/lit/ - Literature

>>15495052
probably realized that its better to be a gatekeeper than sharing it with plebs here to turn into memes without actually reading anything

>>15495068
>probably realized that its better to be a gatekeeper
Gatekeeper of what? Our shitty tastes?

>>15495173
>[tin whistle intensifies]

>>15495052
Theoretically he's making a chart; yesterday's inquiry was the last anterior to the beginning that presumed process. What results will be generally known soon or never

I'll tell you a tale of a Wife,
And she was a Whig and a Saunt;
She liv'd a most sanctify'd life,
But whyles she was fash'd wi her cunt.

Poor woman! She gaed to the Priest,
And till him she made her complaint;
'There's naething that troubles my breast
Sae sair as the sins of my cunt'.

'Sin that I was herdin at hame,
Till now I'm three score and ayont,
I own it wi' sin and wi' shame
I've led a sad life wi' my cunt'.

He bade her to clear up her brow,
And no be discourag'd upon 't;
For holy gude women enow
Were mony times waur't wi' their cunt.

It's naught but Beelzebub's art,
But that's the mair sign of a saunt,
He kens that ye're pure at the heart,
Sae levels his darts at your cunt.

What signifies Morals and Works,
Our works are no wordy a runt!
It's Faith that is sound, orthodox,
That covers the fauts o' your cunt.

Were ye o' the Reprobate race
Created to sin and be brunt,
O then it would alter the case
If ye should gae wrang wi' your cunt.

But you that is Called and Free
Elekit and chosen a saunt,
Will't break the Eternal Decree
Whatever ye do wi' your cunt?

And now with a sanctify'd kiss
Let's kneel and renew covenant:
It's this - and it's this - and it's this
That settles the pride o' your cunt.

Devotion blew up to a flame;
No words can do justice upon't;
The honest auld woman gaed hame
Rejoicing and clawin her cunt.

Then high to her memory charge;
And may he who takes it affront,
Still ride in Love's channel at large,
And never make port in a cunt!!!

>>15495231
That penultimate stanza..
Who's the Scotch Rochester?
Perhaps 'Whig' was what brought Sir Richard Steele's famous Spectator #66 to mind..

>>15495381
it's Rabbie Burns

"Let's go"

And so we went

Deep into a sunrise and out west

Amidst a buzz of competing concerns, we abandoned all to a place beyond time

Until our allotment ran dry, and our newly-discovered unity was sent back into the chaos of the multitude


"Maybe some day things will be different,"

Harsher words have never been spoken.

>>15495231
Ah man that was great anon, an outloud laugh at each stanza, thanks for cheering me up

Weldon Kees - 1926

The porchlight coming on again,
Early November, the dead leaves
Raked in piles, the wicker swing
Creaking. Across the lots
A phonograph is playing Ja-Da.

An orange moon. I see the lives
Of neighbors, mapped and marred
Like all the wars ahead, and R.
Insane, B. with his throat cut,
Fifteen years from now, in Omaha.

I did not know them then.
My airedale scratches at the door.
And I am back from seeing Milton Sills
And Doris Kenyon. Twelve years old.
The porchlight coming on again

Does it sound amateurish?

O sinfull man into this mortall se
Quhilk is the vaill of murnyng and of cair,
With gaistly sicht behold oure heidis thre,
Oure holkit ene, oure peilit pollis bair.
As ye ar now, into this warld we wair,
Als fresche, als fair, als lusty to behald.
Quhan thow lukis on this suth examplair,
Of thyself, man, thow may be richt unbald.

For suth it is that every man mortall
Mon thole the deid and de that lyfe hes tane.2
Na erdly stait aganis deid ma prevaill.
The hour of deth and place is uncertane
Quhilk is referrit to the hie God allane.
Heirfoir haif mynd of deth, that thow mon dy.
This sair exampill to se quotidiane
Sould caus all men fra wicket vycis fle.

O wantone youth, als fresche as lusty May,
Farest of flowris renewit, quhyt and reid,
Behald our heidis, O lusty gallandis gay.
Full laithly thus sall ly thy lusty heid,
Holkit and how and wallowit as the weid.
Thy crampand hair and eik thy cristall ene
Full cairfully conclud sall dulefull deid.
Example heir be us it may be sene.

O ladeis quhyt in claithis corruscant,
Poleist with perle and mony pretius stane,
With palpis quhyt and hals so elegant,
Sirculit with gold and sapheris mony ane,
Your finyearis small, quhyt as quhailis bane,
Arrayit with ringis and mony rubeis reid,
As we ly thus so sall ye ly ilk ane
With peilit pollis and holkit thus your heid.

O wilfull pryd, the rute of all distres,
With humill hairt upoun our pollis pens.
Man, for thy mis ask mercy with meiknes.
Aganis deid na man may mak defens.
The empriour for all his excellens,
King and quene and eik all erdly stait,
Peure and riche salbe but differens,
Turnit in as and thus in erd translait.

This questioun quha can obsolve, lat see,
Quhat phisnamour or perfyt palmester:
Quha was farest or fowlest of us thre
Or quhilk of us of kin was gentillar
Or maist expert in science or in lare,
In art musik or in astronomye?
Heir still sould ly your study and repair
And think as thus all your heidis mon be.

O febill aige, ay drawand neir the dait
Of dully deid and hes thy dayis compleit,
Behald our heidis with murning and regrait,
Fall on thy kneis, ask grace at God, and greit
With orisionis and haly salmes sweit,
Beseikand him on thee to haif mercy,
And of our saulis bydand the decreit
Of his godheid, to rew and glorife.

Als we exhort that every man mortall,
For his saik that maid of nocht all thing,
For mercy cry and pray in generall
To Jesus Chryst of hevin and erd the king,
Throuch your prayar that we and ye may ring
With the hie Fader be eternitie,
The Sone alswa, the Haly Gaist conding,
Thre knit in ane be perfyt unitie.

>>15495231
cringe.

>>15495721
yes

>>15495721
hahhahah
>just write what you feel maaaaaaaaaaaan.

>>15495052
I blame the god, I blame my wife, For being not generous enough, For leaving me in despair times, Among these barren lands of life. Thou resting in the pure delight, And turning your blind eye on me, Those times will come and shall smite thee, And I will rise, Watching you die.

>>15495767
cope

>>15495458
One of the few poets I have a 'Selected' of and not a Complete, stupidly. Thanks, anon. Learned something new.

>>15495571
is this oc? its pretty good

>>15495721
Its extremely on the nose and frankly bland. It reads ( this isn't a comment on you) as if you feel like you have something you want to inform the reader about. But people don't read poetry to be lectured. Learn to be more subtle, tldr

gl

In Search of Lost Time

>>15496420
Sorry, wrong thread

>>15496197
Yes. Thank you, this is the kinda shit I'd write back when I would dissociate on the train

Been enjoying Whitman lately. Most poets are his manly confidence has been refreshing compared to the likes of Poe, Eliot, the Confessionalists, Bukowski, etc. I don't think Whitman ever knew resentment.

>Yet O my soul supreme!
Know'st thou the joys of pensive thought?
Joys of the free and lonesome heart, the tender, gloomy heart?
Joys of the solitary walk, the spirit bow'd yet proud, the suffering
and the struggle?
The agonistic throes, the ecstasies, joys of the solemn musings day
or night?
Joys of the thought of Death, the great spheres Time and Space?
Prophetic joys of better, loftier love's ideals, the divine wife, the
sweet, eternal, perfect comrade?
Joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee O soul.

Been enjoying Whitman lately. His manly confidence has been refreshing compared to the likes of Poe, Eliot, the Confessionalists, Bukowski, etc. I don't think Whitman ever knew resentment.

Yet O my soul supreme!
Know'st thou the joys of pensive thought?
Joys of the free and lonesome heart, the tender, gloomy heart?
Joys of the solitary walk, the spirit bow'd yet proud, the suffering
and the struggle?
The agonistic throes, the ecstasies, joys of the solemn musings day
or night?
Joys of the thought of Death, the great spheres Time and Space?
Prophetic joys of better, loftier love's ideals, the divine wife, the
sweet, eternal, perfect comrade?
Joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee O soul.

Here's a poem I wrote, first in verse then in prose.

A Body Without Organs

As arrows bounce off helm and shield,
And knights and footmen cross the field,
The drums and flags and waving spears
Lay siege my fragile eyes and ears.

We close our line and raise our arms,
And deaf from screams and cold alarms,
The summer sun assaults my eyes
And blind I prod opposing lines.

My comrades turn to run, too late
I notice horsemen, and my great
Stiff halberd turns through honey-air:
The humid heat of my despair.

i fall to earth and stabbed straight through,
I drop my arms and see anew:
I have no lungs or bile or blood,
Just guts turned into crimson flood.

My reddened body strewn about,
I cannot look; I'm inside out.

Here it is in prose:

I hear the clang of arrows off helms and shields, and drums and screams, and my ears go deaf. I see the glint of summer sun on spears and flags, and reddened fields, and my eyes go blind. My stomach turns and my heart thrusts into my brain. My legs close with the enemy, and my arms raise weapons to meet them. My comrades turn to run, too late! On the flank, cavalry thunders, and my halberd turns through honey-air. My body is knocked off it's- I fall onto my- I'm stabbed through. I realize, choking on humid air, there is no blood or bile of phlegm. I have no lungs or liver. There is only red guts, which stain the grass. I close my- I cannot bear to witness myself turned inside out.

I don't know which version I prefer, and I'm not entirely satisfied with either.

Let us return

Round it runs a fence of bronze
Beside it a garden full
aconite, saffron, garlic
a world lit from below
dirt meets dirt at the horizon
the birds had their god
buy a tract of useless land
at the entrance

to become a ghost
make sure everyone knows your name
as you wrong against a god and
are killed in the act by a weapon
be without spouse or child
lest they pray in earnest on your behalf
make your face ugly with unhappiness
wish you had been born in the street
by a less mangy dog

Have blood on your hands
Before you start
Have blood on your lips
When you are stopped

The further you go
The darker it gets
Isolating

the deeper you delve
the more effort it takes
to extricate

the longer you are gone