The "Post Your Poem" Thread

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #60 on: March 30, 2007, 01:59:45 AM »
I always find it strange how it's so ingrained in our culture how we must work incredibly hard, and if we do not work we are bad. Some people would say what you do (write) is not really a job, because you are not breaking any sweat unless we are talking about your mind. It's left-over crap from the Puritans/Pilgrims of Plymouth anyway. So I always try to always find a way to do something that doesn't require a ton of work...life is too short to be totally consumed in a 9-5.

In total agreement. Here is a snippet from something I wrote expressing that sentiment:

Reality is not a lab dish. Reality is not swayed by our appeals to it's vanity, or the silly belief we have a say. People rush around, oblivious to the end that is coming. We are taught to earn money, to be smart and productive...

I think people want more for themselves, but the programming is so overbearing, most cave in and just do it. For example, the people who, when I was in highschool, were the rebels, the spiked heads, the pot smokers, the black makeup kids, now drive volvo's and attend community fund raisers, while their kids arcade hop. Or the trailer park example.

People lose themselves along the way, to the "must produce" mindset that America, in particular, preaches. Thank heaven I actually didn't follow that line. ::)
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #61 on: March 30, 2007, 02:03:10 AM »
I always find it strange how it's so ingrained in our culture how we must work incredibly hard, and if we do not work we are bad. Some people would say what you do (write) is not really a job, because you are not breaking any sweat unless we are talking about your mind. It's left-over crap from the Puritans/Pilgrims of Plymouth anyway. So I always try to always find a way to do something that doesn't require a ton of work...life is too short to be totally consumed in a 9-5.
Reality is not a lab dish. Reality is not swayed by our appeals to it's vanity, or the silly belief we have a say. People rush around, oblivious to the end that is coming. We are taught to earn money, to be smart and productive...

It's very true, and I sometimes feel sad when I see people proud that 40 years of their life was dedicated to work, and the rest of it will be dedicated to learning who they married, who they really are, and who their kids are.

Quote
I think people want more for themselves, but the programming is so overbearing, most cave in and just do it. For example, the people who, when I was in highschool, were the rebels, the spiked heads, the pot smokers, the black makeup kids, now drive volvo's and attend community fund raisers, while their kids arcade hop. Or the trailer park example.

People lose themselves along the way, to the "must produce" mindset that America, in particular, preaches. Thank heaven I actually didn't follow that line. ::)

I am trying to find a way to be happy. I don't care if it involves money, but I still find in these times...it's very hard to avoid what already exists. I still have to pay for my girl, and work, and do the "right" thing as society would see it. If I do not, I begin to be seen as a slacker, which is almost as bad as being a thief.
ah.

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #62 on: March 30, 2007, 02:08:21 AM »
The admin and mods agreed that manual account activation is a must. We have been plagued by an army of bot registrations over the past couple of years, and they are attempting to curb that. I will let Jade (the owner) know to get you activated asap. Her online presence is spotty, but she will check her email soon.

Hope you like the place, your writing is most welcome, and you will find that, although the site is slow, we have very established writers present. You will fit right in  ;)

The bot problem is pretty serious...constantly updating forums can't solve how fast an asshole can create a spam-bot. What do you mean by established writers? Also, what medium do you go through to find editors/people looking to publish poetry/prose? I keep trying to find places to publish, but all the ones I found so far want Christian stuff. I want to talk about things far simpler than God. I like to write poetry about things that are really simple, and basic. God is too complicated, and too strange for me to explain.

My forums, which are down until tomorrow night, deal art in all mediums, and we had the same problems. But I updated the forum code to latest incarnation, and have since put safeguards into place that refuse access to 86% of the bots that normally get through the basic filters.

By established writers, I mean people who are published, who teach writing, or basically just are out there, in the literary world. Several of them are novelists as far as I have learned. A couple of these people run another site called poetrypages, and in a word, that site is massive beyond comprehension.

Publishing is a topic I could write you a novel on, lol but I won't put you through that. For my writing of poetry I go the self publishing route, using services such as Xlibris, or my own self, such as ebooks, and paid for, print on demand things such as Lulu.com, Cafepress, etc (which means your book never goes out of print). Cafepress costs like $6 a month and you can upload your manuscripts, your cover art, all that mess, with an included E-ISBN, for no additional fee, and sell your books, in both paperback and hardback formats. They take many sizes of books, both length and physical book size. It is rewarding because YOU are the editor and publisher, and selling your work or getting your name out there is a total process you control on your own. It makes publishing accessible for anyone who has the time and drive to do so.

For novels, that requires similar approaches, but if you want to write the next big thing, you simply WILL have to go the traditional lumber mill route, and if you subsidy that, it's quite pricey. Xlibris is like a one time fee of 1,500 smackers, PER BOOK (for the high end marketing kit and press stuff with it and they design the cover for you), but its a real professionally designed book like you would see at a bookstore, and has an ISBN and never goes out of print because of the print on demand thing.

Personally, I prefer to do it all myself, and thus cut out the middleman. Thus, whether or not a book is well received, it was all me, and that is what is most important to me: I said it. I did it.

I will send you some links to relevant sites than can steer you in the self-publishing world, if you are interested, but i will pm them, so im not filling this up with spam.

In response to the bold type up there, I think that was well said!
« Last Edit: March 30, 2007, 02:12:38 AM by midnight »
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #63 on: March 30, 2007, 02:14:17 AM »
Quote
My forums, which are down until tomorrow night, deal art in all mediums, and we had the same problems. But I updated the forum code to latest incarnation, and have since put safeguards into place that refuse access to 86% of the bots that normally get through the basic filters.

Sometimes it is amusing to see a clever bot that knows that it's a poetry forum, and then you see 100 links about Emily Dickinson porn or something...

Quote
By established writers, I mean people who are published, who teach writing, or basically just are out there, in the literary world. Several of them are novelists as far as I have learned. A couple of these people run another site called poetrypages, and in a word, that site is massive beyond comprehension.

As long as they do not use Allpoetry/Everypoet I am cool with them. Everypoet is hardcore mean and fucked up. Allpoetry is too soft, and they do not allow real critiques.

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Publishing is a topic I could write you a novel on, lol but I won't put you through that. For my writing of poetry I go the self publishing route, using services such as Xlibris, or my own self, such as ebooks, and paid for, print on demand things such as Lulu.com, Cafepress, etc (which means your book never goes out of print). Cafepress costs like $6 a month and you can upload your manuscripts, your cover art, all that mess, with an included E-ISBN, for no additional fee, and sell your books, in both paperback and hardback formats. They take many sizes of books, both length and physical book size. It is rewarding because YOU are the editor and publisher, and selling your work or getting your name out there is a total process you control on your own. It makes publishing accessible for anyone who has the time and drive to do so.

Self-publishing reminds me of Walt Whitman a bit. I really would love to do that, it really sounds quite interesting, and right now I have the funds to do such a thing. I just believe I need to refine my poetry a bit before I go and publish my own works. I believe there is a lot I don't know yet.

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For novels, that requires similar approaches, but if you want to write the next big thing, you simply WILL have to go the traditional lumber mill route, and if you subsidy that, it's quite pricey. Xlibris is like a one time fee of 15,000 smackers, PER BOOK, but its a real professionally designed book like you would see at a bookstore, and has an ISBN and never goes out of print because of the print on demand thing.

Well, if the book is anywhere near decent, you can make up the 15,000 bucks in the first 1,000 copies. If Oprah talks about it, you'll be unrealistically rich.

Quote
Personally, I prefer to do it all myself, and thus cut out the middleman. Thus, whether or not a book is well received, it was all me, and that is what is most important to me: I said it. I did it.

I will send you some links to relevant sites than can steer you in the self-publishing world, if you are interested, but i will pm them, so im not filling this up with spam.

Yeah, that sounds freakin' amazing. Middlemen are for noobs.
ah.

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #64 on: March 30, 2007, 07:04:24 AM »
Edgar Allen Poe DEFINED emo. We have him to thank for the cultural train wreck of Tim Burton, etc.

Edgar ALLAN!!!!!!!!!!!111111111111111111111 Poe did not define Emo :P

He defined psychosis, angst, and...OMG HE DID DEFINE EMO!

I'm glad you've finaly realized.

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #65 on: March 30, 2007, 07:17:53 AM »
As long as they do not use Allpoetry/Everypoet I am cool with them. Everypoet is hardcore mean and fucked up. Allpoetry is too soft, and they do not allow real critiques.

Oh yes indeed. They allow critique, and usually make it clear that you shouldn't pimp your own work more than you comment, but it rarely if ever has become a problem.


I have been on that site for about 3 years now, known the owner for 5, she is a close friend of mine. They are wonderful people. If you poem needs work, they won't sugarcoat it, but they aren't asinine about it.

There is one poster, however, who I have had quite a sitcom with. Her name is Saynora_de, and she is a completely talented and well spoken poet, but she has the most misguided critique method known to human kind. If she doesn't like how you worded something, she will make mention "this word does not belong". 10/10 times, she is completely off the mark, and thus madness ensues when I am involved.

She is only 16 though, which I had no idea about, so that makes it easier to deal with. Just take note of that one, she means well, but "the road to hell is paved with pretentious.."

 :D
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #66 on: March 30, 2007, 12:11:33 PM »
As long as they do not use Allpoetry/Everypoet I am cool with them. Everypoet is hardcore mean and fucked up. Allpoetry is too soft, and they do not allow real critiques.

Oh yes indeed. They allow critique, and usually make it clear that you shouldn't pimp your own work more than you comment, but it rarely if ever has become a problem.


I have been on that site for about 3 years now, known the owner for 5, she is a close friend of mine. They are wonderful people. If you poem needs work, they won't sugarcoat it, but they aren't asinine about it.

There is one poster, however, who I have had quite a sitcom with. Her name is Saynora_de, and she is a completely talented and well spoken poet, but she has the most misguided critique method known to human kind. If she doesn't like how you worded something, she will make mention "this word does not belong". 10/10 times, she is completely off the mark, and thus madness ensues when I am involved.

She is only 16 though, which I had no idea about, so that makes it easier to deal with. Just take note of that one, she means well, but "the road to hell is paved with pretentious.."

 :D


Ralmfao, that's great: "the road to hell is paved with pretentious..."

I love pretention; it's so INFURIATING. Apropos, I am on the site now...
ah.

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #67 on: March 30, 2007, 12:12:16 PM »
I haven't been to bed yet  ;D
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #68 on: March 31, 2007, 03:12:32 AM »
The following piece is in the format I intended. It is structurally based on the exact method I intend to perform it, spoken word, next week up at a local reading I am attending. This event is a not-for-pay venue, but a rally on anti-violence against children. Thus, the format is again, intentional. Obviously, hearing it as I intended is not possible, so please keep that in mind when it becomes...off kilter. This was intentional to convey ideas that tie into the ending of the written content, and is meant to be from the perspective of an abused child who has reached the end of his days as a man. The violent portion is self-inflicted, and should be confused with contradiction. Everything said is intentional.

"Alone"

I am sitting inside my center at this exact moment. I am content. I am at one. Every cell is listening, with rapt attention, for what magic my desires will weave this night. The world is on pause. My worries have been face-fucked into obedient silence. Everything in my sight is bound to me. Everything within my dreadful reach is mine. I own it. I control it. I manipulate it. I become what I want to become and nothing, not a thing, can stop me.

I feel insurmountable. I feel, inside the deepest, darkest, hissing and sleeping evil of my rotten to the core self, where my silent disease is clotting my arteries, the clacking jaws of the starving Arctic Wolf. I am the alpha male in this forsaken place. None can nor would challenge my strength. In the snow of denial that swirls about me, I melt each unique and special snowflake with ragged breath, formed of a terrible and fearsome willpower mightier than that of the angriest God's wrath.

I thirst for the hunt. Not for game, and not for my meal, but for the sheer...sensation of the flesh. For That sweet, quickened taste, as my inner primal essence sinks my intent into the flank of whatever random thing is at hand. Trees. Horses. Iron bars. Grenades. Human FUCKING beings. Paper. It makes no difference. I want to eat the whole fucking planet earth and shit it out and wallow in the excrement, just for the pleasurable knowledge that it bothers the small part of me that remains human.

I will chain that bastard, unwanted child of perdition away; that part of me that is soft, malleable, and pathetically frail as a newborn. I will poke out his eyes and force feed them to him, and pluck out each tooth, just to see how high-pitched that little pig shit whiny fuck can scream. I will bash his fucking skull until his cries for reason and sanity and purpose have become nothing more than a garbled, digitally diffused white noise, grating on the nerve clusters of a God I denied so fully, that I caused his final, contemptible END!

Everything will wane. All withers in due course. I can become as strong as an ancient Redwood, and yet, still, as is always so, I will loosen my hold on the denuded soil with my roots. So from redwood to Wormwood, will I slip. I will atrophy. I will succumb. I will go the final direction. I will bear witness to a final winter, and south will I aim my failing glances.

FUCK THAT!

I will RAGE against this closure! I will not be silent! I have earned scars to resist this! My hide is thick from the lashes of circumstance! I will scream so loud that it will rupture my veins and rend my tendons! I will fuel my infernal stubbornness with my own pain! I will fuse my every fucking sentient notion against it with the drive to win! There is only my own belief! Everything bends for ME. I am not finite! I am not a mote of dust upon the cosmic floor!  I will NOT be ignored! I will RAGE against the silence! I will BITE! I will PISS and SHIT and RIP and tear at
THIS FUCKING PRETENSE!

(chew up and spit out my still burning cigarette at the crowd and snort derisively - cig will be a prop during the performance)

I will look down at my hands, covered in sweat. I will trace the ley-lines of years across each palm with eyes that have seen more than some can imagine. I will despair in that exact instance. I will see the lines have deepend. I will see them to have become cuts, Gouged axle trails from eighteen wheelers from the cold, hard roads of life, grinding over another bag of soft meat. I will acknowledge that raccoon and that armadillo and realize I am no different. Life is always in a hurry. I am always in the way. I will acknowledge.

I...I can always deny it, even in defeat. I can fall to these knees, the splinters tongue fucking  my nerves, piercing my ebbing strength, as it seeps out beneath me, into the dust where I know Inevitability's kiss awaits to wet my lips. I know how this will end. I know all too well what waits for every man in the dark.

Alone is a cunning predator. Alone is callous. Alone is ruthless. Alone is what waits for every man. Every woman. Every dog and every idea. Alone is always waiting. Always watching. He is infernally patient. He will gnaw a talon in patient reverie, as I flow into to his mock-erotic devices. His lust is only matched by his godlike patience.

I will destroy everything to deny that I am going to be destroyed. I will become immortal in the goto-loop binary INSISTENCE that goes into labor within my completely unrestrainable mind, that it cannot end this way. My refusal will take physical form. It will crawl its way up and out from this grave of circumstance and bite at the breasts of the reason. I will suck out the fatty tissue and watch it foam on my cracking lips. I will swipe my crusty, filthy hands across the face of Sanity. I will deny her, in spite of myself, until I am convinced the silence is gone away from me. The silence....My only quiet, persistent...NAGGING FUCKING FEAR...is that silence. That god damn silence. There is no noise that can compete with that smothering, hovering, lingering, sadistic non-sound.

And in the silence that comes, I will believe I fought it off. To the last fleck of tired skin and clotting drops of room temperature blood, I'll believe I fought that fucking bastard named Alone, killing his sister Sanity, and escaping his prison of "Not Anymore".

I will tell myself,  in spite of all of this, that the face now before me is so....So perfectly luscious. The mother of Alone, the queen of the Fated Winds, will lure me close. She will lean in like a curious lover, her tongue of absolution will lash, teasingly, against mine. I will quiver in some inane pleasure at this, despite what I know it to signify. She will impregnate my wounded, blistered maw with that tongue of absolution. It will sting at the outset, and my inability to scream will still not make me shy away. Her touching wet tongue will be undeniable. I will kiss Inevitability back with passion, for my fate is entwined with this romance, and it is the romance of all who draw in their many stolen, over-extended, unworthy and wasted breaths.

Alone will stand at a distance, watching his mother, his queen, use her most potent utensil, her Absolution Tongue, to bring me to him.

Alone is me and I am him. Death is Alone, and so am I.
« Last Edit: March 31, 2007, 03:51:36 AM by midnight »
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #69 on: March 31, 2007, 03:00:26 PM »
As I said on the other forum. My only complaint is some of the sayings seem a bit worn and lose their impact at the right moment, and some phrases I've heard before. Overall, it's a great piece and uses stops to great effect.
ah.

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #70 on: March 31, 2007, 04:46:24 PM »
It needs more titty.
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #71 on: April 01, 2007, 10:41:55 AM »
"Snowless Winter"

This roaming winter road
is besotted with missing, reckless abandon
I sit and sift through the clothing of a hope
and find myself high on a ledge, with a mask on
I look inward, and there rests a claw
it rakes across me, opening a maw of chest flesh;
a tumor-sized, cumbersome reminder
that snow doesn't fall in Hell

Hell can be subjective,
just as the clouds have multiple personalities
And yet, and yet...
I look around my circumference
to find the salt shaker that contains her ashes
and her white powder becomes the snowfall
in this season
between the screaming and the drying of tears

Currents on the winds slap
and my face protests these ministrations
I turn away from that which burns
but with ice, not with fire
an invisible demonic surge against me
I look outside and see silent freezing
the snow is gone from my fields of grieving
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #72 on: April 23, 2007, 04:29:44 PM »
SOMBER TRUTH.

For all that does arise
Will only meet its demise
Es geht alles vorbei
Heralding questions as to why

Opposite to what is proud
Vanity killed in its shroud
Failing to comprehend
Only after it does ascend

Orisons attain their dominion
Steeped in truth, not opinion
Cried out in disdain
In fear of an alien domain

Surmount this fear, shall we
Rather than shriek begone thee
This dread has always shown
What little we have ever known
" Hat man mich verstanden? " Friedrich Nietzsche

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #73 on: April 23, 2007, 04:41:23 PM »
EMANCIPATION. DEDICATED TO JANICE.

In an ardent desire to reach
For something special to adorn
Yet that lay stranded on a beach
Appearing remote and forlorn

With wrath, brandishing the sword
As anger readily facilitates
Lashing out against this discord
Drunk with anguish that inebriates

But at the chance to be free
Unveiling a most hidden desire
An opportunity to merely be
Allowing the torture to expire

No longer burdened to atone
He is content, he is alone.

This is an attempt at an Elizabethean love sonnet, tinged with bitterness.
" Hat man mich verstanden? " Friedrich Nietzsche

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #74 on: April 23, 2007, 05:11:27 PM »
I dig it.  ;)
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

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Dioptimus Drime

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #75 on: April 23, 2007, 07:10:33 PM »
This is one I wrote a while back. Don't think I posted it here yet. If I have, I'm gonna look like an ass. It's somewhat experimental, so if it's confusing, it's probably not your fault.

"Habeas Corpus Secus"
Simon Swift (aka Noel HansoN)

My rose enigma,
She sheds the scent of desideration,
Which I receive,
Breathing in pining commiseration.

A sigh,
A notion,
A contemplation.

I wonder,
I wander,
In concentration.

My emerald enigma,
She shares a path with me so sublime,
Which I follow,
Unconcerned of the way or the time.

Inhale,
I struggle,
Indifferent to my strain.

Apathetic, but
Analytical,
Attention to my strain.

My gold enigma,
She casts her wealth to me, riches beyond,
Which I snatch up,
Though I don't understand what is behind.

Altogether,
A heave,
A sigh of relief.

Intake,
Intrigue,
Intention unknown.

My fuchsia enigma,
She extends her regality of isolation,
Which I grasp,
Absorbing gladly the connotation.

Interest,
Incited,
Inside my head.

A theory,
A query,
A quickly quelled quip.

My precious white enigma,
She hovers o'er my head in continuum.
Which I see,
Verse caught in moratorium.

A thought,
A verdict,
A verification.

Is it?
It is,
Infatuation.


~D-Draw

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #76 on: April 23, 2007, 09:36:33 PM »
I dig this one too.  ;)


I like how you expressed so much in so little in each portion of the overall poem. I am not 100% clear on the intent of the theme, but it reads well. Written from personal or impartial stance?
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

*

Dioptimus Drime

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #77 on: April 23, 2007, 11:47:46 PM »
I dig this one too.  ;)


I like how you expressed so much in so little in each portion of the overall poem. I am not 100% clear on the intent of the theme, but it reads well. Written from personal or impartial stance?

Personal. To clarify, my original intent is sort of to compare two conflicting mindsets on the same issue--the more romantic and visual disposition, and the straight and to-the-point factual/analytical disposition.

~D-Draw

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #78 on: April 24, 2007, 04:15:58 AM »
DECEMBER MIST

I remember, I remember
A cold pilgrimage in December
And all it does bequeath
The end of autumn, a falling leaf

I remember, I remember
A sad pilgrimage in December
Transcendence coming soon
Languished howls at the moon

Stood in the mist at the gate
Devoured by most intimate hate
Stood in the mist in the garden
Spirit fades and soul does harden

Replayed every June and May
Sentiments that won't go away
A shadow of infinite duration
melancholy parade of humiliation

I remember, I remember
That freezing December mist
" Hat man mich verstanden? " Friedrich Nietzsche

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Colonel Gaydafi

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #79 on: April 24, 2007, 06:14:29 AM »
Someone wrote me a poem once. I wanted to post it but can't find it either. But basically its about piranhas living in the bath...
Quote from: WardoggKC130FE
If Gayer doesn't remember you, you might as well do yourself a favor and become an hero.
Quote from: Raa
there is a difference between touching a muff and putting your hand into it isn't there?

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Colonel Gaydafi

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #80 on: April 24, 2007, 06:23:26 AM »
I was in the bath and he wanted me to get out so he wrote that poem, saying the piranhas would eat me or something if I stayed in the bath
Quote from: WardoggKC130FE
If Gayer doesn't remember you, you might as well do yourself a favor and become an hero.
Quote from: Raa
there is a difference between touching a muff and putting your hand into it isn't there?

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #81 on: April 24, 2007, 12:15:17 PM »
here's a haiku inspired by Louis C.K.

Bought a tomato
I ate it and it was good
Shut the fuck up now.
SHOOP DA WHOOP

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #82 on: April 24, 2007, 12:29:01 PM »
here's a haiku inspired by Louis C.K.

Bought a tomato
I ate it and it was good
Shut the fuck up now.

IMA CHARGIN MUH LASERZ

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Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #83 on: April 25, 2007, 08:22:29 AM »
In the words of the loved Vamp:
























































My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

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Colonel Gaydafi

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #84 on: April 25, 2007, 08:40:08 AM »
I found that piranha poem Lurvebucket of Maus!

There's a piranha in the bath
It has an evil laugh
It eats hands and feet
and poos on the toilet seat
since it's not big enough to raise the seat up and use the toilet like a normal person

Then I moaned that it wasn't a nice poem so he wrote this one

Love drank too much
And occasionally swore
but her face was bonny
her beauty without flaw
Apart from her knee
Which was a bit scabby,
So really, line 4 was totally wrong as there was a flaw
But the knee was quite easy to conceal
Giving the illusion that her beauty was without flaw
even though the knee was quite sore


Naturally I moaned some more...
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If Gayer doesn't remember you, you might as well do yourself a favor and become an hero.
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there is a difference between touching a muff and putting your hand into it isn't there?

Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #85 on: April 25, 2007, 08:43:50 AM »
How quickly my mind climbs down
from the sphere of control
into the rocky island
in the pit of flames
there it sits for what seems like hours
before the ladder takes it back

*

Dioptimus Drime

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #86 on: April 25, 2007, 10:32:25 AM »
So, it was four in the morning, and I was attempting to think through specific issues in my life and decided that I might be able to convey myself in poetic verse. I wasn't, really, and thus my poetry quickly degenerated into scribbling down random nonsensical phrases which floated by my thoughts. However, I harvested the core of the actual poem before it was just randomly scribbling different things down, and here's what I came out with in my post-edit piece. I also found the note somewhat humorous considering the preceding poem and its truthfulness, so I included that as well.

"Shades"
by Simon Swift (aka Noel Hanson)

How can I make it?
I'm floundering.
I'm flailing.
I'm falling fallaciously.
But am I?
And why?
Questions float voraciously.

Stop. Life is shit.
Deal with it.
Push through.

Is there a point? A motive?
I'm meandering.
I'm misconstruing.
I'm mute, moot, mopped.
What next?
I don't know.
How?
I don't know.

Stop. Life is shit.
Deal with it.
Push through.

Wakes of red,
and yellow.
Insightful incentive
to incite insolence.
Colors fly,
Harmoniously ominous.

Stop. Life is shit.
Deal with it.
Push through.

Maybe I am crazy,
If just a little bit,
but I'm sick of it.
This poem is no longer
Comprehensible.

*Note to self: Do not try to articulate thoughts in esoteric poetic verse while attempting to think through issues--my poetry is far better in retrospect.*


~D-Draw

*

Midnight

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #87 on: April 25, 2007, 10:42:13 AM »
lol. Lovely poetry, nonetheless  ;)
My problem with his ideas is that it is a ridiculous thing.

Genius. PURE, undiluted genius.

*

Dioptimus Drime

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #88 on: April 25, 2007, 10:46:25 AM »
I still think I'm going to stick to retrospective poetry, though, for the sake of comprehension. :P

~D-Draw

*

Colonel Gaydafi

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Re: The "Post Your Poem" Thread
« Reply #89 on: April 25, 2007, 10:46:34 AM »
Very nice, but, come on, it can't hold a candle to pirahna in the bath...
Quote from: WardoggKC130FE
If Gayer doesn't remember you, you might as well do yourself a favor and become an hero.
Quote from: Raa
there is a difference between touching a muff and putting your hand into it isn't there?