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Can we get an OC poetry thread? by Frederick Snodridge - Thu, 10 Jan 2013 01:05:46 EST ID:tmVYcUte No.59689 Ignore Report Quick Reply
File: 1357797946197.jpg -(2842B / 2.78KB, 200x106) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. 2842
Haven't seen one in a while, let's get some OC poetry! Just wrote this right now,

Three kings and a jack, traveling down the road.
The road is it, it calls them all, with only time as their foe.
The curtain like clouds, blind them all.
Nothing's certain, nothing's forever

On they must go, on the they must go.
>>
Jarvis Blezzletick - Thu, 10 Jan 2013 01:15:26 EST ID:8JkMFovf No.59690 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Suspended in faith.
I want a taste.
Some firm ground around my base.
Escape asleep.
Don't dig too deep.
Always bound to repeat.
>>
James Beddlebedging - Thu, 10 Jan 2013 01:33:38 EST ID:444VtGdB No.59691 Ignore Report Quick Reply
You took what was mine
long before I was born.
Attempts to recoup
makes me more your slave.
>>
James Beddlebedging - Thu, 10 Jan 2013 01:43:18 EST ID:444VtGdB No.59692 Ignore Report Quick Reply
On a black and white screen,
fedora hats and blonde curls.
Witty lines, passionate embrace.
Suddenly a lighthouse.
Now same clothes
- but lit cigarettes.
Did they fuck?
Who shouldn't know?
>>
James Beddlebedging - Thu, 10 Jan 2013 01:51:30 EST ID:444VtGdB No.59693 Ignore Report Quick Reply
"Sex is for children,"
says the collar
donning
rapists
>>
Alice Blomblebit - Thu, 10 Jan 2013 04:09:11 EST ID:pgAMOsKN No.59694 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Celestial beings grow old and putrid
the sickening view of humanity proves hope elusive
abusive substances wither life away
decay,tooth rot, a tweakers dentist day?
>>
Phineas Pockgold - Fri, 11 Jan 2013 10:57:56 EST ID:va91+At+ No.59707 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1357919876423.jpg -(148031B / 144.56KB, 800x600) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
I normally do prose but this is a product of actually applying rules:

So many common faces smile
complacent, in the man-made Nile.
Of blacked-out boats and swimmers;
printed fishhooks, that end
with expensive suits
- and other things less necessary.

Wooden painted masks
Shoddy creations, built for tasks.
Pleasing others not with virtues,
or generous revelations, in open hands
but copies on a stick
- for protection against accidental truth.

>>59706
I'm usually good at explaining why I like stuff, but all I can say about this is that I find it awesome.
>>
Beatrice Fommerforth - Fri, 11 Jan 2013 12:47:59 EST ID:444VtGdB No.59709 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59708
There is no incorrect way of doing poetry, and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise
>>
Charles Shittinghood - Fri, 11 Jan 2013 15:48:22 EST ID:4oYWniP+ No.59713 Ignore Report Quick Reply
fewer trees, as fewer leaves, as fewer passers by.

fall is here to stay i fear, don't hang your head and cry.

for cold unfurls winters pearls,

as leaves

begin

to die
>>
Fanny Dabblefon - Fri, 11 Jan 2013 20:56:31 EST ID:ZR5/EEWM No.59717 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1357955791037.gif -(1998352B / 1.91MB, 210x131) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Hey guy's here's some angst and ethanol fueled first stab at poetry

"Born into a world of greed and fratricide
Given all I could need with no reason to apply
Subservient to the demons that stand by my side
Doomed to a life of slow suicide

Yet a light shines bright to lead the way
though the allure darkness leads astray
Slowly I crawl from one to the other
Knowing not which to call my brother

The light promises heaven, but one must pay with hell
The dark is a roller-coaster doomed to fail."

It has no meter or anything whatever fuck you, I love you.
>>
Nell Pecklefoot - Sat, 12 Jan 2013 02:50:44 EST ID:0b6i7dn0 No.59724 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Poetry, a quick reply
Stick a needle in my eye.
Shiny words, phrases, and thoughts,
I am unable to appreciate.
>>
Eliza Shittingforth - Sat, 12 Jan 2013 05:06:53 EST ID:MHxPKS7G No.59725 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59717

Do you like metal/are you in a metal band? I think you'd be good at writing metal lyrics.

Half bilingual in grams and ounces
The deli counter is where Imperial and metric
come to converse,
but one is dying, half remembered
and misunderstood by the young.
>>
Basil Dodgehudging - Sat, 12 Jan 2013 23:46:08 EST ID:GsIy37GU No.59736 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59735

You shouldn't have done that.
>>
Oliver Harrymack - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 01:56:49 EST ID:dO6qYA3B No.59737 Ignore Report Quick Reply
clouds coming

the sun is rising
shining through a net of trees
cast from beds of snow

how many facets does the jewel called sun have?
how many faces has its light?
it finds my face and sees itself
giving away its colors freely
abandoning itself to space

this land turns slowly to our star
offering crystalled water in steady devotion
>>
Edwin Furrysock - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 19:48:50 EST ID:k4mysk/4 No.59747 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The water is runnin'
you're tryin' to grab it,
Your dreams real religious
and filled with white rabbits,
Delirium's got you
you're chasin' bad habbits',

Dead relatives dancing,
Pentagram lights
a hairy sensation,
spider brain bites

clawin' and scratchin' the surface of things
metaphysical axiOhm, current's and strings
this universe trippin' the fat lady sings'
a punch to the jaw clad with gold diamond rings,
*POW*
you're back to the bathroom covered in grime,
wonde'rin how long you'll be trapped in this rhyme,
Don't worry real soon I'm lettin' you go,
I just want you to taste on my flavour and flow

Standin' in hallways your father real proud,
you're performing for thousands of screamin' wet crowds
the rap game is easy you heard it from me,
just keep on believin' and smoking that weeeeeeed.
>>
Edwin Furrysock - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 19:53:04 EST ID:k4mysk/4 No.59749 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59737
Most of these are bad and really forced but yours is almost perfect.

the only thing that ruins it is the last line. Just a bit too much.
It's great to end things with "big" imagery like
>this land turns slowly to our star

end it there and it's perfect in my book.
>>
Edwin Furrysock - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 20:01:30 EST ID:k4mysk/4 No.59751 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59706
Really good. But last line is too much imo.

I'm gonna pretend you ended it at abandon.
>>
Henry Sazzlefield - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 21:01:39 EST ID:dO6qYA3B No.59753 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1358128899336.jpg -(42039B / 41.05KB, 373x329) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
>>59749
thanks I don't usually write poetry, but I got up with the dawn and was having grand thoughts one morning last week. I think you're right about the last line, there's something flat about it. It means something to me, and conjures up beautiful visions, but that's because I saw the devoted snow offering for myself. I'm taking a poetry class this semester so I'm excited to learn how to let words flow
>>
Jarvis Sungerfield - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 21:10:56 EST ID:qXEX/stO No.59754 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1358129456516.jpg -(29073B / 28.39KB, 399x400) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
They stood together
Hating and loving each other
For all the wrong reasons
It finally came around
A whimsical light
It was the right choice
When she left she looked back
The past smiled and waved
She had finally come home
>>
altbauten !!sglqZQ/o - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 21:20:55 EST ID:J58k8Vi6 No.59755 Ignore Report Quick Reply
my girlfriend's but:

it will carve you like a

cathedral, fill you with piety for something

you’d rather just forget about.

some pathetic,

dark creature shedding blood all over your

pretty new clothes.
__________________________________

I am always aching alone. once a bird flew into our window and died. I picked it up to bury it and my mom said

stop. you’ll get sick.

since then, I dream of boys snapping pigeon necks. since then i dream of boys slicing me open and telling me my blood tastes like something real.

sometimes I get so lonely that I crave the company of people I hate. people that are little more than their phobias and irregularities. people like me.

when you’re at your weakest, when you’re scraping the roof of your mouth for the virtues you never had, when you face the things you loathe and when you’ve never loathed anything more than yourself.

that’s when I can love you.
____________________________

scissors open, hands skimming over and

over the nicks,

soothing

and i think about how i have

hated touch, have detested

tongues in my mouth, gagging

hands on my breasts, unnerving

i am pliable

i am weak

and i think about how i couldn’t even feel it after a while

how i could drift away to somewhere else

and watch how ridiculous we must look,

with me lying there like something unbendable when really

i’m nothing but skin wrapped around fog
>>
Edwin Furrysock - Sun, 13 Jan 2013 21:41:59 EST ID:k4mysk/4 No.59759 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59753
yea, don't be afraid to cut things. When in doubt leave it out!

Just use the stuff you cut in other poems / writings

>I'm taking a poetry class
Sounds like fun, but like another poster said, don't let them force rules on you.
There are no rules.
>>
Sophie Crerringfoot - Mon, 14 Jan 2013 14:12:47 EST ID:ds5PsEr+ No.59774 Ignore Report Quick Reply
What did your Dad say to you before you went to school?
"Have a fantastic day, son?
Mine didn't,
not even once.
Occasionally, before I left, he asked me:
"What do you tell the teachers if they ask about the bruises?"
I got really good at this game:
I fell down the stairs three times,
I was hit by a car twice,
I slipped on a wet floor.
A belt buckle leaves a permanent welt when swung with enough whiskey.
Would you like to see my back?
>>
Sophie Crerringfoot - Mon, 14 Jan 2013 15:03:47 EST ID:ds5PsEr+ No.59775 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I hate this feeling.
The duality, the ambivalence.
I'm perched high on the roof of the cities generator, I can see everything.
I can see a blanket of flickering candles.
I can see loving families, tucked up and warm.
I can see lives festering in front of televisions,
slaving away for counterfeit ideologies.

I shake my head, violently.
I love them all so very much much.
My glorious species that split the atom.
I hate each and every one of them.
Complacent egotists, bovine placidity.

I embrace my race.
Hold it in adoration.
My arms wrap around and squeeze tight,
my left index brushes the trigger.

I put all of our heads together,
and with saline drips, I whisper
This is for the best.
>>
Chairman Mao - Mon, 14 Jan 2013 18:05:32 EST ID:GsIy37GU No.59778 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Suicide is the soul's expression
of disorientation and demise.
But only birth may conquer death.
As truth my conquer lies.
>>
Angus Turveyworth - Mon, 14 Jan 2013 18:32:24 EST ID:vZyDm8Qj No.59779 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59773
Good of you to write this, and I mean it. Criticism is always useful, and what's more useful is to get used to other people having strong, opposing opinions - opinions which pretend that they are absolute and the law of the world.

I've read many suffocating posts on many different forums, "telling it like it is." Always, I prefer the poet, for having created something of their own - rather than stifling the attempts of others. You are anti-poetry, anti-creation. You will always exist, you will incarnate in hundreds of thousands of people and in millions of opinions throughout the writers lifetime, and anyone interested in expression might do themselves good to get a tasteful of you and your arrogance.

I hope they don't lose hope, but take strength from the opposition. It's useful in all parts of life, not just writing.
>>
Nathaniel Drurringsedge - Mon, 14 Jan 2013 20:50:05 EST ID:vvknr+e1 No.59780 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I don't know what I know
And it's all in my head
I'm a constantly changing human being
I'm a rolling stone
Not gathering moss
But chipping on rocks
I don't know what I know
cause it's all in my head
And I've never given myself a lobotomy
I don't know what I know
>>
Nathaniel Drurringsedge - Mon, 14 Jan 2013 20:51:36 EST ID:vvknr+e1 No.59781 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Kill me now
Because tomorrow seems like a waste of time
They better have something to do
Something to do
Just you
>>
Nathaniel Drurringsedge - Mon, 14 Jan 2013 20:57:56 EST ID:vvknr+e1 No.59782 Ignore Report Quick Reply
You're my addiction
You get up when I fall
Heart pressed up a bathroom stall
Sing to me
Heed my call
Right robbed of left and all and all

I can't feel you
But I know you're in me
Once upon a time you tried to kill me
But I love you
You say you love me
Mothers virgin boys blood slipping up poison ivy

Fuzzy dice in the mirror
Tell me no fear
Tell me the time and the time near
I want to feel you
Will it cost me dear
Running in a straight line
Doing a straight line
Tell me the time you get yours
When I get mine

A lady bug sheds
Her skin
A child scrapes his knee
Why can't I see you
Where are you

Sharpie in the date
Tally up the odds
That silver will beat bronze
And gold will last long
>>
Hugh Sannerforth - Tue, 15 Jan 2013 11:46:01 EST ID:MA8H2AFF No.59789 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59779
What the guy is pointing out is that historically, there a rules, they developed in times when they were used, and they exist in the aspect of technicalitys. Like grammar in writing: "I should use a full stop in this place". Learn them, because they are part of poetry. I'm sure Joyce learnt how to construct sentences that read "correctly". Then he wrote all this stuff beside that. Also, where was the criticism? He just tried to point out a matter fo fact similiar to saying "you should learn that poems are broken up into different lines, you can do it all on one line though".
>>
Psychonigger - Tue, 15 Jan 2013 18:50:48 EST ID:79L14DL4 No.59796 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59690
I like this, but when I read it, I repeated the last line in my head.
>Don't dig too deep.
>Always bound to repeat.
> -to repeat.
>>
Shitting Giblingnin - Tue, 15 Jan 2013 18:57:34 EST ID:79L14DL4 No.59797 Ignore Report Quick Reply
If you could see inside my brain,
You'd realize I know everything,
But if you could see outside yours,
You'd see a boring world,
If you knew everything.

For once you've seen the film,
Watch it thoroughly not less than twice,
Worked the details of a building,
Redesigned them efficiently in your thoughts,
The movie becomes boring,
The house you live in,
Inadequate.

Worlds collide on top of you,
Rushes of wisdom constant,
Overflowing your thoughts,
Leaving you speechless,
Unable to decide upon words.

Faith in shreds,
You turn to things,
You do not know,
Biting the bullet figuratively,
Before literally.

Blackness consumes you,
Dispare reaches far into hell,
And you see a boring world,
Where you know nothing.
If you knew everything.
>>
Molly Gumblelet - Wed, 16 Jan 2013 09:53:49 EST ID:ds5PsEr+ No.59814 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Game: Why don't you, yes but.
Two teams,
white and black,
go through a series of transactions that proceed towards a predictable outcome.
Take turns,
The winner of 'Why don't you, yes but' is the one who stumps the other player.
Apart from the first go,
both teams must start with either 'Why don't you' or 'Yes but.'

"Ready?
Strap in, boys and girls, white goes first."

White: I wish I could lose some weight.
Black: Why don't you join a gym?
White: Yes but, I can't afford the payments for a gym.
Black: Why don't you walk around your block after you get home from work?
White: Yes but, I don't dare walk alone in my neighborhood after dark.
Black: Why don't you take the stairs at work instead of the elevator?
White: Yes but, after my knee surgery, it hurts too much to walk that many flights of stairs.
Black: Why don't you change your diet?
White: Yes but, my stomach is sensitive and I can tolerate only certain foods.
Black: Why don't...umm...Why don't you...errr

"Black, oh black. What happened?
You were doing so well.
It seems, boys and girls, we have a winner.
White, is the current champion of 'Why don't you, yes but.'
Why don't YOU play this at home?
Yes, but."
>>
Barnaby Blackford - Wed, 16 Jan 2013 10:52:13 EST ID:wtRmU2h/ No.59817 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59814
Because "Yes but" is not a valid reply to "Why don't you".
You could make it work if you either remove the "Yes but"'s or change "Why don't you" to "Couldn't you" and then fiddling around with the rest so it makes sense but right now it's really quite garbled.
Just look at your first example:
>Black: Why don't you join a gym?
>White: Yes but, I can't afford the payments for a gym.
"Yes but" makes no sense given that he can't join a gym (he's saying "Yes. No."), but it would make sense if removed;
>Black: Why don't you join a gym?
>White: I can't afford the payments for a gym.
and again
>Black: Couldn't you join a gym?
>White: Yes but, I can't afford the payments.
So it's
"Couldn't you X?"
"I could X, but Y prevents me".
Why don't you fix it?
>>
Barnaby Blackford - Wed, 16 Jan 2013 11:33:02 EST ID:wtRmU2h/ No.59823 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59822
... right.
>>
Hannah Murdham - Thu, 17 Jan 2013 02:57:52 EST ID:o6u8Zmh0 No.59834 Ignore Report Quick Reply
It takes no skill to write freeform, let's see some more structure.

Here's a Petrachan Sonnet.

Finger fiddling in her rear route. Of need;
To gain orgasmic end, so she’s devout;
That it feels divine, one is nary doubt;
There it is, tight and close to blissest feed,
So wet; where instinct deems I spill my seed;
Shall I see her ripe thighs quiver, without,
My lover’s touch up in her bottom-route?
She longs to mount me, like some bucking steed.
Unhinge her, release her, of taboo-cares;
Else can I do? I will force her come,
Choice still but not all fit, my large downstairs;
Her sweet, perfect seat, ne’er to know mine thumb;
A single digit should suit these affairs,
So I shall lodge mine finger in her bum.
>>
Shit Faffingstock - Thu, 17 Jan 2013 14:25:00 EST ID:PPyPXDk3 No.59847 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59845
And here's my ante, a poem a friend and I came up with via email correspondence.

Subject: snow flurries!

Hope you opted for a coat today.
traveling infinite distance away and arriving at the target point
a murder of crows
addressed themselves
to yesterday's raccoon.

traveling infinite directions away from the starting point
from infinite starting points
the crows directed themselves
to the creamery

(it was time to create the world)
from the cracked bones they crafted the hills,
with the blood they dug rivers
from dead eyes, the sun and moon glowed
from matted fur, new grass sprang

and with the tattered canopy of gut still reeking
those jittering Casanovas balanced an open glass of milk on most rocks
2%
>>
Ian Worthingway - Thu, 24 Jan 2013 16:50:29 EST ID:t/TvorIS No.59963 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Barnside wall.
>>
Charles Mublingville - Fri, 25 Jan 2013 01:02:02 EST ID:xn05mO4z No.59977 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59963
I like you. You're a dick. I agree and I like you.
>>
Lydia Pockwill - Fri, 25 Jan 2013 02:50:23 EST ID:H596hmsP No.59978 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

New World]/**]

Basements deep and basements old,
Under houses, laced with mold,
Houses new and houses aged,
Homes persist while lives are waged.

Scattered seeds grew rapidly,
dwarfing their shrubby forebears,
a new forest for a new world,
scattered across a cold continent.

A cottage in the woods, on the
shore of a great sea-lake,
and a house in the city,
toiling in the happiest of obscurity.

Other houses, wood panelled,
shady in the heat,
lie in a landscape quilted,
a fabric unfamiliar to the
awed old-worlder,
held by the mystique of a
new-old country in the West.
>>
Lillian Dartgold - Fri, 25 Jan 2013 21:55:18 EST ID:7nM6M5Hh No.59998 Ignore Report Quick Reply
We should have been past this bridge by now
As the sky threatens us with dry heaves,
With scarce drops. The desert is not a
Place for man -or men- or we. Brown, black,
Brown, black, grey, in our eyes, ears, noses.
Ours is a pallet not sated with
Such a limited menu.

Perpetually dry.

We could have been off this bridge at any point,
Even with our pockets perpetually empty, or
soon to be empty. Life of a vagabond in any
Place would be a life euphoric. No Rockerfella,
Monarch, Sheikh, Philantropist status is worth
This slow moving river below us
Always taunting us.

Perpetually almost-not-dry.

The bridge will never let us go forwards or back-
The promise of either side not broken, but
Not even a goal. It's foundation stretches to
The pits of heaven. We're caught in a queue,
The nucleus of a square, the bottom of a totem
of boxes. Ours is a mode of vehicular progression
That can/shall -will- be stagnant.

Perpetually stuck at almost-not-dry.
>>
Rebecca Blisslebanks - Sat, 26 Jan 2013 16:22:33 EST ID:HYfpjIAI No.60017 Ignore Report Quick Reply
A few years ago my days weren't so consumed;
Now all I ever do is ride this ferris wheel,
I'll get right out of bed, and get right in line.

At night I might be picketing outside the fairground,
But then I'll wake up and see my picket signs painted over;
Censored by memories of red and white striped carnival tents.
Of colorful ferris wheel lights awakening one by one,
Like luminary pillars sprouting at the axel,
Growing out along the spokes towards the rim,
Then collapsing back in, then building up again.
So I'll get right out of bed, and get right in line.

I won't slow down until the saftey bars infront of me,
Until the cool breeze washes over me;
Oh how I wish it would keep me clean.

Once the wheel gets turning,
The sun climbs out from behind the jagged mountaintops,
Waxing it's forgiving light through the valley.
The breeze flows through my hair,
The laughs and cheers of excited children grace my ears,
The sweet smell of funnel cakes fill my nose,
While the shadows wane from memory.
Oh how I wish I could stay so clean;

But the summit passes all too quickly,
And the tail end of the breeze swirls out of arm's reach,
Leaving a miserable stillness in it's wake.
Oh how I wish I'd never be dirty;

But the shadows always find their way back in,
Like someone I used to call a friend,
Until I realized I was just being trampled on,
But I'm too timid to turn them away.

Next thing I know the carnies tearing me
from the seat and sending me on my way.
My posture droops like a wilting flower;
And the laughing and cheering pollutes me with envy.

So I drag my feet back to the end of the line.
While I pick my own pockets,
With a ticket imposed in my mind,
Like a brand on some cattle's hide.
>>
Charlie Bonehead - Wed, 30 Jan 2013 13:22:52 EST ID:sZ0nHCNu No.60073 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I often write song lyrics, or little rants in the form of a rap- but I never actually record them or anything, so they serve as poetry just as well, I think. I also write actual poetry, occasionally. Here's an actual poem, from several years ago:

Toast To Me

People are like toast to me…
There are always two sides (and a little around the edges).
I can see the differences, even when they are subtle.
Sometimes the difference is obvious-
One side is dark, and the other light.
If one side is bent in, you can bet the other side is bent out.
Sometimes, the differences are hard to see,
But I can always tell one side from the other.
And I can understand them both.
I can understand that the dark side has been burned, and the light side is only warm.
And I can enjoy both sides at the same time.
I can tolerate crunchy, and I can tolerate soft.
But no matter how well I can understand it-
No matter how much I can relate,
I can’t talk to toast.
I can’t make it understand me.
And people are like toast to me…
>>
Charlie Bonehead - Wed, 30 Jan 2013 13:25:27 EST ID:sZ0nHCNu No.60074 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60073
And here's one of my favorite lyrical pieces:

"The Rest of The Year"


Smells of Fall and alcohol
Returning to my head
Yeah I still remember when
We left the kid for dead

Looking back at the years before
I ever knew your name-
I should have known that I’d been growin’
In a world of shame

*Summer breathes a heavy sigh
Seasons never say goodbye
One more week, and Fall is here
And so begins the rest of the year

Me and Dan- my right hand man-
And Shabby on the road
We stayed amused by the rhythm and blues
And the stories we told

Out by the street with something to eat
When the weather was feeling right
Making plans to get together again
On a warm summer night

*Retail work could be so strange
The people never seemed to change
The shelves are always low on beer
At the beginning of the rest of the year
>>
Charlie Bonehead - Wed, 30 Jan 2013 13:28:52 EST ID:sZ0nHCNu No.60075 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60074
More lyrics (this one's a blues):

"Back Around"

Well, my lady- she’s a demon
She makes me want to cry
I tell her that I’m leaving
So someone tell me why

She comes back around
Oh, she comes on back around

I am ready to forget her,
I wanna hit the town!
She comes back around

Well, my buddy he’s a pinhead-
Don’t know where to begin-
I always leave the fool for dead
With his whisky, rum, and gin!

He comes back around
Oh, he comes on back around

Well, I just can’t seem to lose them,
My lady and the clown
They come back around

Oh, my habit is a killer
My cigarette disease
It don’t matter if I’m willing
My smokes don’t ever leave!

They come back around
They always come on back around

Well, whenever they run out
I find some money on the ground
They come back around

Well, mistakes come back to get me
I guess I’ve got to pay
I’ve tried to keep them hidden
But they never go away

They come back around
They always come on back around

Well I promise- if you give me
Some time to work it out-
I’ll come back around
>>
Hugh Creshforth - Wed, 30 Jan 2013 18:16:12 EST ID:j/7JJY4v No.60083 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Oh flickering Candle

Oh flickerin candle, shinin aw sae bright
aw flickerin candle, enlightening my night
the illusive wavering flame dances
yon' smoke, it spins

Quines be o ma scottish beef
lightly dragging sensual teeth
spunkin in their mooths then eating corned beef
oot the tin, cauld, wae a spoon

I sheathed my sword o' meat
let it rest and sleep
goat ma mace,
sprayed her face till it was red raw
she was surprised
thought she'd die
remembering the time i killed her maw
. a crack to the face, punch in the cunt,
looked it her ad said-

fuck you bitch im the law.
>>
Hugh Creshforth - Wed, 30 Jan 2013 18:24:20 EST ID:j/7JJY4v No.60085 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Enough ay your shitty lyrics!
its a pishy gimmerick!
Ma dug makes shows more emotion!
you formal cunt, i pass the notion
to stand and scrutinise, and appeal the rearrangement of your face.

Ah want yir nose in ma arsehole tae keep it moist at night. Snivelling wank
Ah want your eye next to yur nose so ye kin see ma shitty twitchin hole.

ACH IT BURNS I OFTEN SHOUT. Running abbout george sq with my arsehole on fire, like a candle, i try a power shite and rip aff the handle.

TAE THE DOOR. PISH OAN THE FLOOR, SLIP AND FALL IN A GLASWEGIAN BATHROOM STALL!

CHLAMYDIIA! GONORROHEA, THESE ARE THE THINGS THAT LIVE HERE! IN COLONIIES AS BIG AS YIR ERMS! CRAWLING AW ER YE LIT WEE HORNY SPERMS.

AND THAT IS A TALE OF A CUNT CALLED WOBBIE, HE HAD A WISP LIKE THIS, HE HAD NO HOBBIES.

He has sore jobbies.
>>
Martha Smallford - Thu, 31 Jan 2013 01:56:51 EST ID:HxNYQOv8 No.60094 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1359615411437.jpg -(81827B / 79.91KB, 456x765) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
>>60085

this is dope
>>
Fanny Fucklehall - Thu, 31 Jan 2013 06:52:59 EST ID:ylJyXWPK No.60099 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Dad?
No, stop
please...

Dad?
I'm sleeping, I have a presentation tomorrow
please..?

Dad?
you're hurting me
you're hurting me

Dad?
Are you hungry?
I'll go to market for a club sandwich.
>>
TGi-FFF-u !3PwYOWo/2k - Fri, 01 Feb 2013 03:43:57 EST ID:42pzM8Yu No.60122 Ignore Report Quick Reply
OPEN-SHUT

The cause of the close to the clause, winter-wineglass, stains left by paws.

Peeling, layers, shedding.

Torn back, for show-and-tell
Only to Land
on Unlistening Ear and Eye.

Babbling, shouting stream
brook-and-cornerstone

The coffeestain upon monogrammed napkin
meltedpulpishmass

Delirium
Deluded
Effluvium
Exhaling noxious vapors, trail
ing
off
d i s t a n c e
n o s e n s e
no-nonsense types, typeface w/space.
blank. expressionless
filling gaps
refilling mug
spilt upon rug
slow grind of Arabica
teeth, chattering
the coffee, chilled
it's so cold here
in this, Obsidian
sheds of light now
only thing left
blinking
shudder
gone.
pale
OFF
>>
TGi-FFF-u !3PwYOWo/2k - Fri, 01 Feb 2013 03:46:42 EST ID:42pzM8Yu No.60123 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60122


fuck you 420.
I put spaces in there for a reason, but you take them out.
an image, board
of itself
its loss of feature
featureless faceless fuck
holding beautiful attribute
but rebuttal rebute
refuting want of s p a c e
too-close minded.
Kirt-an'-error.

Now I leave.
>>
TGi-FFF-u !3PwYOWo/2k - Fri, 01 Feb 2013 03:57:12 EST ID:42pzM8Yu No.60124 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60122

...yet return.
Unfetted by lacking of developer's learn
the checkboxes crossed off lists, unimportant to those that think it won't be surely missed.
Receiver of Death-kissed.
sent to digital Domain of Hell
yet reincarnate, Phoenix Arise in the form of paste:
http://pastebin.com/tzi6VpTg
no waste.
>>
Barnaby Nivinghall - Sat, 02 Feb 2013 01:01:47 EST ID:59CVzyIj No.60142 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The only reason I'm posting this is because I just got it published. I'm usually mad paranoid about somebody stealing my work. It's titled "All-Centuries Struggle"


The mien of man
is a starving alleyway hound,
the underdog below the moon's false caress,

its tongue lapping for gritty action,
maw quaking with each deafening roar,
ready to pounce from the shadowed concrete pass

and cleave open the full content stomach,
and tear away the warm ropy throat
of the aberrant alpha male,
and lead the pack
himself.
>>
Priscilla Cundlelone - Sat, 02 Feb 2013 01:45:55 EST ID:wtRmU2h/ No.60143 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60142
Er you might just have breached their publication rights.
Might not be a problem but yeah.
>>
George Pittdock - Sat, 02 Feb 2013 09:34:18 EST ID:ds5PsEr+ No.60150 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I just get a little too exited.
My thumb nail snags on a guitar string,
Low E.
I can see meaty gristle and clear liquid as it hangs off.
There are two distinct camps where I am now;
-Tent A: New aged bohemians, nature growing first,
the peace and tranquillity of the mushroom forest.
-Tent B: The industrial city urbanists. Sweaty warehouse raves,
drugs, sex, throbbing bass that can shatter teeth.
My thumb leaves white blood cells on my jeans and t-shirt,
a red hue streaks diagonal across my chest.
I'm both really. I don't want to pick sides.
Why choose one when the the allure of both,
is just as seductive to my hedonistic sensibilities?
I'm filling the sink with cold water.
Beneath the surface my thumb looks tiny, my hand looks pale.
I've been told that I am the problem, I'm to blame.
I'm the urban jungle snared by concrete decay.
I'm the free-wheeling idealist with an uncertain future.
I clench the nail between my front teeth and pull my head back
There's a squelching sound as it rips free.
>>
Barnaby Nivinghall - Sat, 02 Feb 2013 10:34:46 EST ID:59CVzyIj No.60152 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60142

Nah, it's nothing like that. I mean it's an small-time, unpaid thing. I doubt they'd mind at all. Besides, this thread isn't even permanent. It'll get deleted after a while.
>>
Thomas Trotville - Sat, 02 Feb 2013 15:59:47 EST ID:tmVYcUte No.60154 Ignore Report Quick Reply
OP here. Some good stuff in this thread guys, keep it up! Here's another off the top of my head.

Walking, wandering, walking, wandering
Step by step, day by day
Always a little less to say
Don't you know, where to go?
Humans are but a measure,
man I love Brendan Frasier.
>>
Angus Gonnerbore - Sun, 03 Feb 2013 15:19:00 EST ID:NJSUk1y9 No.60166 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1359922740436.gif -(2344531B / 2.24MB, 361x257) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Are your lips somehow special?
not really, neither are you

but since I haven't got too much to do
and since I forgot what it was like
when tongues touch and as a fun escape
from the blue of running in circles
dizzy from the chase, perplexed,
seeking extension, in the next one,
unconfident, lacking orientation
lacking patience, I tend to think
that boarding your ship
might get me away from this
hell of everyday boring bullshit
>>
Evan Slambroze !vDaNXauJt6 - Tue, 12 Feb 2013 13:35:56 EST ID:omAgGl9o No.60297 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I don't write normally haikus, but I decided to try it because they're short and easy to write and syllables can be fun sometimes.

HighKoo #Uno

Hey you, you rule dude. Just kidding, you're practically Adolf Hitler's child.

HighKoo #Dos

Sorry if I am a complete and utter asshole, i'm just having fun

HighKoos #Tres

All I want in life is a pet alien is that too much to ask for?
>>
jake - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 00:45:37 EST ID:1MbJPArj No.60971 Ignore Report Quick Reply
im going to post three of mine poems
this one is a love sonnet that isnt very good at all but it is my first sonnet.
>then i will post two of my personal favorites, id really like to hear what you think of the next two.
for you im the sun
when i can only love
whats i cannot raise above
it is pressing a ton
i feel what it has done
love is delicate as a dove
your opium, i am a patient of
together lets be at one

with happiness im blessed
my fear i will not show
i want you as my bride
and have the best
for this is what i know
ill never leave your side
>>
jake - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 00:46:26 EST ID:1MbJPArj No.60972 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Commentprecede - 3/25/13


from the first to the last

they'll judge them all

a kid born into the midst,

tried to escape the fall.

he lost his soul years ago.

he is a man now, leaving home.

his blue eyes wanted to know.

he knew not, which direction he should go.

he thought years later when he was there again.

everything would change, his problems would appear to mend.

as time grew on him he began a growing fear

feared that the change would hurt.

because feelings are Inevitable to revert.

yet, he heard his last life has been lost.

after the precede,

the old guy studied what his freedom has cost.

the bleeding hearts an artist, but in which way could i vent.

our home was wrecked, the people was gone, and the preacher was bent.

later than night, by the moon lit beach.

the sand was cold, the blood ran red.

in my mind i practice my unspoke speech

watching the waitress, i payed to be fed

there he came to the conclusion i knew what ive done.

the greed, love, euphoria, speed and fun.

illuminating outwards until there was none.
>>
jake - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 00:48:19 EST ID:1MbJPArj No.60973 Ignore Report Quick Reply
house on the hill - 3/27/13


far off there is an abandon house.

past lives was spent between the walls.

the rooms are empty except the books and mouse.

in the bed the kids would lie.

away froms fathers watchfull eye.

and there was no food

and there is nothing to eat

the paint was crude, and the sheets where neat

i had no thought to want

we had all we need

taught ourself to draw, and my sister to read.

the house on the hill, its what the men build

on the dirt, in the field

until the stories turn real.

and i remember the first day
>>
jake - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 00:49:41 EST ID:1MbJPArj No.60974 Ignore Report Quick Reply
house on the hill - 3/27/13


far off there is an abandon house.

past lives was spent between the walls.

the rooms are empty except the books and mouse.

in the bed the kids would lie.

away froms fathers watchfull eye.

and there was no food

and there is nothing to eat

the paint was crude, and the sheets where neat

i had no thought to want

we had all we need

taught ourself to draw, and my sister to read.

the house on the hill, its what the men build

on the dirt, in the field

until the stories turn real.

and i remember the first day

where i choose to stay

watched the birds before they went away

it was colder, the wind blew

the earth was older, the day was new.

year after year there it stood

all alone in the woods

it called me back for what it done.

no mistake, i know why.

memories may run

but they will never die.
>>
jake - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 00:54:39 EST ID:1MbJPArj No.60975 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60973
i copied it wrong, please read these two.
>>60972
>>60974

i wrote these at work over the course of the day. can someone be frank and tell me if my poems are average or better? i am going to write regardless but im not sure if i should let other read them. i hate when "friends" make fun of me over my poems. i get that they are too pretentious, they mean a lot to me and i take time to write them, sometimes ill work on one for a week, like the "house on the hill" poem i wrote.
>>
Walter Bellerpedge - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 01:38:11 EST ID:URmeTDyO No.60976 Ignore Report Quick Reply
It must be sad for you to leave
I don't know who you are
but please
be quick
please be quiet
let new sounds grow
and old sounds die
happily

mmm
>>
Cyril Doddlefoot - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 09:46:40 EST ID:tpH15qg0 No.60979 Ignore Report Quick Reply
My heartbeat drums as I glide through slums,

To empty my wallet, I'm just one of those bums

Who loves a good hit

A hyposensitive prick

Get up, come down, and make your mind sick.



An escape, in words, is what I've discovered,

I don't want a family, I don't want to be smothered,

I want to do my own shit,

Every state of mind covered,

So let's speedball bro, get ready to hover.



My mind is screaming, a blood-curdling crime;

It's the tinnitus sting, with an amp on the chime,

Gimme Bacardi & Coke, but hold the lime,

Then let's eat a sheet of acid 'n exist outside of time,

While we're doe-eyed;

We are the rhythmic rhyme.



We're out on the grind, swallow your fears,

This is auto pilot bud, chasin' blood, sweat & tears.

Just shut your mouth cunt,

Unless you're sayin' cheers,

I won't listen to reason, It's gone hoarse over the years.



You can call me crazy, but this is my conclusion:

Words to the stupid act as thought transfusion.

And in this prose-painted picture,

It's hard to tell what's an illusion

So I study quantum physics to clear up my own confusion.



I found Asgard, when I put that hero-in;

You've got surgical steel piercing under your skin,

Pull the plunger back brother; watch yourself win.

Just chill, relax, 'n grin that stoic grin.

I've opened my mind now, I'm watching you spin,

You're becoming a demon, is this psychosis again?
>>
jake - Thu, 28 Mar 2013 19:39:57 EST ID:1MbJPArj No.60982 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>60975
here is one i wrote today about my opiate addiction.

rat in a cage - 3/28/13




a blue hair woman, walks in the air.

we exchange a warm stare.

she hesitates for the compliment she gives me.

i believe its from natural pitty.

i can tell the weather by my ear.

the kid i know nothing about,

tells me their parents arent from around here

it is apperent everones gone.

but the music is still on.

wheres the feeling gone?


she is not a test, for sure i can tell.

the bird nest, startled by the bell.

forever a grudge is made

when the family tree is raped from the roots

for the rare bees and forbiden fruits.



in a perfect world, in a place of eden

lemons would be sweeter and bliss would have a place to meet in.

im too within to feel the sun

on what day will this shit be done?



the sun, to moon

shes gone,

the feelings back too soon

time, expanded on

she is gone it wasnt a fit

the feelings back, you have to get use to it.



although the bay is blue,

tomorrow the day is new.

i feel to be withdrawn

but in that wall, is a door.

life goes on,

all in all, i'm sure.
>>
Oliver Buddlewater - Fri, 29 Mar 2013 00:20:48 EST ID:kXhC4jIF No.60985 Ignore Report Quick Reply
my father tells me Its Time
and I know to open my legs
and to take the pain

my father tells me Its Time
and i know to come downstairs
and to eat breakfast and smile

my friends say whats up
and we go skateboard
and everytime they check the time
i groan inside
reminded of the countdown

to my anal rape
>>
JoshuBarnetto - Tue, 02 Apr 2013 08:20:56 EST ID:P2lMqRvh No.61048 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59773

Rules are great!
Rules are the best.
Rules keep you straight.
I have never had sex with a police officer
because that
is the law.
>>
Samuel Smallford - Wed, 03 Apr 2013 22:05:09 EST ID:IcTFZEGc No.61065 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Creeping down old familiar obsolete,
A resolute, demolished Man
Drives in circles as fast as he can.

Every second of every minute of every day
Lasts forever in black and grey.
He spends his money any way that he can.
>>
Shooey !ABoAT.7LD. - Sun, 07 Apr 2013 13:52:44 EST ID:8rRcI5Ac No.61104 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Plukas Huzzah
Explicit Horrah
Interial exception
Of divine intervention
For callous request
Of stereo nests
Hang tall up top hemmingway
And far beneath Ra
>>
Phineas Clayford - Sun, 07 Apr 2013 17:02:22 EST ID:d3zmAX81 No.61105 Ignore Report Quick Reply
OP here. Fucking awesome that this thread is still going! Here's another,

God damn, I'm trying to sleep
shut the fuck up, not one more peep
it's late you fucks, there's shit to do
now I'm awake, I have to poo.
>>
Frederick Fittinghall - Sun, 14 Apr 2013 03:56:10 EST ID:e0a59aAY No.61167 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1365926170106.gif -(302168B / 295.09KB, 160x121) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Long ago, split between Thought and Emotion; the endless commotion. What did that goddess of green give me? The thing she did not permit my eyes befall. That oh so precious object, vital to my sustained existence in this place. The void; cold regret, warm deathbed - the blasphemer's tavern.

Cast from Heaven, and Blockaded from Hell, where will I walk; the candle will tell. With the flickering flame of the candle, I'll the speak the words I can't handle. Set ablaze to amaze my consciousness; the scroll. The one word toll, the universal troll; inhale the smoke, and I become whole.

Purpose regained, existence explained. Persecuted as Satan, the one they be hatin'; If I became God, wouldn't that be odd?
>>
Walter Bardham - Sat, 20 Apr 2013 22:59:27 EST ID:Q4jSWmVQ No.61202 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I think of
a woman:
of that curl
in that dark hair
over those dark eyes,
and how set the curl
became.
Now recalled on my smile
suddenly in my voice;
pulling blinds
for the sun and
its pouting warmth,
shining early
with fatigue.
Another step without rest
or hesitation I hope
will then show
cool clean sheets
and finally
her soft curls.
>>
Nigel Baggledale - Sun, 21 Apr 2013 01:31:39 EST ID:v/awAl1b No.61203 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Words as sharp as knives,
They cut down to the bone.
Though they are kind,
They serve only to remind me of you.

Though time heals all wounds,
These traps that you set
Keep tearing my hear open.

Oh why can't I hate you just yet?
>>
Faggy Brookforth - Sun, 21 Apr 2013 22:30:34 EST ID:PyOkjUro No.61214 Ignore Report Quick Reply
My most recent poem. I'd love to get some feedback on it.
It's called, "Try Try Try"

There's a poem hidden somewhere
in the rosebud end of a cigarette
but I can't find it when I try
I think there's a metaphor in that

there's a metaphor somewhere in the way
your coat drops to the floor or the way
you twist and turn like a matador and you
swirl your cape like I twirl myself around your sex
>>
William Mattinghood - Mon, 22 Apr 2013 01:39:37 EST ID:L+nakHcd No.61216 Ignore Report Quick Reply
a man gets into his car
there is nothing
beautiful about this
there is no poetry to it
nothing magical
is happening
there are no metaphors
comparing what you did
to the volcanic eruption
or the death of caesar
no et tu, brutas
so
why am
I crying?
dont go
>>
Clayton Baker - Mon, 22 Apr 2013 02:13:39 EST ID:Mn8o90Nw No.61217 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1366611219136.jpg -(2520B / 2.46KB, 126x99) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Broken by travel,
Angst wanders.
saunters,
among small town praries
awaiting the arrival of Relief,
that which escaped him.

Lost among pressure,
among Famille,
deadened by education.
Relief hid Success,
Relief kept *
Relief disguised itself
shadowed in smoke.

However Angst stays strong,
remembers reserves of battle music,
hidden reservoirs of worded energy,
he will not suffer any longer.
>>
Cornelius Druckleshit - Mon, 22 Apr 2013 06:01:42 EST ID:iXJx9a9H No.61218 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>Pot-bellied Express

Mud splatters as I trot
to the pot-bellied express
broken fence in my backyard

The yard over
a canvas of sand
red 'n' yellow castles

Each grain
a day
imagination sweeps me
from my empty castle
>>
William Samblewutch - Mon, 22 Apr 2013 14:43:36 EST ID:fdluMRFA No.61221 Ignore Report Quick Reply
My name is Dan
and I smoked from the can
But now I have science
So I use a bong vape joint pipe alliance
>>
William Samblewutch - Mon, 22 Apr 2013 14:45:07 EST ID:fdluMRFA No.61222 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Nig
Nig Jig
Nig Jig Fig
Nig Jig Fig Rig
>>
Ernest Grimspear - Thu, 25 Apr 2013 20:19:50 EST ID:iXJx9a9H No.61248 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1366935590358.jpg -(12647B / 12.35KB, 107x212) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
>>61239

>>
Caroline Covingwill - Fri, 26 Apr 2013 13:05:07 EST ID:5CPF2O7f No.61250 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>61221
Nice ;)
>>
too legit to quit - Sat, 13 Jul 2013 15:39:51 EST ID:iYQp0WkI No.62219 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Hi there just wanted to give you a quick heads up. The text in your article seem to be running off the screen in Chrome. I'm not sure if this is a formatting issue or something to do with web browser compatibility but I thought I'd post to let you know. The style and design look great though! Hope you get the issue solved soon. Kudos too legit to quit http://www.midsummersapes.co.uk/
>>
Isabella Miggleham - Sat, 13 Jul 2013 17:18:18 EST ID:aeQLtiiF No.62220 Ignore Report Quick Reply
i am the only one without hope
everyone else can do things
but i can't

i have a brain damage or a curse
where i can't be happy
and everyone else can

my life is miserable
beyond my control
and I should be pitied
>>
Albert Bottingtud - Sat, 13 Jul 2013 20:21:30 EST ID:19IhnxTZ No.62222 Ignore Report Quick Reply
DAMN! OP here. 6 months later... here's another one for you guys

What's that sound?
That ticking sound...
The source, the source
Where can it be found?
On and on, that ticking sound
never a source, to be found.
>>
The Fool - Sat, 13 Jul 2013 23:29:03 EST ID:4oYWniP+ No.62224 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1373772543643.png -(581878B / 568.24KB, 801x589) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Though times have changed the iron-man still sits upon his throne.

Self gilded mind in golden chains holds hate for those unknown.

He does not see the gold is brass, he's blinded by the sheen.

He lives a life of gross excess, ignoring golden mean.

For just as iron rusts when wet so to the mind does fail,

When flooded with a point of view from which there's no avail.
>>
Shit Honeyfuck - Sun, 14 Jul 2013 21:54:28 EST ID:URmeTDyO No.62233 Ignore Report Quick Reply
A reverie wrapped in blue,
It’s wrapped in dreams
It’s rapped for you.

Working through, working through.
There are few; guess who?
>>
The Fool - Mon, 15 Jul 2013 04:46:06 EST ID:4oYWniP+ No.62234 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>62233

what joy it is to know a hue

that is so wrapped in wisdom's blue

as do all things that know an end

though many now like to pretend

that light can shine without the dark

and from it they do disembark

on pleasures crafted from their mind

still sleeping, ever more......



though those who have two eyes to see

may quickly gain a third,

when one looks back to what was once

they way, and spoken word.
>>
Simon Wuttingkit - Mon, 15 Jul 2013 14:38:33 EST ID:gxp3XUfY No.62235 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I am standing in the wards.
I listen to those words.
Some were written long before me.
And others only recently.

My breath fills lungs and blackens hearts.
By accident I return children to the earth.
So often I sit alone in a dead forest.
With only soil and bones to sit around me.

I could hold my breath and visit places.
But eventually I'd wheeze.
And when I finally did,
There would come the breeze.

They would lay their children down,
And I would have to leave.
I cannot watch the love making.
Between botflies and people.
Because I caused that romance.
>>
Samuel Brookwell - Tue, 16 Jul 2013 02:49:21 EST ID:mclrB/Wf No.62237 Ignore Report Quick Reply
It's the dark zombies
Is he so tired,
Don't do that

That's the trophy
Or maybe a cashew
I know

The normal
in the dog house
>>
Charlie Bonehead - Thu, 18 Jul 2013 00:14:09 EST ID:Q9ilnOtx No.62256 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1374120849780.jpg -(74545B / 72.80KB, 263x368) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Just wrote this one today. It's actually lyrics for a song- meant to be sung- but I'd like to think it stands alone fairly poetically. (Would love comments/critiques btw).

"Left It Behind"

Everything I thought I loved
Turns out it was just a crush
At once I had it all-
A tower built to fall-
And sure enough it did in time

I left the earth and all my friends
For days alone and time unspent
I made myself unkind
Forsook my eyes for blind
I left it all behind

And now a course through space and stars
I set, though unfamiliar
For fear of pearly gates-
Please help me navigate
And what was mine- then call it “ours”

To share- there was a time I would have
To care- I tried to find my good half
To love- perhaps I never knew
How it works, or where to turn-
I left it all behind as well to burn!

And if I never learn...
>>
JoshuBarnetto - Fri, 19 Jul 2013 07:41:05 EST ID:PjHJfHn9 No.62272 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Yoga pants:
Getting larger
as I do
>>
JoshuBarnetto - Sat, 20 Jul 2013 08:23:37 EST ID:PjHJfHn9 No.62286 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>62280

castrated golden bull dyke makeup undone
squats on sallow park bench
trembles slow in Barbary sun
caustic xanthine tears
what she needs
cash back
>>
Basil Sundlebut - Thu, 25 Jul 2013 06:46:30 EST ID:90E/Gxd+ No.62331 Ignore Report Quick Reply
it was a dark night
around 2am
and i had to make a run
for some weed

open the car door
slide in the key
throw it in reverse and feel something
a bump
underneath the tire

i continue to back up
and as i do
a cat appears in front of the car
hopping frantically
as it's last nerves fire
hopping for 5, 10, 15 seconds
not with it's legs
but with it's whole body
as blood spurts onto the ground
out of it's head

i step out of the car
and the cat falls limp
blood trickles out of it's ears
and i realize
i ran right over it's head

cats like to sleep underneath tires of cars
innocently
and i sit there with the cat
and watch the blood drain from it
a corpse now
no life anywhere
it wasn't fully grown
and it probably had a lover somewhere
in the bushes

i pet the cat
but i cant cry
and even though blood is all over my hand
i pet the cat
and ignore the diseases it might have
because if i killed it
it should get it's chance at me too
>>
Edward Cibblebanks - Wed, 31 Jul 2013 00:59:07 EST ID:NAnpDVkQ No.62392 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1375246747258.jpg -(121942B / 119.08KB, 1920x1200) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
There's an abyss ahead of me.
I stand, poised to jump a sinking ship
Falling into uncharted water,
Casting me out of the mother's salty womb
Leaving me, alone, to swim, and live,
Or to succumb to the ever-pulling tides
I don't have a god to pray strength from,
But I know those alleyway devils will hear my cries
And if I wash up on their used corvette and duck-choaker littered shores
I'm left to the mercy of the yuppity designer-shirt-clad tides
Let me drown, down,
Down lower than the gates of hell
And if I'm rotting with the junkers,
Or poison bitter, alone and afraid
Or I leave myself to the mercy of another man's will
Let me rot, then, poisoned, and broken
But if I should find my visions realized,
My favor victorious, and my life a livable one,
I will know it was by my hand,
It was with my own will, and on my own merit,
That I achieved what I achieved
>>
Pilliam !jNOn8/drVI - Tue, 06 Aug 2013 07:10:43 EST ID:GsvtWFH5 No.62465 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1375787443401.jpg -(67365B / 65.79KB, 507x651) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
ROMANTIC
VISIONS
OF
LOVELINESS
WRITTEN
IN
CURSIVE
>>
Hedda Cluckletork - Wed, 07 Aug 2013 12:22:18 EST ID:L6VVWWmK No.62471 Ignore Report Quick Reply
EAT!

Take a seat and eat a cow's weight in meat
Fill up on bread made of wheat
Eat 'til you can't stand on your own two feet.

Sweet, salty, sour
Devour food as if you'd starve the next hour

Ignore your conscience
It's just a bore to do what it tells
Though it yells "PLEASE, NO MORE!
DON'T BE A WHORE TO YOUR LOWER DESIRES!",
its voice soon tires and silently cries
While your mind tells lies, saying "I STILL CRAVE FOOD"

"No, dude. No more" I say
and stop my hand from reaching the refridgerator door.

Resist my urges to give in
Become something not carved in sin
I can win
I can forge myself into something great
i won't gourge on food and self-hate
>>
Nigel Geblingdon - Wed, 07 Aug 2013 15:39:01 EST ID:3RlqhilQ No.62473 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1375904341418.jpg -(372649B / 363.92KB, 640x960) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
A haiku about salvia

In front of my eyes,
Reality breaking down,
Terror, horror, why?
>>
Matilda Dollerstock - Thu, 22 Aug 2013 17:11:59 EST ID:0GnsikCp No.62580 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Storm clouds churning,
Moonlight burning, In my eyes,
Who will save me from these eerie skies?

Waiting, always waiting,
Can't stop reiterating,
Nothing brings me joy,
My happiness, so coy.

Then, a single ray of sunshine through the clouds,
Its still raining, yet it seems so proud.
Wondering when dawn will break,
To warm this cold still lake.

No more waiting,
Sick of self debating.
If I want my day,
I must self obey.

Upon this lurid night,
A fire is born, so bright.
I will not bow, nore faulter
To this adamant false culture.

I will live, warmed by my fire,
Until the day I shall acquire
The beauty of the sun.
A new life I've begun.
>>
RJSmith - Fri, 23 Aug 2013 18:42:37 EST ID:da8YWuua No.62586 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Reflection

I'm afraid of the world around me, I'm afraid of myself image
I wear a hollow, transparent mask; painted on it a plastic smile
when I force myself to hide my true emotions so nobody sees the true me
The mirror is only a reflection of my true enemy,
who only stares back at me with shame
His eyes show only regret and the mistakes of the past

If only he could go back in time and stop himself
or if only he had the courage to forgive himself
and move on from the dark corner of the room he hides in
I press my hand against his as we bore into each others stare
There were no more needs for words, just the silence that deafen the air

He can't seem to get her out his mind, her inner light has infected the darkness
Her presence still lingers here as his chest gets tighter
The pain of loss love has broken him out of his mask, now he sees clearly
It still surprises him, when he ever he thinks about her and how he lost her love,
he manages to find a couple of tears rolling down his pale cheek

I walked away from the mirror to give the guy sometime alone, it was the least i could do
By the time I got to the front door, i felt the cracking and peeling of the mask
As I turned the handle and pulled the door, I was suddenly blinded by a glare
The light felt warm and familiar, like a weight being lifted off my chest by an angel
As I held her close to my chest, time stood still as tears rolled on like the sands of time
>>
Cyril Corrysure - Sat, 24 Aug 2013 14:03:50 EST ID:cT3Tu928 No.62592 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Corn starch over a vibrating plate
full of hateful alphabet noodles
The feeling rolls itself through
your body expanding like particles
driven away from a central expanding point
Ray after Ray of outgoing
into a point infinitely distant
>>
Ernest Wishspear - Sun, 06 Oct 2013 12:24:17 EST ID:fq43OXyQ No.63017 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1381076657052.jpg -(9606B / 9.38KB, 188x188) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
This is my story, this is my poem, this is my song; these, my words, these, my thoughts, these, both my prison and the key to my freedom; numerous and flowing in my head, constrained and constricted in my throat, sparse and weak in my mouth, silent and inexistent in your ears. Hindsight perfect, foresight uncertain, what exactly do I see in front of me now? Understanding, comprehending, apprehension, and realization are all such things that can’t be done. Empathy, and sympathy, useless and meaningless, even impossible to know for certain what it really is. Thrust forward, march backwards, the clock is ticking, can’t stop for now, can’t think for now, can’t make sense of what’s around, can’t see what’s there and not, can’t hear the reason that sprouts from the obvious and easily visible. Wake to sleep, wake to see, what’s real is in your dreams. Softly falling, swiftly dropping, wings on your back, yet you fly further down. Idiocy, hypocrisy, submission and regurgitation, why can’t you form your own thoughts and conclusions? Repetition is the only sure way to acceptance yet acceptance excludes you from the circles of hawks and hands of the groupthink and society. Alone, alone, alone, alone, you know you’re not the only one. We is us and us is I and you is me and me is he, there is no self or central construct but a book of false instructions. Fallacies and delusions is all.
>>
Edwin Billingshaw - Sun, 06 Oct 2013 13:59:38 EST ID:+6zhikiU No.63020 Ignore Report Quick Reply
A cat with beady seedy eyes
and whiskers as a fine disguise

Sleeps all day, hunts at night
Will take a mouse without a fight

Tooth, claw, nail and snout
The voracious feline flails about

Gnawing, thrashing, flipping, crashing,
All until she goes a napping

Le Cat. Fin
>>
David Miggledale - Tue, 08 Oct 2013 02:11:45 EST ID:+6zhikiU No.63048 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I just wrote this to help myself get past this girl. I think it captures a few of the nuances of our particular relationship while being general enough to relate to, I hope some of you find it nice, maybe relatable. Btw I wrote the cat poem ^

I am stricken by you, apt, eager for recognition
Like a child raises their hand I shower you in appreciation
Follow your footsteps, count every measure
Take note of all that might bring you pleasure
But now I can see that the child is me
Ever over thinking and calculating
So of my own fault our relations contrived
Like I saw our while life in the blink of an eye
To be at your side is all that I've wanted
But when I'm around you seem less than haunted
And now I can see that it's not you but me
Who carries on the attempt most selfishly
So I should leave you as a flower better left unpicked
And try not to wonder why we never really clicked
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Sun, 20 Oct 2013 15:42:28 EST ID:gxp3XUfY No.63232 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The eponymous one is not dead.
Colourblind rows of cathodes align there.
Wives create themselves as widows before it.
The eponymous one is not dead.
>>
Thomas Sarrystit - Sat, 26 Oct 2013 01:43:27 EST ID:REGq5SfB No.63282 Ignore Report Quick Reply
To remember what
life is like can be the most
depressing thing 'round.

You get used to the
monotony and order
and forget what's 'bout.

Then you learn what is
up and you can't go back to
working and b'ing bound.

For now I'll keep my
head up and go on. Sooner
or later I'm out.
>>
John Follyson - Mon, 28 Oct 2013 22:31:28 EST ID:O2cf1Hq1 No.63293 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63292
lol
>>
Clara Pusslehidge - Sun, 17 Nov 2013 02:26:05 EST ID:zTfppkQM No.63512 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Like the brandished wings of an old spit-fighter,
Like the smooth pistons pumping tiny fans.
Like the sandwiched cockpit stuck tightly between the pillars.
I am nothing without the ace pilot in charge,
simply sitting,
waiting.
rusting.
Ready for a graveyard.
Like the soldier's bones,
Like the Corpral's body.
Like the presidents corpse.
>>
Henry Mibbleted - Sun, 17 Nov 2013 04:59:18 EST ID:iPWhkq22 No.63513 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1384682358423.jpg -(116709B / 113.97KB, 435x750) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Looking for books, poetry thread
Drunken so typing why the fuck not?
Thumbing for Ativan, benzo delight
Click browse again 420chan's tight.
>>
Eugene Smallhood - Tue, 19 Nov 2013 17:16:27 EST ID:wRx5daAO No.63549 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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How soon I have become my father.

Waiting for a woman
I hardly love in the parking lot of a motherfucking
hospital.
>>
Cedric Blackbanks - Tue, 19 Nov 2013 21:58:13 EST ID:GW9GlLF5 No.63551 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63549
This is good.
>>
Cornelius Snodworth - Wed, 20 Nov 2013 23:52:02 EST ID:wYmMcc0a No.63563 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Paranoid misanthropomorphism, when you are sure the Liopleurodon hates you for being human. Tied to the mast, you are strung along for the nihilistic voyage as you play leap frog with words.
>>
Martha Merringbanks - Sun, 24 Nov 2013 14:14:13 EST ID:4R8c/ZXX No.63604 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Oh, Baked potato!
You took me hours to cook
but only minutes to eat.
You are now inside my belly
And we have become one.
>>
Isabella Gubbleway - Tue, 26 Nov 2013 21:46:37 EST ID:0ZKE5Cwb No.63624 Ignore Report Quick Reply
rock the raptor
race the insane
nuke the bastard
and go around again
>>
Lydia Naffingsudge - Wed, 27 Nov 2013 19:33:32 EST ID:4r87I5KU No.63630 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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Wrote this in one sitting when I was feeling down. Feel free to rip me a new one.

Time can seem forever, passing slowly everlasting,
Or time can be a measure of fate's uncertain casting
of events and finds, just passing the time
waiting for the one to come and open my mind
to what I can be I just want to see
the outer limits of what I can be
But it only seems an infinite line
that I can't even find.

Who am I? Only time can tell
Remaining a mystery until the final bell
that punctuates my life, fluctuates my strife
let the final grain fall
sometimes I just want to end it all
when all hope is lost
gasping for breath, water envelopes my being
for once I imagine no more breathing
and endless sleeping
but life is pain, not much to gain
spent waiting by tracks
for a train that never came
>>
Barnaby Goodgold - Fri, 29 Nov 2013 02:41:56 EST ID:1Ls51G9R No.63640 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The next line

Hello, i think
The first word
There is a second, somewhere
Hello, then how, then is it are, or do?
How do you steal my thoughts?
My mind preoccupied by delusions of fate
Every day destiny, the mundane inevitability a cup fulfills no matter if it is full
Ah, how are you
The next line is lost to me
A plain girl sits across from you
A plain girl who will forever be defined by her spatial relationship with your face
She tells a joke, and you and I smile, though I couldn't have heard
How are you? Then...
You're lovely
but that's too close to the truth
Ah ha! I've got it
I'll sit at the table
Back straightened, lips curled, head tilted, arms slightly flexed
and legs parted to suggest a large pleasing member
and say women have made me feel like shit since i escaped the womb, but some biological imperative compels me to sit here like a jackass and try to fuck you
but that's too close to the truth
I sit, and think of what comes next
Then you and your friend get up and leave
And i am at peace
>>
Jarvis Sabberhall - Fri, 29 Nov 2013 05:25:45 EST ID:zvYH6/5E No.63646 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59690 Shit, that was deep. Hit close to home.
>>
Fucking Fettinglare - Sat, 07 Dec 2013 18:28:02 EST ID:wRx5daAO No.63712 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63692

I dig, verily.
>>
Betsy Sullerspear - Sun, 08 Dec 2013 17:46:20 EST ID:pPwp98O5 No.63717 Ignore Report Quick Reply
http://boards.420chan.org/qq/res/420664.php
I'm not sure if this a troll or not, but you guys have to check this shit out
It's not poetry but it is fucked, I'm the one who posted in that thread 4 times and connected it to Surrealism and Dadaism
>>
Nicholas Higglestock - Sun, 08 Dec 2013 18:34:41 EST ID:sKE8eXuA No.63718 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Splatterjackleflaskbadger creeps creepy woowaa on circumference stones,
Not the style of crovvybollocks any self respecting yayah bird would spak clesk phergin taal.
Perrigin Alexander kept his underwear inside of a sealed steel safe.
Oddfellow retterflect on these words of oreaenum petty nucleus, i see thou art but of a novice demeanor, so prick thine ears to attention, gatta-smack-tet-pipper .
So sung my Splatterjackflaskbadger, thinking he was a Splatterjackleflashbadger
He did not know, that he did not know, and in doing so, he felt he knew.
fuckin prick
>>
Doris Brenningfoot - Sun, 08 Dec 2013 21:28:40 EST ID:sKE8eXuA No.63719 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Splatterjackleflaskbadger creeps creepy woowaa on circumference stones,
Not the style of crovvybollocks any self respecting yayah bird would spak clesk phergin taal.
Perrigin Alexander kept his underwear inside of a sealed steel safe.
Oddfellow retterflect on these words of oreaenum petty nucleus, i see thou art but of a novice demeanor, so prick thine ears to attention, gatta-smack-tet-pipper .
So sung my Splatterjackflaskbadger, thinking he was a Splatterjackleflashbadger
He did not know, that he did not know, and in doing so, he felt he knew.
fuckin prick
>>
Caroline Geppershaw - Tue, 10 Dec 2013 03:12:53 EST ID:rjktTxxg No.63727 Ignore Report Quick Reply
In days of yore I wanted more
I became it
And it a bore
Every bore a track-marked sore
Representing
My new high score
>>
Phineas Bronnerhot - Tue, 10 Dec 2013 13:04:50 EST ID:4EzFH2aE No.63730 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

Somewhere in the throes of red-wine epiphanies,
Dionysus meets his brother Bacchus
to revel in a new debauchery.

The grapevine and its alter-ego (wild ivy)
lose themselves in madness akin to bakkheia;
freed from chains of conscious fear
by the drink that tastes of honey.

Jack strips himself or herself, showing off
the nudity of woman-man, and joins the naked satyrs
in their celebrations.

The Pantheon of Pinot Noir and Cabernet Sauvignon
seduces us, as vodka-swans rape the holes
of blackened bourbon – the moment comes that we are born
inside an orgy of the demi-gods.

What do you guys think?
>>
Whitey Gagglewan - Fri, 20 Dec 2013 22:03:52 EST ID:3aBVsnKZ No.63810 Ignore Report Quick Reply
This seems like a fitting reward.
The beer tasted sweeter than it ever had.
Joy was building in my stomach, a smile blooming on my face.
The kitchen was a mess. Shit all over the floor and a warm garbage smell.
I had survived my xanax withdrawals. completed my schoolwork. And opened this beer.
A fitting reward.
Indeed.
>>
Oliver Snodman - Sat, 21 Dec 2013 02:53:08 EST ID:/WoBd8aM No.63812 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63809
Continuing.

Sitting here in this chair,
Body's heat has been stolen;
Every thought I have of you
Is granite, and golden.
My thoughts running wild,
Mind's layers unfold.
These feelings I've for you
Can ward off the cold
Of a blistering tundra,
For my heart is on fire.
Set ablaze by desire,
For you, I'll conspire
For the rest of my days,
And perhaps I'll succeed.
Water and bread and
You're all that I need.
You can curl up close
To these flames you inspired.
Join me in sweet union,
Together, we'll retire.
>>
Oliver Snodman - Sat, 21 Dec 2013 02:54:00 EST ID:/WoBd8aM No.63813 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63812
Sitting here in this chair,
Body's heat has been stolen;
Every thought I have of you
Is granite, and golden.
My thoughts running wild,
Mind's layers unfold.
These feelings I've for you
Can ward off the cold
Of a blistering tundra,
For my heart is on fire.
Set ablaze by desire,
For you, I'll conspire
For the rest of my days,
And perhaps I'll succeed.
Water and bread and
You're all that I need.
You can curl up close
To these flames you inspired.
Join me in sweet union,
Together, we'll retire.
>>
Oliver Snodman - Sat, 21 Dec 2013 02:55:25 EST ID:/WoBd8aM No.63814 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63813
fuck, fucking posted the same one.
nb since already bumped.

Life can't be lived
Sans smiles upon faces,
Why then, do I persist
With such debaculous disgraces?
Why don't you just,
Come drag me out,
Throw me to the floor,
And beat in my head?
Why can't I take
A path in my life
That doesn't result in
Wishing I was dead?
Is it wrong for me to long
For a grandiose existence?
A life full of riches
I'll secure with persistence.
What my life will be lacking
Is invaluable treasures;
Mystic in nature,
Value beyond measures.
Of course, kind, fair woman,
I speak of you, solely.
The manners and curves of which,
I do love wholly.
If I were to be graced
With a goddess' affection,
It'd be you and I walking the earth,
Arm 'round your midsection.
Can't you see, this was destiny?
Love isn't a fucking election.
>>
Spud - Sat, 21 Dec 2013 22:39:11 EST ID:WkuB8S95 No.63816 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1387683551773.jpg -(8768B / 8.56KB, 146x200) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
>>59689I Drowned My Sister Twice
We like to sit together and eat
As a family.
I sit by myself towards the wall
With a half portion.

I'd like a cup of milk with it
And they oblige me.
The chicken is covered in fat
And I don't need that.

My weight means nothing to my gait--
I bounce like a cloud,
My head on my concrete-padded cell
That feel like giggles.

Out the doorway without a door
My friends keep an eye,
Because suicide is no joke
If I could stop laughing

I wanna nap-- no wait, I'll play.
I'll sit through this day
Til I get my shoe laces back:
Then I'll save my day

I drowned my sister twice,
Left hand, then the right.
Bubbles in the water like
A straw in Nesquik

Yeah, it was mean, but I'm nice, right?
We two are buddies,
You look and smell just like Shaggy,
Won't you play with me?

I drowned my sister twice
No, it wasn't nice.
And my brother drowned me must once
And that wasn't nice.

Once, lying under the cotton,
We were joined by Dad.
I kicked and scratched and screamed, "No, no!"
And then it's mumble.

My daddy proceeds to beet me,
And the his scratches...
My legs are boiling brown bruises,
But I'm still nice, right?

I drowned my sister twice
And fought off a shark.
My fists bloody from broken teeth
Start me towards shore.

The shark's mom and dad in pursuit,
I'm nearly done now
When a dolphin comes and saves me!
But never saved her.

I drowned my sister twice
I wrote his based on an observation I did at an intensive mental health facility for troubled kids. I'd like to dedicate this poem to Chris, a loveable young "psychotic" boy.
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Sun, 22 Dec 2013 19:51:41 EST ID:gxp3XUfY No.63822 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The wind howls loudly,
I cannot hear myself think.
I think that I can fly.
>>
123 !mL2ZRk1cK. - Mon, 23 Dec 2013 03:04:23 EST ID:0ZKE5Cwb No.63826 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I try as hard as I can
and it don't seem enuf
running in endless circles
to see where I end up
>>
Kocoayello - Thu, 26 Dec 2013 06:55:30 EST ID:8luolmOx No.63848 Ignore Report Quick Reply
My butt is large and sassy
Like a strawberry breeze
I eat all of the energy
And turn it into cheeze

The electrobody
Is known to be phizzy
But if camels could walk faster
me drums wouldn't be busy

Only if it could be psaid
the things inside me head
I fell as if brain dead
and did gyros again (for wonderous moments)

The beat is sick and too quick
to be dooby licked
and the snacks attaxk at dawn
to get thrown out on the lawn
Or squeezed by a foot

Poetry is sweet and sorrow
But the words are for the Morrow
and maybe even hollow Rollo's
For the evidence of Talos

If you don't believe in the All Write
the pages might still turn all white
And even if it's some tall spite
I really miss Sprite Remix
>>
Rim bim farquim - Mon, 30 Dec 2013 01:54:21 EST ID:xaZ9OW6r No.63877 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Every morning I enter the chamber,
a Rectangle with tiled teal depth.
I turn the nob to the exact warmth.
I have done this a million times,
I will do this til the day I die.

Every time I enter this chamber,
As the warm water flows over my frame,
I can no longer tell where I am.
not even when I am.
As I reach for the shampoo,
I think,
how many times have I done this?
Did I just wash my hair?
How many hours of my life have been spent,
repeating all the same actions?

I took my bookmark out and lose my page.
I furiously leaf through,
trying to find where I left off.
It is inevitable,
I probably wash my hair twice in a row.
scrub my face maybe three times.

Is it the drugs?
g/month,
g/month^2.
Pretty reasonable.
The limit has a while to approch infinite.
Who knows what lies between here and there.

Where was I?
Shampoo...
A timeless feel overwhelms me,
it is in this single colored,
water proof,
miracle of modern living,
That I cannot make sense of life.
The compass spins
and spins
and spins.
I shake it
berate it.
A recalcitrant mother fucker.

Is it tomorrow?
Is it today?
Will tomorrow I wake up,
wrinkled with the tyranny of ages,
limp dick in hand,
pondering:
what next?

She told me I drop the soap once a day,
ha ha yeah make your jokes now,
but I cannot remember it.
Not once.
Is she fucking with me?
am I losing my shit?
Do I,
John Doe,
in the state of colorado,
remember unknowningly dropping the soap?
I even look for it now,
but never hear it meet the ground.
I see no chips in it,
no signs of neglect?
And yet, every day I am told.

Still I stand though?
naked as the day I was born,
with all the same questions
and none of the answers.
>>
Rim bim farquim - Tue, 31 Dec 2013 15:41:27 EST ID:xaZ9OW6r No.63894 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63893
thanks! that is super high praise. I exclusively write my stuff in notepad when I'm stoned so you'll have to excuse my poor spelling and abuse of syntax and grammar.
>>
Rim bim farquim - Wed, 01 Jan 2014 12:48:06 EST ID:xaZ9OW6r No.63900 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1388598486838.jpg -(44527B / 43.48KB, 400x558) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
>>63020
you've done well
>>
Betsy Sunkinsut - Sat, 04 Jan 2014 01:02:41 EST ID:FQltgfDs No.63928 Report Quick Reply
I don't want to come off as verbose and I don't know if this is faggy, but this is the first verse or two of something I'd been working on.

Two people; Mark and Jenny.
She grew up in a city.
He was a student of business.
She collected Warhol prints.
He drove a new car.
Her father drank bourbon.
His favorite beer was Miller.
Her favorite flower was the Orchid
He liked to save time.
Jenny worked at an ice cream store, where she’d save up her money.
His father was a lawyer.
Mark wanted to live in LA.
They both liked to go dancing.
They both liked to listen to Jazz.
Both of them were romantic.
One morning on the highway, they were both were out driving, and enjoying the day. Everything had been perfect, the wind in her hair. Her favorite rock ‘n’ roll station was on the radio, beginning to play. He was feeling prodigious, his motor was roaring and his heart had been racing. Her heart had only, then began to race. As their cars collided and they flew through the windshields, the metal began to screech. Her car had tumbled. His roof have been flattened and a Mercedes had avoided and swerved. They were in their twenties; They both were romantic and they both liked dancing. They both thought they had futures, which would be would be lengthy, protracted and delayed.
>>
Betsy Sunkinsut - Sat, 04 Jan 2014 02:25:47 EST ID:FQltgfDs No.63935 Report Quick Reply
>>59834
>Lets see about some structure.
Wow, you use more semicolons than I do; I thought I was the weird one.
>>
Nathaniel Pockwell - Thu, 13 Feb 2014 08:14:54 EST ID:riKF+EvW No.64270 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64268
>>64269
Sorry it said it didn't post

Nb
>>
Cornelius Hishdock - Fri, 14 Feb 2014 03:14:08 EST ID:hCVIMWTX No.64279 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I really hope /shortpoemgeneral/ never turns as edgy as a couple of the ones I read here
>>
Cornelius Hishdock - Fri, 14 Feb 2014 03:45:51 EST ID:hCVIMWTX No.64281 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Also is it just me or is there a consistent poster in this thread to enjoys making poems about their dad raping them cause I've seen like 4 now
>>
Charles Grandway - Sun, 16 Feb 2014 20:45:44 EST ID:VOVWq3Dv No.64308 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
writhing,
between their tight fitting skin
and seething,
viscous soul,
the average human stands,
victorious over nothing.
Survival is guaranteed.
They pack their viens
with self-hatred.
Boredom seeped into their souls,
nearly crying,
eyes panicked,
like a cornered deer,
near dead with a pungent
chocking fear.
But the lions never strike.
The lions have all been eliminated by the jeeps and trains of progress.
They crawl from day,
to day,
expecting,
waiting,
anticipating
writhing.
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Sun, 23 Feb 2014 16:54:34 EST ID:gxp3XUfY No.64347 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Mix yellow, mix yellow and red.
Schlick another bottle of shakes.
Rattle back to bed.
Forgetting all past mistakes.

No heating in the icebox-home.
Marching powder unguants,
Smellgood inhalants.
Seventh thrust is the first moan.

I count the layers of mist I beckon,
recant the idleways of walkers and plainsmen.
Do I drift and slowly turn bedridden
or quickly drop into the basin?

If my soul was a coin tossed upwards,
it would arc to reflect the sunshine of its back.
If my soul saw the patient outwith,
steeped in the fetal mind wards and gowns.

I know of only a handful of men,
each of whom lost their final game,
that successfully navigated the Orange Coast.
I speaketh there name not once.
Not to sully or shame them.
It would not predispose their disposition to ignite their titles with recognition.

The rays of alien clouds are not hard to understand,
roll onto your back and view them upside down.
Be careful not to fall off,
be careful not to drown.

My brain is cotton wool,
it floats besides the clouds there.
Basking in an orange glow,
I stare like a fool.

We should dance to celebrate this,
but I feel too ill.
Besides, what if there are sharks?
They would become still.

I miss the sunshine beacons,
the rays of goldust and starglazes.
They made my thoughts weaken,
as I passed through those phases.

I don't hear them now.
It is cold, I am told.
The strength of giants.
Grab the earth and fold.

If I am a sick man then let health be forgotten,
I desire only my illness.
It is the salve of good living,
the bitter drink of concocted bliss.
>>
Sophie Pushshaw - Mon, 24 Feb 2014 23:24:27 EST ID:i3Iqsx9d No.64359 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64354
I know you shouldn't explain poetry word for word but when people put little explanations like that at the end of their poems, it makes shit hella more interesting a lot of the time.
I mean there are so many fucking poems in this thread that I read and I'm just thinking, "what the fuck is this nigga on about"

I'm all for *taking something and understanding it your own way" but sometimes I'd like to know what the writer was actually thinking.
>>
Ian Nickleham - Tue, 25 Feb 2014 02:27:42 EST ID:qiCo+JFd No.64362 Ignore Report Quick Reply
He holds me on the floor
I stare at the cupped end of the toilet plunger,
waiting for it.

"This is what happens to whores," he says
giving me a rubbery kiss on the mouth.
"I'm protecting you."

The plunging is merciless today.
"How many loads did you swallow?"
And I can't remember anymore what to say,
how many loads will make him stop.

I am quietness
He plunges me and I go to my Dark Place,
where everybody is normal
>>
yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Tue, 25 Feb 2014 10:57:14 EST ID:gxp3XUfY No.64367 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64359
Well these two were about my trips on dxm and juxtapositions between intoxicated and nonintoxicated waking mostly.

>>64347
>>64252

nb
>>
ugly - Wed, 26 Feb 2014 10:48:13 EST ID:D7MKuapo No.64380 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>64269
This is awesome
>>
Cyril Chollywat - Thu, 27 Feb 2014 20:31:25 EST ID:ouiN33OQ No.64386 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64362
I would have left the quotation marks out. It's an interruption to the flow. Otherwise, I like the symbolism. The subject matter is attention-grabbing enough. I think you could've gone further with it and included more insight into the emotional aspect. You don't really touch on that until towards the end. Write about the quietness. Write about the Dark Place.
>>
Eugene Fuckingworth - Thu, 27 Feb 2014 21:07:04 EST ID:XONDoJ7i No.64387 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1393553224841.jpg -(4975B / 4.86KB, 126x124) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
>>64362
>>
Lillian Cemmerbury - Fri, 28 Feb 2014 01:55:48 EST ID:4m/Qu7JD No.64390 Ignore Report Quick Reply
My tools awash
My making unmade
The well swallowed
With blue tint cascade

Reborn in the deep
Fresh faced, rehashed, borrowed
The castle built swallowed
With but our signatures to keep
>>
Rebecca Crundledock - Fri, 28 Feb 2014 06:28:23 EST ID:YU8yC6la No.64394 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Oh my, I've waited so long.
Seeing the golden light shine right against the water.
It's saddening, it's sickening, it shouldn't be.
I'm just in my own mind, way too far.
They don't care, I never cared.
It's been too long, it's been so fleeting.
Years and years.
The sky is more polluted, the dust everywhere is poisoned.
I'm so disappointed. I'll be old, I'll be decrepit.
Maybe everyone was right, maybe I am lost.
Or maybe I did exactly what I needed to, all along it really did need to be this way.
It's too bad my thoughts are already history
>>
The Fool - Fri, 28 Feb 2014 19:07:42 EST ID:009J0jNq No.64397 Ignore Report Quick Reply
the problem with an ego the size of the moon is that you fall in love with the sun.

the problem with always falling in love is that you continually fall through it.

where is the bottom?
>>
Ebenezer Birringhedge - Fri, 28 Feb 2014 22:42:17 EST ID:SI15wPQs No.64399 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Sometimes I feel a certain sense,
Of bravery and mystery,
The slicing knives of immortal knights,
Their courage burns inside of me,

I feel as though in some past life,
Their countenance had left some mark,
A shadow's remnant upon my brow,
Our paths crossed somewhere vast and dark,

With no way out our souls were joined,
Cooperating to get out,
The hole we'd dug in some gone by life,
With our transgressions and our doubts,

And in this hole beside the spikes,
Apart from fire's flickering flame,
My allies did steal and break this deal,
And left my soul where I remain,

So though I'm trapped below these walls,
Suffering from my old mistakes,
I'm hopeful that these once fruitless dreams,
These memories of a past life,

Can lead me home though I see not,
The way to go.
>>
Hannah Burrykork - Tue, 04 Mar 2014 07:59:58 EST ID:qiCo+JFd No.64421 Ignore Report Quick Reply
it was a warm spring morning
when the stranger came upon me.
I, a small child frolicking in the woodlands,
was minding my own business
lost in the deeps of imagination.

this man would appear to me
as foliage and treestumps,
playful shadows and dancing branches,
camouflaged by my innocent mind.

he was a dark-faced monster
stalking me with evil intent.

when my eyes finally discerned him,
watching me from across a meadow,
my heart leapt into my throat,
I was paralyzed with fear
and so allowed him to take me
without a fight.

;__;
>>
Phyllis Goodman - Tue, 04 Mar 2014 17:41:58 EST ID:j7quxT0j No.64423 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I
am merely
that humble actualizing tendency
in
all musings
>>
Phyllis Goodman - Tue, 04 Mar 2014 17:42:47 EST ID:j7quxT0j No.64424 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64423
title: Decalogoton
>>
Esther Nablingdatch - Tue, 04 Mar 2014 20:47:30 EST ID:ghYyWK4V No.64425 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Straight-lined Usurper/killed by the Godbeast's clawing/Emptiness becomes

struggle between sexes/Ardhanarishvara calls/"Drift now, my children."
>>
Beatrice Blupperberk - Sat, 08 Mar 2014 21:09:33 EST ID:ouiN33OQ No.64445 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Writing on forums for which I find frivolous and meaningless words falling from pixels illuminating the frantic failings of fourth grade founders who forget from where the postmodernist finds comforting foundations.

In the degradation of degrees

In the production of unemployment

Disappointment and disillusionment cloud the determination of the writer to distribute the dire state of the masses in exchange for a woman, a friend, a lover to share the night.

From my window out of the darkness I see the several similar windows containing the several similar disappointments and disillusionments of which I desire to detest and damn into the dark. To become as distant to me as my dreams. As my hopes. As my lover, who now lives only in what is past.

Do not condescend. Do not delude my argument to deliberate ignorance for a lost hope of bliss. Dead are the just by the hands of the opportunistic. Symbiotes who feed on our corpses.

(Judge me, better that than apathy)
>>
Lydia Blackfoot - Sun, 16 Mar 2014 18:18:28 EST ID:SI15wPQs No.64472 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59780
I Like.

Also...
What is compassion and why do we feel it,
Amongst winner take all,
And survival of the fit,
How does compassion help us live?

Imagine a wooded shack,
With hunter's coat and gun,
A man sits inside with his dog,
And they huddle by the fire.

At times the dog is bad,
At times the man is cross,
Both ways end in dominance,
Neither in obedience.

Compassion is not seeing the dog,
Compassion is not hating the owner,
Compassion is seeing ourselves,
Where we've been, where we'll be.

For we are all marmots,
All newborn mammals,
Crawling from the sea,
Amphibian and reptilian.

And millions of years from now,
We will be gone,
But the ancestors of the hunter's dog,
May have evolved.

And then they will beat their dogs.
>>
Frederick Gablingman - Thu, 20 Mar 2014 02:08:25 EST ID:xaZ9OW6r No.64489 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64472
has a hint of inifinity about itt

No impetus,
just sailing along,
along a cool summer evening,
off onto a soft sofa.
til finally I slump,
slump into a groove.
Here she is:
And there she goes.
Weird.


I walk swiftly,
brushing off the ten senses.
I am in the zone.

I:
Open all the gates,
in my breast to feel the host.
only a receptacle.

The feast is prepared,
The pig:
plump, red and chewing an apple.
"Sorry life,
I don't eat feasts".
The philosopher's stone,
will never replace gold.
>>
Jack Gottingchan - Fri, 21 Mar 2014 03:09:06 EST ID:l1HiCo3F No.64492 Report Quick Reply
Had to write a spell for my writing class the first day, this is what I got


Oh sevens and Sixes, may your aura surround us
May you come alive and protect us.
Had! May the god of literature arise in the East.
May your luminous aura shine upon us!
In the East with lady moon and the stars, give us your wisdom
For seven is six and six is seven, everything is nothing, and nothing is the same!
This is the answer, the only answer, everything is infinite and awake!
Let my gods be few and bright, they shall rule the many and the known.
For I am now the god of literature, and the god be I.
The azure light shine upon me, divine, gemmed and naked
For I now have the power of the holy number.
I am the serpent of literature. I am ALIVE!
For my thoughts stretch to the ends of the universe
My axons are stars, my soul is eternity and my spirit is time
My thoughts possessed become manifestations.
For I am the holy six and the holy seven and the literature gods protect I.
Now as I call upon the splendourous serpent of light, my thoughts become reality!
I raise the golden chalice, I brandish the sacred motion with the golden caduceus!
Manifest! Manifest! Manifest!
Seven seven seven
And six.
>>
Jack Gottingchan - Fri, 21 Mar 2014 03:12:52 EST ID:l1HiCo3F No.64493 Report Quick Reply
Here's another. Poetry isn't really my thing. I like writing stories/fiction. I love writing.


(And we came in the sulphuric night drinking old crow)
We wandered through the steamy, rust-colored night
The smoke of factories, fog of wet unhealthiness.
We drive through the night in that yellow taxi.
We felt fine, we felt alive, we were one with the night.
We smoked our grass. We talked to bums in the park.
Old tin can, flame warmth cover us fluidly.
The street lamps turned our skin yellow,
We danced in the empty streets playing king of the world.
We were the king and the queen of the entire city.
We felt fine, we felt alive, we were one with the night.
The people loved us, for we were just and wise.
We ran through that rust-colored night like children.
Our love for each other grew and grew.
We drank wild irish rose.
We watched the black waves crash into the black shore.
We made love on a bench at the beach.
We were the king and queen of the entire city.
>>
Lydia Sirringbanks - Sun, 23 Mar 2014 17:02:12 EST ID:NhjdkWJC No.64504 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Sitting alone in my room in front of the monitor,
I hide from the world, and from myself.
One glance outside, now everything hurts.
Why bother? I'm half dead already.
>>
Augustus Sicklenat - Mon, 24 Mar 2014 11:26:01 EST ID:J/Gb2gM1 No.64510 Ignore Report Quick Reply
can i get some criticism on the i just wrote it

her walk is like ambient fire
tones electric, exhilarating, elevating.
warm embraces like hot coffee in winters grip
looks dazzling, delightful, dreamy
stars in her eyes and the sun in her smile
the beginning in her mind but the end in her heart
but darling let me tell you
i will love you till the end of time
>>
Charlotte Bockleworth - Tue, 25 Mar 2014 18:14:07 EST ID:u4Kpwz63 No.64522 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64510
Hmm, I'd say you use the word "like" more than necessary.

also but darling seems out of place when you're just heaping praise on this babe from the get-go.
>>
Thomas Soshman - Wed, 26 Mar 2014 21:05:43 EST ID:tbPfsZYR No.64527 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Can I ask 420chan for a topic and ill write some quick OC based on such
>>
Phineas Dusslechig - Wed, 26 Mar 2014 23:37:40 EST ID:9IhPvHWm No.64528 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64527
George clooney in Staples

Go.
>>
Thomas Soshman - Thu, 27 Mar 2014 01:52:57 EST ID:tbPfsZYR No.64530 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>64528

which isle

which isle will I Find

My piece of mind

Should my speech be written?

On note cards?

On canvas?

On paper?

None of which seems fitting

My Oscar speech

On none of these things

Should I be writing

As i pass by the shitty desks

I see up ahead

whats next

whats best

A presentation board larger then

Matt Dylan's bold chest

So at one of those fake ass

Non mahogany desks

I sit and i write

and write and write

night after night

Until this A symmetric Hollywood head does spin

They would try

and fail to kick my out

but my Oscar holds more clout

Even more then my double clef chin

Oh shit almost nine

Time to get in a line

and pay my staples fine


>its ok i guess im high as fuck on booze and weed and opiates
>>
Jarvis Hillydale - Sun, 30 Mar 2014 23:54:40 EST ID:YU8yC6la No.64550 Ignore Report Quick Reply
After so much time I can say, the word "I" should be abolished
Replaced with We, in every place
No one is themselves, no one has their life alone
And what's supposed to my goal, what's the score and why should anything be any way
opposed to any other?
When culture is what's killing us, keeping us in a deadend deadened poisonous factory
If no one has the will and courage to speak the truth and say fuck persecution
We're doomed
Every nation's leaders are worried
And they know that every time they send an MP squad to quell a riot, or bomb a house
The crowds will swell, like a colony of bees when one is killed
Drop one, another comes. Drop the second one, three come. Drop three, 6 come.
Good luck gassing them, but you might poison yourself or disrupt nature itself
To the barons and warlords of Earth in 2014
Do you think you'll win the war against yourselves?
>>
Beatrice Nigglewedge - Mon, 31 Mar 2014 13:03:14 EST ID:u4Kpwz63 No.64552 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

Cruising through the sky,
Resting on telephone lines,
sons of lizard kings.
>>
sinister !1yH/qSM.uA - Sat, 05 Apr 2014 17:50:32 EST ID:qKy/Xwvl No.64601 Ignore Report Quick Reply
time creeps by
life creeps on
and i'll creep on you all day long
>>
Hamilton Pittbanks - Sat, 05 Apr 2014 21:02:52 EST ID:mCEyTBgd No.64602 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Is this practice? If I rattle, will it work?
If I rattle, will it rhyme?

Even effort, balanced love and hurt!
It worked!
>>
Rebecca Momblemitch - Sat, 05 Apr 2014 21:53:17 EST ID:TRnC9hMc No.64603 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64602
I really like the first one


I walked into the hidden valley,
filled with green bowing bamboo.
There was even a kangaroo.
I walked through and did not dally.
At 8, I had an appointment in an alley.
I walked, looking at my shoe.
Only to look right through,
to myself in a hidden valley:
Kangaroos, the Buddha and a bowl.
I walk through the corridors,
fixed upon the shinning orb.
Rising far above the blue hole,
Out of distance from any shores;
The object I absorb.
>>
Rebecca Momblemitch - Sun, 06 Apr 2014 03:07:58 EST ID:TRnC9hMc No.64604 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
a sonnet about listening to shpongle

Rotating around a golden temple;
engraved with figures made of saphires,
and covered with ashes from two pyres.
I find no crudely illustrated example.
Only beautiful and simple.

The masses have found their viers!
For whom they tranversed countless mires.
The evidence they've found is ample.

They walk home content,
filled with a sense of oneness.
Feeling nice and spent,
Smelling the freshness.
The times was only lent,
The library needs it for someone else.
>>
iLLETRAMSALOHCIN - Tue, 08 Apr 2014 00:57:14 EST ID:wlyTDh2q No.64611 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>63016
Let me begin by stating inequivocably that I am both real and possessed of the realness. I have been places and learned things have you dis noobs could never have dreamed of stumbling upon. I have ingested ten ottles of ro in a 24 hour period (with the receipts to prove it) with no effect. Once the consciousness s acheived the scaffolding of the substance is obsolete. Cursive and I have conducted research on the these realms thaat the majority of you seem to have only scratched the surface of. You are learning fire and we have masterred nuclear fission. At cursives's reques alone I have presented myself here for ask your questions now before I grow weary of your pitiful fumblngs n what is a highly evolved and sophisticated art. Fie away but make it quick. I am real I am here. But not for long. I do not suffer fooll lightly and you all had best utilize my time n a calculated fashion respectful of the scarcity of my interets.
>>
Sidney Binningshit - Tue, 08 Apr 2014 04:41:09 EST ID:UBVYMyqQ No.64614 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>64611
the levels of autism are mystifying
nb
>>
Phoebe Borryshaw - Wed, 09 Apr 2014 14:49:51 EST ID:TRnC9hMc No.64622 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64611
What good is wisdom if you're dicks to others and appear to have forgotten how to speak english? Very much related:
https://www.youtube doot comb /watch?v=o9xVPWhZkUE
>>
Phoebe Borryshaw - Wed, 09 Apr 2014 14:52:29 EST ID:TRnC9hMc No.64623 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64622
you're a dick * lol.
>>
Phyllis Hovingville - Thu, 10 Apr 2014 15:43:23 EST ID:FQltgfDs No.64631 Report Quick Reply
77:Spell For Writing Decent Literature:77
::6::


Oh sevens and Sixes, may your aura surround us
May you come alive and protect us.
Had! May the god of literature arise in the East.
May your luminous aura shine upon us!
In the East with lady moon and the stars, give us your wisdom
For seven is six and six is seven, everything is nothing, and nothing is the same!
This is the answer, the only answer, everything is infinite and awake!
Let my gods be few and bright, they shall rule the many and the known.
For I am now the god of literature, and the god be I.
The azure light shine upon me, divine, gemmed and naked
For I now have the power of the holy number.
I am the serpent of literature. I am ALIVE!
For my thoughts stretch to the ends of the universe
My axons are stars, my soul is eternity and my spirit is time
My thoughts possessed become manifestations.
For I am the holy six and the holy seven and the literature gods protect I.
Now as I call upon the splendourous serpent of light, my thoughts become reality!
I raise the golden chalice, I brandish the sacred motion with the golden caduceus!
Manifest! Manifest! Manifest!
Seven seven seven
And six.
>>
Phyllis Hovingville - Thu, 10 Apr 2014 15:44:06 EST ID:FQltgfDs No.64632 Report Quick Reply
tfw no enjambement
>>
epoca - Sat, 26 Apr 2014 18:40:42 EST ID:e/vj6mT8 No.64784 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
An Elegant Asphyxiation on the Face of Mars
You left for space ten years ago today
I will count the days till I see your face again, is all I can hear you say
I could not go another second without, and I finally found a way.
The depths of Argentina found me a Nazi for hire
Slipped doses of speed made sure he would never tire
Blood stains my space suit quickly after I hear the words, It is ready sire.
The cockpit rumbles with force, without hesitation do I leave our beautiful, blue rock
A thunderous laugh erupts, similar to those of my colleagues, my plans did they mock
How could they understand, they did not feel, what it feels, to have a heart unlock.
Within moments, Our Final Frontier
I close my eyes, and my ship I steer
It is you that guides me, and you I hear.
For it is your voice that transcends the silence of space
Like your space corset, my boots do I begin to lace
Long have I prepared to be right here and now, this time, and place.
It is towards the red face of Ares that I fly
A helmet placed, and silently does one cry
For here on out, never will I let you say good bye.
The surface I begin to clearly see
And on this dry land do I land, ever so carefully
Euphoria is all I can be.
The doors open and towards you I would run
But gravity is different my dear, on this, fourth rock from the Sun
I can wait, for truly, have we just begun.
You are close, I can feel that you are not far
Can you feel my warmth, from me, from our star
Can you hear it yet, our music, swaying in the car
I can, and god, how I’m ready
Quickly as I can, I jump towards your aura, ever so steady
In my suit, I feel my palms get sweaty.
And there you are, I feel you behind this rock, with a view of our planet, so perfect
I have been waiting since my heart you did intercept
I knew that my heart and love you would never reject.
Finally, I see you at last, and goodness, how fast my heart does beat
A sort of warmth from my head down to the bottom of my feet
I suppose it is in heaven that now we will meet.
My suit I begin to unzip
It is from Death’s chalice that I begin to sip
Ever so quickly does the temperature begin to dip.
I subject my naked self to you my, Mother Red
And as I feel my breath running short I sit down, your skull, on my head
I wrap my hand around the brittle bones that make up your hand, and I understand, as to why your skeleton lays here, how you really did count the days, how you tried as much as you could to come back, how we, were the last thing you thought of, and now I ca close my eyes, wipe my tears, no frowns, and a smile, instead.
>>
Phineas Sopperfoot - Sun, 27 Apr 2014 01:36:41 EST ID:7lRqhaqf No.64788 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1398577001285.jpg -(23270B / 22.72KB, 500x463) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Oh hangnail, I tried to get rid of you
But I ended up making it worse.
You were apart of the whole like all of the rest.
But when it's time to go, you can't give it a rest.
I tugged and I pulled, I did all I could
You just kept hanging in there
Oh hangnail, you're a bad nail.
>>
Augustus Poblingkotch - Sun, 27 Apr 2014 09:01:23 EST ID:xMAeNVgB No.64789 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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I just wrote this. Don't normally write poetry so expect it to be horrid. It's lyrics for a song I'm making, so that's why it's set up the was it is.

I saw myself falling the other day.
She was in a dream, paralyzing my voice.
I speak yet nothing comes out.

She understands eveyrthing I say,
Yet I'm not saying a single word.
We embrace and then it's over.

My heart shakes in a chaotic beat.
Bring me back to slumber. I need it.

What will it take to get you back.
The ever illusive of my subconscious.
I'd die everyday just for you.

My thoughts quake in a ravaging rhythm.
Take me from this emotional wasteland.

My soul cries with a hypnotic silence.
Release me to the next life, my love.
>>
CrazyFolksTribe !loJSOMZg0g - Thu, 01 May 2014 00:48:46 EST ID:1Jqq745f No.64805 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I'm satisfied, tickled too,
but could I get
just a little bit more satisfied?

One chance or two, or even three,
be afraid or don't, depending on your mood.
Take a glide across the higher side
if you're willing.

It will work either way,
but chemical influence on my part
brings about compassion to those unfamiliar.

I'm not sick, I am high.
Do I really look sick?
Well, all for the better,
for I am the highest-function sick person in your eyes.

Manipulation, not my specialty,
always occurs independent of my will.
Pathetic loser? Possibly,
but with no reason to change I remain the same.

If I could write a poem about somebody else,
I would do so with all available enthusiasm.
But I fail to see beyond my own mind
when chemical distractions abound.
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Thu, 01 May 2014 01:33:45 EST ID:7KD2lVFx No.64806 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I see the water,
Hopping, skipping, jumping sound.
An old frog breathes out.

The sun grows brighter.
Seven fauns graze quietly.
The breeze is quieter.

As if to stumble,
Fingers graze the water mirror.
Missed the lillypad.

They are not bothered,
Uncaring of the others.
The small one sneezes.

Joined by a new toad,
He does not seem to mind much.
A pink petal falls.

Hiding in the bush,
Reappears to prance about.
A squirrel goes by.

Monarch butterfly,
No queen on the water.
Bamboo swims softly.
>>
Lydia Shittingshaw - Sat, 03 May 2014 13:43:56 EST ID:c8pH7v1z No.64819 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1399139036089.jpg -(1029671B / 1005.54KB, 1157x800) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
I wanted to be a bitter nut,
so that nobody would eat me.
Yet I soon found myself,
dipped in chocolate,
and then digested.
>>
Caroline Pockbury - Sun, 11 May 2014 02:32:53 EST ID:xMAeNVgB No.64867 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1399789973006.jpg -(68046B / 66.45KB, 800x531) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Wrote an actual poem this time.

I wish I died long ago
But I would miss those nights of summer snow
So cold, yet so warm
It was what made my heart so torn
A five letter word that ends in g
Never ever will it leave me be

I want nothing more
Than to lay with the snow and explore
The ever reaches of how it works
I need to know all of it's little quirks
Despite all, the snow remains cold
Unchanging, never breaking the mold
What once was is not there
But the snow does not care

I left marks in the snow
I do not wish to speak of it or let anyone know
It is something I am not proud of
It destroyed what I feel I'm unworthy of
A five letter word that ends in g
It's all I really did need
>>
Walter Hipperbure - Fri, 16 May 2014 11:15:19 EST ID:UI/XE7Hr No.64903 Ignore Report Quick Reply
This is from my teenage years and it's -awful- imo, but I'll contribyoot:

It's the tantric tangle of the roots of the oak
Getting tighter and tigher the deeper you dig.
They gyrate against one another in the most
glacial way,
As the tree grows, blooms, withers, and
grows again.
Unclothed of its bark, and its branches broken off
To play sabres and rapiers,
still the roots squirm together in an
impenetrable, imperishing
knot.
So the oak is still the oak
Though snow may glaze its praying fingers,
the oak is still the oak,
though leaves burst and shrivel and are plucked off by the circling wind,
the oak remains the oak.

How many moons could the sky hold
before lurching like the paraded dead Christmas tree
and falling?
How many moons could the earth bear
Before dissolving in the shrieking white oblivion?

The line is cast
and swallowed by
the lochan.
A duck gives
the widening rings
a quick once-over,
Before tipping forward
and vanishing in the black.

I wonder if you know,
cobble-stomping dragon,
how your primly pecking beak
trumpets armaggedon
for the writhing knot of mudlife you harvest.

Legs crossed on the stained couch, she was sorrow herself.
Bound in silken red G-string and corset, she curled around me
As I tried to uncoil.
Her morning breath was snow-kissed March air,
Her skin was handholding on a 2am beach.

Her hands are so dry,
always burning with the cold,
even in summer.

I hear the music
whirling through the world, but a
few notes are off-key.
>>
Nell Farringwill - Mon, 19 May 2014 09:40:01 EST ID:pknnouFp No.64915 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
I wanna strangle Alan Ginsburg for convincing a generation of retards that meter isnt important.
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Tue, 27 May 2014 14:40:18 EST ID:7KD2lVFx No.64995 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Defy your lords,
The master of the road has come.
A writhing spiral is his company.
Its tip is pointed at your door.
Screaming for the window,
A broken soul.
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Wed, 28 May 2014 08:58:24 EST ID:7KD2lVFx No.64998 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Carmach by the bell tower,
coils of blood and Repachian power.
Turning gears, the sound of thunder
and one thousand Lowmen torn asunder.

Ripples in the Beyond distortions,
Liars keeping their riddles in portions,
segmented, divided for the street urchins.

Behind the Stone Door old,
a growing darkness veiled in cold.
Echoing the responses of a stone that rolled.
Bahael, the Lord God, hair of wood and skin of gold.

Priestess Lyssa marches with her men,
they stand behind the Treefolk again.
No more is the sky painted with the morning
and forever the Night that is plentiful.

"Carmach, do you hear me?"
Bold Queen spake into the castle Mou.
The silence acted as a response though,
Ishmael's son on the Great River would row.
He had lost his coins but gained a soul.

Bahael's tongue crept shadowspeakers,
the ringtails and lavender fields shivered.
Uniformly, the men would lie next to their brothers.
Bahael's tongue crept shadowcreatures.

In the Mou's great hall where It had been,
a former man began to bleed.
Surprise at the withering soldier,
She was not strong as a witness.

No more would the Narrowlands part
because the Old World was gone with It.
Came a new Sun instead of the Star,
He was made of Gold
but his wounds bled tar.

Bahael's hands reached across the widows,
shaking all their thoughts and hearts and dreams.
Death came in the form of the Usurper,
but it was not his hand that crept that night.

Behind the Sun stood the Pragmara and Ikine,
the bellowing Ogre and the gentle Equine,
fire melted them into It's flesh.
Once more the Darkness for another Season.
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Tue, 03 Jun 2014 19:39:03 EST ID:7KD2lVFx No.65039 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Inside the pillars of my mind
there are a thousand different kinds
of monsters that lurk and slide and climb,
each taller or smaller or weirder than the last.

But to go into those towers,
like bulllet into a chamber,
is suicidal or genius.
I can't decide which
so I dare not tread.
If I go there, I might come out dead.

I've got a collection of books,
but I'm not well read.
The scattering spiders webs in my head
they keep me from lapsing into comas of
imagination and fanciful daydreaming.
Oh, to read again.
I would if it help my attention.

My hands are other creatures,
I tell them what to do.
If they abide by my words,
we will all be well.

Aferimages rock my phantasm mind,
in the cochrane tunnel that I see.
I close my eyes and gaze beyond,
I am the Captain,
Riding the Orange Sea.

My cheeks glow warm
but there is no light to speak of,
where is the filter for my effervescence?
In my home there is but one presence.
>>
Hedda Bankinchetch - Sun, 08 Jun 2014 23:48:52 EST ID:azWOFjux No.65085 Ignore Report Quick Reply
it's 3am
the sky's dark
blue

we talk
we fuck.
we talk
we laugh
we get high
we fuck.
we eat
we laugh
we hold each other close
we stare into each others eyes

our feet rub together;

and we fuck.
and we dream we're going to conquer the world.

And I feel invincible.
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Tue, 17 Jun 2014 09:20:36 EST ID:OplLKNnU No.65157 Ignore Report Quick Reply
They came from numbers,
studied over three long summers.
Knowledge birthed the new world orders,
passed down by those that came from numbers.
>>
Shitting Brunninghirk - Mon, 23 Jun 2014 11:12:34 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65197 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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Then and now: i loved and love you.
then you loved me, and now you don't.
Hardly unique, is there any purpose to this documentation?
one person in a world of people
we should know nobody is the center of the solar system
and yet you, and everyone else's 'you'
manage to create such a level importance to us all.

Then everyone believed in that movie, that happy ending, that song.
Now we hastily turn it off, criticize the realism and cover our ears.

But then, we were someone else s sun once, without realizing
and we drew them in with our light, and everyone has one
not always as visible as we may think
But now looking back then, how can we hold it against you.
Now we're just like you, and it doesn't hurt now we understand.
>>
Shitting Brunninghirk - Mon, 23 Jun 2014 11:30:21 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65198 Ignore Report Quick Reply
People dream of what they want
a million birthday wishes for a car and a diamond necklace
a million more lottery tickets, fruit machines with money you couldnt afford
and one idea of naive
birthday candle dreams
blown out almost every time.

That's no problem,
I don't beleive in luck
and i don't beleive i care
about anything that i should want

I'm afraid and i shouldn't dream.
a million days wasting away for some drug and a rope necklace
a million more dissapointments for everyone around me
and one idea of seedy
late night, funeral dreams
in which i was blowing coke every time.
>>
Faggy Chapperfick - Sun, 29 Jun 2014 11:40:33 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65243 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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we're all going to die
the anticipation is what's killing me
a time and a date, here and and now feels like it will be
take me aside and tell me about:
filling my heart up with people
until those people talk over my minds voice.
Okay, fine, i'll let you into my organs
into every ventricle, into my blood
but is there no way that i can take you with me still?
or should i let you out, let you out all over
my sleeves, the kitchen floor, over the bottle
or even over a spiteful knife, collateral damage in mind.
>>
Faggy Chapperfick - Sun, 29 Jun 2014 11:47:19 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65245 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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Comment If i had even half of what i wish for
that would be terrible.
And if i had all of what I wish for
it would be more absurd than anything
close your eyes,
see me- a manic grin, curer of every evil
nobel peace prizes, trophies scattered here and there
it dawns on me, i have nothing to do now
to pass the time I slurp all manner of poison
from the cold, heavy cup that declared me superman
when those rusty chalices become empty
is when i fall down, and start to dream
where a person usually dreams of what they want
it seems all my dreams are filled with
trouble and strife.
>>
Faggy Chapperfick - Sun, 29 Jun 2014 11:49:00 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65246 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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just get up and do it
or just comfortably numb your backside
on the cozy floor or procrastination.
until you're buried under it.
well, now it's definitely too late.
>>
Faggy Chapperfick - Sun, 29 Jun 2014 11:52:10 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65247 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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falling from swings at the park
when your friends pushed you too hard
or your first juvinile scuffle
that started you can't remember how
and always remember you tripped and fell
into that pool of mud infront of everyone
but stumbled to stand up again,
no fuss, but a headache
fight but always play nice again
school bust and a bone break
embaressed but more embaressed
rather show blood then to show pain

I could've cried a big, ugly cry
it's pressumed a kid would do so
but, all those grotesque emotions that come with life
I still shook but said 'no' to.

Not much has changed from then until now
the only difference is i crave it now
not for attention exactly, or for love
but for somebody to see me
very angry and upset,
unforgiving and bitter
and crying, and in a mess.

sickeningly, pathetic, exhibitionism
I still say 'no' when i've fallen on my face
in favour of a toilet cubicle, my own space
But to help my sick mind would be to
unlock the door, wipe the smiles off my face
with that same tissue for the emotions i replace
>>
epoca - Sun, 29 Jun 2014 14:24:58 EST ID:OGMyDiH/ No.65249 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Nuclear Winter Wonderland
There’s a nuclear device soon to be set off in the heart of our city, and I’ve got ten minutes to prove my love for you.
There’s a nuclear device soon to be set off in the heart of our city, and it’s your hand I want to hold.
There’s a nuclear device soon to be set off in the heart of our city, and all I’ve known is about to be through.
There’s a nuclear device soon to be set off in the heart of our city, and I have to accept, that we couldn’t grow old.
…and there’s only one place I want to be.
…and I smile, as from your cheek a solitary tear falls, and I see you accept me in your heart.
…and an enslaved sadness, is now set free.
…and I’m happy that you know, and that’s a start.
>>
epoca - Sun, 29 Jun 2014 14:26:37 EST ID:OGMyDiH/ No.65250 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>65249
An Elegant Asphyxiation on the Face of Mars
You left for space ten years ago today
I will count the days till I see your face again, is all I can hear you say
I could not go another second without, and I finally found a way.
The depths of Argentina found me a Nazi for hire
Slipped doses of speed made sure he would never tire
Blood stains my space suit quickly after I hear the words, It is ready sire.
The cockpit rumbles with force, without hesitation do I leave our beautiful, blue rock
A thunderous laugh erupts, similar to those of my colleagues, my plans did they mock
How could they understand, they did not feel, what it feels, to have a heart unlock.
Within moments, Our Final Frontier
I close my eyes, and my ship I steer
It is you that guides me, and you I hear.
For it is your voice that transcends the silence of space
Like your space corset, my boots do I begin to lace
Long have I prepared to be right here and now, this time, and place.
It is towards the red face of Ares that I fly
A helmet placed, and silently does one cry
For here on out, never will I let you say good bye.
The surface I begin to clearly see
And on this dry land do I land, ever so carefully
Euphoria is all I can be.
The doors open and towards you I would run
But gravity is different my dear, on this, fourth rock from the Sun
I can wait, for truly, have we just begun.
You are close, I can feel that you are not far
Can you feel my warmth, from me, from our star
Can you hear it yet, our music, swaying in the car
I can, and god, how I’m ready
Quickly as I can, I jump towards your aura, ever so steady
In my suit, I feel my palms get sweaty.
And there you are, I feel you behind this rock, with a view of our planet, so perfect
I have been waiting since my heart you did intercept
I knew that my heart and love you would never reject.
Finally, I see you at last, and goodness, how fast my heart does beat
A sort of warmth from my head down to the bottom of my feet
I suppose it is in heaven that now we will meet.
My suit I begin to unzip
It is from Death’s chalice that I begin to sip
Ever so quickly does the temperature begin to dip.
I subject my naked self to you my, Mother Red
And as I feel my breath running short I sit down, your skull, on my head
I wrap my hand around the brittle bones that make up your hand, and I understand, as to why your skeleton lays here, how you really did count the days, how you tried as much as you could to come back, how we, were the last thing you thought of, and now I ca close my eyes, wipe my tears, no frowns, and a smile, instead.
>>
Wisdom Fist - Mon, 30 Jun 2014 22:54:39 EST ID:eNsacxgX No.65268 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Egg
Hole filled
with thick black,
Taut black space,
devoid and hollowed.
convex porcelain Goblet
Filling, freezing, indefinite.
Punctuated silver rupture
Shell hatching progress.
A veiny swollen pebble
Pouring, cracking,
Being fixed.
>>
Clara Goblingshit - Wed, 09 Jul 2014 04:16:21 EST ID:9lyyLRMT No.65318 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Just wrote some haiku

Shit happens sometimes
Yet we try to be happy
Because why not? Fuck.

Smiles cause smiles
Well, usually except
On your ugly face

Be mean to strangers
And help all those who are in need
Even Caucasians

I’m not explaining
I’m sharing information
Wisdom is nonsense

Can fat people cry?
Why are you even crying?
Please stop crying soon.

Jazz dance and weed smoke
Open mics and anxious chokes
No one is watching

Drink the bottle full
Go off running with the bulls
Pamplona awaits

A guy just got hit!
How are you alright with it?
Waiting for power

You’re a coward too
When faced with death, pants you poo
Go get in fist fights

Look after your head
Your brain is in there, you fuck
The one thing that counts

Sit down, off with load
Without care or slightest hope
Trying is for them



What if it’s all one?
Perfectly harmonious
Or not? Deep poems, Bro

Philosophy is
Questioning your dick instead
Of just beating it

A sage has a beard
A wizard has a beard too.
So smart but can’t shave?

Three in the morning
So defined by a feeling
Cum hard, sleep harder

Clean water shittin
My ticket is the winner
Privileged bitchin

The poor always fight
The rich can afford to care
But why not have more?

Kakuna hardens
Nostalgia consumes me
A perfect dick joke

He was named Penis
But then I thought Cockuna
My deepest regret

Still a good one though.
If only it had happened
To the president

Drone strikes are real things
Flying robot, bomb from sky
Meh, casualties

Such Meta-Haiku
Five seven five and yet still
Very much a poem



Raise a glass up high
Jump around for no reason
Scream that you’re alive

The Bible says it
Some old Chinese guys said it
You know to be nice.

Intuition begs
While reason is distracted
by new things it trusts

Embarrass yourself
Preferably in public
Humility waits

Self-efficacy
And being a cocky prick
Maybe not the same

I’m busy, okay?
Why won’t you just go away?
Trying to jerk it!

Beef jerky tastes like
Really old, dry, salty meat
Why? Because it is
>>
Alice - Fri, 11 Jul 2014 01:46:23 EST ID:q/z0PxZn No.65342 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1405057583449.jpg -(79442B / 77.58KB, 500x475) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
it's not OC but I believe it was written for me.
I would like to thank whomever wrote it. It saved my life.


An Elegant Asphyxiation on the Face of Mars
You left for space ten years ago today
I will count the days till I see your face again, is all I can hear you say
I could not go another second without, and I finally found a way.
The depths of Argentina found me a Nazi for hire
Slipped doses of speed made sure he would never tire
Blood stains my space suit quickly after I hear the words, It is ready sire.
The cockpit rumbles with force, without hesitation do I leave our beautiful, blue rock
A thunderous laugh erupts, similar to those of my colleagues, my plans did they mock
How could they understand, they did not feel, what it feels, to have a heart unlock.
Within moments, Our Final Frontier
I close my eyes, and my ship I steer
It is you that guides me, and you I hear.
For it is your voice that transcends the silence of space
Like your space corset, my boots do I begin to lace
Long have I prepared to be right here and now, this time, and place.
It is towards the red face of Ares that I fly
A helmet placed, and silently does one cry
For here on out, never will I let you say good bye.
The surface I begin to clearly see
And on this dry land do I land, ever so carefully
Euphoria is all I can be.
The doors open and towards you I would run
But gravity is different my dear, on this, fourth rock from the Sun
I can wait, for truly, have we just begun.
You are close, I can feel that you are not far
Can you feel my warmth, from me, from our star
Can you hear it yet, our music, swaying in the car
I can, and god, how I’m ready
Quickly as I can, I jump towards your aura, ever so steady
In my suit, I feel my palms get sweaty.
And there you are, I feel you behind this rock, with a view of our planet, so perfect
I have been waiting since my heart you did intercept
I knew that my heart and love you would never reject.
Finally, I see you at last, and goodness, how fast my heart does beat
A sort of warmth from my head down to the bottom of my feet
I suppose it is in heaven that now we will meet.
My suit I begin to unzip
It is from Death’s chalice that I begin to sip
Ever so quickly does the temperature begin to dip.
I subject my naked self to you my, Mother Red
And as I feel my breath running short I sit down, your skull, on my head
I wrap my hand around the brittle bones that make up your hand, and I understand, as to why your skeleton lays here, how you really did count the days, how you tried as much as you could to come back, how we, were the last thing you thought of, and now I can close my eyes, wipe my tears, no frowns, and a smile, instead.
>>
Phoebe Hoffingfatch - Sat, 12 Jul 2014 14:30:00 EST ID:vw7CjAFs No.65349 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
wrote something stupid about laziness, it's the first time I try to write something, so you don't really need to tell me how shitty it is, still I hope maybe someone will enjoy it


Trapped hallways of the mind
Labyrinth of numbness
Nothing but tired-out thoughts surrounds this tomb
Nothing but a decaying voice which seems as distant as mortality is to a young child, yet volumes everything else:
"act"
It says
In a gentle, soothing, content way
But as the voice travels the sullen halls of thought
Passing through rooms flooded with dullness
It slowly decays to a whimper and disappears.
>>
Phoebe Hoffingfatch - Sat, 12 Jul 2014 14:32:43 EST ID:vw7CjAFs No.65350 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
wrote something stupid about laziness, It's the first time I try to write so you don't have to tell me how shitty it is, still I hope someone will enjoy it.


Trapped hallways of the mind
Labyrinth of numbness
Nothing but tired-out thoughts surrounds this tomb
Nothing but a decaying voice which seems as distant as mortality is to a young child, yet volumes everything else:
"act"
It says
In a gentle, soothing, content way
But as the voice travels the sullen halls of thought
Passing through rooms flooded with dullness
It slowly decays to a whimper and disappears.
>>
Reuben Honeyway - Wed, 16 Jul 2014 07:57:36 EST ID:UzKt6U/T No.65376 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Break-up poem incoming:

I ache with the beauty of the
world. The sunlight shines a
sparrow through my window,
but it is gone before I
have the chance to hear it sing.
My lawn is full of gravel.
I shovel the stones because
I like to hear them clatter.
The water in the tap runs brown
and smells a lot like ethanol.
I don't remember which way
the sun comes up.
I hunt for it in the mornings,
then I sit among the rocks
and pick at the weeds, thirsting
their way up, hoping for rain.
No matter how many sandbags I stack
against the door, the wind always
blows them down and my floor
is flooded again. The storm
clears and I'm left
still searching for the sun.

I miss and love her so much I want to die fuck
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Thu, 17 Jul 2014 17:44:00 EST ID:o7/jD3nV No.65383 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Never before had she went through the door,
Never before had her foot touched the floor.
>>
Mysimeboat !zFKu.41xRY - Fri, 18 Jul 2014 16:02:14 EST ID:JnX4wa1d No.65388 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>65383
I know this kind bloke ain't never tried coke
Never before had his mind blown
Find smoke, I choke clouds
Don't know how, it's some shit I wrote
Found time passed slow
Nigga fasted for a year just to
Devour through a whole bag of doritos
Hunger its real yo
>>
Nigel Drenkintidging - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 00:47:42 EST ID:fEdUBxAq No.65392 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I write something now
I will not delete
I do something here
I will not repeat
>>
John Farrymun - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 06:40:37 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65394 Ignore Report Quick Reply
pockets filled with pennies
and a wallet's empty woe
heart filled with regrets
and memories; Oh how they flow.

you will take what you're given
and you're given far too low
wait a while
then break a smile
when kindness gifts it's glow.
>>
John Farrymun - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 06:41:25 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65395 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Uninspired by melancholy or romantic cliche
you write the words meanwhile it's life you write away
outside this room go now, into the fray
take actions as many as today
can hold.
Be brave.
Be bold.
Be noble.
inaction's the disease of the weak and the old.
>>
John Farrymun - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 06:42:09 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65396 Ignore Report Quick Reply
CommentWhy does this keep happening?
I try to keep you all, like life
nasty, brutish and doomed with strife.
But Leviathan's roaring inside our hearts
He pulls us under the currents as love starts
no matter wherever this may lead
it's the seductive call of the void
and it's the sirens song we should avoid
but we die for it until our hearts destroyed.
>>
John Farrymun - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 06:45:07 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65397 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Maybe trying to be a good person
is subconciously trying to unburden the world
of me.
and every pain I will cause.
I hope i live in a constant state of apology
so when i leave the world can forgive me
and forget me as if i never made it any worse.
>>
John Farrymun - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 06:46:25 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65398 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Grey contemplative weather
I'll stay here
and think it all back together
every tragedy past and incoming
energized by this terrible overcast
soaking in the electric currents in the skies
I can see clearer now with clouds in my eyes.
>>
John Farrymun - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 06:47:34 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65399 Ignore Report Quick Reply
46 billion light years surround me
passing nonchalant right over my eyes
I was skim reading all there ever was and will be
and suddenly my brains splatter insignificently
on the walls of my half-pint universe
dust to dust, ashes to ashes
another star returns loyally, inevitably to the sky
How seflish!
Our immortal universe is overbearing at best
making sure we never truly leave the galactic nest
>>
John Farrymun - Sat, 19 Jul 2014 06:49:39 EST ID:TDI32Eqf No.65400 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Have you ever been so happy waking up that you could just go and
plunge a butter knife right into your arteries
casually, without hesitation, all over the toast
and just quit while you're ahead.
Everything's just trivial after all; a game of luck
Tempted to fold but the cards haven't all been dealt
Well you can try and lay them out in front of me
afraid to even peek
hear me scream as i throw them to the floor
Please get the fuck away from me
as i pace around the exit,
Dare and double-dare myself
Anticipation, walking back and forth
contemplating the existence of another turn
but too embarrassed to go back now.
>>
Alice Creblingpadging - Sat, 02 Aug 2014 07:10:44 EST ID:VZAlL7Dw No.65493 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Be gentle, I'm an amateur
this is called stray sheep


Oh delicious berries
you are so sweet
I scavenge the lands
every shrub at my feet
and when you are gone
I will seek a new plant
over indulgences
my resources are scant

I change to you
oh tasty fruit
oh how i love you
oh tasty fruit
I swell in your euphorics
it seems dopamine is my loot
a little more
a little more
you are all down the chute

so i move on
to a different taste
such various feelings
but difference to waste
i go on more
and more
and more

I fall deep in grayscale
I want to plunder
i need bail
I saught good
and was lost in the mist
I craved substance
but i needed a more to assist
and so i fell
i fell in deep
all good memories
became stray sheep.
>>
Doris Backlesick - Wed, 06 Aug 2014 10:05:08 EST ID:4c1QytvO No.65521 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Rolling thunder agitates his head
He rolls it back to keep it there instead
Doesn't hear the empty words of men
Life is just a big game of pretend
Sits alone in his throne, so very high
And emits a comfortable sigh

The universe is very small to him
Just as he is small to you and me
Though he towers high above us all
He yearns to find the secret to be free

Torrential downpours soak into his skin
He sheds it off and contemplates his sin
Mouth agape but he does not say a word
Which does not mean there is nothing to be heard
Carried away by his entourage
But still I can discern his visage
>>
Yojimbo !zuhmdSRuSE - Wed, 13 Aug 2014 08:35:44 EST ID:vi1nQfuD No.65593 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Empty chambers
all decorated evil,
Giger-ic sculptures,
Dying stars and flares.
Stood all awoken asleep and
Beholding the power of nightmares

.
>>
Whitey Bullyfoot - Fri, 15 Aug 2014 10:57:39 EST ID:UxasC9g6 No.65605 Ignore Report Quick Reply
my stomach, roiling
the diarrhea, seeping out of me
too injured to move myself to the toilet
I flounder here

I wait for Him
as I do every night
I wait for him to spoon feed me his white poison
the poison that turns my insides to mush
and causes me to choke and gag around the head of his penis
forever
>>
Whitey Dibbleville - Mon, 18 Aug 2014 07:11:53 EST ID:jC84D25a No.65632 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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Every few seconds I breathe, in and out
And all this time I hear, and see, and feel
My heart move in my chest,
Weaker or stronger
And with these things I wax and wane.

I watch, and am presented with images,
I listen, and am given sounds
To delight the mind, and forget that body
That cries out for great expanses.
I run, and feel the wind brush
My hair, soft in a rough world
And forget the mind, that cries for
peace.

What use is this, when to see the world
Is mad, to hear the cries is illness,
To be treated with pills of
Yours or other’s choosing?
What use a mind unworthy of the task,
A body vain? Merely to fill the hours,
Quietly, drawing no attention to the fact

To live is to affirm
And to affirm is futile.

I’ve seen more faces now
Than I ever thought I’d see –
The traces of the living and the dead
And all as lost as me.
>>
Betsy Sobblechick - Wed, 20 Aug 2014 11:18:21 EST ID:D7Y+70CQ No.65640 Ignore Report Quick Reply
We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea
But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be
I would wait forever, exalted in the scene
As long as I am with you, my heart continues to beat


Original content do not steal
>>
Hugh Dartway - Sun, 24 Aug 2014 21:39:26 EST ID:NSyXn6qX No.65665 Ignore Report Quick Reply
ITT
Tryhards
>>
Samuel Brarrylock - Sun, 24 Aug 2014 22:15:28 EST ID:UxasC9g6 No.65667 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>65663
excuse me
for real yo?
are you really
telling someone
how to write poetry?
cuz i've read your purple prose
lol
>>
Samuel Brarrylock - Sun, 24 Aug 2014 22:37:27 EST ID:UxasC9g6 No.65668 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64252
lmao
>>
Cedric Lighthood - Fri, 29 Aug 2014 22:03:49 EST ID:2vmRpQAa No.65690 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>65663
It's interpretive, not random at all.
A solid idea was in mind when writing it, but keeping things subtle and up for interpretation is tricky.
It's not random, it's just not all up in your face about specifics.

This was intentional.
Anyways, lets hear your "perfect poem" from off the shoulder, eh?
>>
Fanny Berrytut - Fri, 29 Aug 2014 22:31:59 EST ID:UxasC9g6 No.65691 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>65690
Just ctrl-F and type Yojimbo and read his stuff. You can tell he thinks he's hot shit, writing these dramatic ballads about pain and depression. 'Writers' like Yojimbo are the worst of the lot because they don't even express themselves in their own language. For some reason he lapses into an archaic use of language and sentence structure when he writes, probably because he's emulating his favorite poets instead of just being his own original person. The rest of us, we are modern savages that do not understand true art.

>nay!
>beseech
>beset
>betwixt
>beckon
>totally unrelatable content for anyone but a manic depressive gentleman in a top hat living in the 1800s

Yojimbo, it's cool to write the way you do. But when you shit on somebody else, you just leave yourself open to a criticism. And damn does your shit stink, I haven't read drivel like yours since highschool poetry class. You're supposed to grow out of this shit.
>>
Nigger Dregglelot - Thu, 04 Sep 2014 22:56:59 EST ID:yvuWYHhv No.65731 Ignore Report Quick Reply
A soft dream under denim.
I woke up in a bookstore cafe
to the diesel reek
of chainsaws and tractors.
There were seascapes, barges,
and a strip mall burning down.
Falling up stairwells,
rusty blood. Copper
taste, like a story I
once read. Sailboats
and the obscene buzz
of a windmill farm.
Cars abandoned on
the highway, stretching in
lines of lost exodus for
miles and miles. A weird
and lonesome breeze
spoke only to me,
of an asshole,
screaming drunk,
alone in the forest.
>>
Angus Cobberstatch - Sun, 07 Sep 2014 15:14:45 EST ID:whE4ioqH No.65759 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

my dick... smells so bad

your dick... is pretty rad
>>
Martha Hebblepidge - Thu, 25 Sep 2014 11:12:13 EST ID:pDMRRpd8 No.65891 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59737
I like this one.

Now and then I get some inspiration from the oddest things, I've been trying to meditate on being centered, calm and supportive but have been having some problems. This poem was born after being stuck for a while, and it's loose ends are for me to come back to later.
That being said, rules are not really followed.

Tiles waiting to turn

Be centered like a line between parallel tiles
Support those
who crave the same as you but hide it well
You know just as well
When you give into the world
Tiles all the same except for the occasional that stand out
Your luminescence becomes dull, making your friends doubt
What they're all in it for
Well i took my support out
All around me fell apart
Makes me want them all the more
To build something anew
>>
Betsy Moddleledging - Sun, 05 Oct 2014 07:02:15 EST ID:I4JvlpJv No.66008 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Wrote this as a joke for one of my Uni assignments - fancied my teacher a bit.

I strip aside your diphthong ,
and you become euphonic
gently slipping from the tongue
and forming a harmonic .
In slips my hyperbole
and you become tautological,
repeating verbally
and sounding rather comical.
Soon enough we find a rhythm
forming up a couplet
but alas there is a schism ,
and it falls apart.
I’ve reached my denouement
I yawn, eyes close, I’m gone.
>>
Doris Sommerhood - Sun, 05 Oct 2014 18:04:28 EST ID:DWZlOevQ No.66017 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>66007
the only one I've ever known
>>
CrazyFolksTribe !loJSOMZg0g - Thu, 09 Oct 2014 01:03:37 EST ID:G8QoBQPw No.66048 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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When this thread reaches the bump limit, someone should screencap the whole thing. There's some good stuff in here. And I don't just say that because Yojimbo posted in here and he's dead now.

Broccoli and cheese, fat beats from Delaware
Fat white desperation, honest country bound to hell
Early 90s graphics with a crooning guitar

You can make what you want but they'll try to make you dance
And if you live by the beat you probably will
But you can't dance to zydeco no more.

Somebody said it keeps cultures alive;
Apparently not the ones you pushed away.
Some rely on dying radio for a fix near forgotten.
>>
Archie Dunderforth - Thu, 09 Oct 2014 09:29:36 EST ID:xW/HyYL2 No.66049 Ignore Report Quick Reply
here we plunge
though depths to the end of this world

though far away
our homes will stay
ready for us to return

i can't bring us both
out of these depths
we're bound here as hard as we may

our hopes and our dreams they all die for me now
as our minds disperse to gray

sinking down
slowly settling
we face our maker soon

When then i feel death approaches
Still not quite at peace
As i peer at those listless eyes

And my heart upstarting imagines
To not let you be such prey

So fighting off death
In my last few seconds with you
My spark fixes something to do

Here now i do free you of bonds
Do away from this liltless place

For there's more to death then just simply ending
Down these stale brackish depths

there's a gift of sorts always left behind here
and i know
for now here's not for you

(it doesn't even rhyme ugh)
>>
James Fapperpot - Tue, 14 Oct 2014 02:56:24 EST ID:F4HTUKOK No.66074 Ignore Report Quick Reply
They guide the waves away.
Grinding and penning they took the seeds.
I need the seeds to save themselves, and I want the water.

I fear i'll fear the day.
The day when seeds are gone and you,
The day I'll love our daughter.

I hope we'll swim,
Because I fear collapse.
Tonight, I hear no hymn.
>>
Nigel Gevingwed - Fri, 24 Oct 2014 19:37:03 EST ID:xvHdUK65 No.66136 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Bleak
Infinitely alone in the wilderness of thought
Vague distorted counciesness fading reality away from me
I dream of worlds in which I am free
I envision places in which I am complete
The burden of imperfection does not exist here
Harmony flows through the veins of being itself
Passing through the vessels of time, bringing an end to all that is defected.

And as I imagine these comforting forms of thought
I get lost ever so profoundly inside of them
And I don't think I can keep on living,
whilst the contrast between them and my fractured reality remains.

Farewell bleak world
Farewell and good riddance!
>>
Glasnost - Sun, 30 Nov 2014 07:04:17 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.66373 Ignore Report Quick Reply
She haunts my sleep
And stalks my mind
every night she greets my heavy head
every night her eyes meet mine

The same cloud grey eyes...
flickering between brunet hair in the wind...
lifeless screams and endless tears,
her lip quivers a gentle sigh
As always she limbless and tries to walk
>>
Isabella Fezzleman - Tue, 09 Dec 2014 18:57:29 EST ID:rAYLbVsM No.66403 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
In a beffiting manner,
for the first of december,
Snow settles in the ground.
>>
RIP Max JW - Sat, 13 Dec 2014 08:38:55 EST ID:O5oo+go7 No.66417 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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Oh shit... My man is gone? No Kidding? No Joke?
It's been a minute since we kicked it
we'd been hidden like ghosts,
Now the crew feels like a wheel
thats been missin some spokes,
So ill be cutting this life a deal
ill be quitting the smokes,
to stay stressed though blessed
you couldn't fit it in quotes,
Man, your style was dope!
you couldn't fit it in coats!
how you so ahead of the game
but still finishing broke?
I guess if we were snakes eating our tales
you were spinning the most
>>
Jarvis Druggleford - Mon, 15 Dec 2014 07:26:38 EST ID:BhgxdRJg No.66428 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Sleight of hand of clever fingers
make believe this clumsy pen
on second napkins; modest etchings
met with our approval, whence
an original is born.
>>
M !zFKu.41xRY - Tue, 23 Dec 2014 08:09:25 EST ID:JnX4wa1d No.66474 Ignore Report Quick Reply
RIP YOJIMBO

His birthday was yesterday.

The poor guy deserves peace.
>>
Beatrice Hanningdot - Fri, 26 Dec 2014 16:02:08 EST ID:bq5scg8g No.66485 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>66474
RIP jimmy
troll on in the afterlife, ya lovable spaz
>>
Charles Fubblewell - Sat, 27 Dec 2014 07:11:39 EST ID:4uYmU1cD No.66486 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>66474
can someone explain Yojimbo and who he is and what happened? Why was he in need of peace? Is he an internet personality or something?
>>
Nell Hennerwetch - Sat, 27 Dec 2014 23:22:47 EST ID:EPgrLQb1 No.66488 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

I just put my head out the window to get a breath of some fresh, cold, 5 o'clock-in-the-morning air

and i heard a bird sing

–Now, you see, this is Helsinki,Finland in December and its honestly cold as fuck.
Snow covers everything, blizzards blowing, you know the drill...

aint no birds supposed to be awake at this hour. Or even be alive at this hour.

But somehow that motherfucker still sings. You can hear him

if you listen close enough
>>
Glasnost - Mon, 29 Dec 2014 03:51:42 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.66494 Ignore Report Quick Reply
one rainy day in autumn
my thoughts plant a seed
set the clocks to dream and dare
in the meadow of my despair

the seed becomes a tree
branches bowed with
dyeing autumn in its leaves
And I swam a hundred days
in the blossom of this bliss

and the sun it shines
filling the meadow
with creatures of the land
they bath and bask in the shade of the tree
planting its seeds where they can

by night I dance in the balmy air
to the stars and moon
and watch while the seeds grow
drowning out the gloom

out side the sanctuary of this forest
my dreams splinter off
Who is this effigy?
Is there hope in these fields?

the trees begin to fruit
as the forest begins to bloom
I day dream of the creatures
beneath the sun, stars and moon

a young maiden greets me
resplendent in her grace
and bit by bit the fruit is picked
into this world I'm born.
>>
Poetry freestyle - Tue, 30 Dec 2014 01:39:20 EST ID:fUjeQ70T No.66500 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>59689
A Ringing In Your Ears

There's a man with a plan
But he's stuck in circumstances
I'm not usually like this
He tells his brand new girlfriend
Failure to report earns minimum suspension
Consolidate your weaknesses
And challenge every outcome

That empty space behind the void
that's it
That ringing in your ears at night
That's it
That static lingering at the sides
That's it
That ringing in your ears at night
Mm hmm

A woman bakes a cake for work
She sets it out to cool
She leaves her house and forgets it there out in the windowsill
Her coworkers bring more than plenty
She helps herself to devils food cake
Then she tells a man about her dog
She knitted him a red sweater

I had a really surreal and scary dream last night that there were all these fires burning out of the ground unexplained and the news was reporting day after day about asteroids coming into our atmosphere in the next few days and ministers and astronomers were out on every street corner proselytizing and giving alternative theories. And I was arguing with my brother about the news and the validity of the media information. And my mom wouldn't come down to the crawl space with us because she said "My flat screen tv is up here." I haven't been able to sleep since.
>>
Wesley Blozzlenitch - Tue, 06 Jan 2015 21:02:50 EST ID:DWZlOevQ No.66538 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>66532
deep
>>
CM Phil - Tue, 06 Jan 2015 21:47:26 EST ID:G+HVDRCV No.66539 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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For Sale

Baby Shoes

Never Worn
>>
Phyllis Denderman - Wed, 07 Jan 2015 13:36:14 EST ID:I5W/F3cD No.66541 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>66539
>>
Whitey Fanwater - Wed, 07 Jan 2015 22:57:08 EST ID:9MggARNJ No.66543 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>66539
"Can we get an OC poetry thread? "
>>
CrazyFolksTribe !loJSOMZg0g - Fri, 09 Jan 2015 17:21:04 EST ID:ntmjddfi No.66547 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I can do without tobacco,
I can do without stim.
I can do without playing with the hairs on my chin.
I can also do without making silly rhymes that sound like Dr. Seuss, but why would I?
>>
Caroline Hellystid - Thu, 15 Jan 2015 17:07:37 EST ID:NFtq/Q95 No.66561 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>66539
Copy Paste

Old Poem

Seen before
>>
Thomas Sinkinsudge - Fri, 16 Jan 2015 08:59:09 EST ID:J+RahF1j No.66562 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Copious amount coke
Please dont use me
I just want to be with you
Let me be, and be free. . I know you and me, you need me, so lets be friends.
My rotary phone is no more, ill call you when I get back.

"Dial Tone"
>>
Whitey Fanwater - Wed, 21 Jan 2015 22:10:01 EST ID:V7vo5P98 No.66584 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Horizon and sea meet,
whispering their ancient rotes.
I take a quick toke.
>>
Samuel Hummershit - Tue, 27 Jan 2015 21:02:29 EST ID:eU0z7Z3G No.66620 Ignore Report Quick Reply
In present such grace bellows
disembarking the predisposed
Eyes gaze into reflection
>>
Glasnost - Tue, 03 Feb 2015 07:31:50 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.66645 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The Muse

How much further to the golden valley?
Where the mountains cleave the clouds
And the ocean reflects the sun
It is here where I began.

How much further to the golden valley?
Where loves window frames tomorrows promise
And desires portal opens onto a new hope;
Beyond despairs shadows and into sunlights dream.

How much longer to the golden valley?
I thought I walked alone,
But a whisper from the shadows struck me; soft and fair
‘I’ll be your muse’ she spoke
As the wind picked up and rustled her hair.

For days, months, maybe years
The muse guided me through the thin mountain air
Like woven twine, pulled at the threads
Our paths diverged and crossed again.

How much longer to the golden valley?
Where the muse would surely be waiting
Where the crystal rivers flow and wild horses race
Where I pine for our sweet embrace.

Forever heard but never seen
The muse spoke to me
‘Onward, not long to the golden valley’
Filling me with hope.

As I turned a corner and lay to rest, the muse urged me:
‘Hurry, not much further, do your best’
But my eyes closed and head fell heavy
It seems the years had taken their toll in search for the –
Golden valley.
>>
Nigel Creddleford - Sat, 07 Feb 2015 18:41:20 EST ID:F4/5uH9r No.66669 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The bitch I love asked for the dick
In anguish wishing she didn't
Sucking it for pleasure but with remorse
Massaging the prostrate
Doing what she learned and knows
>>
Thomas Claywill - Sat, 14 Feb 2015 02:25:32 EST ID:toUXiuMq No.66707 Ignore Report Quick Reply
done with
it
crazily
kickboxing

interrogation
no more

maximum
yelling

all to make it
stop
stop
>>
Thomas Claywill - Sat, 14 Feb 2015 02:27:27 EST ID:toUXiuMq No.66708 Ignore Report Quick Reply
done with
it
crazily
kickboxing

into
nothing

maximum
yelling

all to make it
stop
stop
>>
Polly Chishman - Thu, 26 Feb 2015 17:54:35 EST ID:AmVP+Vjr No.66749 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Perched, looking at the screen
Life's anguish close behind
And since his eyes have yet to move
They have yet to find
>>
Polly Chishman - Thu, 26 Feb 2015 18:08:21 EST ID:AmVP+Vjr No.66750 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Newbury streets
Laced with faces
Incomplete
They stare or stumble
As I pass
Just a kid
Who preaches change
But day by day
I stay the same
Mums with prams
Children spoilt
For lack of dad
They turn and toil
Tomorrow comes
We hope for more
But never stepping
Through open doors
On these Newbury streets
>>
Charlotte Grandcocke - Fri, 27 Feb 2015 16:45:35 EST ID:2HgxP/rO No.66757 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1425073535682.png -(423897B / 413.96KB, 452x710) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
You made yourself a bed
At the bottom of the blackest hole
And convinced yourself that it's not the reason
You don't see the sun anymore
>>
Angus Chuddleduck - Sat, 28 Feb 2015 00:13:41 EST ID:Ve7wD5qO No.66758 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I'd like honest input on this poem(?) I wrote years ago when I was in a funk. I'm not sure what to think of it.

My pen will not carve my name
Dull to touch unaligned in its way
This will not hold
This will not hold

Who is the man, the one in the corner
alone resolute, who surrounds himself in pity
Light up your torches and drive him away
needn't you take our sorrows today

To the forest they cast this poor soul in hast
snap twigs, crushed leaves now lie in his wake
But there's death in the air and laughter up yonder
and air in his lungs to go on a bit longer

Who is a man who cares not for his name
one who forgets age and time of day
Locked in his head there is no escape
lest his brain brake bone and tear flesh to freedom

You swept to your feet and glided in grace
though the wind took your stead and readied your frame
Decent upon soil, feet touch the earth
through brightness I saw an unwavering flame
You took my hand and scribbled my name
identity retained self will washed in blame.
>>
Glasnost - Sun, 01 Mar 2015 08:35:47 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.66761 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I felt a lonely shadow
touch me in the night
it came from my inner self
while you slept by my side

it spoke in my ear
'here's a promise you can keep"
be sure to lover her wholly
with the same passion that you seek

so I'm making a promise to you
as the shadow slips away
I'll love you for who you are
even when your old and grey

I'll bare no grudge
if our paths shall part
because the lonely shadow will find me
for it is my broken heart
>>
Rebecca Grimshaw - Thu, 05 Mar 2015 04:33:15 EST ID:qLqGKNsA No.66787 Ignore Report Quick Reply
sad
a nymph with out a fawn
scetchy disco
pawns to a bishops yawn
animal around a cookie
open your soul
sure as an irish slurr
sturdy as a fighter
the bic it flicks
little clipped pennys
calamity in a tea cup
dont look at me like that
>>
Rebecca Grimshaw - Thu, 05 Mar 2015 05:17:49 EST ID:qLqGKNsA No.66788 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
limber timber tumbles kid
still I didnt
my pen
human hunger
I enjoyed the dirty dancing and the boy with no shoes
>>
Faggy Mocklemed - Sun, 08 Mar 2015 05:03:53 EST ID:AmVP+Vjr No.66805 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>66750
Berkshire is a landscape
Of beauty and perfection
Unless you live in Newbury
You will cling to this perception
Even though this town
Seems quaint unto a stranger
He is to yet to analyse
The average locals behaviour
A rich man races horses
Then drives back to his village
A newburians' quite different
He'll sniff, he'll lie, he'll pillage
The highstreet displays character
Cafés, shops, size still humble
Yet despite the architecture
Walk 10 minutes, you'll take a tumble
Because instead of affluence
And you'd hardly be surprised
There are inbreds and their friends
On meow and bicycles, looking for a fight
Or boasting of their business
How on a bench they reproduced
Paired their genes in a manner vile
Another generation of no use
The girl speak in tones so shrill
The boy brags of being arrested
She didn't swallow her pill
And He got his genitals tested
Their parents are no different
It's why their youngens are this way
They yell from whithered snouts
Melodramatically dismayed
But if you heard the content
Of their hostile cries
Why? You'd understand
without these attitudes
There's nothing in their lives

And it's all because Newbury is really A shithole,
You either leave here or rot here
>>
Glasnost - Mon, 09 Mar 2015 07:41:06 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.66809 Ignore Report Quick Reply
"WHAT IS LOVE?"

What is love? but a subtle dream
filled with thoughts of beauty
whispers of perfect truths
lost and unseen

her name is on my parted lips
the moment when I kiss
do I know the dream is real?
as my fears are slowly stripped

by virtue she see's
my love revealed
for what beauty could I possess
beneath desire to conceal

the dream becomes more vivid
as she holds me tight
and if I should begin to fear
and waken with a fright

she soothes me with a grazing touch
that lingers in the night
and coiled in her thoughts embrace
I rest til mornings light.
>>
M - Fri, 13 Mar 2015 22:44:41 EST ID:xdcaEloU No.66837 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Life is too hard like neutron stars
Get a cheat card and run hard
Ya'll busters ain’t deep like black holes
You’re not blasting quasars
You could shine for a millennia, won’t show on radars
That means can’t see at all
Fade off into the black ground
Background to a star
Off the bench during graduation was too high up balancing
On a fence trying to not catch my first offense
These haters can’t see space invaders coming
With future ships, computer chips documents experiences
And do your homework, nothing similar happened before
>>
Molly Bluttingson - Tue, 17 Mar 2015 17:27:46 EST ID:7ZyF1hbm No.66849 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>66809
i'm sorry, but as i read that it was to the tune of "what is love."
>>
M - Wed, 18 Mar 2015 07:58:32 EST ID:xdcaEloU No.66854 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>66849
N is for neurotransmitters
M is a nigga who doesn’t know shit either
M’s known to stare a lot and just sit there
Like a neutron star moving is hard
Lay back to toke and I take a break
M doesn’t know a lot but N is for neurons
Free knowledge, come get your nerd on

So first I start with my number one neuron (Do Ra Mi)
Open up my queen dopamine tell me dopes not mean
Sharing is caring, when I re-up I call her supreme
Stayin with white, shard, and RC’s seems we afraid of sleep
Days pass by, the police outside but too afraid to peek

Covered one there lets move on man
Knowledge never hurt no one and
There’s no wrong in inhibitory or excitatory

But hold on that’s another story
So onto my neuro friend serotonin
Short fused serotonin, replenish when famished
Or plenty when tripping, even get it from Dexin’
Careful not to mix in antidepressants

Enough is enough I’m here and aware
Adrenaline’s got you alert like you tweakin’
Fight or flight like norepinephrine
Alright supply more oxygen to the brain
Pumping blood to the veins, core, and legs
Please forgive me lord, listen it’s either me or him
>>
Glasnost - Fri, 20 Mar 2015 10:57:24 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.66861 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Her eyes spoke a quiet commotion
white rings, green irises
Into the woods, into the woods
and she grasped my hands.

The leaves whisper truths
carried on the distant breeze
long gone and forgotten
devoured by a hundred angry seas

She striped me down
bare to the bone
fragile and weak
my skin peeled off

her eyes flash memories
as she spoke sour words
the heart grasps what the mind grasps not
nothing seems as pretty as the past

her lips she parted
as she lent for a kiss,
into the woods into woods
for hers was the kiss of death
>>
Phyllis Soshstud - Sun, 29 Mar 2015 17:06:16 EST ID:Y05R72NU No.66892 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1427663176215.png -(8678B / 8.47KB, 239x99) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
EAT

MORE

MONEY!
>>
Oliver Clunderwud - Sun, 29 Mar 2015 21:25:45 EST ID:XppeE3I6 No.66893 Ignore Report Quick Reply
decomposing
bloating
in a copper casket floating
6 feet above the ground

valley of black roses
neckties made of garden hoses
don't want to touch the ground
>>
Betsy Peckledidge - Sat, 04 Apr 2015 02:54:40 EST ID:rPs4yfPo No.66905 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Sherlock told the kind sir
Does the boot shine?
It does
>>
Clara Drunderman - Sat, 04 Apr 2015 12:01:55 EST ID:8SMBC5Rg No.66906 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I often wonder what he thinks
because I can’t tell from the look on his face.
When he looks to me for embrace
when he finds himself in the nape of my neck
To know him, even then, is a mystery.
When we find each other bare,
when blood connects phallus
and we find each other in passion
even then, I wonder what he thinks.
It’s why I don’t want him to see me naked
or sleeping
or in a spring morning in peace staring out the rain.
Maybe he wonders what I think as well.
I guess we won’t know. Not from eyes.

what do you guys think?
>>
Glasnost - Sun, 05 Apr 2015 07:33:14 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.66908 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>66906
I like it, not that im an expert, wouldn't take much to discredit my opinion based on my posts.
I like the sense of questioning you've managed to achieve amongst what are usually very sensual and certain moments. (for me anyways)
Just remember all poetry is valid and subjective. unfortunately im not the best at actual analysis so i cant really help with developing your poem as such.
>>
Ebenezer Bammlefere - Tue, 12 May 2015 07:36:52 EST ID:EV/rVCXl No.67052 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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The world is always changing
Only the stubborn have sad thoughts
Consider a person who doesn’t change
His destruction is his own fault
The world is a frightened kitten
Always telling selfish lies
These lies soothe their wounds like bandages
If you are wise you might see through them, and know the world
>>
Ian Hivinggold - Wed, 13 May 2015 19:34:09 EST ID:d7KSaD30 No.67059 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>64530
only took me 14 months to finally read this, but you did a good job. I liked it. George Clooney in Staples wasn't the easiest of topics to write about.
>>
Nigel Goodbury - Thu, 14 May 2015 00:45:55 EST ID:QTpxQx+2 No.67060 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>67052
>>
Hedda Blimmlelat - Tue, 19 May 2015 15:25:31 EST ID:lyZrGADg No.67093 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
>I'm going through a bit of melancholy at the moment, so I'm writing it out, but as always, I am highly self-critical of my words. Your thoughts?

a summer warmth, a low rumble
an exhausting stench fills the air
lions roar, kittens purr
and both kill for the fun of it

the roadrunner gets away
and the coyote starves
moral of the story:
nothing is fair

vultures circle a rotting corpse
snapping beaks fill empty bellies
one life lost, another one saved
because nothing is fair
>>
Jarvis Bullygold - Thu, 21 May 2015 10:56:51 EST ID:esHArYlS No.67102 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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I write and understand it will be alright
though one might get at me with the intention of a ban
I throuroughly see my view as one accepted by a crew
a taze in my negativity rather seems to ignite my creativity
at moments notice I realize it was just a fraction of an enhanced perception
and suddenly I fall back into the awareness of my being
sitting here
standing there
breathing out
breathing in
potato hammer small water flow drop on rock bounce on rock to see the air
in moment the heat from the sun make it fly
only for it to be bound again from the pressure and temperature fluxuations but natrually this all comes to mind and
it has become generic.....alphanumeric
coming from the net, to protect my friends, reboot.
>>
Glasnost - Thu, 18 Jun 2015 19:31:18 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.67219 Ignore Report Quick Reply
She skipped her fingers over me
and with a velvet caress, whispered a breath
as she watched the cold wind rise
with the autumn leaves it scattered and died
I'd give you my last, million times over again to hear that sound

I turned and for a moment thought she was there
but it was just a passing garden
the rising wind distorting the sounds
as the bushes rustled with stems of green and thorns of grey
but scattered words I swore I heard, that cold autumn day.
>>
Edward Gittingspear - Fri, 19 Jun 2015 13:17:10 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67221 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>59689

>>4100909
All was well as the clock ticked on,

As every soul spoke as one.

"We play by turn and nothing more."

Sun sets on our hospital wing,

Where the children weep and spiders sing.
>>
Edward Gittingspear - Fri, 19 Jun 2015 13:17:52 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67222 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>67221

>>4101129
we meant not protest your high
lo, we live here in the sky.
rest your head upon our clime,
and trouble shall not be thine
>>
Edward Gittingspear - Fri, 19 Jun 2015 13:18:46 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67223 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>67222

I took my tea at three today.

I took my tea at three today.

Apple shine and curls so fine,

Passed a boring hour.

Just wait until we're on the bus,

When I can put it deep inside her.

I took my tea at three today.
>>
Alice Pittingville - Wed, 01 Jul 2015 21:30:06 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67260 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Sunny cylinders pour smoke,
Hanging from mouths under an awning
Of rusted tin, standing together
They talk about their jobs,
The television, their trip to the supermarket
>>
Hedda Gemblegold - Wed, 08 Jul 2015 19:07:33 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67278 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Lambo pentameter
Iambic pentacost
Kilometers down the coast
Drive mom to church
>>
James Worthingdock - Wed, 08 Jul 2015 23:43:41 EST ID:nS1oFdwH No.67279 Ignore Report Quick Reply
poetic mind state, most minds won't relate
taste of infinity how much times on your plate
try not to judge me cause you dont know my case
the clouds above me stole all my praise

chaotic mind state most minds can't relate
found the remedy for endless amounts of money
im just high this isn't even poetry
i should sleep gotta wake up mad early
>>
Glasnost - Thu, 30 Jul 2015 10:51:13 EST ID:6cuFhuGQ No.67403 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Lay beneath the willows
near the streams' and gentle brooks
reeds and lilies whistle
silent as the breeze

close your eyes
and wonder your mind
through tangled trunks of trees
below the canopy the sun never sees'

moss paths blue, green and brown
lace the forest filled with sound
and lead to the waters edge where the willows wait
as birds chirp, and crickets sing

lay now beneath them
the sunset lights your way
turn to the purple sky
for on the horizon is another day
>>
Simon Nopperworth - Sat, 01 Aug 2015 05:27:05 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67407 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Sun falls from the sky
Through cigarette smoke
And into ash trays
That you made out of clay,
Painted gay colors and then
Glued sequins to
>>
Hamilton Clayforth - Sat, 01 Aug 2015 22:43:22 EST ID:GSE1vft2 No.67411 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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The roots are bandaging themselves over
the labyrinth of my wooden nerves built
as a means to cradle the movement
through the eternal moment of now--

Everything appears from within clouds,
once thought distant, but now brought to the
surface of worldly concern; my eyes
gain the distinction of cosmic truth.
>>
Hamilton Clayforth - Sat, 01 Aug 2015 22:44:18 EST ID:GSE1vft2 No.67412 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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CommentYour bark is as milky
as the winter-tide peppered
with dots of brown sugar
that I wish to sip each morning;
I could trace the constellations
etched into your visage
with my eyes shut and still find
my way through the cosmos--
>>
Hamilton Gadgeshit - Sat, 08 Aug 2015 19:05:04 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67422 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

Spiral temptress invading
Vision distort shading
Pierce hearing hating
Psychedellic berating
Light in pupils fading
Regret is scathing
>>
Thomas Clayhood - Tue, 11 Aug 2015 01:33:18 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67431 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>62579

did you write that ? If so i love you
>>
Matilda Blythefuck - Fri, 14 Aug 2015 00:30:43 EST ID:jRZ5L1kD No.67441 Ignore Report Quick Reply
The light echoes radiant orange
Illuminating the tree and the home
Silently watching, it never goes dark
The sky around him, infinite in its dew
The glory was too heavy for any man to pursue
For the stillness had a meekness,
Like a young fish in a sea
But the rivers were quiet
And the light gave him peace
>>
Molly Duckwill - Sun, 16 Aug 2015 00:55:47 EST ID:esHArYlS No.67445 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Though the fiery thought of a simple notion yet remains with the hint of red

One moment in all its simplicity and far from fetched as a moment could be

I realized I have remained yet again in the same stance as from when the stance remained before I had become in this stance,

and so with this new love of live and a twist on the wonders which lie ahead , and the battles within my motions of emotions , so precariously laid out by the rising of the day , hour by hour, actions take hold

and so

when the day
falls into my lap
and all things to be thought out tended to.
I go about with a generousity,
wasted.
>>
Jack Dallyseg - Mon, 24 Aug 2015 17:42:07 EST ID:s96kfABy No.67489 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Keep it on the level
climbling up the ladder
let not the moments slip you ... its like a 1v1 life or death
procrastination your nemesis
the actions which take a little damage
i like a little challenge
open up your heart and with a unison with this abudance of flow and with this
focus on one thing
like a rock in the wind
flower butterfly
furious river
calm rustles in eternity
be happy
>>
Barnaby Gandergold - Tue, 25 Aug 2015 17:50:40 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67493 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
months without a job feeling like a door mat
drowning in endless debt
going to take myself a dirt nap
down by the train tracks
because i am sick of giving a crap
>>
Gaelic !PIDjsjVC82 - Tue, 01 Sep 2015 01:13:41 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67520 Ignore Report Quick Reply
holy aberrations vibrating throughout my asterial emanations,
sounding sonic tribulations that permeate my etherous meridians,
singing, sounding, outwards. my throat's ethereal manifestations
spilling vocalized speculations of a Gnostic's indoctrination
into a church built with flesh before a river of sophic light
>>
Clara Singerchetch - Wed, 02 Sep 2015 15:20:42 EST ID:MKZ9CrEp No.67524 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>67502>>67501 this is perfect, thank you
>>
Hedda Fiblingwedge - Tue, 15 Sep 2015 13:12:44 EST ID:0bun/Vr3 No.67570 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>67520
Can I give some feedback? I personally think you're over stylizing your speech and as a result the poem gets lost in itself...
>>
Fuck Hoblingmatch - Fri, 18 Sep 2015 20:44:27 EST ID:L6bErFyz No.67575 Ignore Report Quick Reply
We’re standing at the top of the hill that we’ve walked up and down a million times. She’s telling me goodbye and I’m crying and I want to grab her keys and throw them far away. Far enough away where she’ll never find them and she can’t leave me and we won’t grow apart and she won’t fall in love with someone else and I won’t die alone and sad and crazy. But I don’t. Instead she’s hugging me and she’s crying. She takes a step back and she looks me in the eyes. I see my future reflected back at me out of her brown eyes. She blinks but her eyes are closed for an eternity as I realize the sky isn’t bright anymore and the grass doesn’t dance and the air is sour and my heart is in my hands and it’s festering from the inside and I’m choking and suddenly I cough up a ring that I gave her. Now I’m coughing up every gift I ever gave her in reverse order and finally I’m holding a deck of pink cards, still wet with my saliva.

She finally opens her eyes and I tune out everything but her voice and she says she’s sorry and the frayed wires of my brain can’t say or do anything so I stare through her listlessly and she’s crying again and I’m shutting down and I have no response and my mouth is sewn shut and my throat makes a funny noise and she telling me she loves me and I manage to croak out a reciprocation and she looks me in the eyes and I just concentrate on exchanging my carbon dioxide for oxygen. She blinks and flickers and I feel myself fade away and she’s telling me that it’s time to go and I sigh and my stomach is in my feet and my head is in the clouds and I can feel my blood pumping to my entire body all at once. She’s about to turn around and I want to say something but I have no words and suddenly existing is as hard as the struggle of Sisyphus and my hands are there one second and they’re mere outlines the next and I blink and she’s gone.
>>
Nigger Smallfuck - Mon, 28 Sep 2015 11:50:40 EST ID:NtVxZANE No.67607 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

cry the self a blameless fool
until circumstance, cruel,
reveals you
>>
Polly Dummerdin - Thu, 01 Oct 2015 00:17:34 EST ID:vUU6HNKB No.67614 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I find myself awoken to
the sunlight slowly spilling through
my open window, feeling the due
sprinkle onto my face, oh how sweet!
As a slow breeze enwraps my feet,
I squeeze my body underneath the sheet
I close my eyes, too tired, to soon
and let my mind fall back to sleep.
>>
Rebecca Drevinghall - Sat, 03 Oct 2015 04:15:55 EST ID:nHH+MANc No.67617 Ignore Report Quick Reply
i wrote this the day after a friend committed suicide

when this cigarette burns out
I'm going to sing it from the rooftops
I'm going to stay awake all night listening to the sound of my beating heart contemplating the silence of the air as it fills my lungs

You we the most powerful mind in the room
haunted by the terrifying presence of a million lost souls clinging to your every thought
the fear got to you

one hopeless wonderer millennial writer song and sorcerer
a fallen leaf on the tree of life magic on the winds
YOU ARE GOD YOU ARE GOD
what thought changed

I have to leave my bed today
21 stops 15 minutes on the bus half an hour with the doctor
you can make it i say
don't break down not here

its been some days
I'm not crying
I just am slow
somebody asks how I'm doing
my mouth is dry and I say
ok

I remember when you stopped going to school
I remember when you left the country
I remember your book
I remember when you told me you heard voices too
You weren't going to let smoking kill you
I wish you did, a long time from now
I wanted to read your next book
>>
Beatrice Sadgepuck - Sat, 03 Oct 2015 08:08:50 EST ID:HJZfuhiM No.67620 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>67617
thanks for sharing
>>
Sophie Bunderbanks - Mon, 05 Oct 2015 01:28:00 EST ID:6YhQk0eH No.67625 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Racked it today
& thought of you:
The rush reminded me
of when we met,
The burn reminded me
of when you left.
>>
Edward Goodshit - Wed, 07 Oct 2015 13:32:59 EST ID:kgHnedQC No.67629 Ignore Report Quick Reply
mondays

are nice

like the same

day

say it twice

look at the picture first from the thread

let it reign over any thought

which is why mondays are blessed
>>
Nigel Cingerwell - Sat, 07 Nov 2015 12:13:13 EST ID:RwCTBZ0X No.67779 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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I could have this
I should have that
I ate too much
So now I'm fat

I missed the shot
We missed the boat
He would have won
But I forgot to vote

It's all her fault
He fucked me over
This wouldn't happen
If I stayed sober

Life isn't fair
It's all a joke
I want to die
That's why I smoke
>>
Nigger Criffingcocke - Sat, 07 Nov 2015 13:11:25 EST ID:42H6VwSs No.67780 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>59689
Oh sorrow,
for I have not one of my own kind by my side
whose spirit indistinguishable from my own
and for thee I care
and thee, care for I
But you are simple,
to thee I am but a man,
to thee the starry night is but a sky,
to thee these words are but scribbles on paper.
And though rarely do my actions bare complexity,
The products of my mind flurry about,
incessant and precious that they are
my verified existence.
Oh how I long for her who's thoughts are aflutter,
whose restless mind keep awake by my side,
to her I am my thoughts,
to her the night sky is the universe beyond our innefectual world,
to her these words possess meaning beyond myself,
and so discontented am I,
not in body, nor soul,
but my heart weighed down by my head.

Why am I such a narcissit I'm like 5 feet tall.
>>
Faggy Bimmermog - Wed, 18 Nov 2015 11:28:45 EST ID:RwCTBZ0X No.67822 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>67817
I liked it.
>>
William Buzzham - Thu, 19 Nov 2015 15:23:22 EST ID:N6DzaUNu No.67826 Ignore Report Quick Reply
this light that traverses the spaces between
fixed like a gaze from a slumbering willow
no not now it cant be
the time has not shown the light its way
back where it came from it slowly creeps
these are things no one should see
>>
Thomas Hottingwill - Sun, 22 Nov 2015 09:00:11 EST ID:IpuWZJnh No.67837 Ignore Report Quick Reply
argument ender
day punctuator
the first thing you do
the last thing you don’t

the rats, the fats
the habitual cats
the inhale, the exhale
black organs fail

bittersweet necessity
no plan complete without
great camler, no qualmer
rotting your insides out.
>>
Simon Cremmleludge - Tue, 08 Dec 2015 21:54:00 EST ID:V7vo5P98 No.67887 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
I walked into the hidden valley,
filled with green bowing bamboo.
There was even a kangaroo.
I walked through and did not dally.
At 8, I had an appointment in an alley.
I walked, looking at my shoe.
Only to look right through,
to myself in a hidden valley:
Kangaroos, the Buddha and a bowl.
I walk through the corridors,
fixed upon the shinning orb.
Rising far above the blue hole,
A fair distance from any shores;
The object I absorb.
>>
The Fool !oj3475yHBQ - Wed, 09 Dec 2015 16:52:50 EST ID:FUcwYk7C No.67889 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>67885
Sure man, I would be more than happy to take requests.
>>
Sophie Brerringworth - Thu, 10 Dec 2015 09:04:54 EST ID:fzmlU0r8 No.67892 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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Atomic Flower- by Old Dad

Spring.
The season of mystery.
Flowers bloom with apparent spontaneity.
If stems sprout from seeds sewn from seasons past,
How is it that Spring is the mother of all seasons?
Spring is magic. Spring is the valley spirit.
Spring is mother and daughter.
.
Summer.
The season of warmth.
The Sun nourishes the flowers while asking for nothing in return,
Yet the flowers give the Sun purpose.
Summer is naive. The cyclical womb.
Summer only wears clothing of the brightest hues.
.
Fall.
The season of beauty.
Flowers experience the gift of fading pastel
Contrasted by the steadiness of the evergreens.
Fall is enrichment. Fall is decay.
Fall is life.
.
Winter.
The season of silence.
The season no flower truly sees.
Yet again,
Is Fall anything but Winter's harbinger?
Does Winter not bring balance to the Summer?
Winter is necessary. The cyclical tomb.
Winter is tragedy. Winter is death.
With no Winter there is no Spring.
>>
Sophie Brerringworth - Thu, 10 Dec 2015 09:06:44 EST ID:fzmlU0r8 No.67893 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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An Ode to the Foolish and the Bold- by Old Dad

How many years have passed
since we could stand together
hand in hand
Worshipping the wood and plaster
Beatified by the candle's light?
Seems countless suns have set
Since the days these symbols were
so much more:
Our Eternal Monolith.

How many moons have risen
Since we could brashly hold another in our arms
and count the stars?
The cold nights when with confidence
We whispered poetry
of how the constellations
told the story of our love
Yet to unfold,
youg and yearning
to plunge head first
into a narrative
We knew to be fortold.

Yes,

The less we truly knew,
The more we said for certain.
The more advice we gave,
The more wisdom we were told.

So we became too cautious to be bitten
Yet too battle-torn to fold
We let gin replace ambition, cause
inhibition's no sight to behold
but,
before we take that final sip of bourbon
in the kitchen
and tell ourselves we're getting old,
Let's remember...

The songs that leave us smitten
The sweetest lies we're glad we're told
The greatest stories ever written
Belong to
The Foolish and the Bold.
>>
Sophie Brerringworth - Thu, 10 Dec 2015 09:08:39 EST ID:fzmlU0r8 No.67894 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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Obituary- by Old Dad

Now's the time
To pull the shovel from the back of my mind
Kill me with the love you once felt for me inside
Expose me for what I truly am
And I'll agree
And I'll tell tell you everything I'm not
And everything I will never be
Throw dirt on my corpse with every lover you have after me
And pad down the earth firmly with every way he fulfills your needs
Fuck on my gravestone
Until the words commemorating my existence on that thin sheet of rhinestone erode
And all memory of me is erased.

This is the obituary of a man who is remembered less and less
With each passing day
Until his existence completely fades
And all that's left are his words on this page.
>>
Sophie Brerringworth - Thu, 10 Dec 2015 09:11:23 EST ID:fzmlU0r8 No.67895 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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The Impossible Love (Monologue of the Sandman)- by Old Dad

Do you dare insist
You know the visions
Behind my eye-lids
When the Dream-King
Sleeps?
.
I've seen the souls
Of Billions
When I salt
the pupils
of those who in the
Darkness and the Silence
Weep.
.
In the delirium
of your waking slumber,
Blurry visions
Of my visage;
Forbidden Memories
for you to
Keep.
.
But in your own unique
insistence
You've journeyed
stalked
and followed me
for weeks.
.
You weren't the first
to speak a verse
of longing
when my peccadillo
of broken illusion
lapses.
.
Fleeting Fancies
of young hearts
Who seek
But soon forget
When the momentary
solitude
passes.
.
On your Venture
I'm aware
Myriad temptations
Live within the wooded forests
for you to find.
.
Your scrapes and bruises
suggest the arduity
of the path
to my
Mansion of the Mind.
.
So here you stand
before Me
beyond the
Realm of
Space
and
Time.
.
If fate found
it right
For me to Love another
Your persistence
Would surely be a
sign.
.
You see,
.
Even those who live
Eternal lives
Long for momentary
Satisfaction,
.
But I've seen
The Flame
Inside your Soul
and know
The source of your passion
In your actions.
.
I question not
the veracity
of your Love for me
But I'm not
What I may seem.
.
I may set your consciousness
Adrift
To sleep
But I don't
Determine
What You Dream.
.
My Modus
Is like a
Mirror,
Allowing your
Awesome heart
To roam
Free.
.
I'm just a vehicle
for your potential,
Which is why
We can never
Be.
.
So go on home
And close your
Eyes;
In my nightly sand
this Connection
Will Survive,
.
And We Will Always
Be Lovers,
For As
Long As
You're Alive
>>
Fuck Fecklecocke - Wed, 23 Dec 2015 22:48:24 EST ID:UNxJ6QGG No.67923 Ignore Report Quick Reply
As words of encouragement fellers, I just had two poems picked up for publication in Big Muddy. Keep writing, bros. Many of your poems are better than either of the ones I had picked up!
>>
Fuck Fecklecocke - Wed, 23 Dec 2015 22:49:46 EST ID:UNxJ6QGG No.67924 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>67923
As an addendum, one of the poems that got picked up was posted in an earlier form IN THIS VERY THREAD.
>>
Polly Nickledale - Sun, 27 Dec 2015 02:14:08 EST ID:fzmlU0r8 No.67938 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>67924
What's big muddy? Is there a link to where I can submit my stuff? I did these:

>>67895
>>67894
>>67893
>>67892
>>
Shitting Challyville - Sun, 27 Dec 2015 10:47:13 EST ID:RwCTBZ0X No.67940 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>67938
This is their website:http://www.semopress.com/bigmuddy/

There are plenty of universities who publish similar journals, however. If you think you have something worth publishing, you need to submit it to many different places.
>>
Eugene Blythefuck - Wed, 06 Jan 2016 06:23:41 EST ID:IpuWZJnh No.67981 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>67882

Indeed!
>>
The Fool !oj3475yHBQ - Mon, 25 Jan 2016 04:32:18 EST ID:FUcwYk7C No.68065 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1453714338219.jpg -(961569B / 939.03KB, 1200x813) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Stolen from the indescribed
transmuted to a form
of which one wonders
until satisfied
towards ideal borders
ending
never
>>
Whitey Tootfield - Tue, 26 Jan 2016 00:48:20 EST ID:+wb25F7l No.68083 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689

Violets are wet
Roses are glue
I'm a dumb jolly african-american
At least not a Jew
>>
Angus Pittford - Tue, 26 Jan 2016 00:56:29 EST ID:ta4EK9n8 No.68084 Ignore Report Quick Reply
There once was a reindeer named Prancer,
Who had a brief fling with Ms Dancer,
He ate out her box,
Then was struck with a pox,
She has HPV, he's got cancer.
>>
David Dummlened - Wed, 27 Jan 2016 15:49:47 EST ID:ta4EK9n8 No.68094 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Poor dietary choices,
Gave into the voices,
Of my id,
In a bid,
To satiate my inner kid,
Yearning to release this fucker,
That's burning through my butt-pucker,
Positioned like The Thinker,
Cooking up a stinker,
Regretting my life choices,
Feeling sorry for my sphincter.
>>
Shit Pemmerspear - Mon, 01 Feb 2016 14:14:37 EST ID:Zk0jPUuP No.68115 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Cumming inside her pussy
Giving her my seed
If only the warmth wasn't from electricity
Maybe her heart could be mine
>>
Jenny Dennerstuck - Sun, 28 Feb 2016 20:20:03 EST ID:/OK+aT3K No.68180 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Yeah we da bess,
Makin genres coalesce,
It's our duty to make beauty with our musical congress,
Throwin fat beats,
Sick riffs,
Dirty slaps,
Aural feats,
Mind bending,
Transcending,
Sexy sounds without an ending
>>
Hannah Clablingnure - Thu, 10 Mar 2016 13:00:28 EST ID:9oWAX7zW No.68227 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Calico Jack
Never came back,
Never came back to me.
He set out to sail
With a coat and a pail
Of shimmering Jamaican tea.
He rode o'er waves
And lobster-rock graves,
He saw all there was to see
But he never came back,
He never came back,
He never came back to me.
>>
Sidney Parringwell - Sun, 13 Mar 2016 16:55:49 EST ID:ta4EK9n8 No.68235 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Wine glistening in my beard,
Red stained avatar of vice,
Not listening to my fears,
Drowning them instead,
Knowing full well the price,
Paid by my body and mind,
A temporary release from existential dread.

Numbing my wits in kind,
For this temporary ego boost,
The elixer of the id,
When my spectres come to roost,
To peck apart what little happiness,
I allow myself.

I can't help but hate me,
For all that I am and was,
So this nectar's abating,
Charms reduces it all,
My chemical wherewithal,
To a buzz.
>>
Thomas Dockletitch - Wed, 30 Mar 2016 23:56:57 EST ID:q+Ba1GxZ No.68262 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Oceans of blood and whiskey
Making memories we thought would keep us afloat
The clouds are gray and brown now
The flames are sputtering, choking
Ten thousand victims in our wake
This was never an exit
But now our boots wade in shallows
Silt flows through our hands
There never were any promised lands
Yet all is forgiven
So we make our home here
On the shores of bedlam
In the sunlight we lie
Alone, and unafraid
>>
Polly Wudgeshaw - Mon, 25 Apr 2016 14:25:26 EST ID:YB55Y+nj No.68325 Ignore Report Quick Reply
I am incapable of escaping consumerism.
I am sustained by consumption,
and my time not spent working
I want only to consume.
Music, media, weed, food,
cigarettes, television, sex, and time.
In that order.

I have a deeper want
that suffers at my own hands.
To create the works I imagine,
that I envision clearly often,
yet never accommodate the time to practice.
It seems there isn’t time enough,
but all that seems is subject to change without reason.

I am the custodian of my vessel,
which is ragged from crashing about,
aimlessly scraping against a wall.
I understand all too well
that I am allowed to define
my own meaning in this world.
Everything before this moment means nothing.
>>
Hugh Cleggleforth - Tue, 26 Apr 2016 15:30:29 EST ID:RwCTBZ0X No.68329 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>68326
That's probably because you're reading them on 420chan and not in the New Yorker.

Here's a poem dedicated to you;

I'm Simon Memmlestone and I'm here to say
I love sucking black dicks every single day

90% of these poems are shit and I just have to say
My shit doesn't stink, and I'm super duper gay

Poet Laureate, Simon Memmlestone, the best poet ever
I'm the coolest guy in the world, I'm so incredibly clever
>>
Alice Ginderwater - Fri, 29 Apr 2016 02:27:24 EST ID:IJCf897w No.68338 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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I just wrote this earlier (4 minutes ago):
I resume with my résumé, assume to resignate.
Hitting send to mass make my fake fate: dire.
Depending on moneygrams and wires.
The inner things we desire. The inter nets, trapping; wish
Bets, fish, let's. Give up and fail.
Let the ideas spread like wildfire and hail.

This will probably be buried down in a post on /m/ someday
>>
Matilda Blonkinbury - Fri, 29 Apr 2016 17:13:47 EST ID:kBwN8XmN No.68340 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1461964427012.gif -(1407447B / 1.34MB, 1000x800) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Night, Air (dubbed q. 'Am I insane' a. Yes! Verily!)

...
As the moon stared back
the wind pushed forth

"An unemployable disaster" shouted I
the moon didn't listen

-I'm the Moon!

My reflection pierced forth the night.
the res-plen-den was to my left
hewn wilelessly from me
the memoryatopoeia hurt but humbled the heart.

My feet poised themselves upon buoyant bridge
rebounding, above as below
the wave water sputtled with boundless noise
and space met it in ready
with stars exposing threaded wing on my back.
>>
Phoebe Clindlefuck - Sun, 22 May 2016 21:29:39 EST ID:naBsjiEp No.68386 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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>>63232
OMGGGG YOJIMBO THE LEGEND STILL LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
>>
Phoebe Fappertudge - Thu, 26 May 2016 01:01:24 EST ID:Noiod9vJ No.68396 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>68386
dammit

i believed you
>>
Charles Brollystone - Sat, 18 Jun 2016 15:43:00 EST ID:dJ8XdrP8 No.68452 Ignore Report Quick Reply
yo this is mc cringe
i have autism, drugs and the in ter netz.
yo yo bro yo
brobro yo
furfaggotry aids.

Thank you for your service
>>
Lydia Wullylock - Mon, 20 Jun 2016 17:26:47 EST ID:uwZHNIch No.68458 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>67569
This one's pretty good,
I'd change the last line though to make it simpler.

{There's a technique in writing that goes something like;
if you can remove something and your text still makes sense (and remember we're doing poetry here so it's mostly good if it doesn't make literal sense) remove it.}


The crows judge, the roots embrace
Your echo preserved, in time and space
You met your end, as I'll meet mine
Farewell my friend, may you shine
>>
Lydia Wullylock - Mon, 20 Jun 2016 17:44:19 EST ID:uwZHNIch No.68459 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1466459059993.jpg -(47501B / 46.39KB, 946x710) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
>>68458
I dunno, yours works too but is imo a bit "standard" in terms of poems. I like more vague and "broad" "style" I guess you could say. A bit zenish, where less is more, except not as restrained as zen poems. I like color and a trippy flow.

So instead of defining "may your star forever shine".
I just want to leave it at may you shine, since it opens up a lot more possibilities for the imagination to vibe on that.
So may you shine could be, may his memory shine,
may he shine (have a good time) in an afterlife / the rest of death
may you shine also to my mind brings up a beautiful image of a soul or person delightfully in bliss disintegrating or becoming illuminated by a strong light in a very enjoyable and "freeing" fashion.

So add those together and given the option to choose I can appreciate all 3 at once and at the same time not be sure what you mean, so there is still a mystery or more alternatives that my brain can work on.
>>
Cyril Pabbledale - Fri, 24 Jun 2016 10:49:56 EST ID:B9Tdpm1J No.68468 Ignore Report Quick Reply
People always ask what it's like to be blind
I such I could give them an insight to my mind
A world of blurry
A child's drawing with no defined edges in
And no ammount of medicine
Or sympathy will help me
But it's not like it's a living hell, see I believe in myself
I don't need any help
I'll never let anybody pit me on the shelf
>>
Phoebe Heffinggold - Sun, 26 Jun 2016 19:53:32 EST ID:Qun6qtUU No.68470 Ignore Report Quick Reply
When she’s here; Blissful Spring
When she’s gone; Winter frost
Persephone, I lost
Persephone, I sing
>>
The Fool !oj3475yHBQ - Tue, 19 Jul 2016 00:33:26 EST ID:FUcwYk7C No.68511 Ignore Report Quick Reply
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I've seen spaces spanning vaults of thought; emotions without end.
Floors of light, unfolding droughts of something not pretend.

I've seen things of such delightful form, causing terror at the sight.
Where horrid beauty is the norm, beyond such things as wrong and right.

I've seen the strange and marvelous, never doubting why what is.
Upon stout heart; adventurous, toward what promises.

Twixt all these things I have grown old, of changed and shifting hue.
Yet all these things which I have seen, could not amount to you.
>>
Albert Darrylock - Tue, 19 Jul 2016 08:18:51 EST ID:4JMlzFlY No.68514 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>68511
Fantastic, right up until the last line.
>>
Walter Soddlelore - Thu, 21 Jul 2016 19:06:00 EST ID:yUGuriIY No.68522 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Stopped smoking cigarettes, but I think my growth might still be stunted
Every time I hate myself, my knives seems blunted
It is only be me I am hunted

nb
>>
Cornelius Turveyshit - Sun, 24 Jul 2016 11:55:09 EST ID:INHiQkMj No.68530 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
writhing,
between their tight fitting skin
and seething,
viscous soul,
the average human stands,
victorious over nothing.
Survival is guaranteed.
They pack their viens
with self-hatred.
Boredom seeped into their souls,
nearly crying,
eyes panicked,
like a cornered deer,
near dead with a pungent
chocking fear.
But the lions never strike.
The lions have all been eliminated by the jeeps and trains of progress.
They crawl from day,
to day,
expecting
waiting
anticipating,
the great calamities of the ages,
confrounded only by their calamites,
the culmination of their fear,
drinking artisan bottled hatred.
Man was meant to rove the sahara.
Man wades through his failure,
knee deep in his own bloated ass.
Man fearlessly conquered the world.
Man conquered his soul,
a whimpering bitch inside the sons
of the fathers,
the models for god.
>>
Cornelius Turveyshit - Sun, 24 Jul 2016 11:57:49 EST ID:INHiQkMj No.68531 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
The problem with flight:
When our feet leave the ground,
our chairs in the
upright, locked position;
It comes to us all.
A Sudden realization,
grips the skull,
stomach,
whatever is closest really.
We will return to earth.
No matter our altitude,
or speed.
We will be returned.
We realize it is all conserved.

the prim businessman,
the nervous mother,
their children,
crippled with neurosis
look down.
They too see.
Their eyes are a seed,
not a picture.
The seed now watered,
all the existential questons,
long left avoided,
grow.
Crisis.
The claxon,
the sounds of screaming children.
An animalistic frenzy of fear,
well dressed and combed,
sits in a21.
He checks his phone.
Off,
in the expected position.
>>
Cornelius Turveyshit - Sun, 24 Jul 2016 11:58:52 EST ID:INHiQkMj No.68532 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
Lit

Thoughts left drying on the window sill;
still issuing their last collective,
heaving,
breaths.
The sun will heat them.
They won't hold any water.

I am sitting by said window sill.
In a bed,
I am watching the now dried thoughts.
The soft, wooshing summer wind is carrying them.
They have woven themselves between the soft,
weaving chords of music.
My awareness takes a butter knife,
dips it,
ever so carefully in consciousness,
then goes to town.
>>
Cornelius Turveyshit - Sun, 24 Jul 2016 12:00:45 EST ID:INHiQkMj No.68533 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>59689
I've drank that,
most drinky of drinks,
wherein the observer,
becomes a slithering,
jelly,
donut,
fucker.
>>
Reuben Cunnerway - Mon, 25 Jul 2016 05:34:36 EST ID:sY/RGcnE No.68537 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1469439276983.jpg -(92944B / 90.77KB, 640x426) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
held against the wall,
gagged with father's briefs
he presses into me

into me where the babies are made
where my baby was made
where life met the coathanger
he shoved so mercilessly inside me
as he himself will do each and every night

mother, can you hear me?
>>
Jarvis Hozzledale - Wed, 27 Jul 2016 03:57:11 EST ID:YPLsjmdC No.68539 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Through dark, black forest
must one hike,
to learn to love
the dying light.
>>
Molly Pennerdack - Fri, 08 Sep 2017 09:50:00 EST ID:gVl6JZjs No.69404 Ignore Report Quick Reply
>>68539
>>
Shitting Cammerlock - Fri, 08 Sep 2017 23:33:22 EST ID:Bbdm1lE8 No.69406 Ignore Report Quick Reply
1504928002645.jpg -(263487B / 257.31KB, 2000x1096) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
I now stand in
The interstice of life
As I always am


[gonna be in south florida during hurricane irma, so, you can imagine the existential dread of having to leave everything you've ever known to be blown away by some unfathomably cruel and uncaring force of nature.]
>>
Betsy Goffinghood - Thu, 14 Sep 2017 19:01:08 EST ID:gZDHaWQX No.69422 Ignore Report Quick Reply
Zombie.
You've left your dreams behind
To sleepwalk
Through your daily life.
You built this fate.
You dug your grave.
Lingerer.
Just fucking die.
Beaten
Broken on the floor
Surrounded by their cries for more.
They tore you to pieces
And threw you to wind.
Decievers.
So you begin
To assemble
Stronger than you were beforel
And oh how they will tremble
At what they will behold.


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