Poetry Thread

[Anonymous No.16716944]

In a strange city I found myself.
A land of gold and glass.
And from the darkest corners shone
Gargoyles made of brass.

The lanes were prim with rubies
and seemed a gilt cascade
while lanterns hung in mid-air
and cast their light parades.

Raining down were golden flecks
that did not hurt to breathe
but rather seemed of fairy dust
and gave my soul reprieve.

The citizens were all enwrapped
within that hazy joy
which shone upon their faces
as though a mixed alloy

of pleasantness together
with patience holding hands,
and all their cheeks were ruddy
as if their lives were spent

dallying in pleasant love
and futile little things;
they were a grand portrayal
of how much life could sing.

And sing did I! So leapt the sky!
I fell in line with them.
I forgoed all my duties thus
and left my mind a blank.

I hopped in all their hobbies,
and learnt their laughing words,
and learnt their brittle verses
and silly singsong hearts.

And now that I was citizen
within this strange new place,
they took me to their temples
where with them I could pray.

A roof made of the whitest pearl
and opals in a flow
down the glowing colonnades:
I loved this brilliant world!

And in the inner chamber
an altar standing tall
with supplicants in one array
before a curtained wall.

"This is our handsome idol."
A voice swept in my ear.
I watched the veil descending
and soon was struck with fear!

O brutal sight! A laughing face
but twisted beyond joy!
It cramped in maddening belief
that values were mere toys,

and all the world was plenty,
but plenty with pure pain,
and masochistic wonder
was all one lived to gain!

But even worse was gnashing;
O, gnashing, gnashing teeth!
The supplicants were placing
their limbs into that mouth!

The gore was soon a carpet
that bubbled from the jaw,
and from that ripping faucet
blood gathered at my toes!

And as I tried to fix myself
and know my bloody foe,
I found a weird delirium
had turned it all a blur:

only laughter from that maw,
but nose and eyes and ears
were veiled as if a brittle cloud
had hid our storms and fears.

[Anonymous No.16716945]

"What is thy name? O cruel jaw!"
I screamed enquiry.
And broadened in a rotten grin
it said these words to me:

"I have no name though Mammon
might be the closest guess.
But what I am is mere Pretense
and Falsity at best."

"I am the world of ruthless veils
that lives at every hour.
I am the politician's gait
and preacher's cryptic smile."

"I am your self-delusion.
The lust that you call 'love'.
And I am that core loneliness
that knits into the self."

"I am in every person.
I am the cawing crow
that flits the nightly tower
and trumpets all your woe."

"And even worse, I am the lie
that lies when you say 'I'.
I am not 'I' but just the cry
that gods make when they die."

"So run from me if you can
and flee this golden city.
Even then, in every 'where'
I will be there. My pretty."

And flee I did, while cackling
the great maw disappeared.
From sight and mind? O, I could try!
Yet knew that it was there.

I fled the golden city.
The Gargoyles made of brass
did sneer from all the corners
and spewed from acrid mouths.

I ran into a desert.
Flat desert with grey sand.
Eventually I crumpled
and in the sand I wept.

And soon I found a cavern
and lit one wavering flame.
The night was cold and empty
and all I felt was shame.

So ends my tale. I am alone
and huddled in my sleep.
And silently I wait for death
to take my breath from me.

[Anonymous No.16717000]

thath escalated quickly
did you write this yourself? I like the pasing

[Anonymous No.16717008]

>>16717000
yes

[Anonymous No.16717057]

>>16716944
Falling through the sky, I'm getting caught inside the teeth of a yawning music box
The vibrations feel nice
I'm getting minced to the sound of bright chiming
Just scattered pieces, melting into the black stretch
The music box will never stop,
The music box will chime on, outside your door
Focus, and you will hear it just faintly
Don't focus too often, okay?
When your home in the sky breaks down
This harrowing sound
Perhaps this, too, shall... stop.


>>16716944
cool imagery

[Anonymous No.16717062]

Falling through the sky, I'm getting caught inside the teeth of a yawning music box
The vibrations feel nice
I'm getting minced to the sound of bright chiming
Just scattered pieces, melting into the black stretch
The music box will never stop,
The music box will chime on, outside your door
Focus, and you will hear it just faintly
Don't focus too often, okay?
When your home in the sky breaks down
This harrowing sound
Perhaps this, too, shall... stop.


>>16716944
cool imagery

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16717562]

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16717571]

>>16716944
>>16716945


GOOD, OVERALL, ALBEIT KITSCHY.

[Anonymous No.16717627]

Quite impressive OP, good command of the admittedly simple meter and nice imagery. The sentiment is simple of course but that's ok. I enjoyed it very much, better than most amateur poetry

[Anonymous No.16717634]

>>16716944
Well done, OP; this is a very good poem.

>And sing did I! So leapt the sky!
>I fell in line with them.
>I forgoed all my duties thus
>and left my mind a blank.

Did you really forgo an opportunity to use "forwent"?

>>16716945
>"I have no name though Mammon
>might be the closest guess.
>But what I am is mere Pretense
>and Falsity at best."

This is a pivotal stanza but it's also one of the worst in the poem. "Might be the closest guess"? You can do better than that.

>"I am your self-delusion.
>The lust that you call 'love'.
>And I am that core loneliness
>that knits into the self."

Very good. Maybe "And I'm that core of loneliness" works better? Metrically at least.

>"And even worse, I am the lie
>that lies when you say 'I'.
great lines
>I am not 'I' but just the cry
>that gods make when they die.
the second line feels like it's only there for the rhyme

[Anonymous No.16718131]

>>16717562
>QUÏEN

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16718235]

>>16718131


ASÍ ES —LA DIÉRESIS INDICA RUPTURA DE EL DIPTONGO.

[Anonymous No.16718237]

>>16717634
Yeah, I'd substitute "Might be the closest guess" with "is who the priests address" or something

[Anonymous No.16719141]

Bump

[Anonymous No.16719153]

poetry is gay haha

[Anonymous No.16720772]

bump

[Anonymous No.16720828]

>>16717562
Tengo que reconocer que me ha gustado tu poema, aunque sigues siendo un pesado.

[Anonymous No.16720845]

The stray stars you only see
On the first pink, the second purple
A minute just before the dawn
The swallow flies
The night dies
Still ruffled rough and as if startled
The cockrell's up
and sings

[Anonymous No.16721299]

Dusk till Dawn
The sisters don't stop
What can I do?
When I feel so lost?
Regrets pile up
Time goes on
Is this what I dreamed, when I was so young?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16721305]

Sometimes after reading a horror story I like to write a four line poem trying to summarize it, are these effective enough?

The Horla

1 fever disturbs me, my nerves are exploding
2 I am enslaved and bound, this invisible threat
3 this evil which rules me, this sense of foreboding
4 HA! I will destroy it, i only must taste death.......

The Willows

1. Surrounded by willows, spirits hiding with blades
2. Myriads of twigs twisting, contorting malefic braids
3. the Ancient moon and roaring river, million hands and golden forms
4. formless shapes surround me, Hamartic willow Shades

[Anonymous No.16721307]

I slam my hand on the table.
"Want to hear a funny name?"
Goebbels.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16721317]

This is part one of a set of 9 hymns which I’m writing all on the topic of Evil as divine.

come forth oh thou sorrow, come from the beginning

come with bitter wailing, the cry of division

come thou fruit of distance, fruit of Adam’s sinning

oh bitter Ash-Apple, conquer the elysian

peace of my inmost soul, only then can I see

my distance from my lord, when I taste derision

only by his rebuke, by his wrathful decree

does that white flaming sword, which sunders shekinah

reveal its hoary sting, by it i may know thee

oh thou flower devil, who said “a replica

of her I shall produce, Orchids ophidian

by your purple-blue veins, shall I make Chandika

“come limb colored fungus, come thou obsidian

and crimson red petals, children of the garden

give all to chandika, come from oblivion”

come forth wrathful chandika, who gives not pardon

you who gathered blood, limbs, the crying and the bones

of holy shekinah, ”with poison I harden

the form of the daughter, though her corpse shakes and moans

and with poison soften, a stew of her own blood

mixed with her essences, I shall taste all the tones

of the flesh and the bone” through these actions a flood

of blessing you give me, Goddess of sorrow

come forth angry whore witch, queen of the flower bud

come forth and bring nepenthes, come and make me hollow

only if I forget, may I then remember

come forgetting of God, come thou forth and swallow

me in your ignorance, and my mind dismember

then I will beg “help me, Lord, purify my heart

I know nothing of you, Lord make me remember”

then I remember you, i recall whom thou art

“rest in oblivion, my soul, forget the world

dwell in the father’s depths, he will never depart

from us who remember, though the heavens be furled

and the earth torn apart, if you invoke his name

he will appear to you” come then Great Dystheos!

[Anonymous No.16721318]

And after all you are still here,
Because the room is silent and out the window the motors are a buzzing,
and voices muffled by the headphones that u wear,
sit, stand up, sit and sip,
that closed book by ur bed
And you are still here.

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16721370]

>>16721317


YOUR POETRY IS PURE KITSCH BECAUSE YOU CHOSE THE PERPETUAL ENEMY OVER GOD.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16721400]

>>16721370

Nah it’s part of my complex theological ontological conception of evil, wherein evil is understood as the pure universality of God as he exists as the unknowable Father, and sin is a movement towards annihilation into the universality of god and good particularization/being.

It’s basically a fusion of aquinas-like arguments of evil with boehme, tantra and kabbalistic conceptions of non being

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16721409]

>>16721400


OBSCURING THE FACTS WITH CHIMERICAL FALLACIES, AND SPURIOUS DILUCIDATION, DOES NOT ALTER THEM.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16721430]

>>16721409

Nah that’s just genuinely the truth of the matter.

[Anonymous No.16721443]

>>16719153
Based

[Anonymous No.16721582]

Poetry is easier than prose
Because if it makes no sense
Violets are blue

[Anonymous No.16721588]

Emily Dickinson: overrated?

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16721626]

>>16721582


IF IT IS NONSENSICAL IT IS NOT POETRY; POETRY IS THE MOST RATIONAL FORM IN WHICH A LANGUAGE CAN BE STRUCTURED.

IF YOU BELIEVE THAT POETRY «MAKES NO SENSE», YOU IGNORE WHAT POETRY IS, AND ARE INCAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING IT.

[Anonymous No.16721634]

>>16721626
It's a poem

[Anonymous No.16721636]

Just a touch of your love is enough
To knock me off of my feet all week
Just a touch of your love
Just a touch of your love
Just a touch of your love is enough
To take control of my whole body
Just a touch of your love
Just a touch of your love

[Anonymous No.16721640]

>>16721636
Are there chords that go along with this? Reads like song lyrics

[Anonymous No.16722112]

>>16721400
>well ackshually it's part of this extremely complicated thing here's a fancy chart to distract you and references to authors whose arguments and hours of my dedication won't help me here

Sin exists, according to the Christian tradition, because of Lucifer's decision to disaccord with God, and sin lives through the legacy of Adam's succumbing to the serpent's temptation. I view things as being bad from a limited perspective, good in an overarching perspective; all of the evils in this world, the killings, the abortions, the rapes, yes, even the massacres, are good to me; good in that those which have happened are justified, not in that they should be done (unless you care about your soul and the souls of others you drag with you). Before a lesson, you must suffer. Not one of us must take on the whole of the world's sufferings, only Jesus Christ did that, so no suffering is too great for any one of us. You cannot know the Father through evil, which is a gross distortion of the truth. Rather, you must near the truth through an earnest application of the Word left behind by the Truth. Sin is not necessary; it is inevitable. What is not inevitable is your sublimation of anf eventual overcoming of it. Explain your belief further, if you will

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722148]

>>16722112

my argument is an advancement of the identification of evil with non-being/non-existence in which Yes, Evil is non-being but Non-existence is identified with God as he is without being revealed in any aspect, God as he is without any particular part of himself, God as no-thing, like nothing, empty of any relation to anything. And this nature as the root of all particular aspects of god as revealed by himself, the key is that Evil-universal-abstraction-as-identical-to-nothingness is in the Godhead already completely unified with all possible revelations/particular aspects of the godhead, as all attributes of the godhead are unified through divine simplicity. All divine attributes, aspects, characteristics, names and categories of God are “Good” but the atomic relational unity which all these share as being the unknownable, that is Evil. All evil acts then are movement towards god’s universal nothingness/raw abstraction without any particular being/submerging in the abyss of God.

Time then is the temporal reconciliation of good and evil, which is the reconciliation of God as absolutely universal and like nothing with his nature as revealed, particular and filled with boundless aspects.

The Will of God which results in particular being is Good, thelema, and results in eternal life if followed, the Will of god which results in annihilation of being, in veiling of ones particular nature and submerging-annihilating back into the Void of God’s unknowable nature is Evil and Hamartia

Of course in God these natures are already reconciled/in aufheben but in creation the unknowable and void aspect of God shall gradually unfold and Unifies with the expression/unveiling of Godhead in the worlds. The major reconciliation points being the cross and heaven coming upon the earth of course.

I’ll post a longer essay on it, I have multiple which go at various lengths on my conception of Evil as pure universality and its implications but the following is the most technical from a longer essay and the one after it the most easiest to digest.

Analyzing the body of God and the Body of the Yechidah/transcendental Ego in relation to the boundless mirror-haecceity we uncover the primal root of this Will as being fundamentally relational in contrast to other mirror-haecceities, only gaining meaning by the data relation they share between each other, as previously discussed sosein defines its particulars by particular soseins which are internally lacking in meaning besides their particularization which is the actualization of the universal total in a singular point. As such the Will of the transcendental Ego(along with the transcendental ego itself ) only exists as a relational characteristic (this also demonstrates a transcendental-lebenswelt)

Cont

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722155]

>>16722148

Going by this we can then define the Will of God/thelema as the particular unfolding of the Will of the transcendental Ego, whereas all disobedience of the transcendental ego’s Will is an abiding in the void-nature of the universal sosein which pervades all of the mirror-like haecceities via their interpenetration and reflections. Fundamentally creating a universalized Will towards void and a particularized individual Will towards Becoming. This particularized will is the thelema, the opposite universal will is Hamartia or Sin.

Demonstration and expansion of the Nonduality and relational existence of thelema and Hamartia being an extension of the IAO formula

W=Divine Will F=Function of Violence/conflict/destruction x=Causality stream and individual Will

W=unbifurcated Divine Will as perfect Union of Hamartia and Thelema Nondual to the essential nature and thus all data/Sosein-in-itself

F=Divine self-presence-At-hand which produces the particular-universal divine characteristic division/clash/violence as analysis of Data and dividing of Data, Present at hand=Data analysis and extraction which is in truth the Sosein self reflecting as Haecceities which are producing their network-of-wills in relation to each other as a simplistic Meaning/lack of meaning relation. Which is truly simply the inherent static-unfolding of the original divine Will which is simply a mirror of the Unbreakable sosein’s meaning/lack of meaning creation process.

X=Divine Will and imperfection as a 1/0 process relation

W>F(V)>X

X=Divine will and imperfection

F=Conflict/clashing/violence

Y=Divine Will and imperfection become ready at hand towards their relations. Ready at hand=Data integration/use, producing contrast, grip, Force, The will in the void and the Void in the Will mutually pulling

X>F(V)>Y

Y=will and imperfection in their interrelations causing multiplication/division of Will/imperfection in accordance with data integration

F=parts of the Thelema divided seem to make ready at hand each other as does the Hamartia, forcible integration/extraction causes World as multiplicity of Will-conflict

Z=the Individual Partial Will and the individual partial imperfection as only existing in a relational context to the other Wills and imperfections

Y>F(V)>Z

Full formula

W>F(V)>X>F(V)>Y>F(V)>Z

Thus, this formula being understood demonstrates that meaning, all meaning at its core is the Perichoretic Love(interrelation and the mutual penetrating and unfolding nature) and all individual and universal wills, including of the void, and all characteristics are fundamentally Love, in this is revealed the Supreme Immanent-transcendental Nonduality and of how distance and separation is actually greater and supreme unity and supreme love.

Cont

[Anonymous No.16722157]

>>16722112
>>16722148
>>16722155
This is a poetry thread

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722158]

>>16722155

If we agree that Sin originates as a negatory will of annihilation/towards absolute non-being of god and that Thelema is a positive creative will of god, the following becomes clear.

Ennui Heidegger states is what occurs when the fullness of being becomes clear and its profound emptiness becomes apparent.

At the heart of the individual there is a profound sense of incompletion, of lack, what then is this state of lack; this all pervading nature which is not even of the emotions but pervades them, appears when emotions fade and the center of focus is made the total. It is the sin at the heart of man, the negatory will of God. A profound gap in the being of an individual. The nature of this gap reflects in the death drive, melancholy is the taste of it, it is the void below, the interior hollow which is truly empty and contains nothing. This is the mirror of Sunyata which the common man tastes.

This negatory void is the contradiction at the heart of the physical being, the flesh of ones perception, this is why the ego seeks the other for affirmation, why it seeks to satisfy itself with things, itself or even God.

This profound negatory void in man, this sin-nature, hamartia if left empty leads to annihilation of the self, so man must attempt to fill it. This is the root of inauthenticity but also the chance of divine actualization, theosis. When you attempt to fill the Hamartia at the heart of man with others, your own being becomes subjugated and it is like an illusion, a imperfect image changing on a lake, it temporarily creates an image which is distorted by movement, as the other is constantly in flux, the hamartia nature returns and the image casted in the lake dispelled.

If you try to project your own will into it, that is the casting of a illusion upon the surface of the moving lake, if you try to place others or ideas or drives, all of them fail due to the dynamism of the Void in the heart of man.

How then can this void be filled? There are 4 primary methods used by men to gain relief and fulfill this void.

One can attempt to change the very structure of their being in order to latch on to some other, some stable or unstable outside point. This can be an ideal, a virtue, a aesthetic, people even.

This reliance of the other binds man to interaction with other, whether the ideas of the other, the knowledge or the society of others. This is the birth of the city of the devil, of babalon.

Man by living the cultural life,

partaking of knowledge of other, connects his being and his void with the being of others and their conceptual frameworks. The heart of these is the same profound emptiness, this causes a multiplication of the emptiness which pervades any temporary relief.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722163]

>>16722158

As man subjugates and manipulates himself into a cog in the conceptual models and cultures of the world, his hamartia mixes with theirs, a greater void and a greater illusion is born. As such the pain and experience of incompletion actually increases from this methodology. The second methodology is intellectual-aesthetic illusion, Nicholai Hartman writes that all true Art works by crafting a piece which makes you forget the foreground and takes you to an illusionary background filled with illusions of ideas, ideal things, your own intellectual world where fullness dwells, beauty then is a sense of harmonious completion among the parts, the aesthetic experience does not free from the Will but from the hamartia by filling the void with phantoms. These phantoms are much more resilient then the other but are still not enough, as they require a constant stream of intellect, Will and so forth to maintain, the second the individual himself changes (which is forced on him by the dynamic nature of the void in the heart of man) he must abandon in that moment his phantoms and the profound incompletion returns.

The Third methodology is resting in the void, resting in one self, to elaborate this is the most subtle manipulation of the illusions and void possible, instead of creating a intellectual-aesthetic illusion, you try to manipulate yourself by relaxation, by mental disassociation and re-association to dis-attach from your manner of being utterly and associate your form/body AS the void, as such you try to fulfill the void by filling it with your own being, your own nature, your own pure will.

In this method you make the hamartia in the heart of man consume the totality of being, in an attempt to cause a synthesis, this in Taoism is called wu-wei, this in Spinoza’s work is acquiescentia, to allow yourself to flow into the void at the heart of man until the void and the being cannot be distinguished. This is “crushing the void”

In this state the void at the heart of man is transmuted from a negatory experience to one of fullness and satisfaction, it is still negatory but it has become an active void. This is demonstrated by such practices as Zuowang and shikantaza.

The error of this method is three fold.

1=it is incredibly hard to maintain during active daily life, in interaction with others and thus leads often to absolute seclusion and hermitage

2=the void is not actually filled but rather being is annihilated

3=beyond pleasure and satisfaction and many states of spiritual/mental/psychological/physical bliss this methodology is utterly sterile, it cannot be replicated or shared and it does not produce culture, technology, it cannot truly be shared, it cannot do anything but rest in itself and be itself. This renders it sterile.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722166]

>>16722163

The Fourth method which is the actual method of fulfilling the Void is to transmute the hamartia itself into thelema. The fulfilling of the void at the heart of man is done by living in accordance with the Will and Reason of God, this is the fulfiller of being, because the void-Will brings man to nothing, the positive will creates perpetually more and more being, which is the transmutation of being into becoming, the void becomes the space of the becoming of the individual actualizing his existence as he is in the mind of god, in pure potential, the lines of flight reach out in all directions showing the now dynamic extensions of Being. Pure lines of becoming stretch forth in all directions. The Will of God, these lines of becoming which are hidden in the void, which is pure potentiality, are hidden in the profound darkness of lack, it is only by the light of Reason that these lines of becoming can be found and entered upon, however the lines of becoming can lead back to the void, they can become short, in the first method you block you light for the colored lights of others. In the second method you obscure your light with images to cast shadows to look

upon, in the third you snuff out the light so only darkness remains, in the fourth you become direct your light to the pathways and you must maximize the brightness of the light.

Christ who is pure reason is the great light, God is the great Reason, by reflection of His light into ours, we can obey see the greatest lines of becoming which become indefinitely, thus in this is immortality. The void in the heart of man replaced by a boundless being, boundless becoming, guided by the light of the Sun of Will, the Christ. This is the straight and narrow road of the Bible.

Just as the first method creates the city of the devil, a macro collection of emptiness and illusions, sin perpetually multiplying and inauthenticity reigning supreme, this fourth method creates the city of god, as the constant becoming makes you as a light to the world, your Reason shines forth and reflects as if a mirror upon others who also strive for the light and to shine their light.

The city of the devil then is darkness and obscuring, being chained in a boundless void of emptiness and transience, the city of God then is unchanging boundless Light which unifies into greater and greater dancing interpenetrating lights,

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722170]

>>16722166

walking on the road of becoming and thus coming closer and closer.

The city of the devil then logically leads to annihilation and the absorption of its being into the third method, the devouring of the city of the devil by the void.

The city of God then logically shall rule for eternity, growing in light and intensity day by day. This is why sin and the Holy Spirit of god are poured out continuously at greater and greater degrees by the day.

The city of the devil results in absolute synthetic inauthenticity, which is the gradual destruction of authentic being, being becoming a play thing of void.

The city of God results in boundless positive change, which is the fullness of God on earth.
The Void and being replaced by boundless divine becoming along the eternal narrow road.

>>16722157

Apologies, although the thread is slow anyways and the discussion is related to a posted poem. Again apologies.

[Anonymous No.16722197]

>>16722148
So incestuous and idiosyncratic as to be meaningless to me. Try phrasing it more concisely. As I understand it, you are saying that to pursue annihilation (assuming the soul is annihilated in Gehenna) and to pursue eternal life are equally valid paths, and therein are they reconciled. Do bear in mind that God (uncreated) and earth (created) terminates in resurrection of all bodies, and that heavenly kingdom alluded to in Revelations.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722222]

>>16722197
>So incestuous and idiosyncratic as to be meaningless to me. Try phrasing it more concisely. As I understand it, you are saying that to pursue annihilation (assuming the soul is annihilated in Gehenna) and to pursue eternal life are equally valid paths, and therein are they reconciled. Do bear in mind that God (uncreated) and earth (created) terminates in resurrection of all bodies, and that heavenly kingdom alluded to in Revelations.

Again, I’m making an argument based on boehme’s theology in which hell is the desire of God and negation/movement towards death is submergence into the void of the father. They are not equal, one results in concealment and dwelling in the burning hungry desire of god, the other results in perpetual being, fulfillment and pleasure. They both end within the ultimate will of god and both spring forth from God and his schema of creation and eternity’s relations however.

[Anonymous No.16722250]

>>16722222
Well Seymour, they're nice quints, despite your tripfaggotry

[Anonymous No.16722265]

>>16722222
I see the same, you blessed deliverer of quads. God wills all that occurs for the furtherance of some divine plan unknown to me or that I can only guess at. Do you believe that all will be saved? That Hell is a second chance for the fallen leading to Gehennah, where only those who truly, stubbornly desire annihilation will receive their wish? I find it difficult to imagine a populated Hell, if you know what I mean

[Anonymous No.16722275]

>>16722250
very cool bateman, but that's nothing

[Anonymous No.16722278]

>>16722265
I meant quints

[Anonymous No.16722292]

Babylon, Babylon
That strange city Babylon.
The world will end for your decadence,
But you never even let me inside

[Anonymous No.16722397]

Lo, lo,

Look and behold!

Horrors foretold

Are here to unfold!

Go, go,

Princes and men!

Fight if you can,

And do not pretend!

Swing, swing,

Swords and silver!

Souls delivered!

Now we whither!

Hitherto upwards!

The afterlife is here!

The gods shall have us now!

The angels sing their sound!

The deaths are earthly bound!

And now!

Now!

NOW!

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16722401]

>>16722265

In short, No. hell is eternal the question is what is the nature of Hell, and this is why I keep pointing to boehme.

Anyways here’s another poem

Colors of amber and lovely green
soaring of many birds i have seen
Dark forests where dwell the elven kin
Golden cities which no man has been
Remember a past that never was
is What the blessed of many years does
The wings of the wind rushing forward
What The servants of flame go toward
beautiful world I cannot fathom
It is beyond the kin of Adam

[Anonymous No.16722413]

>>16722197
This. That shit was way too long and you said the same thing like 5 times.

>>16722397
Based and armageddonpilled

[Anonymous No.16723342]

>>16716944
I feel like it falls too close to (and too short of) Lovecraft to merit its existence
Not bad though, just not good.

[Anonymous No.16723424]

Here and now I close these eyes
murmuring in the grotto.
I feel the eastern breeze
underneath the leafy plum.

Here and now I close my eyes
murmuring under the tree.
And on this noble mountain
fragrances envelop me.

I close those eyes now,
murmuring on the mountain.
Breeze and fragrances I no longer feel,
It is only he who whispers to me.

[Anonymous No.16724251]

>>16716944

[Anonymous No.16724288]

>>16716944
You like Poe, don't you?

[Anonymous No.16724357]

>>16722397

Spying minds greater than mine dueling
Is catching the bleary shapes of angels,
Careening and veering through heavens betimes

Now gaining the advantage, now succumbing
Where the fire-gilt cataphract glints as amber,
The black matte panoply flares a balefire,

As one rises, the other plummets- dart in breast
When one falls, the other bounds from reaching lance
Alien star eclipsing sun bechance

A storm of wings aclamor,
and flurries of feathers deferréd to dirt,
Which I collect dejectedly and don,
Hoping myself to catch some wind
And rise headlong to meet the fray

[Anonymous No.16725886]

bump

[Anonymous No.16726029]

im meine herze
habe ich eine schmerze.
alex nicht meine dicht lieben, und im diese welt ich kann nicht mehr bleiben.

Will diese welt meine dichte bewahren? Oder will meine dicht im die dunkelheit auch gehen?

Tschüss, meine lieben, ich will jetzt Junge Werter bekommen. Meine lebe will ich jetzt gehnemen

[Anonymous No.16726042]

Omul isi plimba golimea sub coaste
si pestera foamei de manta-i ascuns


doar fata ca jenata luna-n larg innegurat raza
parind-a licari din cusca codrului batran


de disperare haituit, parind-a fi plapandul duh a foametei,
schiopatand dar rascuprins in ghearilei spaimei


Inima se zbate-n zadar,
Si usor, usor, bietul pieri

[Anonymous No.16726595]

time is now
time is still
time is passing still
time is passing
time is

[Anonymous No.16726804]

It's so gloomy,
I hope I get to see you,
On this rainy morning.

You said you had a crush on me,
You said that in my ear,
As I walked away from you,
Shedding lonely tears.

Beneath that purple sky,
In the pallid light of the shop,
You kissed me I remember now,
I miss you babe.

[Anonymous No.16726826]

Bump

[Anonymous No.16727034]

Poetry threads would be nice if people actually replied to one another. I mean, some of y'all don't deserve (you)s, but right now these threads are cringe.

[Anonymous No.16727082]

>>16727034
I only posted because there was an anon making high effort crits, looks like he's anything from away to dead drunk in a ditch in Denver, having deserted his didactic duties for darling dipsomania

[Anonymous No.16727194]

>>16726804
Horrible. Lack of scope and style, sentimentality is negative in the poem.

[Anonymous No.16727204]

>>16726595
Poor.

[Anonymous No.16727215]

>>16724357
Too much rhyme and not enough rhythm; contribute that to the fact your language is archaic and unacceptable in the worst way. However, there remains discernible talent for string words and images along.

[Anonymous No.16727223]

>>16723424
Lovely ending stanza, roundabout until the suddenness of the gender. My only suggestion is to remove the word ‘noble’ as mountains cannot be as such... what is a ‘noble mountain’? Doesn’t sound right.

[Anonymous No.16727232]

>>16722397
Will serve to isolate the contemporary reader with archaic language. Does not work for any outside of a few. The lyric is nice, however.

[Anonymous No.16727292]

>>16727194
Yeah Ik I'm not a poet anon, I write prose. Do you think writing like that in prose would be good?

[Anonymous No.16727538]

>>16727215
A poem doesn't need a consistent, formulaic rhyme or rhythm, though I can see some space for improvement. What language is unacceptable, and why should it matter if it is "archaic?"

[Anonymous No.16727596]

>>16727538
Your ideas are trite ones that you've bolstered up with overblown vocabulary, yet if you whittle the ornamentation from the images you'd find that you have a lameass theme derivative from others like Rilke and whoever wrote about angels and whatnot. Outright cliched expressions such as 'storm of wings'. Of course a thing in the air must be described as 'careening'. "fire-gilt cataphract glints as amber" over here you spammed words with connotations of shininess and fire to the point of ludicrous redundancy. And it all ends with the usual sentiment of wanting to go up into the air with that sublime thing: ah, what a novel poetic notion! If you want to be a birdie so badly though might as well join the other 5 year olds expressing the same thing in less pretentious terms.

[Anonymous No.16727613]

>>16716944
Really good op

[Anonymous No.16727616]

>>16727215
Is this better, mate? Most of the archaisms I use are for a reason- because they are concise. "Betimes," for example, is an easier way of saying "before time" or "early."

Spying minds far greater than mine dueling
Is catching bleary forms of angels
Veering or brooding in heavens betimes

(seeing people more intelligent than me is like seeing angels battle in the sky before the end times even arrive)

Now gaining advantage,
Now yielding, afire

(No comment)

Where ambern cataphracts dauntless showed,
The black matte panoplies pyres shone,

(Each side appears menacing in its own right, though there's obviously a good and a bad side)

As one rises, others plummet, dart in breast
When one falls, the others bound from reaching lance
Alien stars eclipsing suns, bechance

(Their battle, and how the suns are the good angels, the alien stars are the bad angels, which eclipse or beat the good angels due to chance)

A storm of wings aclamor,
and flurries of feathers deferréd to dirt,
Which I dejectedly collect and don,
Hoping myself to catch some wind
And rise headlong to meet the fray

(I feel helpless because I have no wings of my own, so I just collect their feathers and hope the wind carries me to the battle.)

It's all a big analogy to people arguing, and how I pick up some of their arguments (feathers) but can't quite get off the ground.

[Anonymous No.16727651]

>>16727596
Man, there are only so many ways you can describe angels, but I'd like for you to lead by example; how would you better describe these angels?

>Of course a thing in the air must be described as 'careening'
I did change it, but as always, give examples of better words to use. It's easy to give trite criticisms without offering an example of something better.

>Outright cliched expressions such as 'storm of wings'
The only way I could describe great, buffeting, cloud-like wings whose flaps are like claps of thunder. I could've said "squall" but I needed a one-syllable word.

>fire-gilt cataphract glints as amber"
There are only two mentions of it being fiery, I see no outstanding redundancy.

>And it all ends with the usual sentiment of wanting to go up into the air with that sublime thing: ah, what a novel poetic notion!
How cute. My real meaning was described in the post above

>If you want to be a birdie so badly though might as well join the other 5 year olds expressing the same thing in less pretentious terms.
Odd thing that you haven't torn into other poems with such voracity.

[Anonymous No.16727980]

>>16721626
>>16721409
>>16721370
>>16718235
>>16717571
>>16717562
Based Condorito

[Anonymous No.16728037]

>>16727596
What's cliched about "storm of wings?" Never heard that one before

[Anonymous No.16728086]

>>16727651
Doesn't really matter what your true meaning was given that what it flattens out to after all your poetic wrangling is the usual poem about angels. Like 'minds far greater than mine dueling' can associate with anything from cosmic forces to flying spaghetti monsters to big brained bats, and nothing after that associates with the idea of a debate but is just the same old cosmic war shit derivative of Paradise Lost. The fact that you have to explain every stanza is proof enough of how hermetic your communication is. If you're trying to frame it around the idea of debate why not make it more fun with the lexicon of debate? You're writing poetry aren't you? Where's the play? Why try to sound rote and dreary in modern times? Why try to be a 16th century scholar when you're a 21st century male bred in the digital age?

"Spying the wry mouths of angels
In bleary parliament above
Debating apocalyptic papers
With doctrine of 'push comes to shove',

Their plumage pounding in sky vistas,
Gaining on, then falling back,
The other lashing out again
In gleaming rows of cataphracts,

Both exchanging, never breaking
Under the spree of alien suns,
An argument, an undertaking
Proving force of frightful fun,

I, with fettered feet, did stare
Hoping one day to be there.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16728152]

The cry of the first Lust

Come forth first desire, come forth with beastly shout

“thou shalt not surely die, Lust is ageless delight

Kiss with your mouth’s kisses, for water in a drought

extinguishes less flame, than your sight in the night “

these are your commandments, O thou lust of my soul

come ravishing creature, Come lewd lady of night

Come Kenotic Longing, come forth sylvan Demon

rise from the hidden place! hunt the lissome maiden!

come Gnarled and burning flesh, Come forth King of semen!

for neither Pan nor Los, Silenus Nor Satan

are so inflamed as you, thou who are the rapist

Come bestial king of Men! you who destroy nation

and youth crying “go forth!” Come molesting papist!

come thou ravishing rogue! Come incestous devil!

you who seduce the nuns, you who plague the Trappist

come forth with your consort, come She who does revel!

Thou! pandora and eve! Helen and Babylon

The Kingdoms wail for you, kingdoms you did level

come Virgin Artemis, queen of the amazon

come black dog! bitch in heat! come tired prostitute!

come Salome with veil! come virgin paragon!

and the old whore will speak! “ i am the absolute

the daughter and mother, the Virgin and the Wife

Holy and yet a whore, all things I constitute

though my feet be dainty, my heel has caused all strife

though my thighs are jewels, they are greased with man’s Blood

my navel is kshira, the elixir of life

and time’s profound poison, yet a red flower’s bud

he was my first Longing, the prince of red flowers

return bridegroom and bride, cleanse me in your deep flood

my red shall become white, married to the powers

an orgy of heaven, a mixing of the Lights

the bridge and bridegroom say, lust cries “come Dystheos!”

[Anonymous No.16728192]

>>16727538
Poems dont need rhyme sure, but without rhythm they are ass. Only poems that try to convey a feeling of the narrator can get away with no rhyme, everything else sounds pretentious
Especially considering it's about angels, and has archaic language, it would do a lot better with rhyme

[Anonymous No.16728199]

>>16728192
*rhythm, more rhythm

For instance:

Falling,
Into the

Arms of the,
Angels!

They will be,
Anxious!

Paul will be,
Hectic!

John will be
Frantic!

And Jesus,
Jesus!

Jesus will save us,
And slay the imposters,
And savour the heathens
Who feed him with anger-
The anger of demons!

[Anonymous No.16728221]

>>16728199
Falling into angelic arms
With all of my anxieties,
I saw Paul and I saw John
And I saw Jesus stand with me

And I saw all imposters slain
And I saw all the heathens burnt
For Jesus stood with flaming sword
And heart pained in demon blood.

[Anonymous No.16728226]

>>16728221
Typo 'demon' -> demonic

[Anonymous No.16728229]

>>16728221
This is also good yeah

[Anonymous No.16728252]

>>16726804
Gloomy on a rainy morn,
I hope to see you once again.
You said you had a crush on me
But I had walked away in pain

Shedding all my lonely tears
Until, beneath a purple sky,
I saw a slot of pallid light
Open up within my mind

Of when you kissed me. It was dear.
Oh baby, miss you. Wish you here.

[Anonymous No.16728254]

We, strangers who never speak,
File into a bright, empty room
And take our seats; some alone,
But most together... Why am I here?

I sit in judgement over all who came
In my high seat of honor,
Awaiting the signal cry.
Solid in solitude - What is he doing?

A slight, aged man approaches the bench
And then hides his face, yet I see
He is logged onto Silverdaddies.com.
I can't help but laugh, but... Do I belong here?

Too late for second thoughts, the lights go dim
And I'm left alone in the dark.
But one star still shines, grotesque and fallen
Before my eyes - Will he turn off his phone?

Yes, even it is snuffed out, as the screen is filled
With delicate monochrome from the forgotten past
Ancient light emanating, flowing over their empty heads
Reaching out to kiss my soul... I wish she was here.

[Anonymous No.16728273]

>>16728254
This is another one I've written and post before, but never got any response.


Waltzing


a white glove held in a white gloved hand
raven tresses floating in her wake
her pale skin unveiled for all to see

she is so close to me

but

I dare not touch and break the glass
her coffin frosted by each heavy breath
rising and falling her chest our feet

my eyes

traverse her slender neck
and meet her burning stare
forged molten bronze overflowing
threatening to scald and harden
ensnaring me locked within her passion

then

the swelling strings the waiting gaze
expecting his turn
she is tossed aside and lost within

a billowing circle of corsets and lace

[Anonymous No.16728287]

Beneath the sheets
My bones do shake
For the thing I fear
Is now awake

I can not look
I make no sound
If I do
I will soon be found

In my empty skull
I hear the rustle
It's coming now
That thing of muscle

It rises high
On two great feet
A terrible sight
A thing of meat

It tears off the cover
Pulls back the sheet
I shake and chatter
but do not speak

For no skeleton can
Escape the grasp
Of that dreadful thing
The boneless man

[Anonymous No.16728297]

>>16728254
Here's another I wrote and posted in earlier threads, but it never got any response.


Waltzing


an ivory glove held in an ivory gloved hand
raven tresses floating in her wake
her pale skin unveiled for all to see

she is so close to me

but

I dare not touch and break the glass
her coffin frosted by each heavy breath
rising and falling her chest our feet

my eyes

traverse her slender neck
and meet her burning stare
forged molten bronze overflowing
threatening to scald and harden
ensnaring me locked within her passion

then

the swelling strings the waiting gaze
expecting his turn
she is tossed aside and lost within

a billowing circle of corsets and lace

[Anonymous No.16728305]

>>16728287
Beneath the sheets
My bones do shake
For things I fear
Are now awake

I cannot look
I make no sound
For if I do
I will be found

In my own skull
I hear a rustle
It's coming now
That thing of muscle

It rises high
On two great feet
A horrid sight
A thing of meat

It tears the covers
Pulls the sheets
I shake and chatter
But do not speak

For no bones can
Escape the grasp
Of what is flesh
And bonelessness.

[Anonymous No.16728357]

>>16728086
That's the problem with my poem- it's intended to be hermetic. Of course, muddling the idea of a debate and the analogy of angels fighting by having the angels debate is an interesting one (as explored in the first stanza), but not my intention.

In the first line, spying seems an inappropriate word. The last line of the first stanza could be better attended to, but you were probably rushing.

"Sky vistas" seems erroneous, or at least superfluous.

All in all, my poem was overwrought in places, and lacked sensible rhythm, but the same apparent lack of obvious meaning can be said of your poem; my poem was designed to be an analogy, which is why I needed to explain it's every ins and outs. Yours could just as easily be taken as a "old cosmic war shit derivative of Paradise Lost" but with a discursive element, which is nothing new considering the discourses angels hold in that epic (though not needfully so formal as a "bleary parliament"). Of course, you completely glossed over the final, key analogy which I described in my previous post, instead preferring your fetters. Well, poor taste can't be helped.

[Anonymous No.16728432]

>>16728297
There's so much imagery I can't see anything. It's overexposed. It also lacks, not direction but, maybe plot? I can't figure out what is going, I can see it's moving..somewhere, just can't see where.
Yeah overexposed is what Im going with. Its overexposed. Trim down the allusions and hone in on wtf the characters are supposed to be. Its so odd to describe why its broken, like you know what happened you just cant see like, like when you wake up from a vivid dream and try to picture what happened - you know, you just cant picture it

[Anonymous No.16728440]

>>16728305
You and I criticize in much the same way. It seems a lot of writers here lack rhythm. I think they've been reading too many modernist/classics

[Anonymous No.16728711]

Bright she was, bright, the little queen!
Like the yellow sun.
Her hair and her face were like a rose petal!

"I'm afraid I won't fall in love with anyone - - -" she once said on the Esplanade.

"Why?!" said a gentleman gently to her.

"I am too calm.
I enjoy summer like a cricket and like the sea swans.
But there are disturbers, in the distance, on the horizons.
What will they make of us?!
We probably won't be able to enjoy the summer like the cricket and the sea swans anymore.

"Hum- -" muttered the Lord.

"What did you say?!"

"Nothing - -".

And she enjoyed the summer like the cricket and the sea swans - - -!

[Anonymous No.16728812]

>>16726029
Foreign language German learner? The grammar could really use some work.

>>16727223
It's not mine, it's from here. Maybe "noble mountain" sounds better in the original Spanish?
I think mountains can be noble. Think of Mount Gerizim or Vulture Peak, for example. Are they not fittingly said to be noble?
When I read the poem, I read it as images of a pilgrim ascending a holy mountain, and that being symbolic for the pilgrim's inner ascent. Thus the "he" would be "He", i.e. God, and the mountain being noble doesn't seem like a stretch.

[Anonymous No.16728869]

hey guys! first poem, tell me what you think :)


if I were a lesbian jew
oh what should I ever do?
because I'm a kike
and also a dyke
cows go moo

what does the fox say?

[Anonymous No.16729137]

>>16716944
Some pussy in my space
He wants a taste

Times too short to waste
I expunge his face
All over the place

[Anonymous No.16729174]

>>16728440
>I think they've been reading too many modernist/classics
I read almost no poetry. I'd probably never bother writing any but whenever I read these threads I feel compelled to add something silly

>>16728305
I like it better overall except for the final line

[Anonymous No.16729668]

>>16721626

You're fucking cringe, tripfag - go LARP somewhere else please

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16729794]

[Anonymous No.16729799]

>>16716944
>anon to the dark thread came

Pretty good though

[Anonymous No.16729819]

>>16728252
Thank you anon, yours is beautiful I wish I could write like you

[Anonymous No.16729969]

>>16716944
Hey, nigger, rap is shit
Hey, nigger, rap is shit
Hey, nigger, rap is shit
Hey, nigger, rap is shit

[instrumental]

Hey, nigger, rap is shit
Hey, nigger, rap is shit
Hey, nigger, rap is shit
Hey, nigger, rap is shit

[instrumental]

Gopniks are fucked
Gopniks are fucked
Gopniks are fucked
Gopniks are fucked

[Anonymous No.16730035]

I like petite girls with big boobs
It negates the ribs
Giving only stomach and tits

[Anonymous No.16730498]

>>16729794
Was this supposed to be funny? Genuinely asking, my spanish isn't very good.

[Anonymous No.16731161]

You
an even greater illusion
than I

[Anonymous No.16731188]

>>16729969
Based

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !KNDYYIIins No.16731460]

>>16730498


QUÉ CREES?

[Anonymous No.16731471]

>>16727082
Which anon do you mean?

[Anonymous No.16732506]

Here I am, all dressed up
No matter the weapons, I am still a pup.

In line with men whom have suffered scars
Men who know no other god than Mars.

The wind carries cries and bloodied groans
O dearest lord, I am built of most soft bones!

Fingers clasped around my blade, I am not my own
With fear in control it lets these dice be thrown!

The clarion sounds, into the gunsmoke
I pray now to be forgotten, and that the Horseman within awoke.

[Anonymous No.16733005]

Was Bukowski a good poet?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16733260]

The lament of the broken rope

in a desolate landfill sat
a broken rope and rusted lock
the lock would try to start a chat
“broken rope do not curse the clock

time is the slayer of all things
do not cry because we are dead
no matter locks or ropes or Kings
all things shall rot and become dead”

the Rope replied while still wailing
“it is not for myself I cry
I cry for one who was ailing
from his soul he wanted to die

he came to me in a dark hour
he was my owner and master
he knew he could use my power
he said “now end this disaster”

the dagger of his soul stabbed him
the taunting of his soul mocked him
his soul’s deep darkness blinded him
his soul’s anguish brought him to me

he gave me his trust and last faith
around a gnarled branch he took me
to rescue him, this was his fate
he twisted me into a noose


around his neck I embraced him
I could now finally free him
but his soul would not release him
it shouted “no more! let him go”

I then replied “you killed the man”
my body then stretched, “leave him go!”
I then replied “you killed the man”
and my master gave me a smile

the soul departed from the earth
and my body let itself rest
my master then fell to the dirt
and with him also did I fall

my lament is for my master
no other shall be my master
my soul grieves me for my master
master save me from my own soul

[Anonymous No.16733313]

>>16721370
the pedo strikes again

[Anonymous No.16733664]

>>16728812
Yea, I actually ain't learning german. I had it in school many moons ago and did this as a joke when we were discussing languages. I'm surprised you didn't find more problems because it's all a fuck. I also haven't written a poem since school, but I gotta say it's kinda fun

[Anonymous No.16734044]

[Anonymous No.16734292]

I fucking hate you all
Cause in the end
All of you are dust

Brainless, unmoving souls
That live but never learned
How to love

So you go through life
Smiling all the time
Thinking your ideas
About goodness and all that

But you are less than a cog
You are the dust on an old clock.
And I fucking hate you all.

[Anonymous No.16734318]

>>16734044
checked

[Anonymous No.16734633]

>>16733313
He isn't a pedo.

[Anonymous No.16734881]

>>16716945
Superb work, OP

[Anonymous No.16734936]

I met with death, and this I asked,
What lies beyond your grasp?
And with a laugh, death did respond:
“I come with time, so naught lies beyond.”
And so I stood, and so I wondered,
Is there truly nothing thy touch can’t sunder?
And so death as well did ponder.
“Life ages, stone degrades,
Even the loveliest of emotions may fade.
But I suppose there is one thing abiding.”
And then I knew why Death was smiling.
And so I departed with the simple token,
That naught but Death shall last unbroken.

[Anonymous No.16735037]

>>16734318
Bretty good, 8/10

[Anonymous No.16735044]

Into my arse a cock that thrusts
Cum from that BBC flows
My girlfriends bull I do trust
To make her bumhole full

In a state of blissful content
I'm enjoying through the pain
Asked to leave, so I went
So they could do it all again

[Anonymous No.16735081]

>>16735044
CHECKED BASED OH YEAH OH YEAH THIS IS EPIC!!!! NICE!!!!!!!!

[Anonymous No.16735100]

How to get into poetry?

[Anonymous No.16735106]

>>16735100
What country are you from

[Anonymous No.16735112]

>>16735106
New Zealand

[Anonymous No.16735113]

Midway through my nightly trip to the toilet I
Stubbed my toe and screamed
Life is truly suffering

[Anonymous No.16735130]

>>16735112
Robert Frost is a decent general introduction into poetry as a whole, but if you have any sort of idea what kind of poetry you want to get into I could be more specific.

[Anonymous No.16735139]

>>16735130
I'll check him out. What's some great historical poetry?

[Anonymous No.16735167]

>>16735139
Depends what kind of historical. Of the general sense, most things from Homer are worth reading. Beowulf is good too.

[Anonymous No.16735177]

>>16735167
Hmm, we could end up in a long reply chain, lemme just ask if you have saved maybe a /lit/ recommended poetry chart?

[Anonymous No.16735180]

>>16735177
You're in luck

[Anonymous No.16735183]

>>16735180
Cheers anon :)

[Anonymous No.16735186]

>>16727232
wrong

that poem is awesome

[Anonymous No.16735189]

>>16735183
No problem, enjoy

[Anonymous No.16735205]

>>16717562
>>16729794
>Un tripfag mentalmente inestable es mejor poeta que tú

[Anonymous No.16735500]

[Anonymous No.16735620]

>>16716944
She kicks and squeals
Her feet fall out of her heels

She knows the deal
Her screams won't bring me to heel

[Anonymous No.16735743]

>>16716944
This is pretty much just a rough draft, some of the rhymes dont have good rhythm or just dont work very well, especially towards the end. I like the idea of the story though.
I want it to feel like an old tale for children, you know?
In Limbo, while in only half slumber
Through the window come faint claps of thunder

Though I see no lighting flashing nor hear any rain tapping
The low rumble persists, interrupting my napping

I rise from my bed, it wails and creaks
I feel almost dead, I haven't stood up in weeks…

My old bones shuffle to the window, only half open
I struggle to push it up, i'm getting old…
Or perhaps it is broken?

Cold air hits my face
I look up to meet the moons gaze

“My god!” I exclaim “Cant you see this storm brings me great pain?”

A booming voice responds from above

“Hmm? Did a bolt strike you down elder? Perhaps I should send a helper…”

“No! The problem is the thunder! It is interrupting my slumber!”

“Oh? And should I remove trees because it makes one sneeze?
Or should I drain the seas because one can't swim?
No one would ask that of me, for the chances I say yes are quite slim.
So do not ask me to be rid of thunder because it interrupts your slumber!”

“Please! I pray to you Lord!
A man needs his sleep, lest he wake up tired and bored!”

“I will not fulfill your request!
But I will give you something that will help you rest.”

I wait for a moment, wondering how God would assist
I believe an Angel will come from the heavens and grant me a pillow made of pure bliss

I wait for a minute, then two, then four
No angel appears, and I dont feel different than I did before

And then I notice, I hear the thunder no more
I hear not even the wind, it seems after all god did what I was asking for!

I try and call out to express my thanks
But no words come out, I cannot sing the lords praise!

I wonder why my voice went cold and left
And then I realise: Good lord! I'm deaf!

[Anonymous No.16736085]

THUNDEROUS METEOR!
BELLOWED THE FURIOUS GOD
AND SPRANG

WITH UPLIFTED FISTS

FREE FROM HIS SHACKLES

FREE FROM THE SCAFFOLD OF ATHEISM

SPRANG AND STOMPED
WITH A WHOMP

INTO THE BURSTING

BLATHERING

FRENCH

CROWD

[Anonymous No.16737735]

[Anonymous No.16738646]

The sweep hands
scrape the watch glass from within
like claws. Pulse and electric current
both might separately stream,
yet into nowhere they equally expand,
as different they aren't
and evenly dissolve in void.
It is in vain to choose, in essence:
neither can blood electric circuits avoid,
nor can the energy escape the string of vessels
to tear the vicious loop asunder.
In hands or in the bush, the birds are dead.
The very choice is an illusion. Dear friend,
either of them lay still exactly six feet under,
below the dirt on boots and ground's frigid bed.
Fate has no hope remaining to expend --
it all was sepulchered along with you
in silence. Here the only thing remains:
to find and lose anew
your image in embraces of the dream.
My life has grown increasingly damn plain,
hardly could it become in any way more still,
it's no match for the days that have passed;
and knocking on thresholds and brims
of once and forever closed doors
is foolish. Again I spill
vodka on snow half-and-half,
because somehow it's helping me last,
not to rush through the window outdoors
after one who I still firmly love.
Under the black broken spokes
of the millstone above, the sunwheel,
I'm already
withdrawing not troops
of my pages, but meanings surreal,
the mishappen assembly of strokes.
All my soldiers are wounded or gone.
And remaining loners in groups
guard the rest of their mass grave in steady.

[Anonymous No.16738686]

Actuality

Only walls are around and winter's outside.
There's just no way out, for many long years
You chase the mirage of true freedom and hide
From horrible nightmare in daydream frontiers.

Every wave that is crashing against the shore
Of the heart in the chest, stiffen and petrified,
Makes it just ever harder to have any hope or
to heartly believe in good turn of the tides.

To believe that some time or the other will crumble
This realm tightly chained in perpetual pain.
When the time doesn't heal you, but aimlessly stumble
Simply settling on windows of new flats again;

When the genuine stars are burning above you,
But their flicker disdains craving look of your eyes;
When you long lost the road back home from your tired view,
But, alas, only now managed to realize

That you're no longer able to pull back together
Yourself, 'cause there's nothing to pull anymore,
Loosing your mind to the hungering nether
You write down unsettling lexical gore —

This is all Actuality, piercing your daydreams,
Fills your fantasy world with its nightmarish show.
This bitter poison trapped in the blood stream
Will too never save you from this dreadful foe.

And you shall be breathing with smell of the summer
And alike with raw blanket of damp autumn earth.
It shall feed you the night dressed in very same glamour,
As the ships that were burning in skies for you both.

You shall gobble this wind interwoven with trickles
Of smoke from as if namely those cigarettes,
And web of the cold will again catch the ripple
Of the same winter morning's white light in its nets.

Every little detail rings with most bitter longing
And digs into the chest with a venomous sting.
Soul won't ever know peace, it is still firmly holding
This dire remembrance that no single thing

Could be ever brought back, not a day, not an instant,
Only mere spectral wraiths of ethereal dreams —
Its equivalent here just can not exists and
As this life has died, so have you by all means.

[Anonymous No.16739607]

>>16734292
These dwellings house no people anymore,
Their windows won't turn blacker than before.
The city's dead,
Its fleas are well fed.

The vanity nests behind every wall,
Every new door hides a new droll.
Air went deaf
From din's loud breath.

Faintly discernible remnants of words
Are drowning in cauldrons of skulls. World's at odds
With itself, it is ill,
Its time stands still.

In fear and in laughter into same burial mounds
The same glass is driving blindly inbound
Us all,
Sating appetite's call.

The windows are nourishing paintings of dust,
Every corner has crypts made of concrete and rust,
Gaping maws,
Ready to gnaw.

Maybe it all was indeed worth the candle,
But the burning of bridges was somehow mishandled.
Wind steals smoke
And it can't be revoked.

[Anonymous No.16739940]

Pangea once more, briefly,

Harmonious states of matter,

Weavers of time molding elements into being,

Each a timeline of multiverse travel,

Udon.

[Anonymous No.16740329]

>>16728287
>>16728305
I see a million headed beast in every dream,
I'm tired of waking up at night with horrid scream.
And through the window all i witness is a clay
Furiously trying to achieve my mind's bay.

Each time i walk the streets i fear of every sound,
This nightmare never stops it goes on round and round.
This place of mine frozen in doubts shall i stand still
By the time poor kids of yours would bear your wretched will?

I see a million headed beast right by your back.
Still i am sane thanks only to a glass of Jack.
Right at me stare its hungry eyes driving me mad,
But awes me most is that those eyes belong your head.

I see the truth beyond the daily masks you hide
And all the lies've been spread to multiply your tide.
The wells of Sun and Moon with no return are lost
For our kind living the life of pitiful ghost.

Away of loathsome plague into myself i run.
Among its empty barks how would not tremble one?
Each day outside my home those corpses do i find,
Though won't my fears care i know their swarm is blind.

Million heads of those beast as its own took,
Blind it is not, thus can through all of them it look.
I know it seems as long ago i lost my mind
Though i did not, i know beast seeks my head to find.

Behind fake faces of just everyone i meet
It is awaiting every time i walk the street
To turn me one of you and take me in control
As its another dancing empty puppet doll.

But fear i can no more and neither i can flee,
The whole insane view is now revealed to me:
Too long ago for us it all was lost and done
And so in silence million headed beast had won.

[Anonymous No.16741409]

I shit

I fart

I shit

I fart

Alas I can shit no more

[Anonymous No.16742034]

The world sea is so black and gentle –
Only heaven takes after it once in a while.
An iron rod rustles into an isle:
Electricity wings its oily mantle.
With bellies white, backwards,
Dead angels, dead fish;
A fisherman, with his face in a ditch,
Masturbates into the water.
Lord Edgerton drinks his porter.
Tis november, my dear,
Let us bath in the sea.
Said the man with the fisherman's porter.

[Anonymous No.16742899]

There’s a slow fog
In the evening
Pressing its thumbs
Into your forehead.
Yet they’re all dressed so
Very nicely
And their thoughts are flowing
Without effort

And you’re just listening

To the same songs
That they’re singing
And the slang terms
That they’re slinging
As the crow flies
You catch it wincing
As the floor tries
It’s best to meet you.

Now these halls are thinning
And this house is too big for you to
Hide away

From the sad sting
Of the bottle
And the ash fading.
In the morning
There’s a sore spot
And earache.
And the thumbs press
A little harder.

[Anonymous No.16743877]

Such is the hellish deal
We have made with technology
Joy and happiness
Where suppoused to flourish

A rotary hammer next to my room
a huge building to be build

Friday night with all its fuss
Sex to be had

The families gossiping in the next apparment
Life to be lived

So much noise
Enough to make a lad mad

I want to destroy it all
I don't want to be labeled

[Anonymous No.16744060]

The urn of my former self;
My tears, flesh and blood
Are spilling out.

The lake which holds
The image of my face
Begins to distort
With the touch
Of my ashes.

The lake lays still;
But my image
Changes constantly.

Until it only shows
A familiar face.

The purity of a smile;
A small child.

[Anonymous No.16745280]

once i drank a lovers bits
and sucked upon their lushious pits
she brought along her beagle, fritz
who kibbled a riddle that none outwits

he barked at me for scrumptious chow
i told him, nay i made a vow
that once my lovers tryst complete
i'll feed him scrumptious eggs and meat.

he barked again as beagles do
and told me he would bid adieu
if i could answer questions four
hed leave to my ... corkscrew

"what buds in fall and falls in spring?"
"whos buzzes loud with no beesting?"
"who eats like shite and cries alot?"
"who can when other men cannot?"

[Anonymous No.16745312]

this is a poem for 4chan
specifically the /lit/ section
how I found it I don't know
but I write anyway,
while I shovel the snow

I made tea
and biscuit
and look outside to see bugs,
small bugs now
eating portions of their sorrow . what if

[Anonymous No.16745352]

tied up niggers
and fisting clowns

the bequeathed
dignity now a stain on your face

drizzling like pancake batter on your belly,
baby got back
but no ribs so now
i follow you into corridors in the light

fuck trannies
and stick the banana in your palm; we got work to do 1488

[Anonymous No.16745600]

this thread is a perfect example to why lit is shit

[Anonymous No.16745664]

>>16716945
>>16716944
very good OP

[Anonymous No.16745770]

>>16745600
This is the best kind of thread. The poems are shit – mostly –, but the posts are sincere and original.

[Anonymous No.16745849]

>>16717562
>>16729794
What's the conection between Hispanity and the Swastika?

[Anonymous No.16745990]

>>16745770
>–,

[Anonymous No.16746008]

>>16745990
Is it wrong?
Is it ugly?
Is there a better way?
Tell me; make my day.