Hey, I'm a byron. I go by byron seventh. It's my first

cool

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“Plastic Bubble Wrap” by byron seventh

“Tell me, tell me
tell me more,” I said
Did I stutter?
Sh-should I stutter?
Rules left unbroken
are bound to death
Minds in gutters
Thoughts once sputtered
With utter, other rules we find to follow
The rules are hollow,
The rules we follow,
yet we mutter under our breath in sorrow
We follow rules
which some make sense
in sensible, empathetic sort of ways
The rules we follow
The rules that are hollow
I say, “We break today.”

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“Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” by byron seventh

Another morning
the sun is rising
on a cold winter day
There is ambient light
behind the clouds
where the sky stays gray
Yet, upward I look
by reading a book
and drinking hot tea with lemon
Some honey too
soothes my throat through
a cold I fight for a hardened heaven
Each day passes
as they surpass us
Each day surmise
behind my guise
Until the day
until the day
that day we are forgotten
the day we truly die

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“Door Mat” by byron seventh

“What should I care?”
It's why you should care that matters most.
“Why does that matter?”
Because it does matter with this recursed toast.
Here's to celebrating!
Here's to waiting
numb and dumb
to the day that never comes
Until the day you step out
to live life fullest
is when you will become
Become the greatest there ever was to walk your own two feet
Forgive my trespasses, I do not mean harm.
With you, I am glad to meet
Welcome

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“A Rose by Any Other Name” by byron seventh

Spouting about rounding around routing a round
who said what to who?
A circle: a disk. A miracle, a risk
a thorn halo, given to you
Your sacrifice sequences sacramental fences
guarding you from the truth
The truth is bare,
which we must bear
The truth amongst all truths
Although there are assumptions as valid as they may be
Maybe they're wrong?
Maybe I'm wrong?
In religion, there is no truth to me
The dogma is not God
Nor is there God
if death is what She seeks
She is a she
Not valid is “He”
For She gives life in the meek

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“Unzipped Fly” byron seventh
Can't stop
Won't stop
Wouldn't know how to either
Won't stop
Can't stop
I say, “why even bother?”
Why bother putting each leg in your pants?
Why bother going out drinking? Just to dance?
Enhance your numb mood? Or, a one night stand?
Love runs deep, not shallow. Don't rush romance.

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“Cheers” by byron seventh
Not to be a hassle
I'm being an asshole
Tipping my hat off
toward forward galore
Laughing my ass off
Drinking the rest of
my cup that runneth
over a boarded-floor
The fluid that stains
has color that gains
unless, it's wiped up after
What's left is the sane
reality that's tame
the messes I made from laughter
In our jokes are pained truths
A slip of a goof
A Freudian study can come later
When you're all alone
reading my poem
know I am just one creator
You can join too
reading my lines through
or writing as a fellow inventor
Or as an explorer
to learn something more
it's better than being a bored stranger
Strangers become friends
and, friends become strangers
if eye is not seen to eye
What's left?: Revenge?!
Nah, not for me, friend,
For, I see more than meets the I
“Aye, Cheers,” I must say
with clanked glasses, they may
to prove neither is poisoned
A shake of a hand
or, a wave instead
is enough for me to enjoy then
Cheers

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"It doesn't hurt to try, so don't." -byron seventh

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“Alicia” by byron seventh

Spectacles, Testicles, wallet, and watch
Oop, better zip up, I’ve exposed my crotch
Skid mark up my pants, now my anus is flossed
Ready to spill something hanus, as ill as Nas

Once upon a time, not too long ago
This rhyme right here, is about a special ho
Not any whore, she’d be worth something more
Ranked as high as Bond’s chick, Pussy Galore

This tale’s from no galaxy far away
Just blocks west the Chi-town Chinatown way
22nd and Cermak, where the Red meets
Ride the Pink until there’s tacos to eat

It was a bit past midnight in Pilsen
Where this whore released something good within
I realized what had just happened later
I even made an offer to date her

The courtyard is where I met this escort
I hollered “FUCK YOU!,” while she played a sport
It wasn’t at her, but to the police
With my head on their hood, the ho made peace

I wasn’t treating my dick to this trick
Though, if she were clean, her butthole I'd lick
The girl wasn’t waving her legs either
Not luring the cop’s leisure with money neither

No, Alicia spazzed just as I had
Waving her arms, though I was the one mad
Alicia yelled, kicked, and slapped the pavement
She had deterred the cops until they went

I had been followed for tossing condoms
I was warming up for later, but for now it was random
Neighborhood watch called from my odd gesture
What I was doing is anyone’s guess for...

...I told my plans with my hands behind my back
The cops chilled; I wasn’t planning an attack
I was warming up my plans for that spring
Something so good where I could earn my wings

I’ve had this dream, it’s been a long, long time
It deserves this: a ten-syllable rhyme
Starting 4-20, I’d dress as Mickey
To clean the streets no matter how icky

Back to Chicago with our Alicia
She told her name; I said “Nice to meet ya.”
The cops had become diffused and confused
Thanks to my toking and drinking abuse

When the cops had left me with her alone
We were standing out our apartment home

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>>8976605
I made her an offer, not to forget
We walked to the bank where money is lent

I maxed out my card’s daily allowance
I gave her all of my dollars and cents
It was something like 3 to 5 hundi
She was done fucking that night, we agreed

Alicia, like most tricks, was troubled
Always needing to wear rubber bubbles
Alicia had an old Mexican pimp
The daily money owed, she could not skimp

There was no one way for her to escape
So, everyday, she got paid via rape
We met other nights in that same courtyard
Her pimp peered as a threat, but I kept guard

The date night we had arranged had a turn
I was put in the madhouse she had learned
There were other times more, I unvolunteered
I was labeled a schizo that same year

Those are different stories I will tell
This one’s for Alicia, stuck in her hell
My second episode inside Pilsen
Brought my parents to my apartment then

When I was released from the hospital
I gave Alicia a hug, and that’s all
This poem is dedicated to her
All because I had caused a major stir

I never got to clean those ghetto streets
Yet, something keeps telling me we may meet
She was a black 41-year-old whore
But, she had saved my ass from my loud roar

Thank you Alicia for all your support
Just you being you with all your effort

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Alright, that's enough for now, I think. Be as brutal as you need to be, but I wouldn't be mean to you.

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Alright, I am back, I've decided. I am assuming /lit/ moves slowly. I will take any critique I can get.

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“Fluffy Pillow” by byron seventh
It's hard to get up in the morning, sometimes
when it's difficult going to bed
The racing thoughts I have, at times
take over my head
I am compelled to write these poems
as though they were not my own
The words flow out of me
Until the right timing goes
Who knows?
I am but a messenger
Writing words from my heart
I may need severe realignment
But, one must always start

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“Blank Post-It Note” by byron seventh
I can't remember what it was
I've just gotta let it go
That's the way it goes sometimes
when you forget what's known
Don't stress it
No worries
There's more to remember
No fuss
No sorry
Just be your own surrender
Surrender yourself
to dive deep within
Breathe deep,
think steep,
and You will win

>>8976597
>>8976601
>>8976605
>>8976608
>>8976610
That's really beautiful.
Have you looked at this beautiful non-binary Latinx's stuff yet: http://skeetpraylove.tumblr.com/ ?

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>>8976686
Thank you! Nope, never heard of Latinx.

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“Shit Bucket” by byron seventh
What's this?
What's that?
What is
with all the racket?
It's piss
or scat
that's what
has happened
A stutter to a roar?
Or was it a snore?
To be something meaningful
is to do more and more
The most anyone could ever imagine
our actions into fruition by making it happen
Each day there's bullshit
Each night comes sunset
Reset your way in thinking
or you will always be sinking
The sunrise has come now
To survive is not about how
No, you must thrive, wild flower
Grow in sand or mud that is sour
Our circumstances make us
from what we have done
Don't let any take us
Here comes the sun

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“A Harp-Spoked Card" by byron seventh
My path is not crooked
though it is often mistook
and as my shadow I step on each step
An empty bottle of booze
or whatever that soothes
a “well-being” from each regret
There was a time
I was able to find
a path that suited my nature
The heart was the suit,
the King to boot,
alone with my minded-dagger
The knife was sharp
it cut as a harp:
a plucked string arranged into heavenly music
what was left, was remains
for I know I am not sane
and I cannot break my mind's temperance
I am wild, reviled, and guile
I am blemished, relished, and relinquished
I behave at my choice
when I see exact points
or at least what is seen far: the horizon

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“Basket” by byron seventh
Peace to living. Love in giving. We all are sinning. Here's to WINNING!

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“Sandals” by byron seventh
let's live this life
let's live this life
like there is always tomorrow?
what life we live
is yours to give
spare me your sorrow
there is life around us
near us, in us, SHOW US
this life we live
we both are in
we share each day
Follow.

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“Shigeru Miyamato” by byron seventh
This one is for you, Mr. Shigeru
The “Man” among many living that inspires me
...
His simple conquests are put to the tests
But, what is felt after?
A reward? Fond memories?
Laughter?
The struggles we pursue are in real life too
With vidya games there's some escape…
But, what's more: there's to explore
The life in real life, we make

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“Makeup Mirror” by byron seventh
“With what 'who?'” I asked.
“Not 'what,' 'You'.” She basked.
thought from a thought, a simple hunch
“what” I had thought before, isn't such
this life is your ride to feel
to feel out
“what” anything is about
My thoughts are of You, unsealed.
Love.

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If this thread exists tomorrow, I will post whatever poems I write today.

All of these poems are a little over a week old.
So, let us write.

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Oh, wait.
I am "byron seventh" on Facebook.

woohoopoopoo.com is my website, and I can also be reached at [email protected]

Namaste, motherfuckers

>>8976574

I'm too busy to critique right now, but wanted to comment.

Do you create your physical art in conjunction with your poetry?

While sketching out a painting recently I realized I was actually world-building. The painting is now unrealized, but I'm 49 pages into a story.

Anyways, thanks for sharing!

actually one of the neater things i've seen on /lit/. you have some sort of vision. not my cup of tea, but if you plant copies of your work at goodwill then twenty-somethings will find it, be intrigued, and probably like it

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>>8978218
I am sorry. I didn't explain myself enough with my book I am making, "Red on the Line." I want there to be a picture, drawing or photo, of an inanimate object relating to the poems written. This brings these items to life.

That is neat you're building a world. What type of world is it?

>>8978246
Thanks for the compliments, I will try something like what you've suggested soon.

>>8979255
Very cool! It's evident you're working hard, so I'm sure you will succeed! Make sure you post and let us know when you publish.

The world's another planet. Not very interesting in the way it looks, but the politics of the place are getting intense. Hard not to draw from life, eh?

hi haha im very interesting. bit of a nutter lol

>>8976574
some of these are really cool, OP.
>How old are you?
>Where are you from?
>Any place I could keep up with your stuff?

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>>8976605
>masturbates to birth of a nation
wtf i love trump now

Awesome stuff mate. Great talent, and intriguing, wish I could ask you to make a drawing of me.. maybe some day

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>>8979904
Thank you for building my confidence. I promise not to be arrogant when I make it. That's what shrooms are for. I feel I am at the right place and the right time with my work, which is the problem to begin with.

>>8979908
We're all nuckin futs

>>8979956
I am 30
>I was born in Port Huron, Michigan (where Thomas Edison grew up)
I grew up in St. Clair, MI
>I will try to keep posting my stuff on woohoopoopoo.com, but I am "byron seventh" on Facebook too

>>8979996
Ha! Yeah, love me some Trump, alright. ;)

>>8980523
You should send a pick of yourself here in this thread (Tits or gtfo, jk) or email me at [email protected]
I will see if I can draw you when I have the time, but I will end up using you in one of my comics or some nonsense.

Thank you, everyone. If you write, write when you're inspired. To get inspired do something, or anything your heart tells you to follow. Take care of yourselves first, then put yourselves last.

Thank you for all the love.

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I know the 4chan vs. Reddit thing, but I posted this yesterday too

https://www.reddit.com/r/schizophrenia/comments/5o54bw/i_was_a_chemist_and_am_a_living_artist_and_poet_i/

It tells my life story. Long read.

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>>8979904
I just reread what everybody wrote to me. It was a system overload. Your second line is clever. I hope you're a writer too.