she shut up when i came in,
& shot dagger glances
all day at me.
i wanted to
wonder why you called her,
but i was too
happy.
i felt like the other woman.
i felt alive.

i see you in the hall,
laughing with a friend.
its april the 20th,
& i know you must be
high.
but i'll bring the high down.
with my hands i'll bring
the high down.
your brow sweaty,
my cheeks pink,
we'll make life
an experimental play.
you'll pull out the guitar,
or fry me
real bannock,
& i'll twist your words
to make you love me.
& you'll go back to her,
go back to her drunk,
& and make love to her,
full of rage.

something we don't need.
obligation.

i am right with you,
but wrong, too.
i'm scared because
i know not my
power, my recklessness.
i'm afraid of what
i might be,
or more, what i might
not be.

Untitled (Again!)

people say there's
a spy house behind that rock.
i wanna break in,
wanna climb up that rock
and look at all the pictures.

i run past that house everday;
i think they must have
pictures of me.
pictures of me
sweaty, or
blowing my nose
on my sleeve.

steal them, burn them, throw
the ashes in the ocean.
make a new picture,
one that shows the
sound my shoes makes
on the pavement.

a picture can be a sound
a picture can be a sound
a picture can be a sound

Q T H U Y A
J
(there was always
a man with
a J)

all my favourite letters
could not make
the sound of a picture.

je peux etre
complet avec toi.
je peux
je peux etre
quel qu'une
quel
quel
quel qu'une.

comme un chanson.
tu aimes comme un chanson


WELL, WHAT IF I LOVE YOU?



no


cant love like
a letter.
love like
a picture,
love like


a sound.

Unfortunately, I can't seem to find my folder from last year. I think maybe I'll try re-translating it, though. I did that last year before I had studied any Latin poetry. Although I'm not even going to bother putting it into hendecasyllable or dactylic hexameter or anything like that. I'll look for it more, and if I can't find it then I'll start working on that again. :)

:(
*sniffle*
*reads the middle*
*is happy again*
*second sniffle*

TC, You have the talent. Keep writing.

:(
*sniffle*
*reads the middle*
*is happy again*
*second sniffle*

I have the title and first line dome, but I have to go watch Lost now.

Musicae Noctis

Nox quemque sensum acuit amplificatque.


Not sure if I'll keep it like that...but that's what I got so far.

Weird...did you just edit your post?

Yes because I forgot which poem I had posted so I made the correction.

How does that make Kryozerkia a douchebag?

I changed my post and it threw Deus a loop. Loopy Deus, loopy!!

I changed my post and it threw Deus a loop. Loopy Deus, loopy!!

Gaaah, now I'm all tied up in knots!
So what do you people think of my poems?

No one has a comment on my poems.:( . Also, as far as I can remember, my first smiley in a NSG post ever.

Well, no one read the last one it seems, so. . .

Branches

Light snow falls
On barren branches
Almost breaking them
The branches that
Cried out for attention yet
Break at any sign of it
The paradoxical branch
Of life and death

ick malick ganjunga kahuck.
tv of all sorts has ended in puke,
not mine i add,
cuz often it is,
well maybe cuz mcconnel is made duke.

it seems.

i am significantly more wasted now.

i am significantly more wasted now.

Heh, this is why I generally have a scribe along when I'm out getting wasted. Someone to grab a pen when I start rambling and start writing that shit down.

Work
by: Mr. Smunk

every day I go to work
my duties there, I do not shirk
I work and work every day
oh where oh where is my pay

vacations are fun, or so I've heard
what? me take one? don't be absurd!
if I were to take a break
devastation in the wake
I keep the place up and running
sometimes it seems, I am quite cunning

I'll work and work, til the end of my days
I work and work, and rarely get praise
I work in a box, and never see the sun
my only reward is the job well done.

(he has a better job now)

mostly I have songs.......mostly they are depressing......maybe I will post some of my novel I wrote last year........whatcha think Ruffy?

Write one for me! *puppy dog eyes* (http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l192/whereyouthinkyougoing/chichi1.jpg)

Wherever you are,
You know you are cared for.
True to the end,
You'll always have a friend.
Go now, knowing you are loved.

LOOK, I FOUND A POEM ABOUT ME!

The Picture of little T.C.
in a Prospect of Flowers
by Andrew Marvell


i
See with what simplicity
This Nimph begins her golden daies!
In the green Grass she loves to lie,
And there with her fair Aspect tames
The Wilder flow'rs, and gives them names:
But only with the Roses playes;
And them does tell
What Colour best becomes them, and what Smell.

ii
Who can foretel for what high cause
This Darling of the Gods was born!
Yet this is She whose chaster Laws
The wanton Love shall one day fear,
And, under her command severe,
See his Bow broke and Ensigns torn.
Happy, who can
Appease this virtuous Enemy of Man!

iii
O then let me in time compound,
And parly with those conquering Eyes;
Ere they have try'd their force to wound,
Ere, with their glancing wheels, they drive
In Triumph over Hearts that strive,
And them that yield but more despise.
Let me be laid,
Where I may see thy Glories from some Shade.

iv
Mean time, whilst every verdant thing
It self does at thy Beauty charm,
Reform the errours of the Spring;
Make that the Tulips may have share
Of sweetness, seeing they are fair;
And Roses of their thorns disarm:
But most procure
That Violets may a longer Age endure.

v
But O young beauty of the Woods,
Whom Nature courts with fruits and flow'rs,
Gather the Flow'rs, but spare the Buds;
Lest Flora angry at thy crime,
To kill her Infants in their prime,
Do quickly make th' Example Yours;
And, ere we see,
Nip in the blossome all our hopes and Thee.

Make up a poem, recite your favourite poem, or show off what you've written!

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
The man in the mirror,
hasn't a clue.

He stares with wide eyes.
Judging the man that looks back.

Bothered.
Bothered is his soul.

He mourns for what he has lost.
He is alone.

~ Emo Ruffy

Eyes that are red,
Balls that are blue.
If I was that lonely,
I'd try sniffing glue.

Gaaah, now I'm all tied up in knots!
So what do you people think of my poems?
No one has a comment on my poems.:( . Also, as far as I can remember, my first smiley in a NSG post ever.
Well, no one read the last one it seems, so...
Bah, that's what happens in every poetry thread. Maybe it's because peoplelike me spoil them with our inaptitude but it's really more because there are a lot of people who post poems but not a lot of other people who 1) are interested enough in poems to actually read the ones posted apart from the silly ones and 2) who are willing to go and critique the poems posted.
After all, it's not like any of you guys actually seriously commented on the others' poems, is it? ;)

So basically what I'm saying is: if you're looking for true critique and input,you'd be better off posting them on a poetry site than here.

:)
[/public service announcement]

Wherever you are,
You know you are cared for.
True to the end,
You'll always have a friend.
Go now, knowing you are loved.:eek:

No one has a comment on my poems.:( . Also, as far as I can remember, my first smiley in a NSG post ever.

There are many kinds of silence

In the auditorium angels play
The audience is awed, afraid
But then! At beauty's cessation
In lieu of silence
We hear a radio, on no station.

On the tracks a fair maiden tied!
Shuddering, two screams collide.
Too late, stillness. Two feet. A wheel.
Almost silence ...
"OH GOD, TELL ME THIS ISN'T REAL!"

The headstones, grey flowers.
An owl, but his friend is close,
He's no louder than corpses snore.
Silence.
Then hateful sparrows, and no more.

.....Nobel Hobos, 4th May 2007

Melting Away
------------

Falling from the tray
I hit the ground hard
sitting and waiting
to melt in the heat.

I think critiquing is a very, very bad idea. But Slythros asked for it, so I'm going to give in to the unworthy urge and rip up some poetry.
Did I mention that I hate poetry? Absolutely despise it, no matter how good it is. Filthy stuff isn't even good to burn: pages turn as they catch fire, and innocent people who just want a bit of warmth get poetry as well. :mad:



The Beast


The rage that lives inside us all

Waiting for the time to kill

When it hears the pain-filled call

It arises, to eat its fill

It eats at death, it eats at pain

It showers blood like it was rain

And even when the need’s no more

The pain is gone, the rage has soared

The world will bleed from every pore

When the beast within arises



This one's got something.

The way "-filled" rhymes with the above and below terminal words is odd. Is it intentional? Certainly wrecks the rythmn.
That "it" needs to GO. Get rid of it somehow.
There's something wrong in here. I think my problem with it is the three objects (the need, the pain, the rage) don't do what they do in any kind of pattern. And "soared" makes me think it will soar somewhere, but it isn't clear where. Doesn't just mean "increased" y'know.
Is "every pore" sort of like sweating blood? You could make this more graphic, even. It's the culmination of your "it will be some bad shit/when the beast arises" theme, so: stronger. Think dead people and blood, think war casualties, think of horrible suppurating diseases. Think of some way of translating the horror of that from an injured person to "the world."

All those things can be fixed quite easily. I like this poem far more than the others because it's descriptive without being specific. It also has a touch of empathy (with the beast itself?) You don't actually say what the beast is, which is good. It just kind of lurks in all those "it"s.

Perhaps you could mention the beast early in the poem. There's the title, I guess, but in the first line you say "rage." Is rage = beast ? I think not.

I'm not commenting on the other poems because I hated them. Sorry, but I did. :)

Beat
Up
My
Poem!.

Actually, I mean that. It's the only fair thing after the outrageous post above.

To make it even easier, I won't actually be here for at least 24 hours. I want that poem (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12608386&postcount=74) dead by the time I return, or there'll be trouble.

:eek:
What?
You asked for a poem,
There's your poem!
You wanted one that's true?
Get outta here! That's not how poets woo ;)

I think critiquing is a very, very bad idea. But Slythros asked for it, so I'm going to give in to the unworthy urge and rip up some poetry.
Did I mention that I hate poetry? Absolutely despise it, no matter how good it is. Filthy stuff isn't even good to burn: pages turn as they catch fire, and innocent people who just want a bit of warmth get poetry as well. :mad:
...
I'm not commenting on the other poems because I hated them. Sorry, but I did. :)

Ooh! Ooh! Rip up mine! :D
*is unhappy at the 'hated the other poems'*
Well, criticism is much better to receive than flattery.

Prometheus Falling

Speeding

Untitled


These three are excellent.

Rocks



Also excellent.

There are many kinds of silence

In the auditorium angels play
The audience is awed, afraid
But then! At beauty's cessation
In lieu of silence
We hear a radio, on no station.

On the tracks a fair maiden tied!
Shuddering, two screams collide.
Too late, stillness. Two feet. A wheel.
Almost silence ...
"OH GOD, TELL ME THIS ISN'T REAL!"

The headstones, grey flowers.
An owl, but his friend is close,
He's no louder than corpses snore.
Silence.
Then hateful sparrows, and no more.

.....Nobel Hobos, 4th May 2007

I would slaughter it but it's actually fairly good, if somewhat nonsensical.

A found poem (http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5780)
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What?
You asked for a poem,
There's your poem!
You wanted one that's true?
Get outta here! That's not how poets woo ;)I likes it. :fluffle: :p

A found poem (http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5780)
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You know, I can honestly say your poem sucks even more than mine did AND it took a lot more effort making it. Tsk.

You know, I can honestly say your poem sucks even more than mine did AND it took a lot more effort making it. Tsk.

Rilly? All I did was copy/paste. . .

Rilly? All I did was copy/paste. . .Exactly. :p

Nah, I actually thought you spent a half hour on formatting the thing. And truth be told I still think so. :p

a haiku because I'm bored
I can't decide how
to write a poem today

I really want to write one
but I'm unable
I guess haiku will suffice

I am probably cheating
since I can do this
haiku come naturally

In fact this form is easy
so easy to me
I can do it in my sleep

Exactly. :p

Nah, I actually thought you spent a half hour on formatting the thing. And truth be told I still think so. :p

Nah, if I'd spent any time formatting, it would look like this:

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And it still didn't take a 1/2 hour ;)

haiku come naturally

In fact this form is easy
so easy to me
I can do it in my sleep
You have to be kidding!
I could be sitting
In a prison for ages
And still have blank pages
If I had to produce
Those frigging haikus!
Completely unable
To even count the damn buggers;
An epic, a fable,
A rhyme about muggers
Are all things I'd rather
write than just blather
On in weird stanzas
'Bout lyric bonanzas
The formula captures,
Sending readers in raptures.
Mine always suck
No one ever gets stuck
In a raptuorous mood -
I'm always just booed. :(

Nah, if I'd spent any time formatting, it would look like this:

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And it still didn't take a 1/2 hour ;)Well, maybe it should have, considering you failed the task. :rolleyes: :p

You have to be kidding!
I could be sitting
In a prison for ages
And still have blank pages
If I had to produce
Those frigging haikus!
Completely unable
To even count the damn buggers;
An epic, a fable,
A rhyme about muggers
Are all things I'd rather
write than just blather
On in weird stanzas
'Bout lyric bonanzas
The formula captures,
Sending readers in raptures.
Mine always suck
No one ever gets stuck
In a raptuorous mood -
I'm always just booed. :(
A haiku for Mother's Day

Mother's Day is here
One day that we can make clear
Mom, we hold you dear

Well, maybe it should have, considering you failed the task. :rolleyes: :p

Left it on purpose, just like "Il Ruffino 3:14" which you missed :p

Okay, I'm taking another shot at this, but really working it ;)

The New Poetry Thread
Brownback for President: A NationStates Evil Beach Party
Worst thing Humanity has ever done
Cop arrests woman for speeding...to the hospital
Do people really get more conservative with age?
Russian Reversal by Pure Metal
Royal Implies Violence If She Loses
Remote Observer by Call to power
Creationists, is anyone here one?
If you break in and leave, don't come back
Justice League of NationStates!
Evil Iraq occupiers prevent all girl school bombing by The Parkus Empire
What's on your wall? $65 million dollar pants, Lunatic Goofballs
If you don't believe that man makes global warming, then you shall die! Funniest Comic Strips Ever!
Unauthorized State-Owned Chinese MAGICAL KINGDOM!!!
Spiders on Drugs
Poll: Who is the Scumiest Person on Television, other then O'Reily? Zarakon
Canadian Mail carrier afraid of a little pussy
China attacks Russia. Hypothetical war.
The Best Classic Rock Bands (Revised)
Bush vetoes spending bill
What do you actually mean by conservatives? (yet another conservative thread).

by Curious Inquiry 10 73

Left it on purpose, just like "Il Ruffino 3:14" which you missed :pDoes it sound like a bible verse on purpose? :eek:

Okay, I'm taking another shot at this, but really working it ;)

The New Poetry Thread
Brownback for President: A NationStates Evil Beach Party
Worst thing Humanity has ever done
Cop arrests woman for speeding...to the hospital
Do people really get more conservative with age?
Russian Reversal by Pure Metal
Royal Implies Violence If She Loses
Remote Observer by Call to power
Creationists, is anyone here one?
If you break in and leave, don't come back
Justice League of NationStates!
Evil Iraq occupiers prevent all girl school bombing by The Parkus Empire
What's on your wall? $65 million dollar pants, Lunatic Goofballs
If you don't believe that man makes global warming, then you shall die! Funniest Comic Strips Ever!
Unauthorized State-Owned Chinese MAGICAL KINGDOM!!!
Spiders on Drugs
Poll: Who is the Scumiest Person on Television, other then O'Reily? Zarakon
Canadian Mail carrier afraid of a little pussy
China attacks Russia. Hypothetical war.
The Best Classic Rock Bands (Revised)
Bush vetoes spending bill
What do you actually mean by conservatives? (yet another conservative thread).

by Curious Inquiry 10 73NOW we're getting somewhere.

Make up a poem, recite your favourite poem, or show off what you've written!

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
The man in the mirror,
hasn't a clue.

He stares with wide eyes.
Judging the man that looks back.

Bothered.
Bothered is his soul.

He mourns for what he has lost.
He is alone.

~ Emo Ruffy

Meh.

What is with the world today?
Wars and genocide, killers come to play
The internet is no safe haven
With everyone rantin' and ravin'
Wars fought not with guns but flames
Posters picking someone to blame.
Why must everybody scuffle?
I say we should all just fluffle!

:fluffle::fluffle:

I killed the thread
the thread is dead
Off with its head
Spam will come in its stead
Oh, the thread! The thread is dead!

:(

(and ironically, i just bumped the thread... :p)

This thread will soon be forum dust
So write another rhyme I must
I killed a thread yet again
May this thread go to forum heaven
So that I stop bumping this thread
Even though I know that it's dead
Or perhaps it's just asleep,
it is nearly midnight, so I shouldn't weep.

:)

This thread
is not dead
until I have said
so

This thread
is not dead
until I have said
so

Who made you the God
Or more approrioately, a Mod?

:mad: :p

May Fever

Days pass
i've got class
school daze
summer craze
here we go
no more snow!
now its May
another day
Once it's June
but not too soon
i'll have great times
better than these sucky rhymes

Who made you the God
Or more approrioately, a Mod?

:mad: :p

Not God
Not Mod
Just humble poster
But this thread
Shall not die
Long as I post the moster ;)

Not God
Not Mod
Just humble poster
But this thread
Shall not die
Long as I post the moster ;)

Moster? It makes no sense whatsoever.
It's nowhere near even somewhat clever.
And I have posted more than you, so shut your mouth
Before I get annoyed and kick you down south.

Just kidding :p :fluffle::fluffle:

Moster? It makes no sense whatsoever.
It's nowhere near even somewhat clever.
And I have posted more than you, so shut your mouth
Before I get annoyed and kick you down south.

Just kidding :p :fluffle::fluffle:

:fluffle: s back!
But I don't have to answer just you
I can answer WYTYG too!
Does it sound like a bible verse on purpose? :eek:
That's why I left it ;)
NOW we're getting somewhere.
I'm especially proud of these:
"Brownback for President: A NationStates Evil Beach Party
Worst thing Humanity has ever done"

"Evil Iraq occupiers prevent all girl school bombing by The Parkus Empire"

"What's on your wall? $65 million dollar pants, Lunatic Goofballs"

and, of course, "Poll: Who is the Scumiest Person on Television, other then O'Reily? Zarakon"

:p

Which reminds me!
Meh.
Spoken like a true school bomber!

Ooh! Ooh! Rip up mine! :D
If you mean this one (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12606966&postcount=16), they've both got something. Evoke what you cannot directly state, never mind the groaning of your slave words. Criticism below, but a disclaimer: I'm not really 'getting' either poem, so take with a grain of salt.
*is unhappy at the 'hated the other poems'*
Sorry I was misunderstood. I meant the other poems in the post I quoted part of. Not everything else in the thread! :eek:
Well, criticism is much better to receive than flattery.
I don't get that.

:(
*sniffle*
*reads the middle*
*is happy again*
*second sniffle*
Well, this is not so much poetry, as performance art ... what's that you say? The OTHER one? Oh ... ;)



Beauty

"Beauty comes from the heart, beauty comes from the soul, beauty is the rarest art, and one that says your role.

The beauty of a poet, the beauty of a dawn, beauty as you know it, beauty welcomes the morn.

Beauty comes from deep inside, a beauty inherent in your mind, the beauty of those tears you cried, the beauty of the lost you find.

Beauty was as beauty is, beauty lives as beauty dies, beauty pure in a kiss, beauty confessing as it lies.

A mask, a truth, a revealer of past wrong, a task, forsooth, memory that lasts everlong.

Beauty, as Christ and Hope died on the Cross.
Beauty is as ever it was."

The way each 'stanza' gets shorter towards the end (I'm seeing seven stanzas of one sentence each) makes me think you are refining your description of beauty. The last line/stanza should be authoritative. "Beauty IS" would suffice; I don't find the appeal to time or timelessness is adding anything positive there.
I'm also perplexed by the long sentences where there could be stanzas: it seems only to make the poem harder to read by hiding the rhymes.

Stanza by stanza:

"Beauty is the art of saying your soul" ... beautiful thought, Ilaer. Throw the rest away.

"Welcomes" grates on me. Think knuckles, cheese-grater. That kind of grating. Let's spread the stanza out over 4 lines:
The beauty of a poet,
the beauty of a dawn.
Beauty as you know it,
beauty welcomes the morn.
That makes it a lot more obvious where the problem is. Here, the last line is too long, has booty rather than beauty if you'll forgive a quip.

Something similar is going on here, and again I don't get it.
What is "deep inside?" The soul, the subconscious, the heart? Perhaps it would serve beauty better not to find a word for where it comes from?
"Lost" could only mean people who are lost. ?


Now it gets nice. There's a great perception here trying to get out, and readers already numbed by the earlier attempts to "define" beauty might miss the paradoxes which are so good here. Lives / dies. Confessing / lies.
I'll put it (unpoetically) in plainer words:
1.Beauty is unchanged by time.
2.Beauty dies, and by dying lives.
3.Beauty is pure, even in an act some might find not so.
4.Beauty lies, but confesses at the same time.
I'd say either make 1 & 3 proper paradoxes, or throw them out. The paradoxes are good.


Let's assume that each image is related to beauty in the same way. There are no words to flag any change (for instance "but" or "then" or even "forsooth.")
A mask is beautiful. A truth is beautiful. Revealing past wrongs is beautiful. Tasks are beautiful. Memories that last are beautiful. Nope, that doesn't work.
Beauty creates a mask. Beauty creates truth. Beauty itself reveals past wrongs. Beauty is a task. The memory of beauty lasts forever. That seems to work better, but still has problems. Particularly "a task." The word which carries the rhyme attracts attention, and this one is running down main-street wearing only one gumboot.

I'm not a believer, so I'll leave this mostly alone. Hope died with Christ? And beauty is related to that how?
I notice how there's no paragraph space there, so should I be treating the last two lines as one stanza? But there's a period and newline. I'm confused.
If I treat the last two lines as one sentence, it would mean: Even if hope dies as Jesus did, beauty will go on.


The sudden drastic shortening leads me to think you are trying to nail what you have to say about beauty. This line doesn't do that. Nor does it take the hands off and leave beauty alone (as my preferred last line "Beauty simply is" would).
This could mean "beauty avoids my attempt to define it, but I'm still sure it exists." Or else "beauty is unchanged by time."
Or something else I don't get. To be left wondering at beauty is good, but to be left wondering at the author's meaning really isn't.

I'll leave "You were a criminal" alone. It's longer, for one thing.

EDIT: I recieved a civil (indeed positive) reply to this. :)

I killed the thread
the thread is dead
Off with its head
Spam will come in its stead
Oh, the thread! The thread is dead!

:(

(and ironically, i just bumped the thread... :p)

Threads die choking
Without the breathe to scream.
It's only Hobos joking
As he destroys another meme.

*puts foot on murdered thread, poses*

Ode to my kidney stone.


my back hurts, again I groan
"damn it, I have a kidney stone"
my husband little sympathy holding
my soda habit karma unfolding
again with the fever, the chills, the pain
my attempts to relieve my discomfort vain
fear of it passing, wild trepidation
vows to abandon cola, painful frustration
crystallized pain, punishment this
passing tonight, tomorrow bliss

Should fate be so generous
And relieve me of this task so onerous
To guide me to my other half
To light the way and show the path
I will be beside you until I cannot stand
Legs weary of weight's demand
When that day comes, I must admit
Beside you, I shall forever sit
Until the stars fade away, and the earth has died
I'll be with you, by your side

:D

Threads die choking
Without the breathe to scream.
It's only Hobos joking
As he destroys another meme.

*puts foot on murdered thread, poses*

The thread is alive!
You bumped it and now it's revived!
I feel so very happy
Because I thought this thread had been written off as crappy
But it hasn't been
So I'll post in here again. :D

The thread is alive!
You bumped it and now it's revived!
I feel so very happy
Because I thought this thread had been written off as crappy
But it hasn't been
So I'll post in here again. :D

how can there be joy here now?!
my kidney still hurts
don't you even care pancake?

^haiku (yeah I suck)

^me (yeah haikus suck)

Fix'd :)

If I Could Do Cartwheels, I'd Do Cartwheels Into Kids Who Kung-Fu Dance To Avenged Sevenfold

Punk isn't dead, it was stillborn in 1977. Divided between revolution and fashion. Black jeans and white belts. Mohawks and spikes. It's funner to play dress-up then to work for real change.

how can there be joy here now?!
my kidney still hurts
don't you even care pancake?

^haiku (yeah I suck)

I'm sorry Smunkee
I didn't know about your kidney.
Here, have a fluffle. :fluffle:

I'm sorry Smunkee
I didn't know about your kidney.
Here, have a fluffle. :fluffle:

I wrote a poem about it.
Ode to my kidney stone.


my back hurts, again I groan
"damn it, I have a kidney stone"
my husband little sympathy holding
my soda habit karma unfolding
again with the fever, the chills, the pain
my attempts to relieve my discomfort vain
fear of it passing, wild trepidation
vows to abandon cola, painful frustration
crystallized pain, punishment this
passing tonight, tomorrow bliss

I wrote a poem about it.

Forgive me Smunkee
I didn't see it
So don't be upset
More than you already are... :( :fluffle:

Forgive me Smunkee
I didn't see it
So don't be upset
More than you already are... :( :fluffle:

I am drumming up sympathy
you were an easy mark
due to your overreaching empathy

I am drumming up sympathy
you were an easy mark
due to your overreaching empathy

:mad:

:p :fluffle:

:)

Smiley poem :D

Lacking much training in poetry
a rather high-minded pursuit
I find the whole thing a mystery
it's unlikely to bear much fruit.

A rather high-minded pursuit
though it's culturally very inviting
It's unlikely to bear much fruit
in the ghostly insubstantial writing.

Though it's culturally very inviting
making simple statements obtuse.
In the ghostly insubstantial writing
your talent can all be a ruse.

Making simple statements obtuse
words that need not possess any worth.
Your talent can all be a ruse
it's coincidence I must now mention Myrth.

Words that need not possess any worth
leave a poetry lover in bliss.
It's coincidence I must now mention Myrth
(s)he must know I'm taking the piss.

Leave a poetry lover in bliss
lacking much training in poetry.
(s)he must know I'm taking the piss
I find the whole thing a mystery.

Can anyone tell me what that style of poem is called? I came across the name in a previous thread on poetry, but had never heard it before. And I forgot to bookmark the page when I looked it up.

OK, I'll beat my own poem up now.

*snip poem*

There are many kinds of silence
The title has almost nothing to do with the text. Could I suggest
"Drowning silence" instead?

In the auditorium angels play
not really. Musicians play, angels are said to sing. If this is a play on "play"
it's no better. Angels do something for fun, and the mortals watching are awed ... why?
This is a really bad start. No segue from common discourse,
just right into the 'poetic at all costs' and confused imagery.
The audience is awed, afraid
"Afraid" does not rhyme, and is senseless. Awe begets silence. Reverence is more to the point than fear.
But then! At beauty's cessation
Gratuitous exclam. If the end of the piece was sudden and unexpected
there would be silence in fact. You could refer to the eagerness of an audience
to clap as soon as they can.
Bad line, change it even if you have to change the rhyme.
In lieu of silence
Nice.
We hear a radio, on no station
Static, random noise? Half a century ago, when radio = AM radio
this would have played well. FM radio between stations is... silence.
Anyone who thinks FM not AM gets the diametrically wrong image.
Analogue television is going the same way. You need an image
that's more timeless ... crashing surf perhaps?

On the tracks a fair maiden tied!
What! Just because it's poetry, you think you can tie girls to train-tracks?
Is it a reference to old western movies? If so, we should see the rest of the
stanza being about sound and silence in media, or even just films.
Shuddering, two screams collide.
"Two screams collide" is really good. But do screams shudder? I think not.
Too late, stillness. Two feet. A wheel.
The wheel was screaming. So was the girl's head. That's not what is here.
Two feet. Chuckle. The westerns meant that to be Unthinkable. Evil bastard!
Almost silence ...
"Silence looms" perhaps? You're trying to show subsiding sound, but
"almost silent" means very quiet rather than approaching silence.
"OH GOD, TELL ME THIS ISN'T REAL!"
Here you are quoting a witness to a real disaster, where
the first line of the stanza suggested it was going to be about devices of fiction. :confused:
Is this meant to be confusing? By being confused, and quoting in the way fiction doesn't? :confused: :confused:

The headstones, grey flowers.
Yeah yeah, now you're wasting words when you needed them in the previous stanza.
It's a graveyard, done already without the flowers.
The "grey" suggests moonlight, the moon is silence. Get rid of the flowers.
An owl, but his friend is close,
So it's a quiet owl? So what, the distinction is silence/sound, not quiet/loud.
He's no louder than corpses snore.
You just did that to gross us out, didn't you? Enough with the owl, too.
Silence.
Then hateful sparrows, and no more.
Calling harmless little sparrows "hateful" draws attention to you and your hate.
It's noise and bustle you hate, right? So shut up, already.
"No more" I agree with. Amen.

The second stanza is the best. There's enough there to make two stanzas, you could refer to the use of silence in horror movies for instance, taking the shouting person off to an additional stanza to build his own story.
The last stanza, the silence of the grave, is such a familiar poetic device that you're scraping for content after saying "headstones." Bring more substance or trash it completely. "Corpses snore" is particularly egregious, running entirely counter to the overall theme of "we silly people can't tolerate silence." If corpses snore, what hope for the living of ever experiencing silence?
I shouldn't get personal, but has it occurred to you that you are a somewhat disturbed person? Or that you have a problem with silence and noise, that you would in fact have a problem with anything, because you ARE a problem?

There's definitely something in your poem, you should perhaps consider trying to refine it and make the poem only about that one thing. You could also consider unisex netball, I've heard it's good fun.

:mad:

:p :fluffle:

:)

Smiley poem :D

:mad:

:)

:D

traffic light :D

If I Could Do Cartwheels, I'd Do Cartwheels Into Kids Who Kung-Fu Dance To Avenged Sevenfold

Punk isn't dead, it was stillborn in 1977. Divided between revolution and fashion. Black jeans and white belts. Mohawks and spikes. It's funner to play dress-up then to work for real change.


My spikes, the shyness of a porcupine
Your barbs, the confidence of a concubine

Call me emo:

When I long for things I can't have
I at least have something to dream of
Looking to that girl that's so far away
Secretly admiring her though we'll never meet
She doesn't know me, she probably never will
But I can find a smile to put on my face
Because I love her a little in my heart
Perhaps she has the same with somebody else
She might wonder if they'll ever meet
For now I can only hope for the best
Perhaps we'll meet one day
Maybe then our hearts will find each other
And we'll be together like in my dreams
Sadly most dreams never get real
But sometimes they're better than reality
So I'll just keep dreaming of her
Secretly admiring her in my heart


I was bored one day, so I made this with the names of some songs in it (50 or so):

Somebody told me about a girl
She couldn't laugh because she was cold as ice
The dark side of the moon was her last resort
Staring into the darkness, she said:
'Mama, I'm coming home,
Because the night is from here to eternity,
and I would stay, if I had the patience
to wait for a rainbow in the dark.
But in this lake of fire, it's time to burn
And it's the fear for a death in fire
In this black night, when I wish I had an angel
Who could look through my eyes
That keeps me stuck in a moment.
And sometimes, I don't bother to feel
It's ironic that I'm sitting down here
When I don't wanna miss a thing
From the best days of my life
Locked away, in between the confusion
It's the final countdown to an everlasting love
And I stand my ground in this twilight zone
Free of doubt, but between love and fire
I was the victim of a foolish heart
And my little demon creats a facade of reality
But beyond the ice, where nothing else matters,
Is my paradice city where everything's allright.'
She spoke these words before the face of God
Her circle of life was broken
But even in death, she's knocking on heaven's door
Always looking for her farewell

*snipped*

I do indeed. *nods*
Criticism, as I believe I said, is always more welcome than flattery. :)
I believe that because flattery merely inflates one's ego, whereas criticism makes one more humble and helps you improve.

*takes your advice about the poem and begins to muse on it*

Also, the thing that I was trying to lay down with that 'Beauty, as Christ and Hope died on the cross' is that even the death of something can be beautiful, whether the death of Christ (beautiful in that he was supposedly sacrificing himself to save us; I may be an agnostic, but if that's what he believed then it's an admirable act) or the death of hope, which I find harder to elaborate on. The hope which I referred to as dying on the cross referred to the hope of those oppressed by the Romans that Jesus would free them.

The 'a mask, a truth, a revealer of past wrong, a task, forsooth, memory that lasts everlong'...
I'll see if I can break it down and elaborate on each part.
The 'mask': people can hide behind beauty; they can use it as a protective force or, alternatively (and the meaning I was primarily concentrating on), evil can also hide behind beauty, and so being beautiful does not mean that a person or object is good.
The 'truth' was, I felt, a rather obvious play on the old argument about whether beauty is truth and whether truth is beauty. My opinion was that truth is always beautiful, if not pleasant, and that beauty does not always equal truth.
I've forgotten now what the meaning of the 'revealer of past wrong' was; since that's the case, I probably didn't feel it was too important to the poem at the time. Thinking about it, I'd hazard a guess that I intended it to mean that often the most beautiful things were those which had done the most wrong earlier in their lives, and that the most beautiful of all were those who atoned for it in some way, but that doesn't sound quite right even to my own ears or, indeed, isn't clearly shown by the line.
The 'task' bit was meant to say that beauty is not always easy to achieve or maintain, or at least true beauty.
And the last bit, 'memory that lasts everlong', was trying to say that once you've seen beauty you never forget it.

The 'beauty comes from deep inside, beauty inherent in your mind, the beauty in those tears you cried, the beauty of the lost you find':
I deliberately chose not to say anything but 'deep inside' for the origin of beauty as it doesn't lend itself well enough to any particular location to give one; it also, of course, served a more practical purpose by helping the rhyme.
The 'beauty inherent in your mind' line was meant to suggest that beauty sometimes is an inherent property of some minds; the genius of a great painter, wordsmith, composer or, indeed, any other type of artist.
The third part was meant to say that the emotion shown by crying is beautiful; the love which drove a woman to cry at her husband's death, or the hope that a family member would return safely from somewhere vindicated which causes tears of joy at seeing them.
The last part meant that finding things after you'd lost them was a beautiful experience; for example, finding your wedding ring after months of grief over losing it somewhere.

You had the 'beauty was as beauty is, beauty lives as beauty dies, beauty pure in a kiss, beauty confesses as it lies' correct down to a 't'.
When a beautiful person or object dies or is destroyed then its beauty is often remember after its death; the beauty lives on.

As for the rest: noted. :)
'Welcomes' made me grind my teeth slightly when I wrote it, but sometimes I am at a loss for words, strange as it may seem. :)

By the way: I wasn't actually serious expecting you to critique it; only n00bs expect such attention (and often, thankfully, realise their mistake when they don't get any).
I'd like to thank you for defying my expectations.
I'd also like to thank you for not tearing apart the other. Whilst criticism is valuable to me, it does break one's heart so when it occurs. :)
Also, it would have made the page even longer than it already is.

21st Century Romance

I don't want
swooning and daisy chains
a dozen long-stemmed roses
and champagne for two.
damsels in distress and
a knight in shining armour
atop a valiant steed.

I want
hedonistic wonderlands,
free love and
anonymous sex.
no strings attached.
electronic, synthetic, chemical
satisfaction without interaction.

fairytales aren't real anyway.


Whore

I'll sell my secrets and
buy my way to your love.
I'll titilate your senses
with a striptease of my soul.
Chain me down, violate me,
I'll be your favourite toy.

________________________________________

Please be truthful.

She wears my heart on a silver chain and plays me like an instrument.
She plays a song both soft and hard, a melody both divine and horrible at once.
A song of love and loss and lies and of things untold, of the innocence of lovers lost and the burning pain of regret.
She sings to me so many wonderful things as she plays, wonderful things I believe and revel in the thought of.
But there is another with a darker heart than my own, a heart more simaler to her own darkness.
I deny it, I deny the things before me and claim them to be not true; nurturing the agony that is my love of her.
I sat alone by myself waiting to bask in the light of her once more for though she is dark she shines radiantly for all, especially me.
But now I find myself lost, unknowing of the truth.
Is she mine forever or am I only her instrument to make her music with until she is no longer pleased with it?

I wrote this about 2 years ago, I never had the heart to submit it too my publisher though, it meant to much too me personally.

how can there be joy here now?!
my kidney still hurts
don't you even care pancake?

^haiku (yeah I suck)

I've seen their picture in the other thread
How can their knees hurt, as you have said?
If it weren't for bad puns, I'd have more forum cred :(

Entropy

Hot cup of tea
next to a cold.
Heat flows,
Order changes to
Disorder.
They reach a common
Temperature
with the air
And table.
Order changed to
Disorder,
Accelerating the universe
to its end.
Teacup
next to teacup.
Tea shall end the world!

Whirlwind Space

It drops and falls
spinning
lending unto no one its presence
Hiding always

taking all it touches
transforming them
into things unreal
the center of a whirlwind
is empty

like a vine it creeps
along empty streets
slowly choking the world
it crawls in the night
stalking its prey
pulling them down lower

as it recedes
and leave a pile of emptyness
one finds
something in nothing in emptyness
not quite.

I likes it. :fluffle: :p

Did you notice that the first one was in the same format?

why oh why am I obsessed
with my website's CSS?
everyday I tweak it more
and each time it looks worse than before
I can't stand that it's kicking my ass
or that my basic html can't pass
because I spend hours a day
typing in notepad, to my dismay
I can't get my graphics to line up right
I keep messing with it all day and all night

/*snip CSS poem*/

Good one :)

Write one for me! *puppy dog eyes* (http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l192/whereyouthinkyougoing/chichi1.jpg)

That's one ugly puppy :eek:

Let's see, hmm...

uh, W-Y-T-Y-G,
how can it be
you'd use such a fucked up pu-ppy
I wish its breeder just killed him
it looks like that one of P. Hilton

Ok, looks like I seriously suck at English freestyle poetry :( maybe I'll think about a real one later.

Got some pepper with pasta ready, downloading some Dre stuff to get in the mood, and still hoping this thread won't stay dead.

Come on now, Wherethinkyougoing,
don't stop posting, just keep this thread growing
or it'll be up the creek or the river former flows in
spread your words, however randomly chosen

if I were an American rapper, that'd be the point to bring the hoes in
won't do that 'fore hell's frozen
nor ever use the word "nigga"
now watch hell freeze while my nose grows bigger

(The thread does seem a tad dead, so I'll stop here... Notice the random extra linebreak in the middle to make it look like I actually cared about stanzas? I feel highbrow now.:p )

You say, "Poetry"
I say, "Poetry"
Let's call the whole thing off. . .

Hmmm. . . not as effective when written, rather than spoken . . .

Well, here's another found poem, from page one of NSG . . .

Call for Subway boycott! 17-yr-old being denied Abortion by Kryozerkia

Dobbs hitched; World rejoices. Is She OCD?

Anti-Social Darwinism: Calling all philosophers, I need some help!

Shadowrun lost world discovered under the North Sea

What do YOU want from a government? Media Bias -- Loud and Clear
Stupid Governments

Does the BBC suck? "This Film Is Not Yet Rated" by Carnivorous Lickers

So, what have you been doing? Ilaer by Ilaer
Do you like the direction of your life? Sexiest NSer: Ancient Relic Division: Last: TJHairball

Hate Crimes Bill: Internet Explorer Sucks!!!

If you don't believe that man makes global warming, then you shall die by Rape in second life by The_pantless_hero

Okay. I'm freaking myself out.

Lots of poetry only eminates from me during periods of "tough life" or crisis.

Luckily, I don't create much poetry now... Besides, it sucks anyway. Maybe I'll post some sucky poetry later...

Oh, what chaos brings
The speck is heartened
And lives briefly as the sun.

Lies shading truths in their appeal
And winter's breath a livid blaze
Only in desire may Man be bought.

From its cratered stance rise heart
Life gives life gives solid truth.

Who's on... My girlfriend... WynonasBigBrownBeaver
It's that time of year again...Fassigen

What is your dating persona? Ilie Today

Peyton Manning the greatest Packer quarterback in NFL history?! The Cheesy Religion.

Political Compass: were do you stand? The State of The Cat-Tribe Today Sigh. Butts, weiners, but no bewbs?
Make UN Reports more relevant
Who else here is missing body organs?

Poll: Popular Bands You Hate: Chumblywumbly

Master of Orion II!
Favorite OLD Atari Game?
What's the better choice?
The new face of censorship.
For once, I agree with the Democrats
The (de)Motivator Thread
"New Jerusalem settlement planned."
Gun Control(Yes another thread on the subject)
The Voodoo Zombie Good Bands Thread
What music do nationstates countries listen to?


Meh. It seems more like funny juxtapostioning than poetry. Maybe I should start a new thread?