/lit/ - Literature

There's absolutely nothing wrong with audiobooks. Oral storytelling predates the written word and could be in many ways be considered a superior experience since it stimulates attention and memory.

>>13042674
Cute!

It's funny how the tone of NRx writings can be quite edgy, but all the principal people involved are not at all. Basically a posse of nerdy middle-aged dads (not a criticism)

https://www.unqualified-reservations.org/2007/11/why-i-am-not-white-nationalist/

absolutely based Kate Bush poaster

>OOOOOO
>LET ME HAVE IT
>LET ME DRAG (You)R SOUL AWAY

There's something profoundly silly about poetry. You know, the whole flipflop about poetic forms, and rhyming schemes, it's silly. Mostrously constructed stanzas, and pointless slapdash of linebreaks, it's so so silly. The fussy obsession with musicality and aesthetic of words, with alliteration and anaphoras, its all so wacky! The fact that every poem tries to be deep and metaphorical and "escapsulate the emotion", one must laugh to remain sane. But the silliest of it all is how dead seriously poets tend to take themselves, how genuinely they believe that their word skyscrapers reach for some core essence of truth and beauty, how energetically they will attempt to convince you about every letter of some dumdum haiku being the nexus of higher ideals, or what have you.
For real though, how must I take any of it seriously?

>little bubbles start coming out
You thought of this too, didn't you?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Yw5jkAHgME

Post poems that make you feel warm and cozy
I'll start

Ours is a great wild country:
If you climb to our castle's top,
I don't see where your eye can stop;
For when you've passed the cornfield country,
Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,
And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract,
And cattle-tract to open-chase,
And open-chase to the very base
Of the mountain where, at a funeral pace,
Round about, solemn and slow,
One by one, row after row,
Up and up the pine-trees go,
So, like black priests up, and so
Down the other side again
To another greater, wilder country,
That's one vast red drear burnt-up plain,
Branched through and through with many a vein
Whence iron's dug, and copper's dealt;
Look right, look left, look straight before,---
Beneath they mine, above they smelt,
Copper-ore and iron-ore,
And forge and furnace mould and melt,
And so on, more and ever more,
Till at the last, for a bounding belt,
Comes the salt sand hoar of the great sea-shore,
---And the whole is our Duke's country.