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- Thu, 07 May 2020 23:29:27 EST MWZzTWKr No.71400
File: 1588908567656.png -(1585813B / 1.51MB, 862x730) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. GEAR BOLT RAGE
Somewhere six beads of water crystallize into a tiny frozen hexagon to form a single flake of snow that navigates the air waves towards the earth below.
Somewhere a deer looks up from its dinner and towards you, startled by you, only to run away into the darkness.
Somewhere smoke rises up from the trees into the winter night.
Somewhere in these north woods a thick dump drops into a black hole.
1 posts omitted. Click View Thread to read.
Cornelius Singerhare - Thu, 07 May 2020 23:30:19 EST MWZzTWKr No.71402 Reply
Part II: Pseudeboda Gambiae.

“Do you believe there is life after death?”

There must be something.

“Yes, there must be.”

I hope you will be there in heaven with me.

“What would I do without you?”

You would be lonely.

“Do you believe in soul mates?”


“Can you identify the presence of your soul?”

Of course.

“Did I tell you today that you’re the best?

Well. You are.”

Thanks Chryssy.

“You’re welcome. I want you to know that I am always here for you, Lina.”
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Cornelius Singerhare - Thu, 07 May 2020 23:31:17 EST MWZzTWKr No.71403 Reply
Part III: Man Detrimental.

The black winter from outside pours into the room.
Edgar holds a poisonous body in his arms.
His disgusting purple corpse glows neon green.
Furious nature blasts into the room.
I rush over to close the door.
The black smell fills my nose.
I cover my nose from the terrible scent.
“What happened to him?” I ask in a panic.
Kylon is silent, purple, and glowing.
Black smoke rises from his pores.
I am thinking fast. What are these symptoms?
Chryssy is one step ahead of me.
“We can preserve his personality within my drivespace if we plug in the BINKY backwards.”
I agree.
But we won’t be able to save this tormented body.
Tears stream from Edgar’s windburned face.
“We must save Kylon!”
“Bring him over here.”
I motion to the workbench and help him carry the body.
I swipe away tools and containers onto the floor.
The black cat is shocked and bolts away to the other side of the room.
We lay the soldier’s body flat.
His purple veins tremble.
Green fluid oozes from his melting face.
I connect a black hose to his neck.
Edgar notices all the strange equipment in the room and asks, “Where are we, miss?”
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Cornelius Singerhare - Thu, 07 May 2020 23:32:59 EST MWZzTWKr No.71404 Reply
1588908779656.jpg -(892528B / 871.61KB, 2000x2500) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.

And lead us not into temptation.
But deliver us from Evil.

The black angel rises from the table.
The dark eyeholes behind its porcelain mask light up red.
The black angel picks up the sword from Kylon’s body on the floor and raises it above its head, far above Edgar.
Kylon’s voice comes from behind the mask of the black angel.

The blade pierces Edgar’s chest.
He moans in agony.
Blood sprays onto the floor behind him.
Kylon removes the blade.
“No mercy.” Kylon speaks.
He lifts up my limp body with one powerful hand of the black angel.
He holds me by the neck.
“No quarter.” Kylon says.
He squeezes tight and crushes my neck.
I can no longer breathe.
He throws my body across the room.
I smash into workshop equipment.
The boiling soup spills across the floor.
As he moves away from the table, the pipes and hoses pull tight and disconnect forcefully, spraying black liquid wildly.
Kylon admires his new mechanical hand.
The cat brushes against the leg of his new black angel body.
Kylon bends down and grasps the head of the cat and pushes, gnashing its skull into the wooden floor.
Putting it out like a cigar.
He flings its lifeless body into the fireplace.
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Reading and your imagination

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- Thu, 23 Jan 2020 05:08:15 EST ZoMujfJi No.71287
File: 1579774095223.jpg -(7274B / 7.10KB, 229x226) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Reading and your imagination
I was reading and it occurred to me that I do not put a face to any of the characters nor do I bother trying to empathize with them.

Do you put faces to your characters? Do you empathize with them? What are your reading habits?
3 posts omitted. Click View Thread to read.
Martha Hecklehit - Sat, 25 Jan 2020 11:07:18 EST YKVvVDXo No.71292 Reply

I guess I do in the most basic sense, like rough facial expressions when they're described, or flashes of memories of events similar to what's going on in the story. I definitely empathize with characters though, depending on how engaging the story is. I find it hard to empathize with characters in poorly in written stories, or characters with beliefs that I strongly disagree with.
Jenny Cockleville - Sun, 01 Mar 2020 07:13:23 EST uu6/AdqX No.71343 Reply
1583064803574.png -(140847B / 137.55KB, 378x364) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
You might have the condition called "Aphantasia". Look it up
Jenny Brunnerfuck - Thu, 30 Apr 2020 06:32:16 EST XOOJ0wyk No.71393 Reply
I put faces to my characters when I write, but not when I read. Writing feels more personal.

On Tolkien

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- Tue, 07 Jan 2020 07:06:41 EST 7afg1Q3I No.71262
File: 1578398801747.jpg -(174951B / 170.85KB, 900x1266) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. On Tolkien
>J. R. R. Tolkien was a fat and an enthusiastic pothead. His stories were created around the simple Freytag's pyramid (Tolkien barely knew the basics of exposition) and dialogue was composed of few clever jokes or songs that were thought up during his "blaze".

>LoTR would not enjoy any mainstream popularity had not there been a constant herd of competent writers around Tolkien, to repair the books into a publishable condition. J. R. R. was constantly shitfaced but his only way to deal with the matter was to twist the jokes about the addiction because he simply couldn't admit the problems with his lifestyle. After all, the only merit of this "greatest author on earth" is how many Elvish songs he could write about being high.
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Fuck Murddock - Tue, 21 Apr 2020 05:44:58 EST Xbx4e7Sj No.71374 Reply
George MacDonald.
Scotts tend to be very good with jaunty folklore.
That's all I know.
Barnaby Cherryforth - Tue, 21 Apr 2020 08:22:58 EST ylxQEmun No.71375 Reply
The good Reverend MacDonald wasn't part of the "herd" around Tolkien, Tolkien came in on his coat-tails.
George Fidgefoot - Thu, 30 Apr 2020 06:26:40 EST UNTZC4jB No.71392 Reply
Are you really coming to 420chan to talk shit about enthusiastic potheads? Just checking.

Writers thread

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- Wed, 17 Feb 2016 20:22:13 EST 2cqnyO9u No.68150
File: 1455758533284.jpg -(73504B / 71.78KB, 640x420) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Writers thread
How is your writing going /lit/? Anyone here working on something or have any work they want to share? Not poetry, we have the OC Poems thread for that.

I am 2 acts done with a 3 act novel. I have written short stories before, and this is my first long endeavor. I had always lacked confidence, but one day, I suddenly stumbled upon the perfect horror novel just sitting in my mind. Like, it is literally the greatest horror story if this generation. It will go down as The Wire of horror stories for it's brutal look at reality at the bottom of the barrel. But it will also be like Trailer Park Boys and have a cast of lovable losers, who are down and out, living where every day feels like the end of the world, and having that corner of the ghetto become the backdrop for what will be the end of the world for real, with the local stoners and crackheads the last line of defense before an ancient evil reclaims the planet it once ruled a millennia ago. It is not a horror comedy like John Dies At The End, it is straight horror with some comedic moments the way an action movie can have good comedy. I know it will be an insta-classic and probably get a film adaption. As a long time 420channer, I will find some way to get it to you all for free after I find a publisher, since I know this site thrives on piracy, even if I have to pay them for digital downloads for all 3-5 regulars here. Drugs and the apocalypse, it should be right up most of /lit/s alley.
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Shitting Grimhood - Fri, 21 Feb 2020 18:59:36 EST njH6nPfX No.71337 Reply
~~This is the day~~ ~~This is the day~~ ~~This is the day~~ ~~This is the day~~ This is the day.

Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.

In reviewing these letters to myself, the writing of which has been the only project thus far that I've stuck to in any meaningful sense, the thing I'm struck the most by, aside from how ridiculously self-aggrandizing an effort this is in the first place, is how repetitive they've become over time.

I was doing bad, but now I am doing good. I am doing bad. This will fix the bad. The bad has been fixed, I am doing good. I am doing bad. This will fix the bad. That really fixed the bad, I really am doing good now. I am doing bad. I am doing really bad. THIS will fix the bad. Whew that did it, I am doing better. I am doing good. I am doing less good. I am doing bad. THIS will fix the bad, once and for all. I am doing good. I am doing GREAT. So I just got out of the hospital... That did it though, I've learned, I've grown. So I just got out of the hospital...

And on, and on, and on.

I've always been unbearably fickle -- capricious and never truly satisfied. Always in search of something, and always in search of what that something was. Seneca said of me: "she follows no fixed aim, shifting and inconstant and dissatisfied, plunged by her fickleness into plans that are ever new, having no fixed principle by which to direct her course, but Fate takes her unawares while she lolls and yawns".

Aware of the painful irony and the probability this will just make me look very silly in the not too distant future, I contend that I've broken the cycle.

After a childhood alone but not lonely, completely ensconced in my imagination, I had a largely sad and bitter adolescence as my ability to function on my island of fantasy, accompanied only by myself and my increasingly deranged thoughts, dwindled.

Around the time I came of age, I had managed to at least develop a close circle of friends, with whom I was far closer to than they were to me. I got a job. I got money. And with that money, I discovered drugs. And in drugs, I finally found a home.

Altering my state of consciousness broke me out of my old patterns of thought. I became less bitter and more open. I became kinder, more compassionate; to myself and to others. As I was becoming a more likeable and well-adjusted person, I was also thrust into a subculture where I finally had a place. I had an excuse for being so weird and met countless people, most of them also weird, who not only didn't care about my eccentricities, they actually LIKED me for them. They thought I was kind, personable, interesting, creative, intelligent; all character traits which I would never have dreamed of using in reference to myself.

I finally felt like my life had started. I made more friends and did more drugs, and made even more friends. I met one guy in particular who I spent a lot of time wasting time with. Eventually, he became the first person I ever truly loved. Almost certainly unrequitedly. No matter what I try to tell myself.

I became a better person. I learned and I grew. Slowly the hatred that had built up from being trapped in a morass of self-loathing eroded away, setting the stage for my slow journey towards self-acceptance.

Over time, as I continued to learn and grow, what was originally motivated by idle curiosity and myopic pleasure-seeking became an integral part of a holistic approach to improving myself and developing my newfound spiritual life.
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Martin Drumblesack - Thu, 02 Apr 2020 00:07:04 EST fCqkMdQp No.71359 Reply
To me a deeply relatable sentiment, and I think it is for a lot of the people who go on this website. Perhaps it could've been more succinct and less flowery, but it's poignant nevertheless
Lillian Pucklefield - Fri, 03 Apr 2020 06:50:12 EST reK9sGDz No.71360 Reply
Can see the walls squirm, feel the air writhe as it enters my nostrils. Hall a cramped tube, a virtual deathtrap. Pray to God no neighbors come out before I reach my door. Would probably scream, run back outside to my car. These people are vile enough on a good day; with the plague afoot, they’re guaranteed to be ground zero for contamination. God knows what filthy places they frequent while the rest of us are out trying to make a living.
My just-concluded supermarket trip was a disaster. People online say they’ve seen shoppers fighting over toilet paper, rolls of paper towels. I missed all that: my trip yielded naught but empty shelves. No eggs, tuna, or tampons to be seen. Stocked up on the few canned goods left in stock. Saw a cute guy—or, at least I think he’d be cute if he took off the breathing mask.
Finally at my apartment door, I twist the key, flop through the entrance. Slam it home, bolt bolt. Rush to bathroom and bathe in rubbing alcohol. Please Christ, don’t let me be infected. I was only outside for thirty minutes!
Hyperventilate a while, then put groceries away. Surf the web. For hours. News, news, drama, drama. President said something dumber than yesterday, scared people worse than ever. At least the virus has put a squash on mass shootings. Same for mass-anything. Well, except for mass hysteria. Practice social distancing and call Big Brother on anyone who doesn’t.
All my friends have gotten into cybersex with European dudes, but I still miss the intimacy of real dates. In real restaurants, holding real hands, grinding real groins. Besides, I’m not the President, I’m not content with any hottie with a stupid accent.
Schools went on permanent summer break; now bands of bratty kids roam the apartment hallways, wiping their dirty hands on people’s doorknobs, licking car handles in hopes of spreading infection. Little bastards should be rounded up and shot. Same for their parents.
Christ, when will this end? Maybe I should pray harder.
Wait, what’s that I hear through the wall? Could it be? It is! Coughing! Someone’s sick! I fucking knew it! Five cans of Lysol later and I still don’t trust the wall between us. Should call the CDC, get this freak carted off. Can feel the virus trying to crawl between the cracks in the plaster, invisible chthonic tendrils reaching in, tussling my hair before pushing past my lips, burrowing down my gullet and flopping around inside my lungs, coating me with their infectious ooze.
“Not on my watch!”
Hall between apartments reeks of marijuana. Could that be the source of the coughs? Damn bongers—don’t they know smoking marijuana on property grounds is a violation of their lease? If the landlord wasn’t in self-quarantine, he’d be slapping an eviction notice on their door this very instant.
Move to pound their door, then stop. Picture all the germs writhing across the surface. Fuck that. “Hey,” I shout. “I know you’re in there, sickie! You better go to the hospital before you get us all killed!” Not sure if I’m being heard, “And stop coughing on my wall!”
My bedroom feels like enemy territory. Anything could be compromised. What if the kids got in while I was shopping? They could have done anything: wore my clothes, brushed their teeth with my toothbrush, blown their noses into my couch cushions. Abandon ship!
The very thought leaves me puking in the bathroom sink. As I’m washing the chunks down the grate, a pounding starts from outside. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that,” someone hollers. “You’re sick! I’m calling 911.”
I press my face flat against the door, shouting through the crack, “I’m not sick, you nosy little shit! The only thing I’m sick of is people like you!”
“Fuck that,” they snarl. Stomping away, “Do the world a favor and kill yourself.”
Dammit! Are they really calling the fuzz? What if I get carted off to the plague pit? I’m too cute for the plague pit! I may not be sick, but I will be after being thrown in with the rest of the infected. The mere thought makes me want to puke again, but now that I know the neighbors are spying, I can’t let myself. Forehead drenches eyebrows with perspiration; eardrums ring with whine. Breathing in short, jerky gasps. Limbs shaking. Anxiety? Why now, at a time like this? Curse you, body—always turning against me when I need you most.
Time to restore some sanity to this madhouse. Tired of living in fear; I’m ready to reclaim my life. A couple minutes later finds the halls between apartments thoroughly s…
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Abdullah Ocalan

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- Fri, 27 Dec 2019 18:01:47 EST 6Apjy46B No.71237
File: 1577487707768.jpg -(91343B / 89.20KB, 761x1179) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Abdullah Ocalan
Anyone here reading Abdullah Ocalan? It's interesting to be able to read the theory behind the revolution taking place amidst the Syrian Civil War. It's all written in the prison of Imrali Island as well; he's like the Antonio Gramsci of our age.
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Nathaniel Sunkinfack - Sat, 18 Jan 2020 15:30:46 EST 7CZ4zA5h No.71280 Reply
Some good books come out of prison apparently.
Eugene Forrysene - Tue, 25 Feb 2020 01:45:11 EST m+N3eJvF No.71340 Reply
You just reminded me of all the douchey edgelords on lainchan who started a whole thread dedicated to archiving the writings of ted kazcinsky
Nathaniel Dickledatch - Mon, 23 Mar 2020 14:43:30 EST rP+ATt55 No.71352 Reply
As I know Öcalan was the most wanted man in Turkey for almost two decades until his kidnapping and arrest in Nairobi in 1999. He has been in Prison ever since. After I figured that out I read his book - Prison writings. I really liked it and used that as my essay topic https://writingcheap.com/ and did it well.
I'm not trying to convince anybody to read his books but Abdullah Ocalan is quite an interesting author in my opinion and he released enough good books to read. IMAO

Last and First Men

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- Tue, 03 Mar 2020 18:15:34 EST ly3hzHrt No.71344
File: 1583277334939.jpg -(63555B / 62.07KB, 294x475) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Last and First Men
Well that sure was a crazy nightmare ride of pretentiousness and hilarity.
Barnaby Blythestone - Mon, 23 Mar 2020 06:27:21 EST ylxQEmun No.71351 Reply
Stapledon's an interesting read.

Graphic Novels

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- Mon, 13 Jan 2020 13:07:01 EST 7CZ4zA5h No.71273
File: 1578938821888.jpg -(196948B / 192.33KB, 960x839) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Graphic Novels
Are they legit /lit/? I've been reading alot more graphic novels as of late, and they're alot quicker reads, but if good, equally as deep as literature can be. What you think? Are graphic novels a part of /lit/ or are they just comics?

While we're on this subject, genre is a good way to categorize books, but it also limits how dynamic a book can be with multiple genres and grappling with tons of ideas, but has to be labelled as one genre.
Nicholas Mabblenadge - Mon, 13 Jan 2020 17:09:50 EST reK9sGDz No.71274 Reply
They're just comics. The confusion sounds like your own fault for having some preconceived notion that comics are an inferior medium to literature. Every medium has it's good and bad sides. Novels have Twilight, comics have Deadpool. Nothing is 100% high-class.

King James Bible the one true Bible

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- Sun, 22 Dec 2019 04:52:00 EST CcX626uX No.71219
File: 1577008320221.jpg -(626637B / 611.95KB, 1347x2000) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. King James Bible the one true Bible
I don't believe a fucking word of that garbage about how DMT allegedly helps you open up your mind because if Spiritualism is real then that means Heaven Exists and if Heaven Exists then why do I need to take a prescription to become closer to god that is what the bible is for

If you're a Christian Male who prays to the one true lord you've already hit peak spiritualism. Ask all those saved souls who spend every waking moment at Jesus Camp https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LACyLTsH4ac they're the closest to god.
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Angus Pittwill - Thu, 09 Jan 2020 02:30:46 EST PPk2gm8E No.71266 Reply
the bible was written by alcoholic nerds in the earlier parts of our history... its LITERATURE. myth and "law" god is only known in relation to the self .. its a treatise on the individual and is handy enough to fit in your lap. just be grateful we have a bit of our own history and culture to reflect on. dont get crucified over it like that try-hard Yeshua
420 blaze it bitch up and out
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Wattpad Ranking System

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- Thu, 19 Dec 2019 17:02:32 EST ygw8Wc44 No.71211
File: 1576792952199.png -(58332B / 56.96KB, 2000x1702) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Wattpad Ranking System
I've published some of my poems that I've written over the past few days since now I have a platform to publish it and have some form of copyright. But one of my biggest questions I have as I'm sure anyone who publishes anything to this site is how in the fuck does the ranking system work?

Does anyone here know?

Sorry if this isn't the board, but it seems like it was the closest place.
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John Givingpat - Wed, 25 Dec 2019 04:00:23 EST pnomgnT+ No.71233 Reply
record it and post to spoken word on bandcamp
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Oliver Clonnernuck - Sun, 05 Jan 2020 22:00:14 EST ygw8Wc44 No.71261 Reply
What if you were to just remove your story from Wattpad?


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- Wed, 25 Dec 2019 03:58:00 EST pnomgnT+ No.71231
File: 1577264280237.jpg -(11206B / 10.94KB, 236x236) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. scooby
i happen to be a rather tall sort of jolly fellow(not a jolly african-american) 6'5 wouldn''t you know it anyway (who gives a fuck right) i picked up recently a copy of gargantua and pantagruel which seems, though quixote-esque, to be basically a french tristram shandy. crass humour (lets not mention the embarrassing issue of translation) and interesting archaicisms spanning 1000 pages. i'll be sure to let you know how it turns out.
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UnamusementPark !ikwaNLFmBo - Sat, 28 Dec 2019 14:44:42 EST NcupW4Dx No.71244 Reply
1577562282056.jpg -(70192B / 68.55KB, 438x438) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
@making a lot of assumptions aren't you?
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Books about the blood corporations have

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- Tue, 12 Nov 2019 10:51:28 EST The6eiI3 No.71114
File: 1573573888642.jpg -(241047B / 235.40KB, 1750x2400) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Books about the blood corporations have
Anybody knows any good books about the dirty side of big corporations and or multinationals. Not some theory book critiquing capitalism but more like a book that has many stories.
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Hedda Giffingdedge - Wed, 11 Dec 2019 17:19:57 EST WWuInbHV No.71195 Reply
I recently read Moral Mazes (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moral_Mazes) where the author was embedded in a few corporations (a chemical conglomerate and a textile company, I believe). There are a lot of quotes from upper management spittin' some realpolitik. I'm not sure if it is exactly what you're requesting but I found it pretty interesting.
Angus Wellerforth - Wed, 18 Dec 2019 04:43:31 EST iurrUect No.71205 Reply
I will look into these books. I want to check out this topic. Knowledge is the best, there is no question at all. lol Wrongdoing matters. Understanding it matters. And if we can reduce it, that would be awesome. The world would be nothing but perfect. lol
pisutilra - Sat, 28 Dec 2019 14:08:52 EST doafeZse No.71243 Reply
they look for better things. things that have a reason belonging in a better place. getting one card dealt.

Can we get an OC poetry thread?

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- Thu, 10 Jan 2013 01:05:46 EST tmVYcUte No.59689
File: 1357797946197.jpg -(2842B / 2.78KB, 200x106) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Can we get an OC poetry thread?
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.
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Edward Blillyshit - Mon, 23 Dec 2019 19:54:31 EST YKVvVDXo No.71226 Reply
Spoot loofin'
Passed on pressing virginal method
Aloof top movement
Hack up chunk scruff delusion session
Speed up specks in nose top dripping
Dick jerk grab chicks breast jizz loving
I found my way out
And I found my way in
Chop off my hands
And I'll always win

Poetry for beginners

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- Mon, 28 May 2018 22:04:52 EST ERyV+qkn No.70116
File: 1527559492450.png -(4022185B / 3.84MB, 1440x1888) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Poetry for beginners
Hey /lit/ finding myself with a lot more time on my hands these days. I kind of feel like writing again but I want to give poetry a shot this time. Used to write a lot of short stories but I haven't in many years what little I did with poetry was way back in highschool and I remember nothing.

Anyone have some good book suggestions that cover the structure/form of different kinds of poetry, something I desperately need a refresher in. And just recommendations on some poetry collections in general that would be worth reading. Thanks guys.
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Fuck Darrysodging - Fri, 20 Dec 2019 19:09:13 EST zJlfxFHz No.71218 Reply
Second! where is that from *sweats profusely*
John Givingpat - Wed, 25 Dec 2019 03:47:32 EST pnomgnT+ No.71229 Reply
when you seriously consider writing in verse, as a contemporary american, you find that we pronounce all of our shit colloquially in a retarded manner (untrue to the original and true form). it is literally (another retarded colloquialism) retarded to attempt serious poetic verse as an american living in 2019
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John Givingpat - Wed, 25 Dec 2019 03:49:34 EST pnomgnT+ No.71230 Reply

good luck understanding true english metre. you'll be old and gray before you memorize half of the goddamned language . MAYBE youll fart some good shit out in your 80s but hey look at ram dass that jolly african-american just died at 88 youll be lucky to write anything let alone see the merits of publishing
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