/lit/ - Literature

She looks really uncomfortable.

dont know if this is from /lit/ but its pretty awesome

somebody post the one about the lawnmower

dont know if this is from /lit/ but its pretty awesome

>>691725
Nah dude, that's classic /x/ creepypasta.

>>691712
Anyone have it?

>>691710

after the face is a legend

>>691710
I don't get this. It's bad, but what else?

>>691896

It is not a poem...

Basicly the guy was trying to impress us but the only thing he did is ashamed himself.

Notice the stupid mistakes at: "Seal the seals", "After the face"

The guy is now a legend because of his terrible piece of shit writing.

The thread must be archived somewhere.

>>691907

i am referring to the guy who made the thread of this guy picture

No, but I do laugh at them.

>>691692

Oh, fuck dude...the furry stories are the worst.

>>691910
Are you asking why he saved it as a screencap?

Bumping for more.

>>691712
>>691712

Anyone have that sonnet that ends something like "Your mom- she gives the best blow jobs"? Or any of those from that thread.

>>692395
>>692395
"Her tongue slips in between my cheeks. A snake!
It darts, it flicks and dances 'round my hole.
My thighs clench up, both legs begin to shake.
Soft hands, so deft, reach up to grab my pole.
One fist gripped tight, she plays rusty trombone.
With painted nails she flicks my hairy taint.
What skill! Ye Gods! I raise my head to moan-
She perseveres and won't stop till I faint.
Agog with lust, insane with carnal joy,
This slut, cunt wet, bitch-mad, slows down her stroke.
So hungry for my seed, my shaft a toy,
Her mouth clamps down, I pump to make her choke.
I pull her hair and squirt as her head bobs.
Your mom - my word! - She gives the best blow jobs"

I saved these posts from an OC thread for some reason.

Also, did someone save the brilliant thread to which my image refers? It hasn't been archived, apparently.

>>692401
Thank you, good sir!

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.

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.

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.

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/.

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.

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'd shift your position to somehow make room
For your dad's needledick to fuck her, then pass
Up in through 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.

>>692395

I saved the whole thread, since those bastards refused to archive it.

Those are just a few of the more elaborate ones from the Great Flyting Match of /lit/.

fucking race mixing
HELLO WHITE WOMEN DONT BREED WITH A GOOK OR WE WILL FUCKING KILL YOU

http://zinewritersguild.wikia.com/wiki//lit/%27s_Zine_Writers_Guild_Wiki

wheres issue #5 ?

>>692479
More regurgitation.
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Cleanup on aisle 4!