/lit/ - Literature

>>20522724
Isn't this too specific? What counts as edgelord?

>>20522724
There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.

His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o'er and o'er.

They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.

They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.

And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.

'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!

I drudged along carrying this heavy burden far too long, comforted only by my false hope. The path I trekked has been lost and only now as the weight is lifted from my chest do I realize it was the only thing holding my shattered heart together. The pieces fall all around me, the freely flowing blood from the void overwhelms me. I stand alone in the forest, the trail before me now unseen, the way I came now impassable. Light fades fast and vibrant greed fades to gray and finally to black. I grope blindly and feel nothing, all has gone, I am lost in abysmal nothingness. A sound permeates the vast hollow and it echos all around me, vibrating through to my very soul. Tears stream down my face as her final words to me echo in my ears. "I love you"

I don't write often so this poem is probably crap, but I was in my feels and needed a creative outlet.

The silence is too much to take,
While staring into nightime skies,
I cannot help but sweat and shake,
When meeting all those gleaming eyes,
Now from the world all light is gone,
And only sempiternal spawn,
Are there to look upon,
The "stars" that stare out of abyss,
Begin to make me feel amiss,
Winking in the empty yawn
Of night...

I felt a twisted logic forming,
Like a grueling reminiscence,
Something like a sickness swarming,
From a dreamland of omniscience,
Arguments so beastly florid,
A thesis wrapped in hatred torrid,
Ideas vast and horrid,
In shapes that shifted just behind
The winking stars that smugly shined,
In colors gross and lurid,
That night...

I felt their eyes stare back at me,
The strangling fear then stopped my breath,
When I had realized their glee,
In defilement; violence—death,
What signals send they when they leer?
Do they our evolution steer?
Progenitors of fear?
From their gaze I had to shrink,
But I couldn't sleep a wink,
With them so near
At night...

But they penetrated still,
Into my skull, my very mind,
Viscious nightmares bid me kill,
They showed me aeons long behind,
What wars they waged beneath our waves,
All creatures of the earth their slaves,
And mortal life depraves,
They cruely grin just out of sight,
And snicker in their cosmic spite,
That so madly raves
The night...

As if I could do all those things,
That make a name remarked through Time;
As if a song that a fair maiden sings,
Would sing that moment I shone like the Sun;
As if my name could ring out with rhyme
Long after the days on the earth are done—
As if there's any hope for virtue when...
The world is lost to Satan and his beasts.
I am the final human denizen,
And but a candle, casting on their feasts.

>>20522855
Lol

>>20523044
WTF lmfao

Who walks down the street
Well after dark?
What man could you meet
Between trees in the park?
Who paces in hallways
So empty and long?
Have you felt this thing always,
This feeling, so wrong?

What waits in the alleys
To ambush therein?
Does it live in the valleys,
So steep and so thin?
Can you ask "who is there?"
Would reply meet your call?
Would it be a reprieve,
Or a trick to decieve,
If you heard nothing at all?

Could you continue
Where fear and doubt lie?
If you do have it in you,
You're far braver than I;
For a thing stalks the forest,
In the darkness is rife,
And of that I'm the surest
I've ever been in my life,

Its whispers and whistles
Are soft on the breeze;
Unholy epistles,
That night-time unease,
Its calls ring the canyon,
Where no one can hear it,
But I dream of that place—
And its shadow-hid face!
I hear it and fear it!

It's not held to one station,
But is everywhere hiding,
At every location,
And biding, and biding...
It's there by the curtain,
Don't meet its eye,
All that's for certain,
Is that it does wander,
Think on this, ponder,
Behind the stars in the sky,

Do not try to uncover
Whatever it is,
You may come to discover,
The City of Dis,
So pull your blanket up high,
Bring it up to your chin,
And keep closed your eye,
Do not stray from therein,
Spare yourself from that sin,
For it wanders nearby.

Twinkle, sprinkle, little star,
Ghostly glitters from afar;
As I stared at your dim shape
In the dead sky's jaws agape.
Blinking, winking, tiny one,
How oft I weep since you have gone.

The sojourns on my journeys counted many,
And out of boredom would I give a penny
To the poor folk, to hear their stories told,
Most somber, but amusing, despite their being old.

One was told me, of a mountain, more a hill,
"That lost its lover long ago, yet still,
Tumbling out its crumbling face, it wept,
And soggied all its tree-built beard, unkept,"

"His timber groves below, the people knew,
Were well-drenched by his sadness too.
The wiser folk warned often of the spring,
But so-named 'meloncholies' ignored everything,"

"They swallowed water far surpast their thirst,
And limply floated in the founts face first,
All of them by daylight wailed and cried,
But howled and screamed at Night-time's noose-hung bride,"

"The wise villagers heard these on the breeze,
And spied their lanterns wander through the trees,
Then after days passed without sound or sight,
They feared them victims of some evil plight."

"A group had gathered, to travel to the wood,
To find the meloncholies, if they could,
Their houses had no food, though every cup
Held water, blue and cold; the walls and floors scratched up,"

"The distraught group then found some recent tracks,
They followed footprints, shoes, discarded slacks,
The dark, dense trees, huddled 'round the trails,
With chilly winds, and screams of pitch black rails."

"The sun was low, but the tracks had stopped,
Where it was flat and slimey rocks outcropped,
A broad and subtle alcove was this place,
And there the group found, strewn about the space,"

"More clothes and shoes, and trinkets everywhere,
And crumpled bunches, what looked like human hair,
They all shuddered, but pushed further on,
Past the items whose owners now were gone,"

"The rocks were flattened all about a pool,
Tear shaped and still the water, blue and cool,
On the dimly glinting water's edge, a cup,
No, multitudes, were there, without a sup,"

"The water's source, leaked out the alcove's back,
Horizontal and curved downward was the crack,
Over the crack, in dark paint drawn, an eye,
Was closed and sad, the water it did cry,"

"The searching party was dismayed, but still,
Called out to them and scoured all the hill,
Was night when they re-grouped around the source,
With no one found, to make their downward course,"

"The icey winds then pushed aside the shroud
Of a dank and cobweb smothered cloud,
Unveiling the Night-bride hanging in the air,
Who lit the scene with rays like light blue hair,"

"As they were headed back into the trails,
Through trees that still echoed screams of rails,
They found the meloncholy people who had gone,
Naked, nooses round their neck, shrivelled, hanging wan."

"It's said they felt the sadness in the mountain's cry,
His lover couldn't reach him, and so sought to die,
The feelings of his tragedy within the people stir,
So they offered themselves to him, as effigies of her."

Here’s a well known one

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes again

Can you picture what will be?
So limitless and free
Desperately in need
Of some stranger's hand
In a desperate land

Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah

There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the King's Highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby
Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake, he's long, seven miles
Ride the snake
He's old and his skin is cold
The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here and we'll do the rest
The blue bus is calling us
The blue bus is calling us
Driver, where you taking us?

The killer awoke before dawn
He put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door
And he looked inside
"Father?" "Yes, son?" "I want to kill you"
"Mother? I want to... fuck you"

This is the end, my only friend, the end
It hurts to set you free
But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die
This is the end

Bump

Do not go gentle into that fucking good night,
Old age should burn and rape at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had fucked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that fucking good night.

Nice guys, the last fucking rage by, crying how bright
Their fail deeds might have danced with a green fucking gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Crazy motherfuckers who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that fucking good night.

Grave diggers, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind guys could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that fucking good night.
Rage, rage against the FUCKING dying of the light.

I want to see them starving
The so-called working class
Their wages weekly halving
Their women stewing grass

When I walk out each morning
In my brand-new suit
I want to see them fawning
To clean my car and boots

>>20523449
that's classist!

>>20523466
Yes it’s classic