/lit/ - Literature

soon, sun

you are the only one
flaming, we burst! a part
of our bonfires were built-in.
the cosmos’s name:
Don’t-Wilt-In-The-Heat.
now we’re sailing, alone
in our thirst.
(we tried to drink the sea.)

without the day to steer,
you fear the rolling.
don’t forget that Motion is me.
gulp down my cult-salt;
let me cure the spells you misspoke
(folk-songs reverberating
revering never dying).

surrender, my ether. burn me up!
are you still able to
sit at the tables of witches
you’ve staked your claim on?

i’ve journeyed to neither-worlds
clambered, threw god under
snake-sticks and amber resin.
please let this be a lesson:

if you attempt to tamp me down
i’ll crash some waves upon this town

A poem about soap bubbles, Spanish, I hope you like it.


La efímera esfera surgida del agua
con brillo irisado encierra suspiros
Cristal de Bohemia soplado en la fragua
adornan su enagua flotantes zafiros.

Finísima Reina de etéreo Cartago
el vuelo remonta sin ala ni pluma
Querer atraparla es agónico amago
su simple respuesta, chasquido de espuma.

Armónicos tiemblan por su superficie
reflejos tallados de puro marfil
Se niega en redondo a que se la acaricie ,
pudor comprensible ante un mundo hostil.

Sus vivos colores, en mil remolinos
parecen decir, ¡ten piedad, no me rompas!
Picando en los ojos a sus asesinos
cual leves medusas se vengan las pompas.

>>6783192
I can't speak spanish, but my roomate does, so I called her and she said it's good, smiled and left.

>>6783208
Yay! Thanks! That made my day :)

Here's my first try in heroic couplets, it's very cliche but whatever


The sun rises. Shadows dissolve and fade.
The earth becomes moss-brown, the puddles jade.
I am the tall redwood mighty and fierce
Alone in a forest of pines. I pierce
The sky and reach for the sun with my proud
Dark leaves. I am older than my birds loud.

Here alone I stand and brood and ponder
The fate of the stars. Sometimes I wonder
If they know, though far away and half-dim
That all must pass. In nothingness we swim,
Forever doomed after the axe blade swings
To be forgotten, taken on the wings
of some distant wind to some distant land.
Yet now the sun rises and here I stand.

>>6783192
crap

I write on an anonymous message board
As if it provides me something
And hope that I might become a memelord
As if it made me a living.

From day to day to day to day to day
Nothing I do makes any difference, anyway

“The Manlet’s Lament”

“So restless I, with aching feet,
Never to peace resigned!
How sweet indeed must be the sweep
Of death upon the mind!”

Such were the thoughts that filled the brain
Of love-lorn Manlet Bob
As wiping up a limpid stain,
He felt an aching throb -

It flowed with rancor through his veins,
It ravaged all his heart,
That primal, jealous, seething pain
Of thwarted passion’s smart

He saw outspread his Bonny Black,
He saw her dangling tongue
He saw her stretched upon her back,
He saw her gaping bum

But foreign shapes were there infixed
In lovers’ wild trance,
As he sat small and impotent,
With semen in his pants

Sad masochist
Quips and 'splains
Stub admission
Which words are safe
Gag order on high
The word your bond
The twine your canvas
The boot you'll lick

The power's pretend
Act of fantasy
Consent is implicit
Your collar is yours
The chain and its end


I know it's shit, I just wanted to post it.

>>6783192
I haven't more than a 10th grade comprehension of spanish but it sounds nice at least.

in strong sun and rough stone
we built monuments,
obelisks.
at low tide and slowly
we sung and dug graves,
in soft wet sand for the rest.

Gritted teeth sliding over chunky peanut butter and bacon debris
pebbles ground between boulder and cliff face
hair gel melts into sweat and pools on furrowed brow
spring rain collects on unfamiliar earth and wets stone
An undigested capsule plummets through the descending colon
A billy goat tests the rock habitually
Wincing eyes plead to Christ as a diaphragm trembles
the land ruffles it's dusty scales
His left ventricle sinks down as the right contracts recalcitrantly
The rock dips in it's crevice
limbs tighten, clutching breast
a goat in freefall
the king is dead

image bored

>>6783119
Why does the grill in OPs pic have three boobs?

>>6785363
She actually has four boobs, it's just covered up by her hair.

>>6785399
man, how about that, four boobs....

>>6785399
and i would give each of her nippys a good licky ifyanawdaamsain

>>6784940
No attempt at meter, and forced rhymes that are only shitty near rhymes.
Too many nouns.
Just... no bby

>>6783119
the entertainment industry is a disaster to women

I see a snowflake falling to the earth
From lofty halls in the heavens up high.
While descending it's deciding our worth -
What have we for this envoy of the sky?

Serenely it surveys our worldly works:
Grand, resplendent, yet not quite transcendent.
We toil for fleeting praise while nature smirks
Proudly as time's eternal descendant.

These thoughts pass vaguely through my mind as
Snow falls faintly to my feet. I stamp with force
Against the whiteness as if IT'S my foe.
For all your grace you rest far from your source!

But sun then shines and snow's essence will rise,
Ascending while our world in darkness lies.

>>6786357
doppleganger

>>6786236
The meter Is fairly regular I see what you mean with the rhymes tho

>>6786357
Formerly the most beautiful woman in history. You have to admire her for not getting plastic surgery or anything.

>>6783119
The scene of her in the bath in Once Upon a time in the West was one of the hardest boners I ever got

>>6786907
definitely it's just a shame that her make up tastes haven't aligned with her age.

Those hours hang in memory,
Each fleeting laugh and hanging look
Trapped in golden atoms of
Time, resin dripping from
The moment of her hair
Floating on an April wind
I’ve bobbed upon its ripples,
Wavelets coursing long and languid
From their honeyed center

I wrote this in Portuguese and am putting down both original and literal translation, but it really doesn't work in English. Just to give an idea of the imagery. I also want to bring Romanticism back.

Lamento Pagão

Antigo deus, que por entre as vagas
Chamou de filhos a terra e o mar
No éter puro em que tu propagavas
Os veredictos da vida a soar
Heróis de contos na calada escura
Mil gerações viram seu apogeu
De grotões fundos à nova estrutura
Libertam-se povos servindo o que é teu

Oh deus do ar e de visão celeste
Não vistes tu o torrencial vindor?
Não fostes tu o escudo cipreste
Das tradições o pungente clamor?
Quão solitário, meu deus dos antigos
Quão passageiro foi teu esplendor!
Lembras do pranto, de festa e inimigos
Caindo por terra frente ao teu rancor?

Hoje os espíritos andam sem nome
E teu poder esquecido já está
Hoje já não os proscritos e a fome
Chamam por ti, porque não provirás
Parte de nós já perdeu-se contigo
Nossa memória em barcos partiu
Nos mesmos barcos em que o castigo
De culpa e pecado a alma feriu

Nunca adormeça, nosso deus dos sonhos
Quem sabe tudo não mude amanhã?
Que o eterno não lhe faça acanhos
E seja a esperança tua última irmã.

-------
Pagan Lament

Ancient god, who amidst the waves
Called your children the earth and the sea
In the pure aether whence you propagated
The verdicts of life resounding
Heroes of tales in the dark nights
A thousand generations saw your apogee
From deep backlands to the newest of structures
Peoples were freed by serving you

O god of air and of celestial vision
Have you not seen the torrential happening?
Have you not been the cypress shield
Of tradition, the pungent uproar?
How lonely, my god of the ancients
How fleeting was your splendour!
Remember the weeping, the feast and the enemies
Falling to dust when beholding your rancor?

Today the spirits walk without a name
And your power is already forgotten
Today the outcasts and hunger
Cry no more to you, for you will not provide
A part of us was lost with you
Our memory fled in boats
On the same boats whence the penitence
Of guilt and sin hurt our souls

Never fall asleep, god of dreams
Who knows, it all might change tomorrow?
May the eternal never make you timid
May hope be your last sister.

>>6787405
>romanticism
absolutely disgusting. it won't come back, m8

O poema não está mau mas também não achei nada de especial, lamento. E já perdeu-se não se diz, é já se perdeu, quer em PT quer em BR

>>6787405
>>6787508

Feliz em ver amigos que falam português aqui. Eu geralmente posto trechos de minhas peças de teatro em tradução, mas é sempre um prazer ler em nossa própria língua.

Vou ler seu poema mais tarde (estou no trabalho agora) e dar opiniões. Mas já aviso que nem precisa me levar muito a sério: não sou muito bom como leitor.

Em matéria de poesia o que posso dizer (pelo menos é minha regra de ouro) é o seguinte: a maior virtude que um poeta pode ter é a capacidade para criar metáforas: ela é a carne da poesia, e o resto (ritmo, assonância, aliteração, métrica, rima, musicalidade) os temperos.

Outra coisa que percebi: a poesia em língua inglesa costuma ser superior a nossa poesia por que a língua deles tem muitos monossílabos, de forma que eles conseguem preencher os versos métricos com muito mais material do que nós. Um soneto decassílabo nunca vai poder conter tanta informação quanto um soneto em pentâmetros iâmbicos. Por isso formas livres costumam ser melhores, nos permitem utilizar mais versos e, dessa forma, uma idéia que antes teria de ser trabalhada em uma só linha pode ocupar duas linhas; uma metáfora complexa pode ser modelada sem problemas.

Só isso no momento. Espero poder ajudar mais em breve.

>>6787561
>>6787561
Poder encher mais o chouriço não quer dizer que o recheio seja melhor. E aliás, por essa lógica há mais mérito em conseguir preencher os versos com palavras mais compridas do que ao contrário.

Por algum motivo os lusófonos do /lit/ são todos muito apegados ao romantismo e às formas do romantismo... a sério que não há outras fontes de inspiração em quase 200 anos? Caramba, já chateia. Leiam mais

>>6787561
Impressionado por já outros dois terem aparecido também. Não acho que poesia inglesa seja superior à nossa, por algum motivo a musicalidade não me apetece da mesma maneira. Raramente escrevo poesia, escrevi algumas há anos e recentemente comecei de novo, mas engatinhando.

>>6787508
>>6787592
Obrigado pela crítica, e não tinha mesmo percebido o erro ali. Se você diz que já não está ruim enquanto tem aversão ao romantismo já fico satisfeito! Tudo que escrevo tem um pé ali. Mas sinceramente acho ótimo que os lusófonos sejam assim, não por parcialidade mas por constantemente ver apenas modernismo no /lit/, e ainda por cima modernismo anglo-americano.

Here's a loose recreation of something I wrote when I was 12. I didn't save it but I (very( vaguely remember what it was like. It's pretty shitty but I wouldn't post anything good here since poems are really easy to steal.

Laugh clown laugh
Only for show
Like a whore

Crying on the inside
Rictus grin on face
You just keep smiling
So your "friends" keep lying
Putting shit in your soul
As you continue slowly dying
Cancer is what you're buying
Even though it was free

>>6787616
>Não acho que poesia inglesa seja superior à nossa, por algum motivo a musicalidade não me apetece da mesma maneira.

Oh não, não me entenda mal. Nossa língua é muito mais sonora e doce (acho que só o italiano soa melhor, mas essa é uma opinião pessoal), porém não acho que temos poetas tão bons quanto Shakespeare, Pope, Milton, Keats e Coleridge.

Ah, temos uma jóia: Fernando Pessoa. Infelizmente ele não era um poeta muito metafórico (como meu favorito, Shakespeare, era).

>>6787843
>quem é sophia de mello breyner
>quem é alexandre o´neill
>quem é herberto hélder
>quem é florbela espanca
>quem é camões (lol)
E estes são só os que me vieram à cabeça, há muitas mais jóias

>>6783119
who is that spunk punk?

>>6788106
Claudia Cardinale

8 1/2
Once Upon a Time in the West
Girl with a Suitcase
Fitzcarraldo
Rocco and His Brothers
The Professionals

From nothing bore was Odis: nothing, too
He bore, but Time and Thoughts. And what of worth
Should Thought and Time be traded for in none?
None, of course; And so existed Odis.
Here, and there, and nowhere; yet 'cause of here,
Or nowhere, rather, Odis everywhere
Existed, everything was, everything
Is.

>>6787905
>>quem é camões (lol)

Não gosto dele. As metáforas dele são todas clichês, e a mentalidade dele era muito primitiva (Shakespeare, por exemplo, é só um pouco mais recente que ele e tinha a mente muito mais complexa).

>>6788182
kek

>>6788221

Você ri, mas não apresenta defesas. Não acha estranho que ninguém lê Camões além de estudantes na Universidade e alguns estudiosos?

Sou capaz de apostar que você mesmo não leu todo Os Lusíadas. Você só repete opiniões que a crítica acumulou com o tempo.

A loss of a pen insofar it concerns men
is a loss of existence

All those thoughts
Unwritten
Gone with tomorrow

Give me your worst. I suck ass.

>>6788237
>hurr não gosto por isso não presta
Também não adoro o Camões, mas dizer que as metáforas dele são todas clichés, lol. Exemplos?

>ninguém lê Camões além de estudantes na Universidade e alguns estudiosos
podia dizer o mesmo de shakespeare (apesar de gostar dele mais do que Camões também)

>não leu todo Os Lusíadas
bom ad hominem, li tudo e também grande parte da lírica, problema?

>>6788237
>>6788257
Shut up you fucking subhuman huehuehues, this is a poetry thread. Take your dumb shitposting to int

>>6788257
>podia dizer o mesmo de shakespeare

http://www.artsprofessional.co.uk/news/shakespeares-globe-makes-ps36m-reaching-1-million-people

>>6788237
Não sou quem falava consigo, mas Os Lusíadas são parte integrante da leitura obrigatória do programa de Língua Portuguesa do 9º ano, em Portugal.

Dash my head against the rocks
these words I have spoken
the writ has been broken
im all alone
now tell me im coming home

A tree
I see
that sprouted limbs
and told me to walk again

the death of the victim
but after 22 years
the weather eye exception
surprised and impressed by deftly probing
children born of ideology
and recently
forced to choose between 1984 and old testament texas

>>6788273

There is a brazilian guy on /lit/ that is thousands of times better than you, just saying

>>6788276
>ler

>all these anons post their own works and not critiquing others

>>6788299

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_best-selling_fiction_authors

>>6788315
Ok, mas a anglosfera é muito maior em termos de pessoas que de facto lêem. A lusofonia é Portugal, Brasil e África... Quem daí é que vai comprar Camões? E desde quando é que vendas=livros lidos? Acho que proporcionalmente camões e shakespeare têm mais ou menos o mesmo impacto nas suas línguas respectivas

>>6788288
>pls be me

I don't usually write poetry, but I've been in the mood for starting a band again, so I wrote this

café requentado, açucar demais
sua janta na mesa esfria
as férias que você queria
o encontro casual planejado

abatimentos e adicionais
a vitória do fim do dia
enquanto todo mundo sofria
você permaneceu sentado

bois empilhados em multi-currais
o festival de acrobacia
em que nada se resolvia
de volta ao açougue humanizado

crises e guerras semanais
mensal a paz e a anistia
da sua cadeira você assistia
mais um levante televisionado

o poder de se esconder
faz muito não é solução
seus medos o último alívio
do poço de vergonha e decepção
----

reheated coffee, too much sugar
your dinner getting cold upon the table
the vacations you wanted
that casual planned date

reductions and additionais
the day-end victory
while everyone else suffered
you stood still, sitting

stacked up bulls in multi-stockyards
the acrobatics festival
in which nothing was resolved
back to the human butchery

weekly wars and crasis
monthly amnesty
from your seat you watched
another televised uprising

the power of hiding
isn't the solution since forever
your fears, your last relief
from the pool of shame and balk

Too pretentious? I think I never was good with poems to begin with

Oh, little boy,
acting all grown up don't you?
Oh, little boy,
never scared of woods weren't you?
Oh, young man,
did you bled from animal bites?
Oh young man,
trying to live as hunter?
Oh brave hunter,
is this what you truly desire?
Oh brave hunter,
rest in peace, you fear no animal anymore.

>>6788365
reminds me of blue boy from mac demarco

>>6783192
Se lee muy bonito hermano, el español de por sí es un idioma bello y me agrada como lo manejas

>>6783119
longneck is long

>>6783173
I really like this

Dutch? Anyone? Tried to translate it to English but it doesn't work at all.

Goddelijk goddeloos


Geen waarheid wordt ooit vervaardigd, geen eendracht ooit benijd;
het spijt mij: er is geen reden meer om te leven, de hemel is
het wachten beu; dus spaar uw werk, mijn mens, mijn hellekind, en feest:
leer te dansen op het lijk van de tijd, te vergeven de leegte van de oneindigheid

En denk niet, maar doe, wees zo blij en zo schoon, toe, zo lieflijk bedorven,
als elke lach die ooit nog zal weerklinken in het holst van de mooiste zomernacht,
Wees zo heerlijk, zo zalig, als het lichaam van elkaar, als het vlees dat schuren zal
nu het beest ontketend is; gij mens, toe, leef, nu God ons verlaten heeft

Want gij bent al dat is, en al dat zal wezen, uw lichaam zo goddelijk
als een soldaat van Sparta, uw denken zo almachtig, uw lach zo prachtig;
Geloof. Dat geen hoop kan worden gedood, dat uw hart op al zal zegevieren, dat de weide wouden van de wereld - u een grootse troost doen plezieren

>>6784971
Your disclaimer made me hate it

>>6786841
That transcendent rhyme was horrible, sorry

>>6787323
Why does everyone, including me, represent time in this way?

This day feels like it should be condemned,
derelict, crumbling plaster,
deserving demolition.

I could count each dull moment
and feel the afternoon bottom out
in a grey haze of rain and muddied water

the murky, choking confluence of
deep, rolling rivers and empty, ripping oceans;
the confluence of the weather and the poetic mind--

I could count my pain as each thought comes,
feel my stomach tighten and the dread spread
like a trash mound in my head--

Tell them to smash it down.
It would be be quick. They
couldn’t even fix it if they tried.

>>6788510
I also wrote a poem in English once. It might be a bit cliché, but hey, I'll share it anyway.

Hide the ashes

It was early December and the night was grey
Thoughts passed by and memory slipped away
From now on, I thought, my fate was sealed
Cigarette butts as night becomes day

I dare even say, as I recall
I thought of life, vulgar and small
My fear then became so clear
Fear to live, a highway to dismal

Yet I thought of you, your ancient breath
How I loved what now is dead
And longed for your arms to be near
But away from me you are being fed

Lovely thoughts and warm meals
As love to you appeals
So we never seemed us
This is what the night for me conceals

time trickles from my red hands
as I lay down on a dusty sofa
in an oven
it was childish as fuck
tossing together your bones
and I stared at the wall all night
the smell disgusts me
but I got used to it.

>>6787635
You're right, it's shit

>>6788255
Your disclaimer made me hate it

>>6788540
Dunt qq yr gay job... Pffffffft

Srsly tho

Ride the blue wind high and free
She'll lead you down through misery
Leave you low, come time to go
Alone and low as low can be

If I had a nickel I'd find a game
If I won a dollar I'd make it rain
If it rained an ocean I'd drink it dry
And lay me down dissatisfied

Legs to walk and thoughts to fly
Eyes to laugh and lips to cry
A restless tongue to classify
All born to grow and grown to die

So tell my baby I said so long
Tell my mother I did no wrong
Tell my brother to watch his own
And tell my friends to mourn me none

I'm chained upon the face of time
Feelin' full of foolish rhyme
There ain't no dark till something shines
I'm bound to leave this dark behind

Ride the blue wind high and free
She'll lead you down through misery
Leave you low, come time to go
Alone and low as low can be

>>6783192
mierda
>>6784971
shit>>6788175
shit
>>6788255
shit
>>6788282
shit

>>6788365
shti

>>6788537
>537 ▶
>This day feels like it should be condemned,
>derelict, crumbling plaster,
>deserving demolition.
>I could count each dull moment
>and feel the afternoon bottom out
>in a grey haze of rain and muddied water
>the murky, choking confluence of
>deep, rolling rivers and empty, ripping oceans;
>the confluence of the weather and the poetic mind--
>I could count my pain as each thought comes,
>feel my stomach tighten and the dread spread
>like a trash mound in my head--
>Tell them to smash it down.
>It would be be quick. They
>couldn’t even fix it if they tried.
shit

I'm gonna post something WAY BETTER now

>>6788539
It's not that it's cliche that's the problem, it reads too much like prose for my taste.

>>6788567
My eyes strolled through yr poem and I smelt the metaphors that pour forth from feeding at pig troughs.

I don't normally I recommend drinking during pregnancy but if yr mother was going to do it—she should've gone on a bigger bender.

Good effort! I wish you many high fives!

I was staring the mesmerizing sea
trying to remember in which commercial I saw it
it was Dove Serum I think.
Your face ought to be so soft
but you hate me even when
you spent all my money
with cash.
I told you this boat trip was something boring
you don't need to piss me off any longer
go get a drink or something
and please ask the captain for a xanax.

>>6788573
Your vocabulary is impressive

>>6788597
shit

Vice

Smoking gun cauterizing solitude,
Hook pulling future to present
And present to past,
Void decaying first to last,
Corrosive temptress,
Bare the leprous.

Kill with passion; bastion
Hopeless dreams with clouded vision
And indecision;
Feed; fade
Mind as soul; toll
Lucid delusion
With illusive confusion;
Fill the hollow;
Bathe
Sorrow in idealism,
Sloth in skepticism,
And fear in narcissism.

Please and thanks.

>>6788597
I stared down your poem so hard it's burnt inverted in my retina. And it's still here, in this thread. And perseverance is key to poetrying.

I pronounce it per-SEV-rence.

If I could, I'd bestow upon you a future with minimal dental work. But of course, I can't. Also, yr poem is

>>6788609
O! Th' angst!

I felt shipwreck'd in high school. Which if y'are, then ok. Keep at it.

But if this turbid brine is splashing from a 18+ yo's unconscious onto /lit/s pirateship deck:

Yr brain has turned to oakum.

>>6788584
Ah well, so it goes; my prose, in the flow of writing, is all too often packed with dense poetic lines and (semi-)witty aphorisms so when I've written 5 pages my character may or even may not have blinked his eyes.
And my poetry sounds like a prose fragment divided over multiple lines.
I'll have to find a middle ground somehow.

Thanks for the comment, I'll keep it in mind. Don't often have the chance to let someone read my writings.

Another Dutch one to conclude my passing on this thread (since with the one above I ran out of English ones);

Ik behoor

Dan, als al mijn vrolijke dagen in het verleden verdronken zijn;
wanneer de laatste magere vogel ophoudt met zingen, de laatste bij
haar einde zoemt op een bloemenbed van verderf, en de zon
in wanhoop toekijkt op het werelds verhaal van een kille dood

Houd me dan in je armen, niet meer dan dat, niet meer dan te weten
dat ik behoor
(hier te zijn)
en dat elk heden van verdriet een andere toekomst heeft

Want de tijd tikt door en als jij lacht, behoor ik
te leven
(in dit niemandsland)
waar in het spoor van elke schaduw ooit maagdelijk licht weer schijnt

>>6788673
This reads like gibberish. I don't know if it's because it's in Dutch or because it's bad.

The truth will probably die with you. Like all good secrets. Ik behoor! Ik behoor!

>>6788532
i suppose it's just an apt metaphor
anyway, what do you think of the poem?

>>6787323
>>6788722
Ye words collected like morning dew in my vitreous humor—glistening w/th' full photonic reignbow as I roll'd them around in my thoughts!

Even the indigo shimmered for a fleeting moment.

And for a second, time's trapped insect crawled from its pinion on my wall and clicked across the blond wood floor in the last of the rutilant twilight—

I recited yr poem at it and it suddenly leapt back into place as if nothing happened.

You and I, (and time)—we know yr the only talented poet here.

Can not believe I am doing this, but:

I wish I were a mountain, the highest one of all.
I'd sit and slowly laugh, watching kingdoms rise and fall.
But I'm not a mountain; I'm not even very tall.
I wish I were an ocean, to take and yield the shore.
I'd give you all that you need, and always have some more.
But I'm not an ocean; I am shallow at my core.
I wish I were a wildfire, consuming all in sight.
I'd leap, I'd dance, I'd sing, and I'd share my warmth and light.
But I'm not a wildfire; I'm not even all that bright.
I wish I were the night sky, that star-encrusted nest.
I'd grasp the world in my embrace, its folk to my breast.
But I'm not the night sky; I give no one any rest.
I wish I were a mound of gold, shining like the sun.
I'd be welcome in any home, wanted by ev'ryone.
But I'm not a mound of gold; I'm more a mound of dung.
I wish I were an oak tree, dressed sharp in brown and green.
I'd be esteemed for my life, standing, doing nothing.
But I'm not an oak tree; I am a human being.
I wish I were a good idea, leaping brain to brain.
I'd change your mind and your life, without a bit of strain.
But I'm not an idea; to my own thoughts I am chained.
I cannot change my nature, too bad, ain't life so rough?
I could complain about it, or grimace and look tough.
But I'll just be plain old me, and wish to be enough.

>>6786236

Who are you to actively judge someone on the matters of creation when art itself is nothing but the means to create and give life to something new? You can't say his work is objectively bad, some for example may like it! you see it's all a matter of perspective and there are no extremes such as right or wrong, good or bad

>this is what postmodernists actually believe

>>6788800
NEITHER CAN ANYONE ELSE, but:

Meretricious metric shenanigans + BIIBIIBIIB—dat Mark of Cain cleaving muh mind wall: don't ye know to bury yr EYEs? + That's one azny poem missy + I not only wish you were a good idea but that you had them too + You are an idea to everyone that isn't you and but also you too—what's U2 to you? And what's U2 to U2?

tl;dr

I wish you never posted yr poetry.
I wash my hands of ye.
But I'm not ræl.

>>6788846
Tiresome. Illiterate. Unconstructive. You should write songs for American radio.

Rate my poem guys, I think it's pretty emotional and good

I froze your tears and made a dagger,
and stabbed it in my cock forever.
It stays there like Excalibur,
Are you my Arthur?
Say you are.

Take this cool dark steeled blade,
Steal it, sheath it, in your lake.
I’d drown with you to be together.
Must you breathe? Cos I need Heaven.

>>6788846
Wao, yr an eedeeyot

>>6788846
You say you could do better, but I don't see you doing shit.
You want us all to think you're cool, so you pick at every nit.
You bitch and moan that no one's work can meet your golden standards.
But the only things that you produce are insults and your turds.

>>6788854
Hey asshole, ever hear All About That Bass?

Probably not. I sense many empty motel rooms in thy future—unless you trade all yr murkan stock ideas off!

I lol and lol running around the house [sockfoot'd] like a child misdiagnosed w/ADHD who just swallowed dem pills like th' balled up panties I just made yr favorite hooker swallow—thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!

The rich man lived in luxury surrounded by his door
He always had the very best that money could afford
He left this world not caring about his resting place
He laid his eyes toward Heaven, but it was too late

Give me one drop of water, the rich man cried from Hell
One drop of water, but still no water felt
He always was a selfish man, his heart was filled with greed
Now a little drop of water is all he'll ever need

You can't love gold and silver and love the Savior too
Like the eye of the needing no chance of getting through
So make your reservation before another day
For all your gold and silver will surely pass away

Give me one drop of water, the rich man cried from Hell
One drop of water, but still no water felt
He always was a selfish man, his heart was filled with greed
Now a little drop of water is all he'll ever need

There's one way to Heaven, its by amazing grace
Where everyone is equal no matter creed or race
So have no other Bible, and always put God first
We'll live on milk and honey, and we will never thirst

Give me one drop of water, the rich man cried from Hell
One drop of water, but still no water felt
He always was a selfish man, his heart was filled with greed
Now a little drop of water is all he'll ever need

Perpetual winks of rolling gems
Thalassic as this meadow.
Aeolus sings a simple song
And in return the meadow calls;
As topless towers of Ilium so too are the whispers of these fingers,
Yet 'bove it all is heard the belle within
The gentle surge of tickling tips, the work
Of Nature's lyric-grace bestowed upon
This measure.
The shine of sun was she as if within a midnight sky!,
Such was her brilliance blazing in this field.

>>6788946
I can feel the fucking bluegrass between my toes.

There's a special place in society for pussies like you.

Way to clog up the thread w/plagiarism.

Or pretenderism. I hope all you /lit/ christfags find your way to AIDS.

>>6788872
And he can't even properly finish his posts. See
>>6788625

>>6788978
I'm sorry I hurt your feeling poetry poster. No need to multiply yourself. I love you. Deeply. The way I love pizza. All pizza is good. Even bad pizza.

>>6788983
You're replying to my first post but, sure, whatever helps your ego.

>>6788970
I found this one really annoying! It sounded pretentious to me; there's so much archaic diction and showy language, and it seems to be about absolutely nothing. The 'belle within' is the center of the poem, I guess? But I don't understand how the poem connects me to her? Anyhow, I'd be interested to hear the author's comment. Maybe he can get me to see something I'm missing.

>>6788970
My heart thrummed and pulsed w/th' beating wing-words of yr gentle glowing poem.

I flew along the soft tips of a mental meadow only to crash when yr voice stopped.

>>6788977
thanks I'll pray 4 u

>>6788855
The first stanza got a laugh

>>6788990
Yr concession has caused my ego to bloom electric in your souring eyesight!

>>6788800
honestly, I think there's a lot of slack, but if you shortened it to 4-6 couplets it could have staying power. it's a good conceit and a likeable final twist.

Hide and Seek

I counted down from ten.

I found god.
He laughed,
and hid again.

>>6789009
I like it.

It reminds me of another:


Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

>>6789009
A concise creation of the Paramātmā—did Don Gately find god?

Poost moore please.

Advice from Old Men

He said to work in the meat-packing plants you only needed two things: a strong back, and a weak mind.
He said he was the first responder to a Marine, who before approaching the range with an M16A2 (fully-automatic) and his rationed fifteen-round clip, decided to put the barrel beneath his chin and pull the trigger. His finger got stuck down and he killed two people sitting next to him.
He said if he got in a real pickle, all of the sudden-like, he’d crawl in the angled polygon space between the three-ton motor and the twelve-ton pump. That’s where he’d be.
He said the kid drove across the divided highway without looking.
He said the guy who came to check if he was okay asked if he had a blanket or tarp.
He said it’s so preventable; just get checked, because it takes ten years to metastasize.
He said all those things, but I just heard the universe whispering,
“Velocitas Eradico,
‘I, who am speed, eradicate.’

I have friends who went,

to Bethlehem, to Paris, to Spain.
Left for London, Beachy Head.
They always come back,
back to Halifax, Portland, Bangor–

My friends go.
They go
to the bar for a pint.
They go
South for the summer.
They go
plant trees in Alberta–

But I have friends
who are
gone.

Where will I go when I am
gone?

Will I be with my friends forever?
Perpetually traveling
to the South, to Alberta,
to the bar for a pint?

We all will go. We all leave–
soon, yes, soon. Now,
in the pause
between
moments,
in the quiet space
of a last

breath–
we

are

gone.

>>6789026
I don't know but doesn't sound like all that useable advice to me


jk it's great

>>6788992
that's only the beginning of the poem, not much has happened except the setting of the scene and the speaker noticing the "belle", which is actually a flower.

>>6789040
>As topless towers of Ilium so too are the whispers of these fingers,

for example, what is that metaphor meant to say about the whispers? it seems like calling whispers 'tall,' which is confusing. is the point that the whispers go on forever?

>>6789009
Concise, short poetry is difficult, especially in today's world of tumblr and instagram "quotes" that make me want to DFW.

This is good.

My attempt at the short poem:

#1
Clips From Rwanda:

Flies no longer bothered by the occasional hand, feasting.
It’s not that life left this carcass, it was never here.
I can’t imagine this being the end.
It’s just that they don’t have the strength to scream. Too tired.
Can’t find the zipper…


#2
Hyperdextrous


The sky laughed, slow motion, and throaty, like a very fat man.
I think I see the cat.
He said.
I think I’m ready to believe…in a very fat man.

>all this pomo
absolutely disgusting

>>6789049
literal guy
is literal
not everyone
can swim
in poster's
pretty ink

>>6789037
I think this would go great at a fireside reading

A Story of Today:

She seemed pretty happy, after twenty-six years of cutting hair, and spending what I assumed was another 18-20 in the same place, the same little homeland. She says she barrel races in Kansas City to keep herself from going crazy.

“Oh yeah? I’ve never been, but I almost bought a horse from Oregon last week…I saw the bloodlines and said, ‘I have to have it!’”

Yeah, I thought, we do that too.

>>6789050
#1:
You say Rwanda but don't follow up with an N Word?

#2:
:3

>>6789037
I sighed and rolled my eyes but you can have the last laugh cause I can't see straight.

I did like the pacing.

>>6789075
sorry

Clips from Rwanda v1.1


Flies no longer bothered by the occasional hand, feasting.
It’s not that life left this nigger, it was never here.
I can’t imagine this being the end.
It’s just that they don’t have the strength to scream. Too tired.
Can’t find the zipper…

Nigger--
That chartreuse nigger.

>>6789049
Topless towers of Ilium are topless, ie they don't end, ie they're seemingly endless so yes one aspect is that they are without end, but there are a million ways to say that and I chose this one for a specific reason that will spoil the fun if I were to explain it

>>6789091
Your words will forever be encased in my skull's gelatin.

May many high fives find your fingers!
And may audience pussy come around your cock and your cock's cock and your cock's cock's cock!

>>6789100
Not sure if you loved it or hated it.

Not that it really matters, but I just got done with a semester long undergrad poetry writing workshop, so it's good to have some feedback from people other than femminazi's and the one kid who puts three adjectives in front of everything.

>>6788769
Oh, it's this asshole again

I’m going down to the greyhound station
Gonna get a ticket to ride
Gonna find that lady with 2 or 3 kids
And sit down by her side
And ride until the sun comes up and down around me about 2 or 3 times
smoking cigarettes in the last seat trying
to hide my sorrow from the people I meet
And get along with it all
Go down where people say ya'll
Sing a song with a friend
Change the shape that I’m in
And get back in the game
And start playing again

I’d like to stay but I might have to go to start over again
I might go back down to Texas I might go somewhere that I’ve never been
And get up in the morning and go out at night
And I won’t have to go home
Get used to being alone
Change the words to this song
And start singing again

I’m tired of running round looking for answers to questions that I
already know
I could build me a castle of memories just to have somewhere to go
Count the days and the nights that it takes to get back in the saddle
again
Feed the pigeons some clay
Turn the night into day
Start talking again when I know what to say

I’m going down to the greyhound station
Gonna get a ticket to ride
Gonna find that lady with 2 or 3 kids
And sit down by her side
And Ride until the sun comes up and down around about 2 or 3 times
smoking cigarettes in the last seat
trying to hide my sorrow from the people I meet

And get along with it all
Go down where people say ya'll
Feed the pigeons some clay
Turn the night into day
Start talking again when I know what to say

>>6789351
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Killing_of_Tim_McLean

first part of the first poem i've ever written, lacks any real substance as of now but the ideas develop slowly (the poem will be much longer in full I think). if you're familiar with noh theatre, this poem draws lots of inspiration from the art. trigger warning: spooky ghosts (just a hint).

Sleepless waves cast a mist of blue-gray
on the shore; on its sands, cloaked in dew
stood the wandering priest Minoru, who
beheld the diffuse moonlight of the bay.

Drifting, pale above the eastern coast,
white winds carried whispers of a ghost whom
like the mist, strew his shade blue
where Minoru now awaited this host.

Any germans here? Well whatever.


Sehnsucht
Sucht und sieht den einen Stern am Himmel der noch heller brennt als Mondenlicht
Und sehnt und sucht nach einem Weg auf zu den Sternen weg von kalter Nacht
Und Sucht und siecht auf seinem Weg ins Grab vorbei an Sternenglück vorbei
Und sehnt und sucht nach dir mein Stern in deinem kalten Licht
Dein Schein scheint nah
doch führt er mich vorbei an Sternenglück vorbei in seinem Tanz ins Grab.
Ich will es so und Tanz mit Erdenglück mit meinem Stern bis an mein Ende

>>6783192
Bien.

>>6789394
I like it, lots of beautiful imagery, and a gentle sort of cadence if you read it.

>>6789351
I really liked Michael Cera's cover of this.
mine

Painted by the glow of the quite dwellings
I am the tallest man alive
and in the cool quiet of these chillicothe nights
each of my foot steps is a thunderclap
and my heart is lightning fast
trying to beat out of my chest where it will remain trapped
and at half past 11
I can see everything laid before me
in the dark
although I left on timid feet
strong legs carry me home
3 minutes before 12
and now a year or 2 more doesn’t
seem like such little time

>>6789394
this has a very peaceful eastern sounding rhythm that makes me sleepy. i like it.

Elder sister vomits blood,
younger sister’s breathing fire
while sweet little Tomino
just spits up the jewels.

All alone does Tomino
go falling into that hell,
a hell of utter darkness,
without even flowers.

Is Tomino’s big sister
the one who whips him?
The purpose of the scourging
hangs dark in his mind.

Lashing and thrashing him, ah!
But never quite shattering.
One sure path to Avici,
the eternal hell.

Into that blackest of hells
guide him now, I pray—
to the golden sheep,
to the nightingale.

How much did he put
in that leather pouch
to prepare for his trek to
the eternal hell?

Spring is coming
to the valley, to the wood,
to the spiraling chasms
of the blackest hell.

The nightingale in her cage,
the sheep aboard the wagon,
and tears well up in the eyes
of sweet little Tomino.

Sing, o nightingale,
in the vast, misty forest—
he screams he only misses
his little sister.

His wailing desperation
echoes throughout hell—
a fox peony
opens its golden petals.

Down past the seven mountains
and seven rivers of hell—
the solitary journey
of sweet little Tomino.

If in this hell they be found,
may they then come to me, please,
those sharp spikes of punishment
from Needle Mountain.

Not just on some empty whim
Is flesh pierced with blood-red pins:
they serve as hellish signposts
for sweet little Tomino.

>>6790769
I like this; i think it's trying to capture a dark nightmare type feeling, surreal and scary. I didnt mind the repetition of the word "hell" too much until I hit "blackest hell" and that phrase just sounds so...mall goth. I'd be interested to hear about your inspirations for this one.

>>6790794
I'm ashamed to say, but I didn't write it.

It's a translation of a century old Japanese poem.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdcNKhPCT1o

I was actually posting it to see if you guys knew anything similar, but I just realized this isn't the thread for that.

> I decided to write a blank verse poem about how tough it is when you're lacking inspiration
> Hopefully this is something to which we can all relate.

Emptiness
L.F. 2015

A sudden jerk; my head whips back to life.
The empty page stares back in mocking white.
For hours I've sat here weighing word and phrase
Yet heavy pen and sleep obstruct the way.

Still young, I dreamed of energetic verse;
Of Jonson, Keats and poets of their stock.
Yet pen-in-hand my zeal has come to naught,
A poet not in deed but just in thought.

Oh would that I could bring to life the scenes
That plague my eager mind and beg for form.
But heedless of the seas of effort spilled
My pot of silent ink remains full still.

So now I fuel my pen with impotence
And fill my page with emptiness itself.
When words of substance fail to fill the void
The void itself must finally find a voice.

>>6788356
Underrated poem.
Bravo, man.

Are there any resources on how to write well-structured poetry?

>>6791784
The most important thing is just to read existing poetry. In English though, just start by researching common English metres, such as iambic pentameter (blank verse, heroic couplets etc). Once you know some of the common metres you'll start to pick them out when reading existing poetry and your own writing will improve quickly.

et’s retire to our knees
With our books as our graces

And kindly machines
Of concern take our places

Grow motorized trees
Build robotic faces

Who smile on command
Who can mind their own business

We’ll hold human hands
And rest human feet

And what there shall we yield
In our own poor devotions?

That pearl from the field
Cast back home to the ocean

Would you cast out my fears
Or at least fix some tea

In our cabbage white kingdoms
Of kings of no history

You can pack up your things
I would still wear your ring

In the Chapelcross Towns
Of the battle-scarred mornings

Fake leaves rustling sounds
Lay rattlesnake warnings

From our homes underground
You can still hear them moaning

Don’t cheat on your taxes
But as for your spouses

Dark secrets come out
With comma or without

When the tired young knees
Of your father walked out

To the lord I disbelieve
But increase thou my doubt

He sat down in the leaflessness
A thousand more times

I went back on my word
But I won’t go back this time

Neither bondsman nor free
But a newspaper salesmen

Who moves about words
(e.g. “death do us part”)

If our prayers are unheard
Well, our prayers are unheard

When the buzz, the fly, the crack
Pulls your mind from work,
To see and hear - take note:
That's you, one day,
A pale blue light illuminating,
Like Icarus, the fly before you,
Blinded and taken in by
Screaming sunlight,
To take you home,
To take you back

>>6794218
>>6794447
critique before you post

mine doesn't rhyme

got out of work. tired. This group of young people, huddled up like a comfortable tumor, walking towards me. couldn't handle it. People's faces tire me more than anything. Just knowing that they exist and that they walk around with dreams or no dreams. Talking and not talking with big dumb smiles always going somewhere. It's all so tiring to think about. I share the sidewalk with gods and failures. I put in the key to start the car. I'm safe.

>>6791084
t-thanks

>>6794500
critique before you post

>>6794609
but I know nothing of criticism

Fear is the feeling of SPIDERS on your body.

I didn’t understand then;

The best things make you feel afraid,

But never feel like spiders.

It’s been so long now,

I can’t remember what you felt like;

if you felt like spiders.

###

I guess it's titled SPIDERS.

>>6794609
fuck you BITCH

dear Claudia:

Free, black hair, Italian coiffure hanging
Looser than her attitude, hands dragging through
The herbage. Bounteous chest, swelling flush,
Spanned tight, low and full, a thumb
Pressed to rain-wet skin, fruit
Yielding to the pluck

Nape clasped in a clammy cage,
Breathing heat, sighing for
The wet communion of lips,
glazed in nectar, nibbling
The buds and sucking deep their
Sublimation. Swooning clouds of
Throbbing thunder, floating high and wide
Above a snowy plain, pelting its
Smooth with warm rain.

Lips closed around a fleshy trunk,
Wet love seeping at the corners, her eyes
A careless look, black tresses dangling,
Tongue tracing, tip along the bulge

Body clothed in sighing mists, liquid,
Hot dropping noon sinking through the window,
Lighting a bar of orange on her nipples
Her skin, marble pale and soft as
Water, rolling in the tidal heave
Of slow dropping ecstasy, liquid,
Red currents, Cambrian fire,
Glowing on a trembling touch along
The contours of her shape.

I throw my face into the smelling
Grove of her bosom, a suppliant
At the temple of love, making
My pale confession in its hallowed dark,
As she casts a tired look
From deep and secret eyes,
Glassy opaque.

>>6794696
>>6795380
You're the reasons these threads are so shitty.

>>6795876
you just won Poem Of The Year

legit, have not read something that good in forever

It's called "I am literally going to,"

I AM LITERALLY GOING TO

KILL
I
L
L

ALL NIGGERS EVERYWHERE

I WILL BLEED

BLEED
L
E
E
D

THEIR OPEN

OPEN
P
E
N

THROATS INTO THE STREET

I WANT BLOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD YEYEYEYEYYYWE

THE END IS NEAR

AND

I

AM

THE

END

DIE DIE DARKIES

DIE DIE DARKIES

DIE DIE DARKIES

DEATH DIE DIE

>>6795876
god damn

>>6795876
lewd

>>6795876
this is really good but a bit too graphic for my taste.

i reckon that if you'd been a bit more subtle it would have made the poem more.. magisterial? and less smutty.

great sound effects and rhythm though, it was a pleasure to read.

>>6796440
Thanks anon
im not really used to free verse so I'm glad to hear that about the rhythym

>>6795876

pretty good, lots of cliche imagery and wording though

The cheeto crust on fingertips...
cans of mountain dew...
computer mouse, caked with the custard of a hundred lonely nights,
screen blue-glazed, dumb frequency, scanning lines, the insect-click and the alien hum of the machinery, the glassy, iridescent streak of white upon 2-D breasts...

I smell the scent of musk,
The vigorous, primordial, all-embracing smell
Of my armpits in the heat,
I feel the crust of smegma
On my red, swollen, aching, violent bulge,
It is mine entirely,
I am in love with it

Have you reckoned time much?
Have you fancied yourself a NEET much?
Did you think yourself less for being a NEET, for looking upon the punctual-mechanical, all-ordered existence of the wage-cuck?
Have you found yourself less?
I tell you, I have seen the wage-cucks in their cycles,
I have seen them punch their cards,
I have seen them with their crying children,
I have seen them trimming the hedges,
I have seen them at the gym,
Sweating their surfeit,
Their hours spent in mute complicit alienation

And now I, Walt Whitman,
Curling like a star-streak from the clear, limitless dome of heaven,
Falling, dissolute, emptied of all,
Tasting the sweet fleeting crux
Of this infinite moment, an inch in time,
The lips, with feverish, sucking touches,
Gripping the glans like gecko feet,
Come home to myself
It is mine entirely
I sing of it, the speckled sweet spray
Of love, engendered in me and shared with me
It is mine and mine forever

I
Am
The
Batman

an orphan
as are all proper heroes
and even the Bukowski
the dirty old drunk
who read shit poetry
to college students who didn't listen
but they drank
and he drank
to dull the pain
of being a man
The Batman

>>so fucking meta

Because Death is on vacation
Everyone gets a day off
To go to some yes-place
And mine is the ice cream factory
Where I lasted three days
As a teenager, boxing fudgsicles,
And there I am back on the line
That whispers like a long tongue
Dark prophecies about my co-workers
And just like before they come down
Faster and faster, and in my haste
I cut my finger on the edge of a carton
And pretty soon the foreman comes
Shouting down the line about
"Can it possibly be fudgsicles
With BLOOD on them,"
And he traces the trail to me
And starts bellowing like
A whole orchestra in a pit,
But this time, because
Death will be home soon,
I do not guiltily acquiesce
Like before, but instead
Unwrap a fudgsicle, and biting
Off a hunk down to the stick,
Say to him that he is beautiful,
That they are all beautiful,
And he should give them all
Vacations and raises in pay,
And just then, to everyone's
Astonishment, when it looked
As though he might really blow,
I just faded out, like in some films
Solid to vapor to wisp, to nothing,
But not before I scooped up an
Armful of bloody fudgsicles to take
Back with me, something frozen and
Sweet, and bearing the sticky mark
Of seriousness, my life so handily
Upon a stick.

>>6785363
>>6785409
>>6785508
Perspective. Shoulder. Such spud.

I know what they say about ex's
Bout the only texas I know
is alexis

Fat, broke, and bitter as shit
Handful of sleeping pills so I can
nod off and think about busting a nut on
some nasty bitch's tit

You want to know what I'm like?
Okay, I hate you degenerates and even the
fucking dykes
Anti-semitite?
If that's the word for mistrusting kykes then
Alright

>>6783192
La primera parte estaba buena pero después medio que se puso re cualquiera y bastante cliché

http://pastebin.com/6WN2WykX

Con Ñ

>>6784874
10/10

I posted this in a regular critique thread but it got buried. Here's my sappy love poem:


So I wrote a sappy love poem. Thoughts appreciated (poetry thread is ded)


Longing, locked up. Hasn't seen the light of day
until the call came and the heart resumed the fray
against the mind which kept it down.
Against the ribcage, a beating sound.
Love is kept at bay.

Reason keeps love at bay, it tells it not to try.
It hangs on tight with all its might as it's lifted to the sky.
From there, you cannot see the land.
The clouds obscure, outspread, and
cause reason to die.

When the heart comes down, it collects reason's corpse
and returns home on a straight and narrow course
where it sits, shamed, and withers away,
and reason returns and begins to pray,
and love revives; warped.

Shambling elsewhere, it seeks release, in rightful path.
It ventures from it's initial desire, on reason's behalf,
but it returns too soon, despondent still.
There is no way that reason can kill
that which resists its wrath.

Well woman the way the time cold I wanna be keepin' you warm
I got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm
Oh lord, gal I got the right tactics to turn you on, and girl I...
Wanna be the Papa...You can be the Mom....oh oh!

I get mad because the world doesn't understand me

Everyone sees the good but they don't see the pain

When you struggle they don't see the rain

Long hours, no sleep, no showers

My motto: live life move faster

Didn't go to school, but I passed life with a masters

I have a dimple cheeked angel and he keeps me his
We talk 'bout nothing yet talk is all there is
He likes rock and he plays me a tune
Fingers are like drumsticks and the melody is summertime in June
When I said Alice In Chains he said who's that chick
Some things do worry me somewhat, but his love makes me tick alot
Like his mom's veggie pies and how fast time with him flies
I look into his and he looks back into my eyes and
I think it's gonna last forever, that we're gonna be together
Yet nothing is ever as safe and sound
Summer comes to pass and the bad weather
Blows off like feather altogether the feelings and joy alike
But I don't mind, it would be so unlike
For it to be different than ever, I'm not any more clever
Maybe in fact I have no brains above my eyes
Just Alice in Chains and this time that flies

If you won't read my diaries
Then I won't mock your poetries
You hid well all your faults
Making mine almost inherently evil
I'm not a shadow incarnated in flesh
Through my eyes you won't see the one you fear
I'm whoever I say that I could be
Man made of dust, man made of ash
You did not create me, that's only why you can jugde me
But If not yours, then whose intent
Made my mind so much to falter
World reshaped, time's been spent
If I could I would alter
Only present, but nothing else

Show me your darkest sides, your deepest desires,
Before long our lives will turn into a sigh.
So hold me tight, for if tomorrow be your last,
You will not regret the time that has passed.
So hold me fast.

>>6796424
Truly an Emily Dickinson of his time.

>>6803787
This is decent and cutesy

>>6783173
does anyone have a critique of this?