/lit/ - Literature

>>5098170
trhats a hot speccy bitch

By the way, there was an Italian guy who posted a sonnet some time ago, about a femme fattale, which ended with the word 'distrutte'. I just wanted to say him (in case he sees this post) that I showed it to my friend who knows Italian and she liked it very much.

Are you spaniard and pedo?

>La culpa es de las madres, que las visten como putas.

Thou art stupid OP. I obscenity in the milk of thy family

Pass the salt please, mother
dearest, your pie tastes way too sweet.
I'd throw it in your face right now
but what else is there to eat?

Father mine would you stop
passing the chores to me?
I'd like to spend just one day
not upon your knee.

Brother please look down for now,
the gun is by the door.
When I say duck, you duck, you hear?
And they'll join you on the floor.

>>5098170
En voz alta suena bien. Pero discrepo sobre utilizar la palabra "psiquiatría". Tiene algo que no sé... No parece la palabra adecuada.

>>5098170
>2014
>being from spain
>using disgusting Castilian Spanish
kill yourself

>>5098334
Hmmm... yeah, now you mention it, perhaps it's a too 'technical' word for the speech. But I don't know how to fix it now. Meh, I'll think it more carefully next time I write something. I guess rushing doesn't help.

>>5098348
>2014
>feeling superior and saying "kill yourself"

>>5098200
Edgemaster

You've done the same things over and over, time and time again.
You think you're developing some OCD because you have learned nothing from results nor mistakes.
"It gets better," they chant, a mantra burning into your skin and branding itself along the sharp lines of your jaw.
Love. That is the reoccurring sense of pain; it is the heart wrenching disorder of humanity.
You fall in love on Tuesday and forget on Sunday.
You think you're developing some OCD.

>>5098170
Here's my lame poem for the 22nd century.

Wild murmur:
In my room there is a howling
Not from a wold speaking to moons
The words from my heart are calling
You can hear them at high noon
Pinnacle thoughts too soon
What better way to hear the voice
Calling in the sea to a great typhoon
Than to witness a choice
Privately while watching toons

---

Journey in the idea:

Telescope telescope
Peering over the cliff edge
Antelope antelope
I see where my horizons pledge

Scapegoat scapegoat
There's a cloud in the sky
Big moat little moat
I peer over the towers so high

Capture capture
Horrible blasphemy and wants
Rapture rapture
I do challenge against light taunts

Master master
Where is the sun going
Hamster hamster
Little am I knowing

>>5100218
Wold? Wolf**

>>5098170
>Being a Gallego pedofag...

The Reservations of the Common Man

O ye of little faith, come hither
See the beggers and thieves
The men who walked this land before you or I
What to do with them all
Such a short time to take
Though, being a native to this land
Does not a native make

We have the courage to stand tall
A triumphant voyage we took to find glory
Only another war to fight beyond the shore
The first, mind you
And not the last by a long shot
What to do with all this human trash
Let's put it in the desert to rot

Hearst says we should fight the Spainards
He lives in a gigantic castle though
Little doth he know about the common man
We don't wish to fight
But my bretheren push those feelings aside
After we've slaughtered so many here
Our thirsts may be quenched by the war tide

Roosevelt rides on horseback
Gives the common man a symbol to follow
Whether that symbol leads to death
Is unknown even to me
But I will drape the bodies with sorrow
Teddy smiles through the glass
And I will follow his lead tomorrow

Of course we will win this war
We're finally in agreement as a country
Pride of all men has never been higher
One problem still plauges us
Still can't figure out where the natives belong
At least I've come to terms with the term
I knew they were the natives all along

>>5100218
I quite like the second poem,
thank you for sharing!

So I wrote a poem for class today.
It is the first poem I have ever wrote as an adult...

Beginner entry level garbage
------------------------------------

Why can’t we see
How beautiful life can be
If only we understood
It’s not you, I or me
What are thought of as strangers
They aren’t all that far
Please realize for once who we all are
Brothers and sisters
Siblings of man
What burns one another,
Also burns the other hand
Mothers and fathers,
Please teach our children,
We are all as one
And our passage through time,
Has only just begun

>>5100296
You have talent, sir

>>5100309

Thank you.

A poem I wrote when I was 14:

A poem is a blessing that crystallizes a lesson, a passionate impulse into few lines of expression.

>>5100317

Ah I like :)

>>5100331
Thanks :) I haven't wrote a poem in years, I wrote a poem to a girl I like.

You are beauty, that is unable to be depicted with any words, your
eyes as blue as the sky above an oceanic bird, as blue as the ocean
tides, as beautiful as a sunrise, althought negative confers,
your eyes sedative as a sheeply herd.

L'astre solaire
L'astre atomique
Quand le temps file
Qu'il s'effile
des lambeaux de fibres
Qu'il devient la seconde de trop
le gramme qui défait l'équilibre
la question qui reste
la question qui tâche
qui trotte, qui gratte
la pensée logique
la raison du savoir-vivre
la candeur du respectable
et qu'on devient bête en buvant les saints poisons
et qu'on devient bête
la folie qu'on embrasse
En pensant pouvoir se faire oracle
la noirceur qu'on baise
la rime ; l'arrogance ; le sang ; la griffe
et l'oracle qui dégueule son trop-plein de bière
le cannibalisme d'une horloge
faire des robots pour nous manger
un monde avec des mots pour se voir
des mots pour se compter
se calculer, se peser, se minuter
toi bête et sans temps
une montre au poignet
De l'anorexie du laid
nait la nausée des hommes
qui n'en peuvent plus de retenir l'étrange
et vomisse d'épaisses biles noirâtres
dégueulant d'espoir naïf
une trace qu'il pensent immortelle
et qui le sera pour un moment
un instant
attend…
seulement
jusqu'à ce que la gerbe remonte
que l'estomac gavé d'une jeunesse
s'active à rejeter le laid maternel
embrassant la vomissure première
dégueulant leurs vertiges dans l'encre
répandant la laideur dans un nouveau soleil.

>>5098170
A mí me gustó. El de arriba que dijo que psiquiatría no encaja en esa oración, tiene la razón. Y la última linea no la comprendo. ¿Tiene otra parte el poema?

>>5100442
Hey! I've finally come up with a better verse.

"Vuestro rencor apesta a rabiosa alevosía"

I'm much happier with the result now, so thanks for pointing that out!

The last verse is a joke among my friends, it's the kind of stupid thing that a child rapist would say to justify himself.

>>5100426
This is good enough I Googled some lines. Are there more? I love the mix of the childish with the timeless, and spiritual with scientific.

Here we go:

Preciso material que consumir,
busco alimentar este hambriento fuego,
¡una gran batalla que avive mi ego!
Llama llamada a jamás extinguir,

haces a mi espíritu mujeriego,
¡vivas musas vienen a seducir!
Sobre mis piernas bien me he de erguir
para poder amar sin desapego.

A los pies el mundo, alrededor
el cielo, las estrellas por sombrero.
Alturas propias de un cazador,

prohibidas para todo prisionero.
Todo se ha de tornar revelador,
aquí solo cabe lo verdadero.

>>5098170
Fuuuuck she is really messy. That room is just... awful.

>>5101071

ooga booga

no speakie unemployed

please try again

>>5101071
The metric and the rhyme are pretty, and it sounds nice. Perhaps 'too simple' the combination consumir/extinguir/seducir/erguir (being all of them infinitives), but it's ok.

However, I can't get a sense out of it. I don't understand what it's talking about. Perhaps I'm missing something, but I'd suggest to focus to one main idea for each poem, and putting it a little more clearly.

>>5098170
>¿
NEXT!

>>5098200
>Pass the salt please, mother
NEXT!


>>5099278
>You've done the same things over and over, time and time again.
>You think you're developing some OCD because
NEXT!

>>5100218
>Here's my lame poem for the 22nd century.
>Wild murmur:
>In my room there is a howling
>Not from a wold speaking to moons
NEXT!

>>5100296
>before you or I
NEXT!

>>5100302
>Why can’t we see
>How beautiful life can be
OH GAWD! NEXT!

This poem thread sucked. Better luck next time /lit/

>>5098170

That poem was lame
was such a bore
I'd rather be home
cutting myself more and more.

If you ask me
OP is a whore
But no one cares
since she was like that before.

>>5101805
It is easier to rhyme in English.

I wrote this ~3 years ago about a news story. It's been a while since I've felt poetic.

>>5102416

>forgot the fucking poem:

A tumble in the markets marks fearful flight of fancy; purchased bonds corresponds with economic chancy. US debt seems cause to fret; investors swirl and shout. Still be in cheer, my nervous dear, we'll cast aside the doubt. There is no flow without its ebb, no peak without its trough; you'll all be fine, don't bitch and whine with every fiscal cough.

Bump for words

Vomis, sur les pavés de babylone,
éxécrablement.
Urine, sur ce mur des lamentations,
moderne.
Les bourreaux se réjouissent.

>>5098170
>No endecasílabo
>No heptasílabo
>FUCK IT PLEB

>>5100218
A wedding upon the rolling hills:

The travels of influential melodic
Witness the flight of the periodic
Love so sound and brew-thick
Melodies and laughter so hypnotic

Give rise to new heights and memories
In the halls of love and melody
Give way for the newly weds
Singing songs of you and me

Intertwined and rung
Like bell chimes that sung
Rain or sunday
Young and crisp is the air in our lungs

Ring in ring
Bring birds who sing
Nothing worth more than the eternal ring
A merry gift to symbolize our merging

---

Materials to stimulate:

Road to riches and diamond things
A man is nothing without his many things
Then what is a man without his beautiful things
A things a thing in the eyes of a thing

Seeing threads like these, even if they don't have the best poetry in them, makes me optimistic for the future of the art form. We might just have a 21st century Wordsworth or two yet.

Penis, penis penis
Penis penis penis
Penis, penis penis

Oh Penis, penis penis
To the penis, a penis

Food Processor (Pantoum)

Tomatoes spray their sacred juice
on the wooden cutting board,
Crying tangy tears over axed onions,
though their vibrant spirits soared.

On the wooden cutting board,
Cilantro soldiers meet their ends,
Just a second before their calling chord,
Saying goodbye to all their carrot friends

Cilantro soldiers meet their ends,
from fields to master's maw,
Cucumber memoirs the letters end,
to pickle wounds still raw.

From fields to master's gnashing maw,
metal reapers work their magic.
Now all that's left is scarecrow straw
as drought turns this tale tragic.

Experimenting with strict forms. Feedback appreciated.

I made a video reading my poems:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXRjOnmk2ww

Check it out!

>>5106706
Here's another!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjW-gXfjugs

>>5106706
/fa/ would love you

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after nightwith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between

I wrote this last night when I ran out of weed. It's called Outtabud.

When you're in the hole,
and you've scraped the bowl

When you're down to you're last
and regretting the past

Take it from me
and you will see

That in you're soul
You are growing fast

You just had
to pay the fee

>>5102423
I like it. when you read it aloud it really floooowws

>>5106706
I'm so jealous, I'm from alabama and i can't even get that kind of drawl.

>>5098170
I don't understand Spanish, sorry.
>>5099278
Damn, this is some really bad, cliche-ridden work. Please, never use "the heart wrenching disorder of humanity" in a poem again. Additionally, the poem just looks like a mess on the page. There's no structure to this, it looks like you just vomited out some "things" you've read by bad poets, but made it even worse. The "mantra" image is really strong though. Focus more on imagery, because that's what you're best at.
>>5100218
I generally hate rhyming poetry, almost as a rule, but this is pretty good. I like that there's an actual rhythm to these words, as opposed to simply "rhyme". The "wolf speaking to moons" line is a bit sappy and old, and you start to force the rhyme on "toons". The second poem is much better, it's a joyous little nursery rhyme almost...strong imagery and music to it.
>>5100296
>Starting a poem with "O ye"
>2014
Just kidding. You drop the meter frequently though, and your rhyme scheme betrays the archaic "feel" you're going for, which ruins the whole point IMO.
>>5100302
I can't even take the time out of my day to critique this shit. 1st grade-level, I'd say. Keep working and maybe you'll get better, but I have a feeling that you aren't all that interested in poetry.
>>5100317
Cliche garbage.
>>5100371
>Starting a poem with "You are beauty"
>Not a Shakespearean sonnet
>2014
Shit.
>>5100426
I don't understand French, but I like your shape. Oh and the repetition, for sure.
>>5101071
I don't understand Spanish.
>>5104094
I don't understand French.
>>5106400
Nice dubs, shit poem. You have no sense of meter and a terrible understanding of "rhyme". Melodic/periodic is perhaps the worst rhyme I've ever heard. The second poem is definitely an improvement, still cliche, but great sense of repetition, works well when read aloud.
>>5106686
Nice meter. Bad rhymes. Cliche images, but a nice little ditty nonetheless. The opening line of the final stanza is probably the strongest of any piece in this thread. The ending line of that stanza is a terrible deflation and letdown...work out a better ending for this poem. Definite 6/10, overall strongest poem here.
>>5107011
Nice dubs, I grew out of Ginsberg at about 14 though. Try again with something of his that's a little less well-known. Hell, maybe you could pass it off as your own. Read his "Town and the City Sonnets". Those are sublime.
>>5107046
>you're
>soul
>expecting me to take this garbage seriously

Here's a piece I wrote. I hope it keeps the line breaks well. My comment is already a bit long, so I'll include it in the next post.

Elegy for Holly

I.

The cars approach
like stinkbugs cooing and vrooming---
vomiting greasy halogen---
maybe at 200 miles per hour.
Something is wrong, and it’s not
the obscene Zippo flipping mystic
or the blurred skygrass outside
these Subaru windows.

II.

Perhaps the grotto? Tainted
with urine and lysergic dreams
of Saddam Hussein morphing into Christ
(His head on a platter)
And the girl growling in the corner, canine
Herbal nail bar worked doubled up on MDMA
and on the stars

which melt around our feet like fireflies.

III.

And where are her parents?
“Turn on, tune in, abandon a child”
Her pupils are tiny,
Drenched in iPhone cords
Fashioned into a bloodless tourniquet
Dissolved into a dull needle
At the wake of a loved one.
The priests mew---

And we shoot up after her funeral.

In time I will love her,
Have her kiss me,
When I won’t suspect.
Have her tease me,
In a lighthearted way,
When our clothes are still on.

By the door she’ll wait,
A dropped suitcase where she stand,
A little smile on her lips,
A great wave in her hand.

Together we will go on inside,
Speak of passionate things,
Fill it with voices and sighs,
Let our faces slowly touch,
Let our faces slowly touch.

But it is just a thought,
One that still comes and goes,
Thought up every other week,
Only for me to know.

I saw a woman the other day, one that I could learn to want
We spoke for awhile, and I knew it couldn’t be enough…

And though this will destroy me,
I will not cry out,
I may shake about my room,
But I refuse to shout.

A Venn Diagram

A map would be nice
From my words to gods ears
If I said I could move anytime I feel?
Would it be frightening?
Reciprocate what can never be equal
Not a square
A fourth fold lets out
Eight and ten slip through the missing rib
With a reluctance
No hand me down names and violence
Juniors with raised defenses
Mitigate the misplaced kindness
Your vague advice
Free associating to curb the edge
All I really need
If you read me
Because I want you to
It's only here for you
I only like the things I make
That started in the middle with you
My right hand to the left foot
Letting a leap of a test
The fish in the ocean or nubile on the cross
Vesica piscis, I see you all the time
Overlapping the sixth
All my sad things
Most of the old things
To take it seriously
To get results use reason
The first fold to make a point
You think I don't realize?
Spitting out health food
Last of them the thirteenth and trailing second
Still jealous of your England
To make my thoughts bearable
Swept away like a small one
Placing your tone somewhere distinctly unromantic
Dissolved in your guts like wild rice
I know you are cruel to yourself
And I know you could be kind
It wouldn't kill me to let you have it all back
I am crude, paranoid, what a wonder
Some flag folding sycophant
Avoid making sense or credibility
To articulate a screaming feeling
Rambling words set to a pair of loops
This won't be the last of me
Stopping to sense the doom
It just happens, every so often

>>5107421
*worker

>>5107421

>Subaru
>iPhone

That's brilliant technique but I really despise the imagery. It's an uncomfortable hollow to me if that makes sense. Perhaps I'm too oldfashioned.

>>5107650
I have a slight feeling that I called your poem shit.

these are lyrics but just say its a poem.

Waxwork

you had me
at “fuck me”
with a bite of your lip
got what you want.
but what was gave,
was only to lend

I offered hollow bones
so come with me,
for my throne is in the canopy.
on these it depends
if the air becomes more
than what lungs will eat

unlike the trees that precede
your roots release
where you will meet,
learn to sing.
a flock of friends,
at these wing ends.

but,
motherly grins, have talons too
the loaned, keeps you aloft
and I want, more from you
those bones are for a better tune

to lend is to lean on
forget the sky
go meet a terminal rock
and somewhere between
when you look back at me
in gliding gesture to advance

and now you know
i'm selfish.
where you joined,
return
and pay
the landing.
spill your guts.

>>5108132
>unlike the trees that precede
>your roots release
>where you will meet,
>learn to sing.
>a flock of friends,
>at these wing ends.

I liked this a lot.

>>5107587
I would make this shorter if you could.

>>5108142
yeah I understand that its not very flowery.
I wanted to have a minor theme on flag folding but couldn't bring myself to delete the references when I decided on other symbolism.

>>5107421
I love love love it.
You are amazing

Here's a short poem I just wrote:

An old man with an iPhone 5S on Twitter

and what to be
that cannot be seen
or felt at night when all is calm
and is no light
not heavy to carry
nor tough to bear
so sink down and get that proof
of why and how you should not stoop
down deep into your bright red chair
again they weep and stop allwhere

In the desiderated space
free of valuation,
every reality is coequal.

this is poetry because I say it is

>>5110268
makes me sad for some reason-

>>5107415
Nice critiques, appreciated. Do you have any recommended reading for people new to poetry?

interrogation tactics
agents trained to make a mime talk
bodies vanish just like magic
they don't even need the line of chalk
moving stars and distant laughing
'humans still can't use their minds to talk'
pitch black bandits survey the masses
they don't even need the ground to walk
static bathes your fragile conscious
flip a switch and then your minds lost
spooks and suits in aviators
you'd think you're looking at a crime boss
watching things that couldn't happen
curious about the time loss
explanations lack specifics
chance of truths is just a dimes toss
technology is a bit too awesome
but it's coming at a prime cost
laser guns and phasers stun
their pistols turn you to a fine sauce

>>5100290
why do you think he is gallego?

>>5110319
I like it. I read it like four times and added it to my collection of four Chan quotes
>>5098200
cryptic. I smell a supreme gentleman

>>5110865

Because she is. There're only two main branches to the Spanish language, and judging by the vocabulary and the form of speech, she's using Castilian, from Spain.

It's a sarcastic satire of rape written by a young feminist. Doesn't really hold together for all it's worth, starts apologetically and finishes off as a dark satire.

Baby, baby, can't you see?
You and I, are meant to be
Frolicking in a garden
for all eternity.
Show me your tits
dip them in grits
the grits run down your body
into your clit
MMMM CLIT TITS

>>5111265
Beautiful, you just inspired me to write this:

Your cunt is so hot
I love the hair, pubic hair
The honey drips into your crotch
The hole not merely traveled
but traversed by my cock-bare
Clit throbbing for a licking
Sticky sticky, it keeps on sticking
MMMM STICKY CUNT LICKING

Real poetry is too hard to write, I just like vomiting alliterations onto a page

------------------------------

Sinister syllables, softly sliding across the tongues of traitors just out of earshot

Vile venom in every instance of purportedly innocent and accidental insult

Hidden assassins with practiced actions silence with violence their righteous opposors

Supposedly schizophrenic, I see their sneers through forever frozen smiling masks

I pretend to pop the pills they prescribe to try to "treat" the obvious truth

But beware, unrighteous tyrants. I've somehow acquired a gun. Though for now I bide my time, soon your reckoning will come

>>5111284
That, my friend gave me hope in this backward generation. Thank you.

Probably one of the first I made, back when I actually was in school and had time to scribble stuff down.

You are as irrational as the root of two
A complexity beyond number i + u
But still you lie straight
Like sum three two seven, six and eight

I’m bound by these borders of axis Y
The brother of sine gives my maximum high
You travel over and under me, always free
It’s the factors I move with that help me see

A rational thought is what keeps me real
Imagining you is quite surreal
But if variables applied
I will be at your side

My height and your i will be the key
With frequency low we’ll finally be
A lonely sine wave I was before
An outcast, hermit, nevermore

>>5107587
that's a very ugly poem

>>5110821
Organic Trains by Jim Carroll
Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot
The Branch Will Not Break by James Wright

Definitely pretty entry-level, but all are amazing nonetheless.

>>5107587
Strong work, you jump from image to image pretty fast though, it's a bit hard to follow, feels a bit cluttered and over-long, have you edited it yet?
"Dissolved in your guts like wild rice" is very, very good, as is "flag folding sycophant". Easily a 7.5/10. Keep up the good work man.

Erotic Toaster Poem
by Jeff Vogel

In masturbatory glee
The other night
I put my penis in
Everything in sight

Banana peels were fun
But to my dismay
In the disk drive my cock
Would just not stay

Drains were good
The keyhole better
And the ice tray kept getting
Wetter and wetter

And not to seem
An awful boaster
But then i had sex
With the toaster

Down went the plunger
And in went my meat
It felt really groovy
When I turned up the heat

I thrust even deeper
And pressed my attack
I pushed in a bagel
For a post-coital snack

But in case you think
This poem is to amuse
As my toes started curling
Well, out blew a fuse

The shock singed my penis
And forced out my breath
I write this while I pray
For sweet and kind death

5th of July:
We walked down to the soft grey sand, the palm of a sprawling hand,
which pressed against our feet. The melancholic mist gleamed and sparkled, tossed by breeze and sun. We swayed there on the placid beach, cradled by jutting rocks, on a blanket tossed on waves of sand.
Before me, a spring--serendipitous, fleeting--
crawled, trickling down the cliff,
and with my mouth agape, I thought:
“So, this is what fantasy feels like.”
Then she came
to me, her, interlocked,
while fishermen cast then went,
but ardent, bare, we lingered there,
nestled in tomorrow's memory.

it's a summer poem.

Written July 5th,
and the rocket’s red glare,
among the cotton candy pink sky.
explosions hung above us
sweet as the summer.
i could hear the colorful drums,
since dawn and well into dusk.
the heartbeat of America.
Bum, ba-bum, bum, ba-bum.
she feels so scared tonight,
no not scared.
excited.
excited as the day she was born
and as excited as the day she will die.
loud booms,
then that crackling in the sky.
from when the sun opened its eyes
to when America had all but closed hers
we flew no flag.
our burning sulfur,
that was our flag.
that was how much we cared.
burned into the streets
how much we fly.
higher and higher
than anyone else.
here i sit,
below jesus crucified
flying on a model vietnam helicopter
in my friends garage.
my hands smell and they are bleeding American.

>>5112931
I like the fact that you think you're a good poet, but this is actually really bad. That last line is...bah. It's like a bad aftertaste that won't leave my mouth and which imparts its taste on the rest of the meal.

Race of the 21st Century Prototype Americans

Wandering very far over land and sea
Shooting out, dirty hands stretched
Shuffling leaves off the family tree
Half hearts dreaming of a place or scene
Julie court and a feeling never leaving
Cooked in your convenient company

Strapping with boots locked in your tracks
Milk glass features, soft face always looking east
First try at something I might fail
And I remember that success sweating with eyes
Searching for more of that draining softness
Its been a while since I've touched the grass with my palms
For years I couldn't chew the weeds without
Nature gagging in sight of my brick and mortar extremities
Scrapped products of an old war devoid of politics
Condensing little beads of poison on my drywall
I don't want to sleep any longer than needed
Only take an hour every five awake
Split my days in fours

Learn everything outside of love first
Train in the motions of these promises
I could be thinking about us way too often
Passing my thoughts by, cooling down in foggy air

You would think there is something else going on here
21st century American prototypes with turnkey lives
Losing all shape and tradition, trading it for
Minor flashes of inspiration and western minds
Crushing stone louses with a mallet
Beaten where bruises never show in parted hair
And then you end up wondering why?
I don't like my head being touched
It will stop when things are in their right place
When it comes, maybe it won't feel this bad

Chivalry & Arsenic

Getting to know you was a privilege and a curse
For the hearse did drive through the dark night
What a sight to behold on such a frivolous hour
Cut the power and you will see why it turns blue
It arrests you in its gaze beyond everything wise
Silence your cries because the old rules get broke
Recite a joke while a coward christens your death
Hold your breath as the water breaks into a mist
We should kiss or at least graze skin for a time
As you climb atop the mounds of bodies that lay
Turns to day inside the heart of a wanted friend
Now we end.

Through stranger places
I see myself gazing
Through familiar spaces
The outsider looking in

lost and gone now
I dream wide awake
In dub I avow
Infinite knowledge

Angular distances deceive cowardly nettles sewn under a neon sign in the shape of a flame
Who will sell the dope when the cars will drive themselves?
Nation's grim grip shrinks temporary fertility.
A wet dog gets beaten.
Binging on transmissions my atrophy breeds NATURALLY proving righteousness because appeal to NATURE is a fallacy I do not under roof see all Hannah Montana denies to be unreal.

Take this dandruff it is not cocaine and grew NATURALLY to refuse.

Chanting ram invades my temple following techno sounds retreating to yesterday when no compressibility affected our temporal perception of NATURE.

It's going to not equal help, but stick around. Cola gunned children's mall.
It never left.

To a girl out of control
He would seem like the world.

And to a boy so detached
She'd seem love at last.

We can write stories
And talk about Jesus
And we can go for swims
In each other's seas of acid
And listen to the pictures
Flashing across the skies
That fade below our feet.
We can feel the blues
And talk the greens
And smell the yellows
As the animals fly away from us
Sinning with the New Age Samaritan
Who only wants to help
Those who help themselves
To others.
And we can sleep in the doorway
Between the alien and the foreign
And the new and the present
Will walk arm and arm
Leaving behind the old
To rot in its cold.
And we can look to the future
And only see the past
The passed faces and places
And the faces of places
That fade from the flowers
That blossom in the air.

>>5115190
best poem ITT hands down

>>5115267
I like the last 2 lines, but I'm not sure I get the rest of it. Care to elaborate if you do?

>>5111482
I haven't edited it. The spontaneity of what I wrote around a few skeleton lines I wrote first is what I like about the poem. I don't want to edit it because I set out to write a longish poem and don't think its even half as long as I wanted, also I don't think I added any filler it all makes sense to me even if its confuddled and messy looking.

thanks for saying you liked it!

The creeping shadow in the corner of his room
Turning the stifling air frigid like a tomb
Knowing the role that he willingly will assume
Is the silver medalist conqueror of her womb.

>>5115279
This poem was written without reading poems on the internet.
This poem is unashamed to steal.
In the age of woman curators give 2 lines heated into national mainline;

I
and
I

The length is what I like best oh hips.
When so much enters I feel less bled out.
In a world of garbage bad things happen to pretty people.

>>5111284
Full James Joyce tier
Though
>not mentioning smegma, shit stained asshole, fluids, etc

My days are drawing dreary
stuck in caves of my psyche
do not sweat, cold is comfy
my steps are longer and stiff
The light constant and hitting
Sores my eyes, the songs
are tiring and dull.

Do I get back to the old days
of fireworks blood sprawling
blasts of immensity, pleasure
The days shrink, days
in a blink, here I am.
Why here why this when?
And not another of the old days?

Simulations of reality keep me busy
in my cavern of slumber
but with a wink, here I am
Laying bland.