MILLENNIAL POET SHOWDOWN

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>>9716347
Another contender appears.
>she bleeds wherever she wants, when ever she wants.
Rupi put the poo in the loo kaur!

Beautiful legs and foot, can I masturbate to them?

>>9716347
>a voice
>in the new millennium


haha

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>>9716351
Our reigning champion.
>DUDE WEED LMAO
THE ORIGINAL VOICE OF THE MILLENNIAL GENERATION
Mari where's my spliff because I'm so depressed that my parents gave me everything and expect nothing and keep paying for my neet lifestyle gonzalez.

>who will it be lads? Who is the voice of our generation?

Nael puts everyone else to shame desu senpai.

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>>9716364

"Hi I'm A Slut" is essential for understanding the current degeneration.

>>9716383
I remember that thread, Mira got so BTFO that she went on /lit/ to shitpost about she doesn't care about the trolls.

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>contemporary authors

By all means, I'm sure they have valuable elements to add onto the legacy left by the oldtimers

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https://illusorysolace.wordpress.com/

essayist girls are superior.

>>9716423
okay so logos colonized eros…
so why am i watching a YouTube video called “the return of logos” featuring four male panel speakers who equate women with nature
Nietzsche did this too
“nature is a woman ”
and honestly if we’re going to be essentialist
I’d rather be chaos than order
if logos colonized eros, is eros is lost?
did we erase women?
do we want to?
would that be efficient or rational enough for you?

all year, i managed to maneuver the essay guidelines to discuss “rationalization” in every context
i say
we rationalized love
we rationalized consciousness
we rationalized God and called it science
we internalized externality
“as a way of coping”
i tweet “bureaucracy can be so anti human”
and then i pay my 101$ library fees

if women are nature then I’m allowed to cry on the 99
as long as i fuck you passionately once we get home
if women are nature and nature is chaos why try to rationalize us with a diagnosis
just ride the wave you fucking coward
you can have your logos but you can’t have both unless you earn it

some days i wear my boyfriends large jeans, held up by a belt and a large black t shirt
i move around like i have a grasp on logos
as if my eyes aren’t painted like the cat you tell me i am
as if i understand set theory

i can embody aloof masculinity more than you ever could
and I’m just parodying
and it’s only episodic
but at least i try
the thing about nature is that she can transform in far less time than the gears of logical process
shape shifting isn’t just something mystique does you know
there’s a reason the female x men are death, flux, rebirth, weather and revival

I’m almost certain Kierkegaard had better sex than Hegel

>>9716401
Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Proust, Balzac, Goethe, Cervantes, Joyce were all contemporary authors when they lived, motherfucker.

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>>9716440
>balzac

>>9716383
Holy shit, has anyone ever been so BTFO?

>>9716423
So glad we scared her off the net. She was a dirty whore.

>>9716449
Wow, people here now also don't consider Balzac one of the greatests? End yourself.

Millennials have nothing to say.

>>9716493
He was a druggie degenerate. Drank too much coffee.

>>9716565
Well, everyone has weaknesses. I'm quite certain many people here, including I, use coffee.
But Balzac's alchemic-like coffee abuse was parallel to his work. It did wonders to his work ethic. It seems to me that you're the degenerate for harshly judging people by their flaws. Considering yours.

>>9716434
>the 99
shit she might live close to me

>>9716595
your usage of english is hilarious

>>9716440
You seem to have missed the point – OP was asking about contemporary authors, or "poets" as they like to fancy themselfes, and I responded with knightly puke to the thought that they should have anything valuable to add to the legacy left by great authors of yesterday. The 'voice of our generation', molded by the pathos of marketing, the vanity of mass media and the deliberate, insolent break from tradition is no voice at all, but a resounding wail in limbo that 'man is the measure of all things'.

>>9716434
did she only write when she was blacked out at a party? what is it with these narcissistic idiots writing as though they're fucked up on benzos and coke every day

these cunts are completely talentless but at least are able to get a body of work down on paper. i'm talentless and am not even able to write anything to completion. as bad as these worthless roasties are i'm even worse. i just wish i could die.

>>9716707
I think poison is worse than hunger.

>>9716707
"whereof one has no talent thereof one must shut the fuck up"
nah, ur doing good mane

>>9716434
this isn't very good but I low key like it.

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>don't actually read any books
>don't actually read any poetry
>don't know any actual poets
>don't even know anything about poetic structure or devices
>but shit if I'm not a poet when I write a paragraph of nonsense and hit enter randomly

>>9716434
i am a woman and i have a vagina
i am a woman and i have a vagina
i am a woman and i have a vagine
i am a woman and i have a vagina

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>>9716845
Don't say things like "low key." Niggerbabble must end if we want to preserve the English language. It takes less time to type "sort of." You're better than that.

>>9716364
mira is bestgirl also a kind of good poet

>>9716637
Vancouver?

>>9716565
>drank too much coffee

This is literally a first world problem. It shouldn't even be a concern.

>>9716434
>https://illusorysolace.wordpress.com/

>Kierkegaard
>Having sex.

Pick one.

>>9717373
i am also in vancouver but god damn do you idiots really think this is even the only place in the world that has a bus numbered 99?

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>>9717480

this is a narcissistic "how great am I?" ramble sharted into the form of a "poem".
>there’s a reason the female x men are death, flux, rebirth, weather and revival
audibly kek'd at this trash millennial shit. so deep!

>>9716682

i was just thinking that it sounded like a coke ramble. i'm sure she'll regret putting this trash out into the world later on. a lot of young people do this sort of thing. just a part of life and growing. it's astounding that she is so blind to the narcissism behind some of these lines though.

>i can embody aloof masculinity more than you ever could
really? yeah okay. if the tables were turned and she read some line from some dorky guy saying
>i can embody graceful femininity more than you ever could
she'd cringe into hyperspace, and rightfully so. but when she says this shit she thinks she's singing the song of herself.

>>9716874
"nigger babble" (uhh racist much?) is the new english, get with the times you old fuck

>>9716434
ummmmmm, nope

>>9716434
>move around as if i understand set theory
what did she mean by this???

>>9717572
>>>/r/eddit

>>9716347
I want to suck on her juicy legs

>>9716537
we're too visual

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAExa9P7hME

>>9716354
By all means.

>>9716434

>"if truth is a woman"

fucking pleb

>>9717572
nu english

>>9717649
Like on the sides or a whole leg in your mouth?

>>9717646

In rigid, well defined patterns; to be respectable, in relation to the phallogocentric societal structure in which she finds herself.

Of course, this is only an imitative form; not so much a defence mechanism, as a mere convenience.

To satisfy the narrow minded XY, before she returns to her natural state and flows stochastically; pure energy, uncontained and ultimately uncontainable.

Impenetrable to the inflexible machinery of the male mind and those which it has subjugated.

I’m not a feminazi; I’m just explaining her position and showing how easy it is to write shit quasi-postmodernist fem-babble.

Still DFW, sorry

>>9716434
>shape shifting isn’t just something mystique does you know
>there’s a reason the female x men are death, flux, rebirth, weather and revival
>I’m almost certain Kierkegaard had better sex than Hegel

shallow shit

>>9718446

It's not even that it's shallow; it's that it's old hack.

It's an uninspired retelling of well-established criticisms of rationality and patriarchal societies, with appeals to age old dichotomies like yin and yang/chaos and order.

If the goal of art is to shine a light on society, in creative and abstract manner, then she is failing to be artistic.

She is failing to be anything but an unoriginal posturer.

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press c to cuum

>>9718432
>>9718456

I just had a thought, though.

What if it's a basic as fuck retelling, that is perfect for the uneducated and not-too-bright members of society, who are romantically inclined?

I mean, there's clearly a demand for it, so who cares if it's shit and uninspiring to more sophisticated types?

We can still laugh at it, but without wishing it away.

>>9718432
>>9718456
>>9718464
Are you enjoying having a conversation with yourself?

>>9718462
Ccccccccccccccvvccccccccc

>>9718481

Yes.

>>9718462
B L O W J O B E Y E S

Wow, these girls are so cute and quirky and I'd bet they'd totally love misogynistic white males objectifying them on an image board!

>>9719187
> burn

>>9719187
Why cares what they love?

>>9716347
Where does one even find good young poets in today's world?

>>9718432
>>9718456
>>9718464
>>>/r/eddit spacing desu

The tiger
He destroyed his cage
Yes
YES
The tiger is out

>>9720198
Kindergarten

I want to cuddle with Savannah in bed with her smooth legs brushing against mine.

>>9717997
Like, I want to suck on the meaty parts. Suck them into my mouth and let them slip out with a pop. Nibble on her squishy thighs, and turn her over and bite on that roundest, most protruded area at the bottom of her ass.

>>9720245
This poem is brilliant

>>9720357
like clockwork

>>9720350
And then place my hands at her left and right hip and shake her back and forth so that her ass meat jiggles in my face. Then give said roundest part of her ass and give it a firm, startling SMACK making it jiggle some more.

>>9720363
And then rip out her Achilles tendons with a pair of pliers.

>>9720367
Don't talk for me, other anon. I'm not, like, an Englishman or something.

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>>9720378
>I'm not, like, an Englishman or something.
unlike the lad who actually gets to eat her ass

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>>9720363
the ass is not phat

>>9720468
Wtf. What body type is This?

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>>9720487
white girl

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>>9716347
How can these sloootes even compete?

>>9720504
>>9720468
Why did she take these slutty pics :/

>>9720504
that's a jew

>>9720560
Because she's a slut

>>9720636
No she isn't. Her poem "Hi I'm a Slut" is actually about how men THINK women are sluts.

>>9720487
Anorexic

>>9720660
Weird skinny yet flabby.

>>9720198
Literature journals. That's where people who are just out of university get published. This thread is nothing but >born in le wrong generation retards who need a safe space to vent their misogyny. Guarantee most people here couldn't name 3 poets.

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>>9718487
>cvvc

is he a millennial? should his poetry be included itt?

>>9720802
Charles Baudelaire
Robert Frost
Ralph Waldo Emerson

>>9720934

The sad thing is those guys were le edgy tryhards compared to the actually good poets from romanticism back to the early renaissance

genuine devolution for almost two centuries

>>9720934
In fact you failed.
>Ralph Waldo Emerson

>>9720802
People on /lit/ do not read poetry, because they're all for philosophy

>>9720949
>>People on /lit/ do not read poetry, because they're all for philosophy

philosophy is just what comes out of autists when they try to write poetry

>>9720953
They don't even try. They love poetry but they are totally unable and they know. That's why they write infinite tomes to explain a single thought conceived after a sparkle of life.

>>9716383
holy kek

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>>9720967

>That's why they write infinite tomes to explain a single thought conceived after a sparkle of life.

i'm a newreader retard watch me post little droll platitudes and navel-gaze like an absolute fuckin pseud.

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>>9720984
much trigger, philosopher?

>>9720984

almost all philosophy post-Kant is nothing but navel-gazing while also masturbating (at least Nietzsche had a sense of humour about it). Stupid frenchfags from the 1950s-70s are the most cancerous shitheads of the bunch.

Kant was, however, one of the purest autists ever to have lived, gotta respect that

>>9720990

>thinks the problem is that i hate poetry and not that he's a pseud idiot talking colossal levels of horseshit

wew.

who Rachel Taco Bell here???

>>9721033
>thinks the problem is that i hate poetry
Never said or implied that, kek
But if you disagree on the FACT that philosophers write entire books to prove one idea or thought, well haha I guess literature is not for you

>>9721033
Anyway I'm going to bed, so I won't reply anymore, so suck my ass and lick my feet motherfucker. Bye.

>>9721047
He's pointing out you're a retard who has no idea there are epic poems at the foundation of a lot of philosophies. You're retarded about both philosophy and poetry. Congrats. You failed in two areas while only trying to fail in one.

>>9721052
>>9721052

what a try hard newreader clown.

lmao.

>>9721059

don't bother. he's just a newfag trying to larp as awesome. probably has surface taste in poetry too.

>anyway i'm going now i win and you lose o-okay
kek.

>>9721071
don't talk you to me with that spacing either, boy.

>>9721077

protip: reddit spacing is a meme started by newcunts to call out other newcunts.

>>9721083
fuck off filthy phone poster.

>>9717488
The picture from No-Frills on her website was a clue too. I did a bit of internet sleuthing.

>>9716347
Whoa. She's hot!

Do you think she's a slut?

>>9721196
She's from Halifax nova Scotia you idiots. Look up her bf

hump

>>9716434
Crazy ramblings are now considered high literature?

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>>9716347
T H I C C
H
I
C
C

>>9717572
You know you're the target audience of her poetry then, so don't be sad, just be ashamed :D

>>9716391
Archived thread?

>>9723271
Not him, but come on. Just search for the post number.
https://warosu.org/lit/thread/S9119730

>>9723203
Ummm. Umm Umm-. I feel rreally strange right now man. I feel like i don't know it's hitting me what what you just said. Why are judging me in this way why are ...-- tjinmking you can impose what is right and wrong like that when CLEARLY you have no higher authority on these things than say... oh geez i don't fucking know man, maybe the uh the the guy from KCRW Bookworm? What makes you think that? The guys David Silberblatt and i regard him highly. Maybe you knew it but maybe you didn't and that's why you're so terribly misguided in your path and actions and thoughts so that YOU CAN THINK WHATEVER YOU LIKE BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT TRUE. David Silverblatt once went down to a bar to drink some swafty juice of lemon and strawberry but there also sat a woman with long brown hair bu talso brown eyes and her lips were tight but also thicc and Bloom said: "You must have come out of a novel haha" he delivered that flirt terribly, and she looked him at im and then moved closer to his face and put her two fingers the middle finger and the showing finger on his head and id a moon walk and whispered: NBeat it, Beat, Beat it, Beait, Beait just beat it beatit." and went out of the bar except one moment before she was her face fell of and lay as a dead unmoving mask right in front of the exit and Harold Bloom walked up to it and put it on his own face and actually it looked really good and he walked over to David Silverblatt, pretending he was the woman and said: Oh hey, i had to go to the toilet really quickly haha, girls buisness" and David Silverblatt, being an avid reader UNLIKE YOU YOU FUCKING FUCKER WHO THINK YOU CAN JUDGE WHAT HIGH ART IS, Silverblatt read a shit ton of novels and thus suspected that something was strange out of tune maybe or i don't know deserrving of suspicion but he adopted a strategy of reserved observation with formal yet tactical politeness and said: "Ah yes the toilet. Toilets, they are everywhere." he smirked with fakeness and Harold Bloom chuckled also with fakeness trying to enchant Silverblatt and said:"That's true, David. I think that's basically true. Toilets really are almost anywhere. But it has it's reasons hasn't it?" he said that last bit with a surprisingly convincingly female sexual ambuigity and Silverblatts mind being enriched with imagery of people and toilets and also Harold Bloom in the mask of a woman who had left the bar long ago felt a stirring in his loins. He blushed but outside of that stayed composed and said: And it's not just in real life, also in cinema or in literature there are often times toilets and there peple don't even neeed them but we still add them as to feel relatable to these imaginary figures! It makes it "realistic" as they, gives the illusion of being a part of our world, when we see a character on a toilet or maybe showering, isn't that funny? he said and waited nervously for Harold Blooms reaction who had laughed very loudly but s oheavily that his mask fell off. but it also t

The robot bowed "Please stop this. Konichiwa. Rin has very big feet!. Konichiwa. Ariguato Gosamaias. My Wife is very important Gome nasai!! :dDD" as the robot said this to his mirror image trying to impersonate a retarded weeaboo from the otako board on the internet website 4chan but failing to do so and thus still feeling excluded from the human community, being in the end stuck of recognizing it's own personality and thus achieve identity with it's own act, while the roboter was saying things like this there were bells being rang in a not so far away tower. The city in general was a dark place and forsaken and it was fair to believe that the robot was the last permanent inhabitant of it. Something killed everybody. There were notes scribbled on the walls which proclaimed that tThe White Noise ould bring justice to those who had strayed from the path, who had refused to follow the holy order but aside of that the robot was clueless and especially confused by the bells ringing. He opened the nonexistant window in a symbolical manner and gazed at the twoer from where the bell rang. There stood a shadow and rang it with much force and the shadow turned around and waved at the robot, it was quite the surprise for our little robot who so far had only learned about others thrugh his access to the world wide web and as such tried to become an integrated member of the digital community, practicing in front of the mirror what it meant to be human because all on the internet just claimed that he was an autistic omega and suggested him he should go back to Mindcraft which made no sense since the had never played Mindcraft. If there had been more mirros and thus there would have been the pportunity to snatch a sideward glance atanother mirrow while walking and motioning in front of the prime mirror he could have observed himself from the angle of an imaginary other and thus observed that he was already an individual that even in his pathetic attempts to emulate what it meant to be human he had already proven his own humanity, his individuality and meaningful existance but the robot only had one mirror though now he also had the shadow man who winked at him from the bell tower and started floating eerily with any body movement, not the slightest twitch or indiciation of being subjugated by the phsyical fores which gives a safe notion of the real, towards the little robot. He floated through the wall and stoofd in front of the robot. The shadow was translucent and yet pure blackness and his face was empty, but not the shadows heart for he was full of empathy and love and especially love for this little robot which had been so far doomed to live a sad and isolated existance, always in doubt of himself in this forsaken town, an unneccesary monument to war and destruction that deserved to be washed away. The shadowman extehtend the shadow hand and the robot was surprised to find that it was solid. The shadow looked at the robot and somehow it felt as if he smile

Policeman Flawless grammar smashed the Indians face into the grass. Flawless grammar shouted: Are you still loving nature so much? Where is your Totem now when you need it, you spook-loving redskinned monkey?" The indian was quiet for he was cunning and wise and accepted not without reason and in help by divine councelling to refuse to resist. The police man satisfied and fat and very fond of eating food that was really just disgusting walked away and farted loudly for this was what a masculine man did. He chuckled at his own rebellity and sat down in his car and activated the talkie walkie and said: May day Maday Day, redskinned idiot just bited the gras hahahah" and there was common laughter on the talkie walkies except for Laurenzio di Caterpillar who had 4 arms but one big heart and said with a firm voice that made everyone bite on their lips, shocked by the young mans bravery and his fine words. But so he said:"What a lovely turn of phrase, Flawless Grammar but consider the etical fundament of your actions at all time. Was this indian fellow truly deserving of your treatment. It does not do to treat the host in such a way, when one is guest. And without a doubt we must consider us guest in this country that our forefathers had stolen."

Flawless grammar tok the Talkie Walkie and said: "Very good point you made, Caterpillar, here's what i think about it" and he shoved it under his ass and farted extremely as if he had held it back in for a long time and now under severe physical stress like preventing a tree to crush him he had without any conscious force be fored to let out fthe fart brutally like bears shit themself wildly when in a one on one fight or something like that. And then he took the talkie walkie and burped chauvnisitcally at the auience. Everyone laughed except for Caterpillar who felt really angry and bit his fingers and whispered to od:"They will pay for their sins. In your name, lord, i will pinish them"
"We can hear you you FREAK" Flawless Grammar shouted. It must be added that Flawless Grammar was in truth a really nice guy. Some people with limited point of views may deny this statement, since he for example demanded that all arabs should in the optimal case just be killed, but with further inspection there were aspects which illuminated souch radical and while logical and sound, in truth rather unrealistic proposals. Flawless Grammar had been the child of an educated anglo saxon family whichwas proud of it's status and reputation and pretended to be noble man despite it being the second half of the 20th century in america and part of that was that to speak in flawless grammar. Flawless Grammar thus turned into their actual surname and being now determined by this imperative to, at all times, speak in flawless grammar a secrect cult of child abusing emerged and if you don't get how the terrifinygly manifest order to always speak in flawless grammar would lead to child abuse you don't know shit. Being at the bohemian gro

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all you niggas need glasses

Shadowman walked on a deserted street in a city which looked barockand shined beautifully in the pale summer moon sky. There was nobody here he knew that. He floated on top of a cathedral and sat down, starting to sense the past that had once been present in this place. Only now did he see that this city was endless, that it spanned the entire globe of this pityful world. And a sudden unexplainable sadness overacme his heart. There was noody here. No human or animal soul, no spirit traversed the sky or the air. The stones were not wisperng anymore and the plants were not singing nor dancing. The water had drowned, no music eminated from it and the bells were quiet. The bells were quiet. He went intot he bell tower of the cathedral and and rang it but no sound emerged, no song of time and place. What had happened in this world. Shadowman was frightened. he ha dstumbled upon this place on his innocent travellings. He rang the bell more wildly and wildly, with more force until a single sound escaped the bell, having hidden itself in the darkest and hmost hiden corners of this deep and profound bell which had kept and guarded the secrets of this lost world for an infinitely long time. And as the sound resonated with the aether and mother earth and it's dead children who had been formed by man or others, shadows, frail and intangible woke up and all that wonce was reappeared as shadow. A shadow of a whisper reached shadow mans ears andd on the streets peoples shadows executed other people's shadows. A war. War. Yet anothe rwar, shadowman thought. This endless destruction of all that is. Man with javelins charged at barricades and shadow of blood spilled over the street. The scene grew larger and larger and frail shadows created a macabre dance, that told the story of how worlds end and how mankind was doomed, would always be doomed. It was their fate. Pain and misery, destruction and annihlation, it was their fate. Mankind was like the deepest and most vile jungle, destroying all that is, subsuming it under a neverending circle of conflict and annihilation. People thought that capitalism had begun with the reificaition and objectification of all that is under a single purpose. A foolish conlusion the shadowman thought, who had maored in political theory. In truth, his more poetic side claimed with assurance, capitalism was yet another, profound mimickry of the neutral and indifferent destructive nature that had formed all that is.If one talks about a soul, one talks without a doubt always about that irreducible, unquenchable Nature. This city was different though. having come back to his senses and having left his mind behind, he felt a neverending cry that was not just a shadow but that had apparently be awoken by that single bell sound which had betrayed the deceptive mask of doom and end that had left such ah heay impression of shadow man at the beginning. Beneath the illusive appearance, tormented screams told of a unbearable truth, escpaing al

the boy followed the man into the centre of this strange iicular, vast and infinit ecahtedral. "Sit down" the boy followed with cautioin in his heart and attetiveness guiding his eyes and ears but his smeling being less regarded. Be quiet now and listen. Hear them singing" And as th eboy became quiet and was sitting while doing so, he felt like a thought rose within him from stomach to his heart and as it hit his heart it eploded a thousand times an this explosion shook his body in it's entirey, it blasted away all boundaries and assurances within him and then heard it. The lovely voice of an angel, like the primeval voice of a mother that one has always heard behinds the singing of one's mother. A singing deeper than the day could be. Joy, Joy, Joy. The boy whose named Mausch saw a figure in front of his head with white head and pale finger and uncleaned foot. This figure was naked and also starving it seemed. It looked as it's bones had been broken many times and it's wing were devoid of any feathers. There were wounds especially on her back and her vagina was torched. The lips were blue. 2 toes missed, they had been cut off. The angel which stood beforeMausch was gignatic. It reached 30 metres into the cathedral. It was so thin, so terribly thin. It must be close to dying he shouted but nobody heard him. Nobody heard him and the angel pointed with it's fingers to the sky where the top of the cathedral had disappeared but also the sky was gone, there were for eample no clouds or moons or skies or planets or suns, there was rather a vision of a great massacre and grand tears were olling down the angels face. They where white as milk and splashed gignatically on the title of the cathedral floor. The boy was shaken and could not move nor think. The eyes of the angel. It was so think, it must die soon. It was hurt so terribly, tears were running down the boys cheeks. And so terribly great this angel, it stood so large into the cathedral, it's bony body, it's unfeathered wings which looked terrifying an repulsive and the terror on the angels face. The angel kneeled and took the boy with her hands and lifted him into the air. She moved him close to her face and eyed him closely. A smile appeared on her face. The angel started shaking tough holding firmly on to th eboy and it stared at the ground as if shocked, it's eyes widened terrily wide and an unbelieving smile forming, the lips stretched alltoo thin, alltoo thin and revealing of a great terror. There were no teeth in the angels mouth which was now gaping open. They had been smashed out with unimaginable violence. The boy wished to look away but he could not, how could he. The angel held firmly onto him. A laugh, terrifying, nothuman in the least should have emerged from the angels mouth but it reached the boy in echo. And suddenly suddenly the boy heard the angels sing. A chorus of angels, accompanied by a string quartett. The boy felt himself dissolve. His skin melted. He screamed. Shadows.