/lit/ - Literature

If you can write sonnets about rim-jobs in perfect iambic pentameter, why do you waste your talents on /lit/? You're one well educated troll.

10/10

the game

I salute thee.
10/10

>>657894
r Ｅ Ｍ o V Ｅ y O u ｒ ｉ Ｌ Ｌ ｅ ｇ ａ L ｃ l o ｎ E ｏ f Ａ ｔ ｃ Ｈ Ｒ ｉ s ｔ ｏ P Ｈ e r Ｐ ｏ ｏ ｌ ｅ ｈ ｔ ｔ Ｐ : / / 8 8 . 8 0 . 2 1 . 1 2 / i ｓ T h E o Ｒ Ｉ g i n Ａ Ｌ Ｆ A Ｇ Ｇ Ｏ ｔ

for fuck sake this deserves more recognition than some AFTER THE FACE bullshit

>>658041 is OP

>>658128 is guy forcing after the face meme

wtf is the after the face meme?

Also, nice poem, OP.

>>658219
A shining beacon of hope, because it didn't catch on. Thank god.

There are few things more disgusting to me than a woman doing anything around a male ass.

>>658238
Shower together first to clean up and set the mood. Assplay will blow your mind.

A bead of sweat rolls down your furrowed brow.
Your scented flesh aflame with passion's rouge,
Ashine, aglow, with love's wet juice. Oh wow!
My lips suck hard one breast; I leave a bruise.
A nibble here, a nibble there, you bite
My goose-flesh skin. I quiver, shake! Ah, fate!
With finger curled I plunge in pink so tight,
Your cheeks flush red, and eyes flash fire, lips wait.
Pink nipples stand with twists of flitting tongue.
Your girl-hands play with my flushed throbbing meat.
We couple, hard, you gasp as if you're stung.
Through humps and thrusts our cries do Heaven greet.
Our eyes squeezed shut, we work in perfect sync.
I come, you're close, you writhe just on the brink.

You write of rim-jobs. Rimbaud beat you to it,
and Verlaine, in Les Stupra, when they wrote
a sonnet on a rim-job. If you knew it
you should have let us know in some foot-note.
I happen to like rim-jobs. Giving, receiving.
When someone says "this tastes like ass" I think
"No I know what ass tastes like," and believing
it tastes sublime, and not like some sports drink
or whatever "tastes like ass" to them. But as to taste,
My taste in poetry is more exacting.
When Rimbaud and Verlaine write better, what a waste
Is is that you write drivel, now attracting
The wrath of one who loves to lick an ass
But still would flunk you in a writing class.

*

L'IDOLE: SONNET DU TROU DU CUL

Obscur et froncé comme un oeillet violet
Il respire, humblement tapi parmi la mousse
Humide encor d'amour qui suit la fuite douce
Des Fesses blanches jusqu'au coeur de son ourlet.

Des filaments pareils à des larmes de lait
Ont pleuré sous le vent cruel qui les repousse,
A travers de petits caillots de marne rousse
Pour s'aller perdre où la pente les appelait.

Mon Rêve s'aboucha souvent à sa ventouse ;
Mon âme, du coït matériel jalouse,
En fit son larmier fauve et son nid de sanglots.

C'est l'olive pâmée, et la flûte câline,
C'est le tube où descend la céleste praline :
Chanaan féminin dans les moiteurs enclos !

Leah Sublime,
Goddess above me!
Snake of the slime
Alostrael, love me!
Our master, the devil
Prospers the revel.

Tread with your foot
My heart til it hurt!
Tread on it, put
The smear of your dirt
On my love, on my shame
Scribble your name!

Straddle your Beast
My Masterful Bitch
With the thighs of you greased
With the Sweat of your Itch!
Spit on me, scarlet
Mouth of my harlot!

Now from your wide
Raw cunt, the abyss,
Spend spouting the tide
Of your sizzling piss
In my mouth; oh my Whore
Let it pour, let it pour!

>>658789

You stale like a mare
And fart as you stale;
Through straggled wet hair
You spout like a whale.
Splash the manure
And piss from the sewer.

Down to me quick
With your tooth on my lip
And your hand on my prick
With feverish grip
My life as it drinks--
How your breath stinks!

Your hand, oh unclean
Your hand that has wasted
Your love, in obscene
Black masses, that tasted
Your soul, it's your hand!
Feel my prick stand!

Your life times from lewd
Little girl, to mature
Worn whore that has chewed
Your own pile of manure.
Your hand was the key to--
And now your frig me, too!

>>658789

Rub all the much
Of your cunt on me, Leah
Cunt, let me suck
All your glued gonorrhea!
Cunt without end!
Amen! til you spend!

Cunt! you have harboured
All dirt and disease
In your slimy unbarbered
Loose hole, with its cheese
And its monthlies, and pox
You chewer of cocks!

Cunt, you have sucked
Up pricks, you squirted
Out foetuses, fucked
Til bastards you blurted
Out into space--
Spend on my face!

Rub all your gleet away!
Envenom the arrow.
May your pox eat away
Me to the marrow.
Cunt you have got me;
I love you to rot me!

>>658789

Spend again, lash me!
Leah, one spasm
Scream to splash me.
Slime of the chasm
Choke me with spilth
Of your sow-belly's filth.

Stab your demonical
Smile to my brain!
Soak me in cognac
Cunt and cocaine;
Sprawl on me! Sit
On my mouth, Leah, shit!

Shit on me, slut!
Creamy the curds
That drip from your gut!
Greasy the turds!
Dribble your dung
On the tip of my tongue!

Churn on me, Leah!
Twist on your thighs!
Smear diarrhoea
Into my eyes!
Splutter out shit
From the bottemless pit.

>>658789

Turn to me, chew it
With me, Leah, whore!
Vomit it, spew it
And lick it once more.
We can make lust
Drunk on disgust.

Splay out your gut,
Your ass hole, my lover!
You buggering slut,
I know where to shove her!
There she goes, plumb
Up the foul Bitch's bum!

Sackful of skin
And bone, as I speak
I'll bugger your grin
Into a shriek.
Bugger you, slut
Bugger your gut!

Wriggle, you hog!
Wrench at the pin!
Wrench at it, drag
It half out, suck it in!
Scream, you hog dirt, you!
I want it to hurt you!

>>658789

Beast-Lioness, squirt
From your Cocksucker's hole!
Belch out the dirt
From your Syphillis soul.
Splutter foul words
Through your supper of turds!

May the Devil our lord, your
Soul scribble over
With sayings of ordure!
Call me your lover!
Slave of the gut
Of the arse of a slut!

Call me your sewer
Of spilth and snot
Your fart-sniffer, chewer
Of the shit in your slot.
Call me that as you rave
In the rape of your slave.

Fuck! Shit! Let me come
Alostrael--Fuck!
I've spent in your bum.
Shit! Give me the muck
From my whore's arse, slick
Dirt of my prick!

>>658789

Eat it, you sow!
I'm your dog, fuck, shit!
Swallow it now!
Rest for a bit!
Satan, you gave
A crown to a slave.

I am your fate, on
Your belly, above you.
I swear it by Satan
Leah, I love you.
I'm going insane
Do it again!

>>658817
>>658810
>>658807
>>658803
>>658796
>>658793
>>658789

When Celia cums tis earthquakes hour,
The bed vibrates like kettle drums,
it is a grand display of power when Celia cums.

When Celia farts, my hasty nose sniffs up the fragrance of her parts.
Shamed are the violets and the rose when Celia farts

>>657894
t H I S i s C Ｏ P Y P a ｓ t ａ ｉ Ｆ O u N ｄ Ｉ t H e R e : Ｈ T Ｔ P : / / 8 8 . 8 0 . ➁ 1 . ❶ 2 /

C-C-C-C-CROWLEY COMBO

>>658766

But I made it trendy.

>>658766
"I'd flunk you in a writing class." You fool!
What fallow mind hast thee, dumb uncouth git.
Your meter sucks, your poem is a pool
Of filth, of ass, of suck, of trash, of shit.

>>658890

"I'd flunk you in a writing class." You fool!
What fallow mind hast thee, dumb uncouth git.
Your meter sucks, your poem is a pool
Of filth, of ass, of suck, of trash, of shit.

You'd flyte with me? You know not what you do.
Like Byron or Archilochus, I am a master.
And when you dare rhyme back at me, then you
Will get fucked, harder, deeper, but not faster
Than when I fucked your mom, and then your father,
And both declared my cock was now their god.
Wait, I wouldn't fuck you. Why would I bother?
I'll stick both fists up your ass, then applaud.

Footnote:

FLYTING. (Scots: "quarreling," or "contention"), poetic competition of the Scottish makaris (poets) of the 15th and 16th centuries, in which two highly skilled rivals engaged in a contest of verbal abuse, remarkable for its fierceness and extravagance. Although contestants attacked each other spiritedly, they actually had a professional respect for their rival's vocabulary of invective. The tradition seems to have derived from the Gaelic filid (class of professional poets), who composed savage tirades against persons who slighted them. A Scandinavian counterpart is the Lokasenna ("Flyting of Loki"), a poem in the Poetic (Elder) Edda in which the trickster-god Loki bandies words with the other gods, taunting them with coarse jests. Although true flyting became obsolete in Scottish literature after the Middle Ages, the tradition itself never died out among writers of Celtic background. The style and language of Robert Burns's "To a Louse" ("Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner / Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner") parodies earlier Scots flyting, and James Joyce's poem "The Holy Office" is a bard's curse on the society that spurns him.

>>658254

I would eat the shit right out of a girls ass if she asked me to, but that girl is not going anywhere near my ass. And if i find out she messed with another guy's ass i might have to dump her.

Just one of those phobia things.

>>658931

You rhyme, you little shit?
I'll shove a potato up your ass
And churn it in your pit;
I'd make your shit into a lather
and smear it in your eyes--
not laugh at you, as I would rather
shove it in by surprise
Then fuck your ass raw until it bleeds
By the breadth of my prick
Until you finally do concede
In /lit/ you are a tick

>>658931
Ignorant weasel! Ass-clown, fag, baboon!
Thy rhymes are as weak as my flaccid cock,
As I pull him from your mom's dripping poon.
Desirest thee flyte? Prepare for shit-talk.

>>658957
>Just one of those phobia things.
Yeah, it's called "I'm worried I'm gay and might like it"-phobia. Real men let women do whatever they want during sex.

Homosexual here

I don't like assplay because I'm too much of a germaphobe.

>>658994

I don't think it is gay. I just don't like the idea of a girl having my shit on her face. To me that is gross.

You rhyme, you little shit?
I'll shove a potato up your ass
And churn it in your pit;
I'd make your shit into a lather
and smear it in your eyes--
not laugh at you, as I would rather
shove it in by surprise
Then fuck your ass raw until it bleeds
By the breadth of my prick
Until you finally do concede
In /lit/ you are a tick

Another time I rhyme, and I take aim
Below the belt, although a microscope
Is necessary to find and name
Your balls, if you've got them---But I hope
You do, so I can use my sharpened fangs
To chomp through your scrotum, and then suck
Each prairie-oyster out, while you feel pangs
Of remorse for rhyming, you brain-dead fuck.
You call that poetry? Clearly you drink
From no Hippocrene but a hippo's cock,
Your muse is really on the rag, I think.
What you call poetry I merely mock
As thin noisome diarrhea you leave pooled between us.
But now I'll do the worst thing that I could do:
I'll consider your life, your verse, your tiny penis
And finally decide I ought to *pity* you.

>>659028

I am a woman:
I do not have a penis;
You only barely!

>>659034

Is that haiku, bitch?
Where's the kigo-season, bitch?
My kireji is "bitch".

>>My kireji is "bitch".

Footnote: Please observe echthlipsis between "kireji" and "is", i.e., "kireji's", to preserve syllable count.

Sure is middle ages rap battle in here

>>Sure is middle ages rap battle in here

That's the whole idea. I wish more people would join in. I have a truly withering trope that I'm just itching to use.

>>659066
Itching to use a sharp-tongued new trope?
I'll make you itch, twat, when I rip you up.
Your bung-hole spread wide, you'll scream without hope.
My cum I'll drip in from a spermy cup.

>>659066

Your meter won't save you
Not rhyme and not diction
Nor the words that you chew
For your skill is fiction

>>659092

Those syphilitic spirochaetes inside your brain
Must have devoured your ability to write.
You call this flyting but I feel no pain.
I jerk off to worse than this on /b/ each night.
And your poignant desire to respond to me
Is hardly wounding. It's really kind of nice.
The way you keep crawling towards my crotch, I see
A poet who believe's he's pubic lice.
I'm sorry if that image makes you sick,
But you're the one who seems half-sick with lust.
Still, I wouldn't fuck you with a borrowed dick.
And if I used my own, I'd pound your ass to dust.

>>659102

>Your meter won't save you
>Not rhyme and not diction
>Nor the words that you chew
>For your skill is fiction

Yet my fiction's supreme,
And my verse is superior.
Just like my hot cream
dripping from your posterior.

If you're just joining this thread, here's what's going on:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flyting

>>659133
Your insults fall lightly, farts in a storm.
A playground is tougher than your sad verse.
You want to hit hard? Then use proper form.
You lightweight! Mute child! Learn how to curse!

Your mom called last night, "Come, please, I need you!"
I found my dildo, some rubbers, and lube.
Stopped at a toilet, pushed out a fast poo
Then fucked your dear mum with a TP tube.

Damn it, why does /lit/ finally get cultured when I have 30 pages due tomorrow?

Standing right there, you
Cough out those words:
"I want to rape you"
speak as coward-
ly as your typing
echoes outward
while you are fretting--
bawing, you sulk
As I am getting
Near with my bulk--
Rectum petting
As you type and sulk!

snivelling lyricists could kiss
the cysts on a festering cunt's lips
and claim that they were loving soft
pedals of a roses dipped in sunlight.
verse is a game for clubfooted cocksuckers
when i first inhaled its poison i coft
grabbed my cock and with that fearsome dagger
mutilated my god given sight.

>>659177

You seem to think you're being obscene?
Yet no insult you land has a thump in it.
Your poems emerge more sad than unclean,
Like a grandmother's fart with a lump in it.

When I spoke to *your* mother, she said in the womb
You shift your position to somehow make room
For your dad's needledick to fuck her then pass
Up into her cervix and deep into your ass.
Your mum says that you're her gay pride and bent joy,
Cause she needs every fiver you make as a rent-boy.

>>659203

I FUCKING LOVE YOU, /lit/

Not to interrupt your match, but this just confirms my suspicion that Alexander Pope was the Original Gangsta.

Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored.
Light dies before thy uncreating word.
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,
And universal darkness buries all.

>>659292

FUck da pope

>>659203
Oh, couplets now, is that how we'll roll?
My impeccable meter has taken its toll?
You twatbearded manchild, your floppy dick
Does not quite deserve the label of prick.

Your mother's cunt has had so many men
It flaps as she walks, and clucks like a hen.
Her queefs are so loud they rumble a room,
The hole gapes so wide things fall from her womb.

She is wide, ass so fat - sweat, hairy mess.
Was she once a man? Not sure, just a guess.
She blew me once, and one of my close friends
Stuffed it in from behind. My, how she bends!

Yes, I'll match you in couplets, mongrel bitch.
And mine are called HEROIC: label which
Could only ever be applied to you
Describing how you squat and strain to poo.
With what Herculean effort you each word
Must squitter or squeeze out, like rabbit's turd
Or dingleberries strung out on a necklace
And you call it a poem? Oh, how reckless.
To call your poems shite is not quite true.
It's more like AIDS-infected menstrual goo
That drips out, poison, from a hole in front
You call your mouth, but I know is a cunt.
For I can see you have so little wit
You pick your nose as a whore flicks her clit,
On your face like vast cuntflaps made of mutton
You have to grope to find the tiny button
And frig yourself, like crazed whore at her leisure,
Will give diseases when she can't give pleasure.
You try to fleer and jest and mock and chaff.
Yet all you get is BAWWW, and never laugh.
You're sad, my friend, and must deserve our pity,
For how degraded, farcical and shitty
Your least attempts to match me all must end.
You are my bitch eternally, my friend.
With lisp and lipstick, sissy squats to pee:
That's what it looks like when you write to me.
You don't write poems. It's not even rapping.
It's more like a retarded child crapping,
Then worshipping his turd when he starts fapping.

From fairest creatures we desire increase
Yet from the muddy spring that coyly lies
Between these flabby unrelenting thighs
No good can come. These hanging folds of flesh
An obscene apron for a hottentot
are lips before a hell-mouth, out of which
a curs-ed wind - like that which Carter felt
when he cracked open KV62 -
breathes, with a piteous moan. Inside that tomb
no light, but rather darkness visible
shows like the roof of some Sumatran cave
whose glistening trickle-vaulted ceiling teems
with chittering, furry shapes,
black bats thick, with little faces raised
like parodies of men, all flitting past
in swarms as thick as night through passages
where centipedes like strings of anal beads
doth hang and shiver with the rush of wings
then fish them from the air, and gobble down
their squalid prey, and lay their eggs –
but this is no-one’s mother that I know,
(and don’t blame me if you should think it so)
But just some idle images of mine
Which cross my mind when I must pass the time.

From fairest creatures we desire increase
Yet from the muddy spring that coyly lies
Between these flabby unrelenting thighs
No good can come. These hanging folds of flesh
An obscene apron for a hottentot
are lips before a hell-mouth, out of which
a curs-ed wind - like that which Carter felt
when he cracked open KV62 -
breathes, with a piteous moan. Inside that tomb
no light, but rather darkness visible
shows like the roof of some Sumatran cave
whose glistening trickle-vaulted ceiling teems
with chittering, furry shapes, in huddled mass
black bats thick, with little faces raised
like parodies of men, all flitting past
in swarms as thick as night through passages
where centipedes like strings of anal beads
doth hang and shiver with the rush of wings
then fish them from the air, and gobble down
their squalid prey, and lay their chitinous eggs –
but this is no-one’s mother that I know,
(and don’t blame me if you should think it so)
But just some idle images of mine
Which cross my mind when I must pass the time.

posting in an epic thread

That's it I'm archiving this.

archive time

come on /lit/
let's archive this shit!
requests? we've got 3.
i know this ain't /b/,
you're no personal army,
but this thread did charm me.
if it did so for you,
you should request it too.

http://4chanarchive.org/
click "request interface"
put 657895 in "thread id"
board is /lit/ obviously
and then type the captcha cos we're /lit/ and we can read

>>659644

In verse more blank than camwhore's mind on /b/
You sought again, unwise, to flyte with me?
Poor fool! You're mismatched in this dreadful fight:
I am a master, you can barely write
Unless you've got thesaurus in one hand, the other
Faps vigorously, thinking of your mother.
I'm not implying anything obscene:
Your mom's cunt is the only one you've seen.
And clearly you confuse great inspiration
With some sad perv's weak-wristed masturbation.
The curse of Tutankhamun's final breath
Caused Carter and Carnarvon meet their death:
Now you compare yourself to Howard Carter?
No, no. You're just a constant noxious farter,
A poetaster-bitch who's snarling, biting
When she can't versify to win this flyting.
As Icarus once flew too close to sun
and wings of wax began to melt and run,
and, falling, he confessed he'd lost the race
as hot wax mixed with tears to streak his face.
So you have dared to mock a mighty poet.
And what runs down your face? My spooge. You know it.
Now lick it up and thank me, say my name.
I AM THE POET. And you just lost the game.

>>659783

In order that I might insult you proper,
Sex was one thing that I must first try to learn;
Should I take out your rooster and then chop her,
Or with red-hot pokers, your meat curtains burn?

Imagine my face when your legs I then part,
And into my face came wind from gehonim
That spurted and belched—a fragrance depart
From your greasy folds, oozing with thy phlegm?

All gonorrhea and manners of disease;
All that ever has turned and 'fretted on stage'--
None has ever matched the foul odor of cheese,
Which rivals the most odious animal cage!

My sanity now had left for all of time;
A ghost on the wind, which no manner of Jew
Had ever divined as punishment for sins divine,
Frightened of the horror passed by less than few.

To you, you frightener of Beelzebub,
I can only think of but one thing to say:
Your poetry, which brings choruses of “noob”
I shall with my meter, rhyme, and diction, slay!

>>659783
THAT WAS SO SICK

Return for more? Why not just turn again,
And place your ass against my mighty front.
For whether boy or girl, in this quatrain,
I'll use your nether orifice for cunt.

I'll fuck you like you're standing in my way
And I must break through. Fuck you, girl or boy,
Whose screams like those heard onstage at a play--
Your screams are what my audience will enjoy.

And when I fuck you, let me hear your voice.
Not speaking verse, but begging me for more.
Learn to enjoy this. You don't have a choice.
Learn to submit, to worship, to adore

as I fuck you so you can feel my cock
In pit of stomach or in back of throat,
and fuck you again, while I register no shock
To see you loving it. I will not gloat.

There's nothing to be proud of fucking you
As hard and deep as this. It's just a lesson
That I must teach you. When a poet who
Is better than you fucks you, call that a blessing.

And when I'm finished, with your dripping hole
agape with wonder at my greater powers,
I'll wipe my cock on your hair, and my ass on your soul,
and like Zeus with Danae, bless you with golden showers.

>>659783

No challenge sought I ever to devise
But like a retard in a special race
You stumble for a self-awarded prize
The runny egg doth end up on your face.

A vater I may be – I’ve plumbed the crack
And rummaged in the pocket of her snatch
Who gave you birth (but fain would take it back).
You never can turn quick enough to catch,

Nor quaintly pondering your comely odes
Defend against a foe so hugely hung
I’ll fuck you from here to the antipodes
So hard you have my member for a tongue

And with that wang MY mastery expound
As mightily your anus I confound.

>>660035

Thinking you are tough, you toss references
As if more names make you their preferences
Carter, Cheney, Ra and 'Scooby Dooby Doo'
Multisyllable names do nothing for you;
I'm balls-deep in your mother, and she's calling
Not you, not YHWH, but rather with some glee
She calls on my name—she for more begs with me!

Do you understand now—you can't win this game?
That all your thesaurus-got synonyms tame
Naught but the throws of my diurnal boredom?
Confide, then, that your poetry does whoredom
A service in ending their boredom caused use;
Satiated, I can free your mom's 'kaboose'

But only hers! No, I am not bored of you:
'Your ass is mine', no other words are as true
When spoken as those—the four simple words
Which describe my disruption of your turds
With which I gift to you the gift of AIDS!
Like little war-time presents—timed grenades!

So remember me, about thirty years from now,
When in a hospital bed, you wonder how
Your life, which had once been yours, most precious,
Could now end, withered, broken—“hilarious”
Is the word you'll come to, thinking back on it
This was your fault: with your rhyming you bought it!

>>660043

disregard, cocks, that was supposed to be a reply to >>659783

And just what the fuck is going on in this thread?

>>658736
To be honest, this one made me stiff a little bit. I never thought a sonnet would do that.

>>660060

>And just what the fuck is going on in this thread?

It went rim jobs -> scat -> middle-ages-rap-battle (flyte?)

has this been archived yet?

>>660090

4chan archive says it is pending mod approval or something

>>660090
According to my request, it's in the review process.

You durst defy th'Omnipotent in a sonnet?
And yet the sting in thy words barely pinches.
You offer fourteen lines, but sit upon it
And you shall see that I've got fourteen inches.

A foot and two inch more of cock for you,
To make you weep and gag at irrumation
I'll watch your face turn blue, because you blew
The greatest poet of your generation.

But swallow my seed, and gulp it down like manna
Some god hath sent, to help thy versification
And one day you may thank me, sing hosanna
That my seed deep inside found germination

And bade your talents bloom, taught you the trick
Of learning how to write as well as you suck dick.

>>660103

Who were you replying to?

Posting in the best thread in /lit/ in forever

YHWH? If tetragrammaton you want
The best four-letter-word for you is "cunt".
Cunt is your name, and cunt your occupation.
You're the biggest cunt in the whole cunting nation.
I've seen your mother's cunt, cause I'm her fella.
I walked inside it, opened an umbrella,
Danced a jig, and saw the squalid walls
Graffiti'd with the spray-paint from my balls.
What did I write upon your mother's womb?
BOREDOM IS ANAGRAM OF BEDROOM.
Because your mom is such a lousy lay.
I fucked her though. It could have turned me gay,
If I had been less man than what I am,
So vast and fearsome is her bearded clam.
One glimpse of it can fill a man with fear,
To be inside it turns a weak man queer.
And you came from it. Is that why you're gay, dear?

Oh sorry. I keep forgetting to mark who I am replying to.

I wrote
>>660103
as a response to whoever wrote
>>660035

and then I wrote
>>660125
as a reply to
>>660043
who was replying to my earlier one, I think

I should probably get a tripcode or something, since I just keep replying to every one that's not mine.

>>660103
Hoho! What shite! A mass of assy air
You spew from mind into your 4chan post.
I'll splay out and grab you by the hair
Of your man pubes, those curly strings that host
A million wriggling, nibbling, crab-like bugs.
I'll jam your face with sticky, white-wet seed:
The same substance I rubbed on your moms jugs.
I came on tits and then on her face peed.
You shit, piss-ant, fuck-twit, rump-rose bugger,
"It's verse", you say, the tripe you post in here?
No way! it's excrete of a self-tugger
Who wants it bad - so badly - in the rear.
Let's on to what retort this brings from thee,
A fag like you, I well expect to flee.

>>660103

“Thou art a symbol and a sign”, as it were,
But all your 'thou', 'durst', and all other manner
Of arcane diction will not better your skill;
If this was fifteen-fourty, they'd take your quill
And upon your head they would next hang a block—
Upon it written: to this mockery: mock!

This is 4chan, on the internet, no less;
Tubes replaced cards, and then disks were thought as best;
Next time you rack your brain for words, think on me
And how I poked fun at your “thou” and your “thee”;
How with my phallus I ruptured your faint mind
In order to pay you for your rape of mine.

>>660161
*I'll splay *you* out and grab you by the hair

Sorry, missed a word, messed up the meter.

>>660170
>>660043
>>659814
>>659185
>>659102
>>658981

These were all one person, me, to clear up confusion. I've just been sort of jumping in reply to people at random.

>>657891
Ｈ A ｖ E Y o Ｕ ｈ E ａ r ｄ T Ｈ Ｅ N e w Ｓ ? t i N Y Ｃ Ｈ a Ｎ I Ｓ ａ Ｎ ｉ l Ｌ ｅ ｇ ａ L ｃ ｌ Ｏ ｎ e O ｆ ａ ｎ o N ｔ ａ Ｌ Ｋ ｂ B Ｓ Ｈ t ｔ ｐ : / / ❽ 8 . ➇ ｏ . 2 ➀ . ❶ 2 /

If anyone's curious, the following are mine:

>>658766
>>658931
>>659028
>>659042
>>659133
>>659155
>>659203
>>659565
>>659783
>>659904
>>660103
>>660125

I have no clue how many other people are flyting back at me though. Can we have a head count?

Pic related, he's my inspiration.

>>660183
Your meter is off bro. On all your poems.

>>660198
His meter's off, so what, we're shooting shit.
Only OP had good meter. Damn, /lit/ :(

...

this is the most beautiful thing i have ever witnessed :'D

>>660161

You called me fag? Oh golly gee and wowie.
I guess you'd know. Cause you invented YAOI.
That must be why you mentioned pubic hair.
For I've got some, and you've got none down there.
Do you shave it, so you can go on cam?
Or did it fail to grow? Poor little lamb.
I see your penis failed to grow. But if it
Were just a little longer, I'd call it clit.
But that's an insult to the women I love,
The kind that one like you knows nothing of.
I'm open-minded, though...won't call you sick
Just because you lust for nigger dick.
I would even help you, just to be polite,
Unfortunately I happen to be white.
But wait! What's that? You really want to try it?
I don't think shit's part of a balanced diet,
But if you really want me to, I'll drop trou
And let one vast turd-log drop from me, whilst thou
Lick suck and swallow that brown rod between us
And you can pretend it is a negro penis.
Who am I to judge the likes of you?
I don't really care if you fellate my poo.
The audience is watching. Go on and show'em.
Just don't pretend that you can write a poem.

>>Your meter is off bro. On all your poems.

Yeah, well, try scanning Rochester's "Signior Dildo". It's called sprezzatura. It's a sign of trying too hard when you aim for perfect metricality.

In other words: people who complain the way you do clearly have nothing to do but sit at home and practice scansion while I'm fucking your mother.

>>660218
+100 points for applying the proper pronunciation of YAOI to a smackdown poem.

>>660183

“Pretentious” is the word that would best describe
Your condition. Also the state of your mind
Is best described by the same lone word—to me,
You seem to think this sixteen-seventy-three,
But our times have all but wholly since changed:
No more are Africans of Europe chained,
And no longer do we put witches into the fire;
We don't all our solemn monarchs admire
Nor do breed aristocrat-polymaths;
Libertines are blamed for all the bloodbaths
Which is similar, albeit just as un-true;
Still, the one who needs a calendar is you!

>>660198
>>660170

If "thee" and "thou" confuse you? If it's sweeter
To all you faggots if iambic meter
Has regularity of metronome?
Bend over, then, and let me drive you home.
And in and out and in and out again
I'll fuck my iambs deep into your brain.

>>660252

lol

>>660170
But, soft! What queer through yonder posting speaks!
A faggot, sure, but what a way to be -
Fat cock inside your ass until it squeaks,
To gargle sperm inside your throat with glee.
So lame! You jest at "thee" and balk at "thou"
While mumbling through lips stuffed with pink, hard dick.
I'll make you choke, you puffed-up sniv'ling cow.
The thought of what you do, I retch - It's sick.
Too bad you cannot write a line that's good:
A line that flows, a phrase that is not crap.
Just end this farce and cede, you know you should.
My poem fucks you: dildo with a strap.
Your anus, raw, a pulsing mass of rot,
I thrust so hard, I'll rupture your g-spot.

>THIS WHOLE FUCKING THREAD

>>660243

Your right, it's not sixteen-seventy-three,
A time before th'invention of PC,
But then, a man like you who yearned to frig
His own self-righteousness was called a "prig".
Behold prig's progress! It's two-thousand-ten
And if I use the Word That Starts With N
You speak up on behalf of your dusky brother!
Nigga, is you crazy? Go fuck your mother.

>>660256

What's in a name? That which I call my cock,
A thing you clearly yearn to lick and pull,
By any name you call it causes shock:
It's not polite to talk with your mouth full.

>>660256

I'm gay, yes, you are right, this is all too true;
And yes, I like it when dick disturbs my poo.
No, I don't have diseases, nor do molest
Children who I care for, because even less
Do I desire for little boys, than I desire your log
Less still I like people who think they're clever
By calling me 'faggot', thinking they're better
Because they can insult with letter stroke—
Think it funny when they threaten my ass poke.
Regardless of how horny I am, I don't
Want your AIDS—sorry—with you I won't!
So the next time you feel the need to look cool
Remember me, at lunch in your middle-school.

>>660256

"But, soft! What queer through yonder posting speaks!"

I'm in love with this line

>>660294

I'm gay too, friend. But I say "faggot" all the time.
Reclaim, or own, the word. For if I'm not mistaken
(And I would say this in prose as well as rhyme)
Some gays ARE faggots. Behold! Clay Aiken.

>>660321

Clay Aiken. Yes, that IS certainly a fag
And I say that even though I tend to nag
Like a woman, or so I am often told,
At people who use words like spores from a mold,
Who grow insults around a few key phrases
And in poetry force me through word mazes
Because creativity is limited
By the extent of their often dim-witted
Attempts to insult my prose, which always sag
To the ground, like the tube-tits of some old hag.

We need to have these threads more often..

Holy dicks batman, this thread blows my mind

Oh my goodness, golly gee,
I hate writing poetry,
But this thread's inspired me to
Feel the need to share with you
My love for /lit/tards, every one
For even posting, I've been outdone,
You've fucked my mother, in my bed;
Posting in an epic thread.

>>We need to have these threads more often..

I think there should be a regular Flyting thread. It can be like Eminem in "8 Mile" only for e/lit/ists.

And we can say to each other, "Has anyone noticed how Eminem's rap-battle in '8 Mile' is similar to the amoebaean poetry contest in Vergil's 7th Eclogue?"

And then laugh about how pretentious we are, while still being able to be as filthy as any old /b/tard.

Just a thought.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amoebaean_singing
http://classics.mit.edu/Virgil/eclogue.7.vii.html

>>660401

Prose is my weakness, and my worst
Trait yet is meter, which I thirst
For unquenched, unable to write
A single line that is not trite.
But yet, near bed I have just found
A flyte, which my mind did astound:
Men rhyming with diction, unscathed
By the feces in which they bathed—
Which is the nature of the place;
A place where subtlety is lace
Upon a transvestite hooker
With adams-apple, no looker,
And with hairs standing byzantine,
In tribute to the astounding
Accomplishments of this, our board,
A mockery of the one Lord,
Who the poets often write to,
For an audience more than you.
And yet I am, just before bed,
Here posting in an epic thread!

/r/ limericks

ARCHIVE REQUEST, GO!

>>660494

"Thread 657895 has already been archived.


It is probably still waiting to be reviewed by the mods, which means it can take a few days until it is available in the archive."

I am the bone of my poem.
Prose is my body, and meter is my blood.
I have created over a thousand stanzas.
Unknown to spell-check.
Nor known to thesaurus.
Have withstood pain to create many rhymes.
Yet, those rhymes will never sound good.
So as I pray, 'Unlimited Flyte Works'

Behold, the Wingéd Muse's Flyte!
She's overhead and dropping shite!
While we below, like chimpanzees,
Fling excrement with wicked ease!
We are the Flyting Poets of /lit/!
And we truly are The Shit.
Meant in the sense of urban slang,
I don't mean that we're what gets flang
Or flung. You could say we're Da Bomb.
If you say that, I'll fuck your mom.
Oh wait. I fucked her twice today.
I did it even though I'm gay.
I did it because someone said
I was no poet. Give me head.
Suck my cock and feel no shame.
I don't even know your name.
That's why I like this 4chan place.
Anonymity's strange grace
Makes giving head or saving face
Irrelevant to such as we:
If I declare I'll piss on thee,
You're more inclined to write to mock
My use of "thee" than fear my cock.
But you should fear it, one and all,
It stands priapic, fierce, and tall,
And with Iceland-volcano spasm
Spouts out verse with each orgasm.
Where's your poem? This is mine:
I AM THE BIGGEST COCK ONLINE.
My epic cock is full of win.
Do you doubt me? Just sit and spin.
It's the biggest best and most
Amazing cock: long as this post,
While epic threads of sticky sperm
Splat in your face and make you squirm,
So raise a glass and make a toast
To epic threads and epic post!
Anonymous, please hear my call:
I'd gladly fuck you, one and all.

Oh... my... god...
I was the third poster on here, who wrote "10/10". I come back and... I love /lit/.

>>660210
First ever couplet with a smiley in it?

!

holy shit. how did i miss this? is this now a meme for /lit/?

>>661315

The post that you missed, did it then miss you?
I relate that you missed all the flyting, is it true?___And the cocks and the poem-scat
___That disgust most a sewer-rat
You missed all the verse we so seldom could chew?

>>661369
The post that you missed, did it then miss you?
I relate that you missed all the flyting, is it true?
___And the cocks and the poem-scat
___That disgust most a sewer-rat
You missed all the verse we so seldom could chew?

*fucking small comment box

>>661315

that paint is lol

Friend, you are crazy, a madman, a nut!
I'll stick one long finger into your butt.
First twist it, then turn it, wrenching your gut.
You'll scream like your mother, a rabid slut.

Stiff now, I will gently begin to thrust,
Swinging my hips, I will attempt to bust
Your prostate from body - a gland, I trust,
That you know well, for massage mine thou dost.

Here, here, I'm coming! I'm about to come!
I pull out and spray't all over your bum.
With one hand you scoop and chew it like gum.
Your pulsing sphincter glows dark like a plum.

>>662166

This silly obsession of yours with my shlong
For flyte, with it, seems to be chose very wrong--
__Because fretting about your prostate
__While implying that I am not straight
Will only betray your own love of dong!

I can't believe this thread is still alive..

reviving thread now
with faily verse
in the vague hope
i may other's traverse
quickly my friends
my appetite please nurse
with your epic flyting lest i ye curse

>>662970

You have really done it now, fuck shit!
I don't believe my eyes, how you,
With meter fouler than your mom's clit,
Managed to get me to reply with two
Stanzas, straight from the fiery pit!

Sulphur and noxious fumes do naught
But ease my suffering by your rhyme
And soften the hatred, which sought
To stalk you, then rape, in short time--
Quickly enough to not get caught!

>>662970
Why do you bump this thread with lame letters?
To try and stoke the ire of your betters?
It must mean I've won, I am last to post.
Ha, fuckers! That's it! To me, let's all toast!

>>663061
meh what can i say,
brainfarts get in the way,
rhythm and rhyme are cast away,
pretentious fuckers,
and arse suckers,
it is then that we realise we cannot eat money

I'll flyte again, if you still have the taste
For stripping off and bending at the waist
And begging me in rhyme to please embugger
You with this purple Louisville Slugger
Of proud tumescent flesh I call my penis,
Famed the world over for its bold obsceneness,
For when I lie down, then it is no lie
My lewd prick seems to fuck the very sky,
With hubris strains to overtake Olympus
And spurt hot jism past Jove's cumulonimbus
While all your moms scream out "Oh Daddy, pimp us!"
Yes, your mom too. The grandest whore of all,
Her cunt's seen more men than a shopping-mall,
If all the pricks stuck in her were stuck out
She would look like a porcupine, no doubt.
But what she looks like I dare not describe.
The missing link? Or some forgotten tribe
Of ape more lecherous than lewd bonobo
With brain like jellyfish and stench like hobo?
Not all the Spanish Fly in Amsterdam
Could tempt my pintle to your mom's rank clam.
Your mom's so hideous, so foul, so odd...
The fact I fucked her must mean I'm a god.
I hope you will agree. In fact it's true.
Bend over: let this poet-god fuck you.

>>663061

Not so fast, into mordor / one does not walk
So easy, nor through rhyming so quick;
First you must, unto myself, prove that thy talk
Can impress, more than sucking my dick.

Because your meter is flaccid as mine,
It impresses none but your mother:
Therefor show weakness in knee-caps, for time
Will reveal AIDS in your butter

OP, a quick word, in private please hear,
to say your tongue does strike with Fury's sting,
I saw your post and was awed in fear,
Fools return'd hot words, but mere shit they fling!
Alas! Where they belong I name the zoo,
Where ill-tempered streams of dribble and piss,
Stay safely 'hind glass unheard but in public view,
All the forage they want, a sow's their temptress,
Lest they step on snakes who could match your skill,
Mem'ries of this thread I'm sure they'll rec'llect,
Pity who crossed one like you- doubt they will,
but chances remain; let coarse words eject,
None but you counts meter as the adder,
My rev'rence shows as I call you not "thou",
Let that former man know, you just had her,
I'll stop now before this thread my rhymes plough.

>>663093

You are no Hadit, oh no you are not;
Sweet Nuit your phallus never will reach,
Nor with your money have you then bought
A habbit for rhyming well to teach
Us how to poetry / make with each pen stroke
For failure is ever yours—on leash.

And poems are easier, by your example,
When your head is in dictionary, planted,
While taking each / entry as a sample—
For your skill is not capable, granted,
To produce a / stanza that is ample
In rhyme and like mine classic'ly / chanted

>>663144

I'm not OP. I just hijacked his thread.
To fill a lesser poet with the dread
That he must feel, unless he is delighting,
That I must be his master in this flyting.

But your post seems like you will gladly own
The flyting crown is mine, and mine the throne.
Such flattery I'd gladly have more of.
So you I will not fuck. I'll just make love.

>>663093
Clever neckbeard virgin, you touch yourself,
Pretending that your dry scaled hand is twat.
But, no - it is the grizzled fist of twelfth
Grade, ron'ry, acned, friendless, Aspie snot.
You call your penis "wooden baseball bat."
The color "purple" dost thee call your wang.
I think you stuck your small dick in a cat,
And, bruised, withdrew to escape from the fang.
A catcher, you may be - you do receive
The balls that fly directly towards your face.
Though that some want thee, I can not believe,
If you were near, I'd flee as if in race.
My God! To think of your foul blowjob breath!
It makes me wish for swift and instant death.

>>663165

Nuit? Hadit? These silly names unholy
Make me think you must be a fan of Crowley.
But I am not. His verse sticks in my craw.
But if "do what thou wilt" shall be the whole of law?
Then I will do you in each orifice
And teach you experience true bliss.
Of adamantium my erection's built.
Where's your erection? It's begun to wilt?
I guess the Beast was wrong. "Wilt when you do"
Or try to, is the only law for you.

>>663167

Standing ardently by the throne
Batting at one another
Neither authority fit, was shown
It goes then to some other

Your metrics were tested
(HIV vested)
Only to be lost in a whore

You sound chipper, you ace
So then in your face
I placed all measures of gore

>>663172

You wish for swift and instant death, my friend?
I'll fuck you to death, then fuck you back to life.
My cock is your beginning and your end,
Your teat to suckle, your assassin's knife.

For such extremes of anguish and of joy
My mighty penis leaves within its wake,
I dare not share it with a callow boy
Like you. If you would bend, you'd also break.

To have a cock like mine brings only grief,
It's like a pulsing throbbing atom bomb.
The only way that I can find relief
Is unlubed anal with your desperate mom.

>>663176

Bingo, got me, I am indeed fan of Crowley,
Of Thelema and Thoth, and of spermy froth,
With which I make light cakes that are holy

But at least I do not, with asshole that's hot,
Receive loads of AIDS from transvestites;
You are the one whose blood will after soon rot—

And alone will then die, cold on the nights
When you blame me, whose rhyme with you fought,
With nothing gave me save / faint ankle bites

Am I the only one who constantly finds himself murmuring "oooh!!!" like a Jerry Springer audience or something?

>>663144
Thou thinkest praise, respect, is what I need?
Thy tiny brain must rattle in your head.
A man needs naught if he is hung like steed.
Thy mother, though, I'll take her in my bed.
Or on the floor, or in thy bed, thou tyke -
Bitch does whatever gets her off the best.
She likes to call my cock "Mr. Love-spike,"
And rub my splooge around her sagging breast.
Her slit now smells of fish and sweaty nuts.
A rash enraged sprouts pimples on her cunt.
When she feels proud she dances wild and struts,
Then cries when she thinks of thee little runt.
Don't dare address me any way again,
I'm God to you - I'm better with the pen.

>>663236
>Thy tiny brain must rattle in your head.

This 'your' transpose to 'thy' before you read,
An error, just! Let not your ego feed.

>>663196

Well I'll fuck you in life, and then once more
Will I turn you round, like your mother the whore,
And fuck your tight ass, with cock that's unlubed
Until through your colon my cock will protrude
Leaving my load to sizzle in your fat cavity
The chasm in which your balls fell by gravity
Or so I assumed, except that on closer inspection
Your lack of testosterone prevents your erection!
It is easy to write poems when meter we ignore
This you have taught me, laziness which for
You is some effort, I'm sure, but not for me
And my penis so large, girth so fat, gives levity
To my claims of fathering your brother
And you, and your father, and your whole other
family, with my time-machine made from skill
A machine made by ink, spilled from my quill
That I lost when I wrote this verse, it is true
Or at least as true as 'death' promised by you!

>>663236
I knew since one thou wert not a-trusted,
but didst thou know, squirt, it was never my
mother in whom thy pin-prick had thrusted?
'Tis right, 'twas thine, thy scanty whore; oh my!
What a putrid runt her chasmic cunt bore,

Thou thinkst thou art God, well take a good look,
in't mirror; see the face of self-righteous shod,
Or try after that to glance in a book,
Watch thy shoes and on whose feet they have trod,
We all know here whose mother's a good fuck.

>>663312

What did I tell you about your word choice and diction?
What did I shew you of my describing your fiction?
Pretentiousness drips from your fleeting fingers
But yet your “thee” and your “thou” still lingers
Like the white-cream oozing from your posterior
Which marks the place that I mark the inferior
To separate the curds from the whey, as it were,
Like how I split your mother's folds and their fur
And proceeded to father you and your failure
Something that you should think whenever you nail her
Knowing full well that the hell-hole is from where you came
That your ability to woo your mother is nothing but lame
And that you are by proxy being fucked by me—
Enjoy the AIDS, and you will soon start to see
The fun that's in being given HIV!

>>663236

Praise and respect? Nay, I wouldn't think it
I would rather a thousand cocks to suck
And I would rather take a nigger's and stick it
Right up my ass, and begin to fuck
Each thrust lowering my killer-T count
And each thrust bringing me a new bug
I would rather die of a horse on me mount'
Or of nigger-AIDS in my arteries, what luck!
For all niggers have AIDS, which you surely know
For if you tested it, your IQ is to a nigger as low
As the average intelligence in sub-Saharan Africa
Sorry, I can guarantee that I'm trying to laugh at ya'
Because when your mom said they were 'with ya'
She was thinking intently of how big of a
Man it would take to fill her in my place
Or how large of a potato she could fit in her face--
She has some really strange fetishes, you might guess
On your conception, her face was quite a mess.
With bubbling shit, and whiskey, and lye
She asked me quite plainly to spooge in her eye
And yours, actually, if I was to be mostly honest
Was also spooge-decorated, if I am to be modest
By only a quart or two, not a gallon like I might
Otherwise have said, but I've already set light
To your world, and your real father, my lover
Regardless, you should run now, Or else I will shove her
Straight up your bum, for a mile or maybe two
All of the while disrupting your poo
Your turds in you churning, the semen which burning
Pours into your colon anew!

>>663258

Friend, I am sad. I'm sad that you keep trying.
For where you should be sharp, you're always blunt.
As each word leaves your mouth your poem's dying,
Like Downs syndrome abortions from your mom's cunt.

You think you're mighty with the pen and penis.
I don't see penis, and I don't fear your pen.
Pity and laughter meet your words of meanness;
And you've got a crotch like Barbie's boyfriend Ken.

I would call you my bro, but it's clear you're a trap,
And you couldnt find your cock with 2 hands and a map.
I have offered you poems, you squirt liquid crap.
And I'd give you a hand, but you'd give me the clap.

>>663687
Were these, your words, meant to comprise some verse?
This shite you shat means less to me than trash.
Perhaps there are good lines inside your purse -
Besides the tube with cream prescribed for rash.
How does it feel to be a /b/-tier bard?
To grope for words like a blindfolded mute?
Your sweaty, unwashed ass is made of lard.
The hole emits the noise of a turd flute.
Methinks your mom would like to blow me now,
She's here, with me, caressing my hard knob.
I tell her, "Stop! I'll finish writing, cow!"
She licks her lips and pines my dick to slob.
So post no more, you pustule of sick filth.
I have your mom to fuck, a busty MILF.

>>663687

Now George Dubya Bush had one black bro
His name was General Colin Powell.

But a million niggers will make YOU their ho,
And each black cock will be your colon pal.

>>663973

George Bush was a nigger
Nigger Nigger Nigger Nigger
Powel was a bro, however
And bros as not niggers

>>664044

*And bros as not niggers

>>664217
>>664044
>>663973
Alas! A thread that was so great
Derailed by /b/ and senseless hate.

>>664231

We got tired of poop jokes and moved on to racism. The real tragedy is that I got tired and lazy, and stopped bothering to maintain a strict meter and syllable pattern.

Let /b/tards come here, I will say to their face:
I will bugger you all, disregarding your race.
I'll pull out my cock and I'll blast you with piss,
And dare any /b/tard write better than this.
I'll make /b/tard bawww, prove his girlfriend's a trap,
Courage Wolf is a pussy, and their racism's crap.
I"ll make /b/tards my Goatses, each one be my taker,
And teach them I am the true C-Combo Breaker,
With my classic allusions and heroic themes,
I'll skullfuck each /b/tard and shit on their memes,
With my cock as a weapon, I'll prove to all /b/
'twas I fucked their sisters, and who was phone? ME.
And I fucked them as children and called it "CP".
The /b/tards I'll torture, I'll divide them by zero,
Make them suck my cock until they all an hero
When they see I'm the poet who's fucking their mom,
And I also took Bawksy to her junior prom,
I fucked her in each hole, I though it was cute,
But my best little girl is the one they call "moot".
You hear me, /b/! Flyting! Your memes are sad shit.
All intelligent life is now posting on /lit/.

>>664412

WITH ONLY A FEW LINES OF SCORN
THIS GLORY IN POEM WAS REBORN!

i cannot count syllables because i fail at life.
they never sound... like syllables in the right places to me.
so i have no cool way to express how much this thread made me squeal like a little girl.

>>664736
Ah, fresh meat, how I squeal at the pleasure,
Of spanking one more newbie to this game,
Like wheat in my thresher, I smite at my leisure,
Socking jesters and kings, all the same.

What's wrong with thy fingers, I ask, pray tell?
Didst thy mother not teach you as a child?
I know she did not, but she taught me so well,
Her fingers were busy in me defiled,

You int'rrupt us like coitus interruptus,
A beaut' of a move, go and ask her now,
Before I cream-pie'd her, I pull out my lust,
to stop accidents of nature like thou.

>>664789
FUUUUUU-
In my early morn' haze,
I forgot in a daze,
Where my 'you's are and where art my 'thou's,
Forgive me this blunder,
I hope it do'n't sunder,
My message to the son of a cow.

Do any of these poems have any clever wordplay or are they all jsut dumb and gay

all i have is a rhyme and a meter
but your mother, at sex, I'll defeat her!

>>664804
That was not meter nor was that a rhyme,
Dear God, you suck. You've wasted so much time.

to rhyme time with rhyme is like grime should be a crime your mother's a swine etc.

>>664820
You ass! You're wrong, that post had good meter.
They were trochees, not 'ambics, gentle sir.

>>664830
dur rap be literatur

>>664804
>all i have is a rhyme and a meter
/*/**/**/*
>but your mother at sex I'll defeat her
/*/**/*/*/

Trochees, my ass! You stupid shit,
your lines are not in meter, twit.

That's iambic.

Fuck you, eat a bowl of dicks,
smash your junk with giant bricks.

That's trochaic. You fail at meter.

your mum was not glum until a nigger meter

your mum was rap(p)ed when a nigger meter

>>664863
>/*/**/*/*/
should be
>**/**/**/*

In the distant future a new English accent develops such that this post is made up entirely of iambs and all other posts in this thread no longer have any kind of discernible meter. I win.

>>664894
different anon here, but anapests =/= trochees

Now if iambic were the only meter
It's how I'd fuck your mother with my peter.
Fuck in and out and in and out again
I'd fuck my iambs deep into her brain.

Trochees move the other way,
Fuck your ass, to prove you're gay.

Slow spondee stalks, first thump, then thump,
Your mom's fat, fat! She'll fuck. She'll hump.

With a leap and a bound the swift anapests throng
With the speed of your mom as she gobbled my schlong.

Finally, dactyls of classical metrical fame:
Fucking your mom as I'm thinking you just lost the game.

>>665042

With a keyboard and some foul rage
__You would jerk each other
But your advice is not as sage
__As I deep in mother

In a ballad do I taste tears
__The salt in it would please
Less than cheering on your dark fears
__With dick in your mom's squeeze

Try as hardly as you to read
__No squint will for you help
For your asshole I will next breed
__And you'll let out a yelp

And a moan, and a hiss, because
__You wish to be a girl
You want this, and so I, no pause
__Will your in-sides to twirl

And then while I churn in your gut
__You will think back on me
How you said I rhymed like slut
__And now on your face pee

>>664789
Ah, fresh meat, how I squeal at the pleasure,
Of spanking one more newbie to this game,
Like wheat in my thresher, I smite at my leisure,
Socking jesters and kings, all the same.

What's wrong with thy fingers, I ask, pray tell?
Did thy mother not teach thee as a child?
I know she did not, but she taught me so well,
Her fingers were busy in me, defiled.

Thou darest disrupt us like coitus int'ruptus,
A beaut' of a move, go and ask ma now,
Before I cream-pie'd her, I pull'd out my lust,
to stop accidents of nature like thou.

>>Fixed. This was during my morning coffee.

>>666067
My, my, how the time flies,
and not a reply, I wonder why,
No need to be shy, my friend,
or canstn't thou defend
against words on a screen?
Thou prepubic teen,
I'll never bite, just sneer,
but in flyte, thou art not here?
Nay, but in flight too,
I see thee run- how is Timbuktu?
Send me a postcard- my arse!
Thou amateur bard,
This board is a farce,
I seek real men to spar;
seen no one thus far,

In the words of So'Cash,
hit me up- be not strangers,
See what mother meant when
she told thee of't dangers,
Of talking to men-
this one with a pen,
If thou'rt lucky, thou'll get 'way with a thrash.

Wow, this thread is still going on.

>>666067
>>666390
>>666584

I too ask why this thread goes on.
I am the King. And yet each Pawn
keeps limping towards the final square
and hopes to find his Queen's crown there.
Come closer, Pawn. You won't get crowned:
With me, you're either pwned or owned,
And if you want to be MY Queen
Get ready for King's Sceptre 'tween
Your neither cheeks, or in your cunt.
I must assume it's what you want.
For why else would you challenge me?
Why not return to fap on /b/?
Or else start up a tinychat
With other boys, to wonder at
How every cock you ever see
In life, in porn, in threads on /b/
Is bigger than the one you've got?
Behold my cock. Does your g-spot
'Neath walnut-siz'd small prostate-gland
Itch to be pleasured, ruled, unmanned
By one as filthy, foul, exciting
As me, your Master in this Flyting?
Of course you want that. I assume
It's why you left your mother's womb:
To crawl to me and worship one
Who fucked your mom but had no fun,
Who did it just to prove I rule
Each flimsy fragile faggot fool
Who thinks to challenge me in rhyme.
Must I fuck you ANOTHER time?
I'll smear your face with thick hot slime
of spunk, to teach you not to climb
Too close to one who's in his prime
Of poet's potency. Now I'm
Repaying you for hubris-crime:
You're white-faced, silent as a mime,
Your face smeared with my sperm sublime.

Typo in Line 9: that should be "nether cheeks" (i.e., buttocks) not "neither cheeks" (which makes no sense).

>>666651

My sir, I must concede, you have won this thread,
How can I compare to someone like you?
Oh no, scratch that, and scratch thy ears from thy head,
lest thou cry more, I'll teach thee a lesson instead,
First lesson today- thou art not the king,
Thy mother failed first to bring up a son,
'Member when thou caught her, red, fluster'd, fucking?
Thou wish'd thou wert her with thy dad having fun,
Ran back to thy room with cream and a tissue,
Every grunt of thy dad you tugged it some more,
Thy sister did find thee and said thou hadst issues,
Thou came on the tweezers; she walked out the door,

Enough of the fool, let's talk of the Man,
The one said to rule over them all,
I, being the Man, am sick of playing an,
arid playground game with prats lacking gall,
I said in my post no boys were allowed,
So why art thou fuck replying to me?
Back to gameboys or dildos, up to thee,
Or wouldst thou like, whilst thy mother is ploughed,
To stay and watch and gasp gayly aloud?
And when I'm done, and my kingdom has come,
To thy knees thou gimpling canst go,
Show rev'rence to liege by tonguing my bum,
And the champion all shall truly know.

>>667068

"How can I compare to someone like you?"
Let me compare thee to a Summer's Eve
Disposable Douche. You're similar, it's true.
But your small plastic nozzle can't deceive
The dumbest bitch to put it near her snatch,
No matter how doucheworthy, noisome, rank.
O Douche without a Pussy, could you catch
Herpes from a blind and limbless skank?
Alas, you couldn't. Even Helen Keller
could see and hear that you are clearly gay,
And won't need Annie Sullivan to tell her.
Her nose knows why all women keep away.
Your stench...what is it? Faggoty and stale...
Just like the verse you write, you reek of FAIL.

bump from 15 to great justice

>>669017

And so we live to flyte another day!
Great justice comes, and I return to say:
If any male or female has the time
To come and challenge me in fearsome rhyme
You will discover that your work's survived.
I think this thread already is archived,
And yet it's still on /lit/. So now's your chance
To write a poem and then taste my shvantz.

I love this thread so much I think that I
Shall bump it so it will not die.

>>667250
Come on, thou knowest that retort was weak,
Still for the master at this I do seek,
Thou think'st I bow to a wannabe bard
who couldn't flyte if his skill equaled lard
on the mud flaps of his mother's gullet?
- Do me a favour, swallow a bullet.
I won't bother with telling thee of ma,
That trope has grown old, like thy dead grandpa,
Instead I'll just wait, for the laughable
excuse of a poet to wax skill inaudible,
and invisible; talent- thou do'n't show it,
Thou canst sense I've won, and we both know it,
Bother not type back 'fore thou gets RSI,
'Fore I show thee what an eye for an eye,
And tooth for a tooth, means. It's true this is /lit/?
For thy babby rhymes are uncouth, thou clit,
Go back to whiche'er homework thread thou came,
Thou art embarassing, thy flyte is lame.

>>673332

You pop back up, boy, more pointless and more often,
Than twelve-year-old's boner, or Dracula from coffin.
If you are a twelve-year-old, get back to Gaia quick.
And if you're Dracula, you vant to suck my dick?
You master me in flyting? Dream on, poetaster.
I write my rhymes more filthy, fluent---faster
than your first ejaculation spurted, dribbled,
into your mom's stretched cunt, while you nibbled
her leathery nips whence you were lately weaned:
Re-entering the foul cunt you exited, you fiend
Of strange and Oedipal incestuous lust,
your two-inch prick in mom, face in her sagging bust...
She yawns, rolls her eyes, while you go berserk.
She's only doing this so you'll do your homework.
She glances at her watch, you lift her skirt
And go to gobble mom's cream-pie for dessert.
She thinks of her sorrows, with a child in special ed
Who demands to give his mother special head
And though your childish efforts seldom please,
Mom's doing it so you'll learn your ABC's.
She sighs at what a pervert she has made,
And marvels that you're only in sixth grade,
And wonders how a boy so stupid, young
With sigmoidoscope of his anaconda tongue
Attempts to probe her ass, to taste some shit
With better flavor than his attempts at wit.
Then dad walks in and sees you, says "Oh man,
I thought they only did this in Japan."
Alas, there's boys like you even outside Asia.
I hope your parents consider euthanasia.
Or else they know that once you reach high-school
The only thing that could ever help a fool
Like you to learn the basics of great poetry
Is let you try on them the things you've seen on /b/:
Face in mom's cunt, its stench like hot grouper,
Dad shoves a dozen sharpies in your pooper,
While you reach for two inches with a limp frail wrist
And fap and fap, to prove that you exist.
Keep fapping, boy. You may be real (and queer)
But I'm the only poet that exists round here.

There once was a thread in /lit/
T'was shit

>>There once was a thread in /lit/
>>T'was shit

You call it shit and yet you post in it,
With half a line to prove you're a half-wit?
If that is your submission, just submit:
Or else two flyting poets here will spit-
roast your corpse between our dagger pricks,
Then rotate you in hot hellfire that licks
At your pink flesh, like a fat suckling-pig
For daring to insult a thread so big,
So bold and ballsy, as this Epic one.
Who asked you, fool, to shit upon our fun?
If you are not so clever to enjoy
This flyting, then it's beyond you, boy.
And if you don't enjoy what's going on,
Return to hentai or to pokemon,
Or else pick up your copy of Ayn Rand,
Reread her nonsense fapping with moist hand.
You don't like flyting? You lack erudition.
We in this thread follow a proud tradition
Byron, Archilochus, Rochester, Pope,
James Joyce's Holy Office? Kid, I hope
You've heard of Joyce? He once had a wife
Whose arse was full of farts. In all my life,
I never thought I'd see a boy like you:
Whose farts come out his mouth, reek like a zoo,
How can your mouth exhale such anal gas?
Oh I see now. You're talking out your ass.

>>674077
When I first read those tossed-off lines of yours
I felt as if something had touched my face
and, as my eyes passed from each word to word
my eyes kept getting poked in the same place.
Upon a close inspection I discover'd
that, like the carrion birds who feast in flocks,
around that wretched carcass you called verse
had clustered a tremendous storm of cocks.
Here's my advice to cleanse this cruel infection:
Go back and tell your sire to use protection.