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poetry time /lit/
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You are currently reading a thread in /lit/ - Literature

Thread replies: 53
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poetry time /lit/

http://vocaroo.com/i/s1fIGQZz5Wys
>>
Eyes looking at me
seeing through my lies
waiting for my demise
I'm sorry I lied
I just want to be wanted
But now I'm haunted
by scars that show

who I really am
>>
I walk in these darkened streets
thinking the world so bleak
tonight feels like just for me
no strangers to be seen

"I am glad" I scream in my head
"I am glad" I whisper, feeling dread
Then I am surprised
for there is an echo outside
calling a response
yelling to be heard
yet, it is only the screetch of a bird


(I push away the empty space
reminding me that sad place
behind that loud school
behind the disgraced fools

I silently curse my well off life
trying to act like I have strife
But this feeling of dread keeps gnawing on my bones
making me feeling oh, so cold

I wish I could yell "I am glad"
To the windowed strangers, behind my back
to the people I will never meet
even If I see them on this busy street)
>>
I saw these old poems on a computer I'm getting rid of. God, nothing has changed. Nothing has changed at all.

Please don't leave me alone guys.
>>
tick tock, tick tock
goes the ebony clock

as you fall into the spike filled pit
as you burn when it gets lit

You are stuck here, never to get out,
everyone laughing, knowing you're a lout

tick tock, tick tock
goes the ebony clock
>>
Happiness
Isn't usually a word I use
But it happens when I'm around you

A Good Friend who won't call me lame
Is a really nice way to stay sane

When you leave, don't say goodbye
because it kinda sounds like you died

"See You" is a nice way to say
I might see you again, one day
>>
There is two of me,
I don't know why

One stands with a fist in the air
The other
falls with despair

One fights for the light ahead
The other
falls over
dead

One keeps screaming, when there is left to say
nothing

The other hopes to simply walking
die
away
>>
How do I explain,
something so exquisite
Eh, I guess you'll just have to sit down and listen

Her eyes are like fire

They did not burn, they did not glow, they did not warm up the winter snow

But to look into them felt nice
and I would pay any price

to feel that kind of nice
>>
the only road is to the grave,
and no other to this day

But at least you can say,
I'll take the scenic route this may

and maybe even live,
to try again, I say

But what about yesterday
The pain won't go away
>>
>record the entirety of the Wardine IJ section in an oxbridge twit accent for /lit/
>filetype incompatible with vocaroo
kill me
>>
The stories of the street are mine,the Spanish voices laugh.
The Cadillacs go creeping now through the night and the poison gas,
and I lean from my window sill in this old hotel I chose,
yes one hand on my suicide, one hand on the rose.

I know you've heard it's over now and war must surely come,
the cities they are broke in half and the middle men are gone.
But let me ask you one more time, O children of the dusk,
All these hunters who are shrieking now oh do they speak for us?

And where do all these highways go, now that we are free?
Why are the armies marching still that were coming home to me?
O lady with your legs so fine O stranger at your wheel,
You are locked into your suffering and your pleasures are the seal.

The age of lust is giving birth, and both the parents ask
the nurse to tell them fairy tales on both sides of the glass.
And now the infant with his cord is hauled in like a kite,
and one eye filled with blueprints, one eye filled with night.

O come with me my little one, we will find that farm
and grow us grass and apples there and keep all the animals warm.
And if by chance I wake at night and I ask you who I am,
O take me to the slaughterhouse, I will wait there with the lamb.

With one hand on the hexagram and one hand on the girl
I balance on a wishing well that all men call the world.
We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky,
and lost among the subway crowds
I try to catch your eye
>>
I wish he would stop
Screaming in my head
Sitting on my bed

Because he is already dead
>>
>>7556849
pfff
>>
Lying in my bed, lying in my head
Just wishing that one wish
that one day, I'll wake up dead

Then I can go to hell
to see how my soul will sell
the punishment I have for being fell

But they said I could've done
I could've become
So in hell, I suffer
Meeting the man who could've been me

Like a magic trick, can't you see?
>>
I was your knight in the tin-foil armour
you were the queen, beautiful as can be
But now I left that world, now being sober
The carboard world I left, lost of glee
for now it was left in the rain, soaked
And I was with despair, broke
I wish I could go and see
you again, beautiful queen

But growing is a curse, that the witch threw on me
So now I rip my armour, and shove it in the past
And now I see you, surrounded by wilted grass
I'm sorry, that I grew
I'm sorry, but I can't be with you
>>
I dream of you my darling diamond sky
I dream under you all my life
And I sleep on a crescent moon
and smoke a cigarette
And I blow smoke signals
in the shape of kisses
from my dragon's breath

Zoom zoom goes the shooting star
and it breaks
it breaks my heart
Zoom Zoom goes the shooting star
and it breaks
it breaks my heart
into a million pieces
>>
Nothing lasts forever
So she pushed the thoughts from her mind
pushed them with depise
But now she wears a coat of black
with lack of air in her lungs
Now she finds herself to be alone
as she push's the thoughts into her bone
"They say Nothing is worth it, that's what I'm told. But Nothing is the heaviest to hold."
>>
>>7556930
Nice cuck poem
>>
>>7556935
Are you my friend?

Will you stay with me, till' the very end?

Will you send letters of hopes and dreams?

And won't cry over the broken seams?


How long will it take
for you to see

That I love you,
even though it can not be
>>
the only road is to the grave,
and no other to this day

But at least you can say,
I'll take the scenic route this may

and maybe even live,
to try again, I say

But what about yesterday
The pain won't go away
>>
Right or Left

Where do I turn

What am I supposed to do, reform?

It's so confusing, which path to choose

Left or Right

I don't want to lose
>>
Your mind is cold.
I planted yellow flowers there even though they told me they wouldn't grow.
But I can see their golden petals pushing and dusting themselves off of snow.
>>
"Happiness.
It isn't always fulfillment of your goals.
It isn't always acquisition of your dreams.
It can be the simplest of things.
Happiness can be a glimpse of the stars through the clouds.
Happiness can be a patch of sunlight in the forest.
Happiness can be the most unexpected and out of place thing in the universe.
And that is what makes it so brilliant.
Happiness is the smile of someone you love.
Happiness is knowing that everything will go right, even just for a second.
Happiness is the realisation that you are not alone in this world.
And happiness is helping someone else to realise this too.
Happiness isn't just a reaction to certain stimuli.
It is an attitude, a mode in which to put yourself.
It is a state of bliss, not ignorance nor defiance of all that is evil, but understanding that there is no such thing.
More than anything else though, happiness is the purest and most spectacular light shining from every hole in your body, and it shines onto anyone around you, rays of brilliance and joy.
So be happy, and spread the light, because sooner or later, it will be dark, and you had better hope someone has a light.
And it will shine."
>>
18 posts by me and only me

http://therangdangs.bandcamp.com/track/brave-enough

good night guys
>>
>>7557040
These poems aren't very good. Have you ever gone to critique threads? God these are on an old computer for a reason.
>>
Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you ?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall."
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
How does it feel?
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Thanks for reading guys. I call it "The Ballad of Assface McGee."
>>
I wish I was good
but I really am not

Writing poetry is a chore
and requires a lot of thought

This is just a small attempt
at a poem by me

Notice how all the rhymes
are simplistic and naive

I have no idea about structure
or meter or any rules

But i type away on this board
which is filled with intelligent fools

This poem is so egregious that
there's no redemption in this admission

To inflict this atrocity on the world
I hope I get your permission
>>
>>7556763
that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice she will drown you that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice that voice hngg
>>
>>7556763
you don't understand eliot at all do you. what terrible cadence.
>>
>>7556768
you're writing what you think is poetry as a non reader, but it's not actually poetry
>>7556774
you don't read
>>7556781
you don't read
>>7556804
you don't read
>>7556813
you don't read
>>7556827
you don't read
>>7556854
you barely read any poetry
>>7556876
you don't read
>>7556904
you don't read
>>7556919
you've read Lord Byron in high school and you don't read poetry anymore and it shows
>>7556925
you don't read
>>7556930
you don't read
>>7556966
you don't read and iirc you posted twice
>>7556988
you don't read
>>7556998
you read In the Station of the Metro
>>7557033
you read Whitman when you were 13
>>7557040
don't write ever again unless you take it seriously
and even then, probably better not to try
>>7558034
Bahb Dylahn isn't poetry
>>7558333
you don't read
>>
File: b.png (106 KB, 2500x2500) Image search: [iqdb] [SauceNao] [Google]
b.png
106 KB, 2500x2500
who concrete poetry here
>>
>>7559581
fuck my ass
>>
>>7559636
gladly. boipussi where?
>>
>>7559581
Top kek
>>
>>7559581
you don't read
>>
>>7559603
No one. Not even you.
>>
With ink-dripping, shaking finger,
I tried vainly to stain on charred paper
the words which no tongue could blaspheme,
about the secret of your promenade,
on the hidden face of the moon,
about the silver dust which graced your feet
on your nightly escapade

but you left me with nothing, took all
even the rhymes in my songs,
even nails of my cross,
took the feather of my ink,
the dust of the pages,
of my story.
took the chains,
which binds poets to the night,
made me free
made me naked
as God made me
>>
>>7556763
i wrote this haiku
just to post it on this board
i am pretty sad
>>
>>7560852
you are pretty gay
like a pinkish disco ball
you fucking faggot
>>
I wrote this Vianelle last year:

Keeping silent for a year,
Time begins to erase
The words I wish you could hear.

I know not why I fear
The warmth of your embrace;
Keeping silent for a year.

My soul begins to leer
At my ineptitude. “I’m a disgrace,”
The words I wish you could hear.

At every chance I try to steer
my gaze into your face;
keeping silent for a year.

My self-pity and doubt sears
Me to my bones, yet I continue to encase
The words I wish you could hear

Yet the irony is that, for you, I’m all ears
And though I think I go far, I’m still in place;
Keeping silent for a year
The words I wish you could hear
>>
>>7560887
those were good insults
but not as good as my cock
so says your girlfriend
>>
my heart beats irregular
like my girls period
I need and executioner
to cut off my head

I got cancer of the prick,
chest pain and I'm addicted to crack
my drink spills with nervous ticks
hennesy cognac

to top it all of I'm black
my life's going nowhere and
I'm dabbling in smack

it's rock bottom for a street nigger
not even a dirt track
drown my sorrows in malt liquor
please hijack
my life like jesus take the wheel
d.b. cooper
de-niro
in dog day afternoon
the future's soon
>>
>>7560944
don't be so quick to
cuck a fellow /lit/. her secret?
a feminine dick
>>
>>7560971
your second line was
just a bit too long, my man
better luck next time
>>
a walk (primal scream therapy)

maybe today—the morning sun
will cut through the
pine needles

maybe today—my heels
won’t be wet by the
dew drops

maybe today—
i can talk to myself
out loud on the way there

maybe today—
at the well, the echo
won’t sound so damn scared

I want to roar triumphantly and break
this fearful symmetry.

>>7556768
To rhyme-y and kinda seems like it wants to be a haiku
>>7559581
do me! do me!
>>
>>7558333

checked.
>>
Girls in their winter clothes
A tree’s falling leaves
Shade from the sunshine
A cold windy breeze
The moon’s somber face
A shadow’s dim light
The things that I love in life
Just don’t shine bright

A song whispered sullenly
The sun’s gentle flare
Soft snowy fields of white
And long flowing hair
A night’s somber cold embrace
A distant church bell
My mind slowly crumbling
My thoughts locked in cell

For all the thoughts that I’ve fought
And all I might as well
For all the care that disappears
And passion that’s been quelled
No more time to stand around
No more time to grieve
For girls in their winter clothes
And trees’ falling leaves

Feel like it's a bit childish to me, but I liked it quite a bit when I wrote it.
>>
Time passes as the lights slowly dims to a dull glow, minds suddenly realizing the time of night and thoughts screeching to a halt, demanding reprisal to the time wasted on pointless activities. But what was there to do? Give in to sleep that ended too quickly, and work that dragged on too long? It all ended up the same, days that lasted in all the wrong ways. Fleeting moments overshadowed by countless worries.
It’s a funny thought that such worries were a luxury of the fortunate, a trouble that bothered none but the ones with no troubles. It’s Ironic in its own way, an oxymoron describing the problems and lack of motivation of the modern world, the same issue that brought down empires of the past and would destroy many more in the future.
And here it was again, affecting the life and mind of a single individual amongst many, wasting away alone despite being surrounded by those who understood and want, each blind to another. Where solidarity falls raises melancholy, and where melancholy ascends so too does apathy. And apathy thrives more so than any other feeling, slowly taking control of men. It steals from them their time; all the fleeting good times, the endless bad times, and the lonely spare time.
>>
Display thy breasts, my Julia, there let me
Behold that circummortal purity;
Between whose glories, there my lips I’ll lay,
Ravished in that fairVia Lactea.
>>
The truth is that things never stop, that the only two things that matter in life, the beginning and the end, are nothing but illusions and distractions. What is and what will always be, round and round in an eternal spiral that has always been. The same roads being taken in circles as we ponder at the map we were given and wonder what road we missed, what fork we mistook for the Promised Land.
Continuation. Perseverance. Repetition. These are truths, these are facts, these are the rules of life. There’s a saying that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results. That saying is wrong. True insanity is finding success and throwing out the method. True insanity is winning the fight and fighting your choices. True insanity, at its base, must be change, mustn’t it? Constant and pointless adaption to possibilities and scenarios that never have or will show themselves? Growth that destroys who you were for some misconstrued definition of better? True insanity is this base need, this base philosophy, that change is always good and that to be content and at peace is the great evil.
Repetition. Perseverance. Continuation. These are the rules of life, these are facts, these are truths. All things must begin where they end, and so they must end where they began, and so must the cycle of life continue as it has been and always will be.
Nothing ever stops.
>>
You intoxicate the air, so much so I exhale in shades of gold. The color of your skin.
The scent of cigarettes on my fingertips. The sedative feel of your lips. The night is mine. I wonder if it can handle me, this unprecedented audacity. I wonder if two stars collide, would the gravity cause the sky to ignite? Maybe. maybe your waiting for me in a timeless void. Maybe if I hold you, and feel the electricity flow... Feel that magnetism you wear so effortlessly, swimming through my veins. Nothing will ever be the same. I want us to to melt into the sand of a bulletproof hourglass. Rotating endlessly. I hate everyone but you. What does that mean? I guess I love you. Who would of thought... Well... Can you blame me?
>>
I fear perhaps thou deemest that we fare
An impious road to realms of thought profane;
But 'tis that same religion oftener far
Hath bred the foul impieties of men:
As once at Aulis, the elected chiefs,
Foremost of heroes, Danaan counsellors,
Defiled Diana's altar, virgin queen,
With Agamemnon's daughter, foully slain.
She felt the chaplet round her maiden locks
And fillets, fluttering down on either cheek,
And at the altar marked her grieving sire,
The priests beside him who concealed the knife,
And all the folk in tears at sight of her.
With a dumb terror and a sinking knee
She dropped; nor might avail her now that first
'Twas she who gave the king a father's name.
They raised her up, they bore the trembling girl
On to the altar- hither led not now
With solemn rites and hymeneal choir,
But sinless woman, sinfully foredone,
A parent felled her on her bridal day,
Making his child a sacrificial beast
To give the ships auspicious winds for Troy:
Such are the crimes to which Religion leads.
>>
Look back on time with kindly eyes,
he doubtless did his best;
How softly sinks his trembling sun
In human nature's west
Thread replies: 53
Thread images: 2
Thread DB ID: 394163



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