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Some poem dudes come join

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Thread replies: 16
Thread images: 1

File: 21.jpg (58KB, 634x477px) Image search: [Google]
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58KB, 634x477px
The Thick Green and Oozing

I cross the murky waters
tresspassing on the land of those who brew
air thick and heavy
with an aura which grasps at the very neck of life
Unfaultered, still, With tempered will, I am faced with flames
dirty, impure and menacing and always entrenching upon my forests
I am enveloped, completely, and I despair in the flames, live within the flames
still I do not burn, singed I might be but hope within still breathes
Protecting and always bolstering from the natural grime that is
because soul is plenty even from a land where the poison wood lurks
The downpour is constant yet my fire shall burn
The rain is in my eyes but still I must look
For why else would I have eyes if it wasnt to see
I have these lungs so I must breath
These hands to create, this mouth to speak
And the eyes, the eyes and the window to the soul and my sight reaches far and wide
but sight reaches only so far you cannot always see the truth
sometimes you are left blind, a blind lie to behold and to decieve,
but still I look, for under it maybe a few scraps of truth
So I focus on the moonlight and invite the blindess
A blind truth covers my eye protection from whatever muck I cross
Whatever ocean I must anchor
whomever call I must answer to
Living and breathing I wait
For how long will the sea call me im not sure
but still I will wait
through storms and immense pressure I will journey
A long troop I am sure to get dirt beneath my nails
I carry with me a still photograph and that is all I will need
>>
posty
>>
ADVERTISEMENT

The Verb to Be
By Dan Piepenbring February 19, 2015
FROM THE ARCHIVE
Andre_Breton
ANDRÉ BRETON IN 1924.

André Breton’s poem “The Verb to Be” originally appeared in our Spring 1985 issue.

I know the general outline of despair. Despair has no wings, it doesn’t necessarily sit at a cleared table in the evening on a terrace by the sea. It’s despair and not the return of a quantity of insignificant facts like seeds that leave one furrow for another at nightfall. It’s not the moss that forms on a rock or the foam that rocks in a glass. It’s a boat riddled with snow, if you will, like birds that fall and their blood doesn’t have the slightest thickness. I know the general outline of despair. A very small shape, defined by jewels worn in the hair. That’s despair. A pearl necklace for which no clasp can be found and whose existence can’t even hang by a thread. That’s despair for you. Let’s not go into the rest. Once we begin to despair we don’t stop. I myself despair of the lampshade around four o’clock, I despair of the fan towards midnight, I despair of the cigarette smoked by men on death row. I know the general outline of despair. Despair has no heart, my hand always touches breathless despair, the despair whose mirrors never tell us if it’s dead. I live on that despair which enchants me. I love that blue fly which hovers in the sky at the hour when the stars hum. I know the general outline of the despair with long slender surprises, the despair of pride, the despair of anger. I get up every day like everyone else and I stretch my arms against a floral wallpaper. I don’t remember anything and it’s always in despair that I discover the beautiful uprooted trees of night. The air in the room is as beautiful as drumsticks. What weathery weather. I know the general outline of despair. It’s like the curtain’s wind that holds out a helping hand. Can you imagine such a despair? Fire! Ah they’re on their way … Help! Here they come falling down the stairs … And the ads in the newspaper, and the illuminated signs along the canal. Sandpile, beat it, you dirty sandpile! In its general outline despair has no importance. It’s a squad of trees that will eventually make a forest, it’s a squad of stars that will eventually make one less day, it’s a squad of one-less-days that will eventually make up my life.
>>
>>9884713
despair is decay
despair is a monster that if exposed to the sun explodes with the lust that it once thought was power. Now knows that it cannot be anything but weak. Despair rots you from the inside the opposite of power, nothing but shame, sitting in it's own filth
>>
Its only an excerpt, but its really my favorite. Its when Satan's host get BTFO by the Son of God. The Thunderer.

[T]He[y] trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If he opposed; and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God
Raised impious war in Heav'n and battle proud
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky
With hideous ruin and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire
Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, [t]he[y] with his horrid crew
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery g[o]lf
Confounded though immortal: but his doom
Reversed him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of happiness and lasting pain
Torments [them]
>>
>>9884814

Well we can't just go topping Milton can we? Way to one-up everyone preemptively.
>>
yalll done goofed I just wanted to post my poem you dumb fricks
>>
>>9884856

I don't care man that Milton shit flows
>>
>>9884867
idk but my stuffs pretty nice man
dont really know what u eating but sounds like u gotta g5t your nutrition up
>>
>>9884913

Nah tho, I'm on that diet of pure kino
>>
>>9884957
chemo? Sucks about your cancers man
>>
>>9885156

sucks about your eyes man

i hear theres this rad dude called jesus, get him to put some mud on them. u be saved homie
>>
>>9885159
What does that even mean lol u sound like a hobo
>>
>>9885190

oh so u blind and dumb. i get it. here's a penny
>>
>>9885230
you literally have cancer
>>
>>9885230
sorry bout that
Thread posts: 16
Thread images: 1


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