Original Poetry thread!

[Anonymous No.4629510]

Hey /lit/! Let's have an original poetry thread!

I'll start out. I write poems on occasion, but I wrote a ballad once. I'll show you a few stanzas, which by themselves, could be considered poetry.

>‘Nevermore, nevermore, saith the man.
One more time I swear, then I’ll be done.
No more sacrifice for nation nor clan.
From now on, I shall speak with a smoking gun’

>‘Heaven is where you never grow old.
Purgatory is where your lives’ secrets unfold
Hell is where you go to cry for Eldorado’

Those are just a few. I have more, but htere shitty.

Now that we have the bad stuff out of the way, go thread, go!

[Anonymous No.4629521]

Well I fucked up on the green texting. Sorry guys.

[Anonymous No.4629552]

>>4629510
It does rhyme, but there is not rhytm in there.
The intonation is completely wrong. Just try to read that aloud and you will see.

[Anonymous No.4629563]

she was beautiful. Woodbark eyebrows,
moonlight skin and yellow,
iridescent pools of pleasure.

by the lake I saw her soul
reflected in the late-spring water--
squirrel entrails and feathers.

later, in the woods between
crunching leaves and pinecones
I felt the beat of her heart--

half-a-year after I hardly remember,
dispersed across forests and ether;
but that moment was eternal -
her low voice in my ear.

[Anonymous No.4629568]

get off the road, kerouac

your grind reminds me
of the beaten gender of our nation,
i think
i want your fingers gliding
inside out
my scribe, please take
your sea breeze
and scribble fibs
in me ‘til we have stories
once again.

[Anonymous No.4629571]

>>4629563
>Woodbark eyebrows
i like this description a lot.

[Anonymous No.4629641]

>>4629552
I am fully aware. There are valid reasons those two lines were removed from the ballad I wrote.

Any hints on how to edit the first one? I like the idea, but the intonation is horrible, as you said.

[Anonymous No.4629714]

Just trust me, when I lead you on
the never-trodden pathes down
to avenues of thick forest,
where long-forgotten melodies
lull roses in the evening gale.
.
Lets learn to float like dragonflies
and never will you weep again
and never will you pray for more
cause everything in abundance
the bramble bush is serving you.

A single owl with silent eyes
in branches from the fallen tree,
cries warning to the meddling guest
that other forces rule by now
in mouldy bog and gloomy creek.

Dead leaves under stagnant foot,
when finally you stop aghast.
Too late, my kid, too late by far
for second-guess and grave regret:
Too deep the woods, when evening comes!

[Anonymous No.4629725]

no,
WOULD rather stroke my
own cock than sit with eyes
closed, as you do.

waiting for a world
to do what’s wished a
perfect woman would.

it will come you remind.
Gangrene? sure.
I already have.

and will again, while
you wait, crossarmed,
for Worldgurl’s notice.

when, finally, a partner in
patience finds pearl-
eyed you, pleasure

will live short. as
partner, confused,
cracks your oyster;

payment for passion.
love? a circlejerk,
a deal.

World passes
by both of us,
and stares at me,
gently jacking off,

disgusted. But bats
no eye to a shade
with no shoe.

[Guru !M2clACoxQA No.4629761]

>>4629568
were you the one who did the poetry readings, and later posted her tumblr

[Anonymous No.4629792]

>>4629761
yes.

[Anonymous No.4629797]

Panera man, I got the bread
Gettin' brain, Walking Dead
Breaking Bad, break the bed
All profit, no overhead
You hatin' bitches is underheads

[Anonymous No.4629825]

>>4629797
Go to bed, 2Chainz.

[Guru !M2clACoxQA No.4629835]

>>4629792
I read through your stuff on Tumblr, it was a little out there

[Anonymous No.4629842]

>>4629797
>Gettin' brain, Walking Dead
Go home everybody, there's no topping this.

[Anonymous No.4629848]

>>4629835
out there in a positive or negative or neutral sense?

[Anonymous No.4629891]

>>4629568
>please take your sea breeze and scribble fibs in me 'til we have stories once again
His symbols and exaggerated prose? Granted that's if the speaker is literally referring to Kerouac. I like the line, but it stops the flow of the poem short.

>I think/I want your fingers gliding/inside out/my scribe...
This gets a bit murky depending on what you mean by 'scribe'. I want to say the speaker is talking about a writing utensil, but I suppose they could be calling (assuming again) Kerouac a scribe. Maybe expand on the image here.

>Your grind reminds me/of the beaten gender of our nation...
Strong start, even though some anons here might scoff at the line. I think it goes well with the theme of the poem, which I am going to venture to guess is something along the lines of how Kerouac is held on some sort of pedestal, even though his writing and beliefs are questionable. Granted, that could be way off.
Two suggestions for you though. Consider extending this poem, what you have works for the most part, but reading it aloud makes me feel like it should be longer. Also, consider how you break up your lines, and how you use punctuation to steer the reader. As it stands, it feels somewhat choppy.

[Anonymous No.4629906]

I smoked weed and felt groovy.

pale blueness pours
between sand and pebbles.

shallow water runs by my feet
making ripples and splashing;
I watch this and feel nothing.

stomping on the leaves again--
cold and rough dampness
along with acorns and berries;
I rest my feet in the sunlight to dry.

out of the woods, asphalt and concrete
sizzling on my toes and fingers.
it’s getting dark out-- all the houses light up
like confused cages of fire.

I get home just in time for dinner -
chinese food. Fortune cookie says
“happiness isn’t an outside job,
“it’s inside.”

[Anonymous No.4629914]

>>4629891
thanks for the critique! i really appreciate it.

i'm not really speaking directly of kerouhack, just general beat generation writers.
i mean i was thinking generally of brautigan while i wrote it. but it's a literal adoration poem meant for a person i don't remember.

[Anonymous No.4629931]

hey men, upend this!
----------------------

rape poem

thursday breakfasts are
always the same, except
for what we eat. you fuck
me on on the table then we
seat ourselves to our eggs
toast, left over roast.
then you boast about how many
times you made me come, and i
roll my eyes cuz you’re so dumb
boy. girls don’t get off on pride
they get off on dirty lies that
make us cry at night, we like to
get hurt because it reminds us
of being babes, touched where
we shouldn’t, needs untouched
when our mamma’s wouldn’t.

my mother gave my radio to
my rapist.
he was moving away but he
really just stayed in
the city and i saw him
at the grocery one time. he said
i looked pretty
and my eyes went shiny and rolled
back into my skull, like that night
he went to sully and grit me up with
tears and cuts and said: shhh little girl
can’t let ur mama hear.

i’m a dirty whore now,
but somehow still a fucking
bore. i don’t gore men out though
i wanna because i never fuck, the
thought’s mad alarming.
they’re many toothed piranha swarming
round my cunt eating me inside
and out until i’m not even
left with marrow. i should have
taken a right down that alley way
but hey
it was my fault right? i should have
put out, i mean up
more of a fight. fuck you, police man jones
u got loans out on that pussy you buy
you love to hear them cry
just as you hate that you didn’t get to
bone me first.

oh dear i’m cursed, so they told her.
he ripped my purse right off
my shoulder, gotta sleep in on
the streets again tonight and
start the fightin’ meets
and greets, but yeah i deserve it, i’m preserved
for you baby you’re my one and only rapist
for the evening
don’t you feel special. fuck
man, i gotta be leaving.
but you kick me in the gut
til i’m heaving.

believe me, says the cosmos
you’ll be okay, if you love me most.
then i died and i thought ‘well shit, you’re
a goddamned liar’
he said back to me that i really had
oughta been a bit better of a crier.

[Anonymous No.4629937]

Crumpled (Puzzle Fit)
Sheets of
Paper in the waste
Bin; crinkling
Memoirs
Told in
Full.

[Anonymous No.4629939]

>>4629914
>Kerouhack
Nice.

>Speaking of gen. beat writers
>Thinking of Brautigan
>literal adoration poem for someone else
You really do like your layers, huh? Also, nice keeping up with those lower-case characters.

[Anonymous No.4629946]

>>4629939
yeah i'm pretty superstructural. i appreciate your noticing.

everyone else hates my poems. they think i'm simple. :(

[Anonymous No.4629950]

>>4629946

I don't think you're simple. But you lack aesthetics.

[Anonymous No.4629954]

Noise bombs throw down newspaper stands
The mayor he throws up gets it on his hands
Infants run screaming down train station hallways
We'll never get home cause we can't work the subways

I'm fifty percent tired and fifteen percent angry
18 times left out in the cold collecting gangrene
What's in my water and why can't I taste it
What's stuck in my throat that won't let me say this

Piss drenched sneakers and bedazzled adolescence
Couch rugs and bulking throws no that doesn't make sense
My eyes they are magnets facing the south side
Turn them toward northwards and fears will subside

Lounged out lakeside I lay on my side
Grass green and bright white dandelion
Smells like summer sounds like bees buzzing
Wake up in Lysol to just about nothing

Plastic benches shared between strangers and friends
Shoot the shit wait for this ride to end
With numb guts and tight throats we speak of past lovers
But for me there's no plural I've never loved another

Not for lack of trying, I tried my best
I just never could quite feel the rest
Or maybe after the first,
I just had no love left

Infectious infatuations define my situation
Rainy soft smiles bring bitter elation
Grainy indie romance only in my dreams
Then not even,
when my dreams, they all snap at the seams
my dreams all snap at the seams

[Anonymous No.4629962]

>>4629950
Are aesthetics necessary? I mean, do poems have to be enjoyable and well-written and mellifluous and shit? What happened to no-rules po-mo uninhibited subjectivism?

[Anonymous No.4629970]

>>4629950
i am a pretty blunt writer but i can do pretty, i'm pretty sure.

maybe?
-----

my thoughts are premonitions.
i’ve been off&on
missions.
kissin’ my self
discovery
of lost islands.

is land lost?
yeah, i’d found
pounds of gold
but it was valueless.
without chickens
to trade or carvings i’ve made.

i’d rather stay near the shore
where i’m sure i’ll get
founded out by fish who
wish to be friends.

that’s the end of this one.
so let’s start anew again.

[Anonymous No.4629971]

(I am famous over my bad poetry)

Trojan Horse over an un broken plain
My heart is torn out in pain
Dual feelings of disappear and regret
Rush out like a sour vignette
To loose without a fight
your feelings are hurt and so are mine
relief from the blight
unable to recompense life’s brine
Carnal thought brought me awry
So close that I want to die
Before was nice
Your face has brought lice
The thought burrows in my mind
And comes in through still waters
BLAST my hind-
Sighted thoughts toward daughters

[Anonymous No.4629981]

>>4629954
hella fuckin' good imagery, my friend.

bit blocky, but that's alright if you don't want people to read thoroughly.

[Anonymous No.4629991]

>>4629981
Sweet, thanks. And ideally I'd like it to be smoothed out but hopefully that will happen with more practice.

[Guru !M2clACoxQA No.4629992]

>>4629848
Not sure exactly, just not my cup of tea. I'll give you that there were some interesting parts - which I don't remember - but it was 2edgy4me.

[Anonymous No.4629998]

My teacher is a fucking asshole
And I did not fucking ask you
What you thought of my, paper teeth

And why'd you send these things to me
Could you not clearly see I was happy?
I was mostly happy.

Now you see I'm sad and ask me
What should you do to help me out
And I don't know what to tell you now

Start with words move on to sounds
Feed me and I'll chew it down
With paper teeth I'll chew every word,
Every noun
And every verb

Sing them like you did to him
I'll open up and let you in
into this bleeding heart

The window are smashed
The carpets torn
ceiling fell apart
Ruins born
out of heartbreak
partial, half-hearted heartbreak

Last time you were here you wrecked the place
I look at these walls, at your face
And I can taste dried blood

I know that you can't stay for long
But I've wanted this, I've wanted this for so long
I guess we both wanted this for so long

With cardboard lips we kiss
And cut our tongues on paper teeth
The words we sing they spurt and bleed
Through the air, down to our feet
and in a puddle we are splashing in sentences that could have been
alive.

They could have been alive.

[Anonymous No.4630002]

>>4629992
>but it was 2edgy4me.

i've lived a rough life. strife knifed into me, you know? it's hard to write 'bout pretty posies now.

[Anonymous No.4630007]

>>4629946
I've enjoyed what I've seen so far. Reading your work also pushed me to go back to creating. I feel like I've been slacking.

[Anonymous No.4630013]

>>4630007
that's great; i'm happy for you.

share something you've written?

[Guru !M2clACoxQA No.4630024]

>>4630002
I just remember some of your word play seemed forced because you wanted it to rhyme.

[Anonymous No.4630034]

>>4630024
mmm, maybe. i just love rhyming 'cause often it is goofy.

i don't take myself too seriously. there are poems that are important and i take care of them, while others are a bit more off the cuff.

[Anonymous No.4630036]

>>4630013
You'll be able to figure out who I am, but whatever. Just wrote this one.

Images

Black repeating lines on white-lined paper

Form shapes that seem without meaning.

Over and over, all over the page.

Circles, Triangles, and Abstracts clutter

Into an image bloated with ink;

What is it they ask? Where is the color?

Ink-coated portals litter the pages

Threatening to swallow viewers into

Collected renderings of subconscious revelations

Fueled by chemicals driven into the brain.

Memories of Images conjured in dreams, leaking into the day.

Left on white-lined paper as black repeating lines.

[Anonymous No.4630038]

>>4630036
Sorry had to edit it real quick...

Images

Black repeating lines on white-lined paper

Form shapes that seem without meaning.

Over and over, all over the page.

Circles, Triangles, and Abstracts clutter

Into an image bloated with ink;

"What is it?" they ask, "where is the color?"

Ink-coated portals litter the pages

Threatening to swallow viewers into

Collected renderings of subconscious revelations

Fueled by chemicals driven into the brain.

Memories of Images conjured in dreams, leaking into the day.

Left on white-lined paper as black repeating lines.

[Anonymous No.4630040]

>>4630036
hah, you're cute.

keep working at it. i really do think you have a knack at writing fiction.
please don't capitalize the first letter of every line!!!! big no-no

[Anonymous No.4630048]

>>4630040

>please don't capitalize the first letter of every line!!!! big no-no

[Anonymous No.4630078]

>>4630040
I mean, everyone has their rules, I've just always written poetry that way. Most of the poetry I've read is written that way too. But, thanks for not shitting all over me. Anyway,

black repeating lines on white-lined paper

form shapes that seem without meaning.
over and over, all over the page.
circles, triangles, and abstracts clutter
into an image bloated with ink;
"what is it?" they ask, "where is the color?"

ink-coated portals litter the pages
threatening to swallow viewers into
collected renderings of subconscious revelations
fueled by chemicals driven into the brain.
memories of images conjured in dreams, leaking into the day.

left on white-lined paper as black repeating lines

...better?

[Anonymous No.4630091]

>>4630078
no i mean, if a word is meant to be capitalized in prose, then capitalize it.

capitalizing every line is garish and blocky, sorry.

[Anonymous No.4630098]

>>4630091
It's not prose though...haha guess I do have work to do.

[Anonymous No.4630118]

>>4630098
no i know that.
oofda my words don't go far.

start of a sentence or proper noun and other various words that hold meaning should be capitalized (unless you don't care to capitalize).

it just ends up detracting from more important words. at least that's what i've been taught.

[Anonymous No.4630136]

>>4630118
Yeah, you're right. A lot of poets however, will capitalize the beginning of each line. That used to be the norm (at least from my reading anyway), but these days, it is a stylistic choice.
Any other crit. you can give me on it, besides that?

[Anonymous No.4630201]

>>4630136

no because she's retarded

[Anonymous No.4630276]

streetlights meet squinted eyes
shatter into the brain
dashboard hums,
quiet green
radio shouts the refrain

white lines pass below
wet dog, summer air
city breeze-
another hour to go
-rushes in

[Anonymous No.4630559]

can i get some feed back please, just wrote this for fun, not a pro writer

*************************

Tossing and turning night after night, is there an end in sight
When sight becomes so blind a new beginning is shadowy
Shadowy as the memories that pass with every minute
A minute is all it takes to forget, to find an end
But how long until the beginning we want appears
The body is a reflection of the scars of time
Most self-inflicting scars, none to deep though to stop time
Another night passes, another scar closed
My beginning is near
************************

[Anonymous No.4630568]

>>4630201
she really is.
that whole "strife knife" shit was just so fucking obnoxious.
and if she didn't take herself seriously why does she consistently rationalize and get defensive whenever anyone insinuates that she's a try-hard.

[Anonymous No.4630582]

>>4629714
beautiful rhythm on third stanza

[Anonymous No.4630647]

When I awake to grey dawn
Rain.
And regret. Bleeding knuckles
Am I Ares or am I Cain?

[Anonymous No.4631744]

Will give thoughts on others, later.

Here, torrents of water carved, here shattered pigeons lie broken in the grass.
Between the sharp hill and gentle field, barely able to cope with such extremes.
Slowly withered but remaining, whether the waves crash or no.
The sheep path winds through the years, rusted machines, rotten wood, all sharing the space in silence.
But proof of human touch, of subsistence carved in the hills, gives ancestral pride in the land I live.

I step back and take it all in.

[Anonymous No.4631776]

>>4629970
Differentfag here; you read a few of my shitty poems in your thread. This one also feels choppy and a little bit like rap. There's nothing wrong with that if it's what you want to go for, but I'm not sure it was.

[Anonymous No.4631781]

>>4631776
nearly all of my poems are meant to be read quickly (i understand that they have to stand for themselves but they were written for performance), so i'm happy with that idea.

[Anonymous No.4631784]

This is a poem i made in high school, my friend forced me to go to some extremely gay poetry thing after school (being held by a jamaican).

It went something like

'For whom the sun rises with tawny hue,
That over the meridian wakes the metropolis
And pour forth with great warmth,
To illumine your the day of your birthday'

it was a bit more flowery then that.
very nostalgic, all the fools there didn't know what illumined meant and thought I was stupid except one english teacher who really liked me after.

such nostalgia

[Anonymous No.4631791]

>>4630136
I tend to use capitalisation as a crutch to help the reader distinguish line breaks from enjambments, but I think it's a stylistic choice; some poems look better without any capitalisation and some look better with strict capitalisation. If you're going for a postmodern sort of thing, I'd go for the former; the latter if you want a more classical style.

[Anonymous No.4631792]

Cringe: the thread.

[Anonymous No.4631808]

>>4629954

Phenomenal work

[Anonymous No.4631811]

>>4629510
All this American poetry I read is

Fucking boring.

No wonder it doesn't sell?!

There's no value and it smells of decadence

Every editor that passes this shit off

Is pretentious as fuck and couldn't hold a real job.

I'm talking to you, Ashbery.

I'll cut off your hands

Then I'll throw you into an American prison for 10 years

And ask you to write 7 lines.

What will those lines look like, you fuck?

And Langdon: he's neither a model nor incomprehensible,

You pompous overpaid jackass,

He is just a toddler with a crayon doodling on the wall...

...Oh! (insight)

I am the pretense that you idiots go on and on about.

[Anonymous No.4631832]

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Pointers from Beat Poetry
Say –

Kerouac –
What was it you said about buddahs

And of the blues


Ti Jean –

I have to talk

Disembodied poetics w/you

Cuz the mind is jaded

It needs a fix
Through bleak blue sad eyes

You once said

In back of the real

“Look

At the sunflower”
And Allen knew what to look for

As usual

And wrote a sutra about it


So what’s w/ the state of writing

Today? How do you get on with it?

I'll drink myself into oblivious fever.


You never answer is all

Ti Jean --

It’s only in the hum of the locomotive

The sound of silence, anxiety

The low volume of a world bathed in awe

That I hear your reply

A consummate conversationalist


Shall we walk together

Like this

Alone,

As the world erodes

Around us


Dear father,

Ego-ideal,

Is that your ghost

Wandering,

Unintentionally

On Lupine Rd.

In the slums ofLowell?

[Anonymous No.4631882]

Beneath the sultry drizzle
and belly bound clouds
a bagpipe cries an audible cry
sweeping and weeping along the moor
past pious people
past faithless lovers
past the past and present
and future soon enough
the melodious wail of that instrument
like all things
is but on a road
that necessarily should be prefaced
yet is not, with the disclaimer
"dead end"

[Anonymous No.4631926]

Showering in sumptuous summer rays
taking for granted my sight
my legs
my, oh my patience
withers with each non-step
beads of sweat collect on the small of my back
and i drool further, grin with each step
one by one, the line segments defect
one by one, I count the seconds
then, my waiting pats my rumpled back
and I have the chance to say
"chocolate please"

The solid creamed sugar snuggles into my cone
parlor Pat rounds off the edges
letting only enough to hang to require:
quick attention
ravenous honey-baked lust

Star and treat meet
fighting, clashing, battling for dominion
yet one has hope, the other has not
for lick by lick, the savor slips slowly
abound by squamous tissue
restricted by desire
met with momentary love
only to be shat out, soul and all
never to be loved again

[Anonymous No.4632304]

The air chokes the throats of
Those who break stone. Silence
Stuttered only by
The crack of rock
And dull moan
As we toil away in the merciless mid-afternoon sun.

The guard, he watches us,
And with fiery eyes
Brands the surface of
Our weary skin,
And he curls
His face into a mask of cold contempt.

'Shaded by the laurel tree, I
Watched the mouth of Summer prise
And kiss the leathered flesh of men,
With bloody lips she stained all ten.
Their blackened brows made damp with sweat
Are darkened by the latching dreck
dug up by men of guiltless grin,
An albatross hung round each neck'.

'The convict with the crooked nose
Did break his wife with violent blows,
Who swanned about with easy hips
And flirted with now silent lips.
The giant man who steams in heat,
He dragged his daughter by the feet
Into the dark and wearied night,
Her screams unheard to his delight.
The stranger with the gleaming eyes
Stood trial for his vile crimes
For base desires, conscience gone,
The blooming flesh he did wrong.’

'These men, these fiends of tainted soul
Show no remorse in endless toll.
Somehow saved from death's own chair,
They take their joy in our despair.'

He sees us by our stripes only.
He does not see the tears
As they dislimn in sweat
As water is in water.
We have fallen so far
And our guilt falls faster than us.
Falling, and falling, and dying in rebirth,
Becoming something like rain
On our darkened consequence.

So we toil away in the mid-afternoon sun,
Paying our debt in currency that neither
Buys back what we have taken away,
Nor what we ourselves have lost.

[Anonymous No.4633072]

>>4631792
>I am too cool to embarrass myself to an anonymous community for the sake of improvement

You sound nice

>>4631808
Thanks a lot dude

[Anonymous No.4633486]

I was born with rosary cried
I will die by a priestly side
though I did live more profane
when death came by I'd say to my brain
The lord is love, I have never forsaken him
just moments before I was drinking, awaken them
demons of hell, pull me down
angels above will lift my crown
remember me well for all that I've done
remember my sins so that you shall do none

please forgive improv poetry

[Anonymous No.4633546]

Each night all answers to my life elude.
When better I should sleep I lie and brood.
I ponder and I think, but do not sleep.
and write this poem,
which is not very deep.

[Anonymous No.4633591]

>>4629510

I rested in the tickling rays
of the fiery eye that watches all
waiting for a blink

Finally, it comes
and the velvet dome is locked
in place for the night

Tiny pricks of light
as if the angels' spears
had poked through Heaven

and through those openings
God sprinkles the Earth
with the seed of curiosity

and man partakes.

[Anonymous No.4634031]

metacle marijuana

always get friends to turn
on when you want joints joined
together with spit and
placed in purple plastic
coned vials. i collect
any thing that contains myself,
i sew and need some help sometimes.

these are plastic party purses,
perfect for keeping chemical collages
college chem teachers cook up
in labor lodges.

bubble gum just doesn't
do it for me anymore, gotta
gum down acid or i feel
acrid. the scent of desperation
perspiration. at least i don't smell
like junk most days, unless
i'm with my jazzy funk friend
fumblin' on the keys, bored.
ya know what? i only fucked
up 1/of/2 times i tried it.

once i hit myself ten times without
wining too much
i did a lot of signing while
drinking Black Coffee down then
puking them back up.
they all stared at me while i was being
the world, beating my old
medical records. sure i swelled
a bit but who doesn't when strung
out in strained galls?

you kept simulating inside my roots
chalkin' it up to a soiled
water table. i was never very
stable anyways i gotta get golden
now. i'm not low-brow; you follow
fellow towers? "of course, mad man"
he says as he cowers.

[Anonymous No.4634038]

>>4634031
*purging

not puking. that needed correcting, sorry. :(

[Anonymous No.4634095]

>>4633591
>fiery eye

it'd be better as "firefly"

i'd change "it" to "she" in the first line of the second stanza.

i'd do "angel harpoons" instead of angel's spears but just because i don't know any angels who carry spears instead of harps, plus alliteration.

maybe do:
"and through opening
God up, we're gifted
the weed of curiosity

an man partakes."

overall i liked it enough to bother suggesting alternatives.

[Anonymous No.4634360]

this needed some heavy edits but now it's where i want it to be. please critique me!

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

metacle marijuana

always get friends to turn
on together when you want joints
joined with spit and
placed in purple plastic
vials. i collect anything
that contains myself,
i sow alone but need some help
come harvest time,
filling plastic party purses
perfect for keeping a line collage
college chemists cooked up
inside their labor lodge

bubble gum just doesn’t
do it for me anymore, gotta
gun down acid or else feel
acrid: the sense of desperation
in perspiration. well
at least i don’t smell
like junk most days, unless
i’m with my jazzy funk friend
fumblin’ on the keys,
gettin’ bored but ya know what?
i only fucked up
half the times i tried it

once i got hit ten times (crimes unreported,
i couldn’t afford it) and sin-signed plenty.
drinking black coffee, without much screaming,
they smiled so warmly but made my well
start freezing. surely, i’d iced over some,
but then again, who wouldn’t
if vocal chords got strangled by
cheap rum as shots of spoiled come
assimilate my inside roots, please quit
chalkin’ it up to a soiled
water table. i was never very
stable anyways i gotta get golden
now. i’m not low-brow; you follow
fellow towers? “of course, mad man”
he says as he cowers.

[Anonymous No.4634402]

Would love some feedback on this.

I saw your haircut in a storefront
The choppy sides and perfect bangs
I loved the way it framed the models cheekbones
The blank expression on her face

So I stormed inside and asked to buy it
But I got told it's not for sale
I quit my thinking and I decked the sales clerk
Stole the wig and ran like hell

So I figured I should come and show you
So I kept running towards your house
Then I remembered I don't have his address
At least not the guy you sleep with now

So I headed home to get collected
To rid the red flushed in my face
Took out my notebook and I sketched you smiling
I like to think of you that way

And I hung your haircut on my doorframe
Beside your shirts and all those cards you sent
I turned the light out and I sunk in slowly
Counting sheep and breathing hard again

But when it comes it's way too quickly
And it busts apart the faith I've grown
See I can't stop myself from hurtin' you
So I guess I won't

[Anonymous No.4634435]

>>4634360
I love this

[Anonymous No.4634438]

>>4634402
fucking creepy. keep that sort of thing to yourself in the future.

[Anonymous No.4634443]

>>4634438
Creepy in a good way or a bad way? I have something else I'd like to share as well.

Where's your heart lie
When you're lying next to me?
Does it murmur your uncertainty?
Does it beat to keep the rhythm of the doldrums?
You've been banging them for months
You sure were something
Before I bled you of your love
Your love . . .

Where's your heart lie
When you're lying next to me?
Does it lie inside a fantasy
Of us living blissfully swallowed in denial
Naive to who I was before I fucked it up
And stripped you of your love
Your love . . .

What's your heart think
Think about you and me?
Does it blame you for settling?

When I was good
You wanted loving every morning
Now you hardly give a fuck
Goddamn, what's wrong with me?
I'm ruining your love

[Anonymous No.4634446]

>>4634435
thanks! any parts or reasons in particular?

[Anonymous No.4634521]

>>4634443
Questions sound cheesy IMO. I try to avoid them: My 2 cents. Only one of the poem I would keep is
>Goddamn, whats wrong with me?

[Anonymous No.4634530]

>>4634446
I really like how you paint pictures with your words without using pretentious and obscure language, some interesting rhymes/wordplay/alliterations. I find it very relatable since your writings portray my lifestyle and feelings very well and in a fairly witty way.
I'd like to hear more of your work

[Anonymous No.4634535]

Benedetto Croce once said that, after the eighteenth year of birth, there are two kinds of people who write poems: real poets and bumbasses

[Anonymous No.4634767]

>>4634530
wow, you saying that really means a lot to me as most of /lit/ thinks i deserve to fall into a lake.

http://gracesofcephisus.tumblr.com/

this is my tumblr.

[Anonymous No.4634965]

>>4634360
>once i got hit ten times (crimes unreported,
>i couldn’t afford it)

This is fun. I'm assuming it's taking hits of acid as well as actual physical violence? Really well-done double meaning.

>jazzy funk friend
Well, this one's not too subtle. Hah.

>fumblin’ on the keys, gettin’ bored

Bit of an obvious play on words, but I think I still like it.

[Anonymous No.4634976]

>>4629510
Sequence

Electronic flashes spark across
the many wires on a green plate
Jove commands the diatonic values
What is the connection ?
What is on the screen ?
the letters
the colours
virtuous virtuality
attests to the reality of sparks
the decay of time
changing values split to a spaced and metered measure
how does it connect
the 1010101010 pathogen
HACKS virtuality
ScREwEd ViRtuaLiTY
SCrEwwwwwwwwwwwed sparks
the terror of that world comes through
the pathogen changed my sparks
my green plate is invaded
I feel sick.

[Anonymous No.4635009]

>>4634767
Your poetry isn't bad. It's euphonic, there's a lot of interesting phrasing, there's the beginning of a personae generated from poem to poem, but there's a lot of flaws you refuse to acknowledge while being as obnoxious as possible.
You deserve to fall into a lake because you dismiss everyone who criticizes you by either insulting their intelligence without refuting any points they make, or by resorting to the oracular authorial method of saying "I did it because of this reason" without understanding that them missing that reason is a failure of your writing. You also make threads about your poetry, and show up in every poetry thread demanding we review you because you reviewed us, and when you don't get any attention you call attention to the fact you're a girl by posting pictures or reading out loud so lonely /lit/erates will snuggle up.

[Anonymous No.4635053]

>>4634965
thanks. this was about a pretty specific experience, so it's a bit self-referential. i'm surprised it's been well-received.

plus i wrote it after reading six pages of naked lunch if you can't tell.

>>4635009
i know i've been annoying re: my poetry. mostly just workin' towards exposure as i learn to write better.
i have a brilliant copy-editor and we usually contain most mistakes but i do appreciate when my attention is drawn to something glaringly wrong.

i play a character more than anything else.
---------------------------

this just got written and hasn't had any edits yet:

purgatory

firestorms scatter
my cat's cashed ashes;
the forest still stands
barking burned words
for soar-lashes.

the lore i learned is
falling apart it seems-
they purloined my coat
kittens can't hiss
cute kisses in dreams
during war.

ship me out on the river
lethe.
please don't worry,
i've already forgotten
thee.

[Anonymous No.4635099]

This is a haiku
written because I love you
That is, this haiku

[Anonymous No.4635110]

>>4635099
In summery, fall-
ow the rules of Haiku and
mention a season.

[Anonymous No.4635121]

>>4635099

I wrote this haiku

mainly because I love you

and mainly to share

[Anonymous No.4635136]

>>4635110

Or i'll be a jew
and mention two, winter and
spring, to be like you.

[Anonymous No.4635148]

>>4635110
this is good commentary.

[Anonymous No.4635152]

>>4635136

Be welcome here, we
like your kind. We value not
foreskin, but mind. Yo.

[Anonymous No.4635154]

>>4635053
First anon that responded to you earlier, thanks for linking your blog. I'll be reading it through. I genuinely think they're very good and I'd buy your book if you had one.

[Anonymous No.4635189]

darkness shining bright in a moldy autumn loom
driftting leafs on the surface of our souls
a question like waves in the wind
pretentiousness is filling my breath
exposed like a concrete wall in a cold city night
heavy snow on a tree bending in the shame
like freezing birds the wind thine blame

[Anonymous No.4635193]

>>4635154
that's quite a compliment, do you have any words written that i could look at?

once (if) i get everything to where i want it, i'll probably self publish a collection of 60 works and sell as an ebook for like $5 or something and take my tumblr down. i already make physical copies as zines and it'd be nice to have a mail-order deal going on. but i'm a bit paranoid for that.

[Anonymous No.4635195]

>>4635189
>darkness shining bright in a moldy autumn loom
>driftting leafs on the surface of our souls
>a question like waves in the wind
>pretentiousness is filling my breath
>exposed like a concrete wall in a cold city night
>heavy snow on a tree bending in the shame
>like freezing birds the wind thine blame
>
>alone

fix'd

[Anonymous No.4635202]

>>4635195
please no why did you do this to my poem? this is worse than painting a smiley face on the Mona Lisa

[Anonymous No.4635208]

>>4635202
(please don't think the annoying lady with poems did that to your poem [my ego oh no].)

[Anonymous No.4635211]

>>4635202
Adding a line of same-genre parody to a pre-existig parody is like defacing a painting?

I'll delete the post if you would like, but I think you may be overreacting.

[Anonymous No.4635287]

>>4635208
>>4635211

i feel hurt
this was actually a great poem
it feels defaced and dirty to me i cant even look at it anymore
and deleting your post wont help
i turn of the light in my home

feeling nothing but...


alone
^-^

[Anonymous No.4635309]

>>4635287
I just tried to delete my post on the off chance you were being serious (albeit in a tongue-in-cheek tone), but apparently I can't delete a post that old.

If I have caused you suffering, well, you're a poet so you really ought to get used to suffering.

(And seriously that was the bane of my college lit magazine friends, the pretentious trailing "... alone" as the sole word in the last line.)

[Anonymous No.4635314]

I was on /r9k/ and they were having an argument about warm/cold milk in cereal and an anon posted the following. Its actually better than anything here. Wtf /lit/

"Milk As Chilled as the Moon-filled Air"
By John Milton

Empty eyed in the cafes corner,
Milk from fired microwaves,
Sizzled and scorched warmer
My hand after shaken i forced stay

I thought of nights gone, memories heavy as lead
Fell to my knees and covered my head,
Rising, gliding into the night's tear
Remember'd the milk chilled as the moon-filled air

[Anonymous No.4635370]

Posted these the other day. They were both written in ~10 minutes and have not been edited since, so they are extremely rough.

-----------

O, but she would have been best loved by me,
Aye, she cut my heart most clean,
And now my mind doomed to contemplate what might have been,
If my I and her I were forged into we.

O Fate, why drove you her into another man's arm?
I do not curse that man, for by fate was he chosen,
To cleave to his breast her whose hair is golden,
And who am I to curse the life who great Fate does charm?

O Lord, keep her blessed, never desert that would-be saint,
As her body grows old, keep her lovely soul pure,
And as I grow old, O Lord, I Thou must ensure,
That her soul hath flourished and her heart kept from taint.

My childhood days are over, days of easy cheer are at an end.
I have drank the the cup of pleasure to the bottom.
Sweet Spring will not satisfy, nor wise and eternal Autumn;
Virtue now is all my care, Truth and Goodness is my friend.

Yes, O Lord, keep her beautiful.
Make that man who hath taken her strong and true.
O God, I have but one prayer to make my withered heart renew.
Make me a Man.


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


I languished my days all alone,
When her sweet vision shook me through;
My life took on a different tone,
When only her could I pursue.
An awful insight troubled me:
What if over many seasons,
Her angelic beauty flees me?
And my angels turn to demons?
Then God Almighty gave me rest,
A glorious sight was I shown!
All souls to God belong so blest.
I settled my love in God's Throne.

Take heart, when all love deserts love,
The cure for love is just more love.

[Anonymous No.4635439]

LOGIC I AM NOT YOUR BITCH

LOGIC I DO NOT WANT YOUR DIRTY MONEY

LOGIC I WATCH VIDEOS OF CHUBBY GIRLS EATING CHEESECAKE TO AROUSE MYSELF BEFORE I MASTURBATE
I'M NOT ASHAMED

LOGIC I SPEND MORE TIME THINKING ABOUT AESTHETIC THEORY THAN I DO PROVIDING FOR THE PACK
AM I A BAD MAN?

LOGIC I HAVE GROWN SCARED OF MY OWN FACE IN THE MIRROR

LOGIC I CAN NO LONGER COMMUNICATE COMFORTABLY WITH STARKEST SINCERITY OUTSIDE OF THERAPY

LOGIC EVEN NOW I AM SAD TO BE SOBER

LOGIC IT WAS YOU THAT BROUGHT ME DOWN THIS ROAD

LOGIC YOUR STRAIGHT LINES TO NOWHERE FRIGHTEN ME

LOGIC I LOVE YOU BUT I HAVE TO CUT LOOSE

[Anonymous No.4635452]

>trying to express your personal feelings in poetry using a deliberately haughty and outdated lexis
wow nerds

[Anonymous No.4635482]

>>4635370

jist dinna bather pal

[Anonymous No.4635570]

>>4634360
I really like it, especially the last stanza. It all comes together nicely, and manages to be open to interpretation but has obvious effort put into it.

A+ good job

[Anonymous No.4635579]

I think many of you can relate.
The only thing faker than me
is the shit I write,
about just how fake I can be.
And this isn't a clever confession,
wrapped in rhymes and syntax.
It's not even a poem
it just feels,
a little less pathetic,
when I write with line breaks

and space into stanzas.
Tortured writer
behold,
such emotion
the sad little boy inside of me
smashed to pieces melted down and stabbed into pages
so narcissistic that I'm too good for sadness
can't even be sad without trying to immortalize it
capture this moment like a snapshot in letters,
because they need to see it,
need to see just how tortured and depressed you are
plant these seeds and next season harvest their sympathy
and all this self loathing and all this pity
all this staring in the mirror
i hope the flower they name after me is pretty

[Anonymous No.4635583]

fallen suljah

why'd you have to go and unravel his mortal coil
now your bitch's pussy i am obligated to spoil
why'd you have to go and take another soul-ja
i remember the days when i used to hold ya
and i water the rose growing out of the concrete
with a tear that flows from soft cheek to shiny brown feet
i hope im in your dreams while you eternally sleep

in a shiny thug box i keep your picture
at first i must have hid it from her
but now she dresses up like you
and i dress up as biggie too
and we kiss
in the moonlight
and when we fight
we do it with sex whips
and i shake my pasty hips
same hips you used to kiss
with african american lips

she'll never be you
even with the big black strap on
she'll never be you

i made her leave.
she's living with her mom.
i loaded this dildo into my shotgun
wait for me baby, wait for me please
im on my way

[Anonymous No.4635591]

Principle rode down to fisherman's cove
With a black cat in his hands
he was quiet man, he said
follow me if you can
he said, follow me while you can

the ugly dogs in bright white dresses
taught us all the lifelong lessons
that we might build with just our guesses
a tower above the city's fences

and never know if the bricks we stand on
are made of hope or just breathe asylum
a hundred voices ask for answers
a hundred fools put up for ransom

and it's dead blue skies
we send our lovers
while they cry
and run for cover

fortunate son's brother
injects another
rusty overgrown
fistfull of summer

into his head
until he's not quite dead
just comatose
just locked in bed

our towers well
they won't collapse
just degrade
until at last

we're level with the city's fences
forgotten all our best defenses
losing all our favorite senses
still rise above the housing projects
so we don't see much
just more than them
it makes us think
we're better than them

it makes us wonder
if we'll ever see
principle again
that quiet man
I remember when

Principle rode down to fisherman's cove
With a black cat in his hands
he was a quiet man, he said
follow me if you can
he said, follow me while you can

Hey Argentina,
do you miss Quito?
ever wonder if
that girl will meet you

in dusty pews from clouded tops
seven angels sing non stop
answers grow like friendly weeds
when children smile and speak to me

Let's take the bricks out of our tower
build a house, build a hot shower
on the ground level listening
hear the prole lady start to sing

principle visited and did not find
what he had in his mind
we sat him down
we sat around

a round card table and told him how
we find that we miss him sometimes
across his face there spreads a smile
he speaks to us for a while


he says
how can you miss me when we just met
you hadn't even started following yet

we all ride back to fisherman's cove
with black cats in our hands
fire rains from the sky and we smile
wider than we've smiled in a while

hands joined with principle we said
we will follow you to the end
we'll follow you until the end

[Anonymous No.4635613]

This would probably be the best poem in the thread

Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up
and I'm shooting niggas quick if you hiccup
Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece
The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath
You're talking to the robbery expert
Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt
Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant
'cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent
Huh, goodness gracious the papers
Where the cash at? Where the stash at?
Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug
from the main thug, .357 slug
And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip
One in the chamber, 32 in the clip
Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel
before you find out how blue steel feel.
from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater
The money getter motherfuckers don't have better
Rolex watches and colourful Swatches
I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it
Man, niggas come through I'm taking high school rings too
Bitches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles
and when I rock her and drop her I'm taking her door knockers
And if she's resistant, baka, baka, baka!
So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too
Tell him that I took it, what the fuck he gonna do?
I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it
and if I said it the cocksucker won't forget it

[Anonymous No.4635962]

>>4635570
wow, i never got an A+ before.

i'm working on something but i can't quite pull even one stanza together.
---------
go weigh-in
the paststilles of filthy
car windows. ditchin' cigarettes,
i know i've sinned-
some where along the way
i fucked up
my clean slate. "please
don't berate me, sir,
i'm not macgyver." i'm just
in need of a vodka
screwdriver.

-----------
gotta mind that slant rhyme... :(


this is probably the hokiest think i've done in a while

[Anonymous No.4636732]

"My Wings"


The church bells rang
and time, for now, ran out
but I could not let it go
I grasped at forms of mist

When the last one sounded,
I saw you, nevermore
the wings that lifted me
had melted in the Sun

A search through memory
reminded me that you
were real, and all that was
indeed was once in place

But somewhere in the waves
of cancerous shadows
our tether was severed
and what was known was lost

I wept, a broken spirit
Earthbound in his prime
The photographs of yesteryear
and feeling, are what's left

but yet, I still survived
I breathed the wind I rode
ten thousand years ago
or was it yesterday?

When I was up, so high
I had no sense of loss
but now, I look, to distant stars
and feel some gratitude

The Suns and moons rolled on,
in binary ballet
and so did I, as well
Accepting what was now

Slowly, wounds of war did heal
though absence still had voice
I held the images of you in mind
against my wising flesh

And finally, that morning came
at last I let it go
the demon's teeth sank in no more
I had accepted change

Perhaps divinity, or some
great transcending force
looked down upon my struggle
and found my closure, good

And with the swoop, of one great wind
I gained my wings again
You came back here, and took my hand
once more, our halves are one

and I can fly again

[Anonymous No.4637261]

>>4636732
>The church bells rang
and time, for now, ran out

This idea would have been better if you had made it more literal.

That's my only specific thought. It was kind of derivative, but whatever, it is poetry. There was some nice imagery, but I'll let you figure out what is good and what's not.

[Anonymous No.4637393]

OK, I'll be hitting you with a couple poems of mine; still new to the field, I would like an honest opinion

Last night woke up to a fiery nightmare:
I was living inside a concrete cage,
Forcing myself to wake up every morning;
Forcing myself to fall sleep every night.
There was nothing else but the screen
Talking to the screen,
Learning from the screen,
Loving through the screen.
Sometimes it was so small it could fit in your palm.
Sometimes it made you feel lilliputian.
But always there, like a loyal servant.

I remember standing on the edge of my cage
To see hundreds of others:
Countless piles of concrete boxes,
With countless lilliputian men living in them.

That was when I closed my eyes
Trying to imagine how would another world feel like:

I tried to think of myself in front of the wild ocean,
Breathing upon me,
Allowing its air to fill my lungs;

Inside a calm forest
Feeling the sun caressing my skin
Blessing me with its warmth;

Then, in a prairie, so serene
That the beating heart in my chest
And the streaming tears running on my chicks
Were in perfect harmony with the earth's pulse.

My eyes were still soaking wet when I came to my senses
Of the painful vision
Of a man's needs.

[Anonymous No.4637395]

>>4637393

Certainly they exist.
Although it is a matter of perspective.
One man's hero might as well be another man's demon.
But they do exist.
They are out there, waiting, inspiring,
Sprouting out of everyday's hardships.

But who do we call a hero?
Someone who managed to live his life prosperous
Raising healthy children
And ending up dying content
In his old age
In his sleep?

No.

A hero must have embraced pain
Dragged on the streets
Beaten to death,
And torn apart.
That's the way one earns this title:
Through obliteration.

But we need them.
Alas, the world wants them;
With a desire so intense
That is constantly creating them.

[Anonymous No.4637400]

>>4637393 I names this one ''hope leaves
>>4637395 And this one The sound of violence

[Anonymous No.4637408]

>>4637400

Opus Dei

The enemy is here.
They won't sleep.
They won't rest.
They won't relent.
They want you to stop.
They want you to give in.
They want you to lose.
They want you to draw back.

Don't fear.
Don't pray.

I am here too.

I am the warming sun that melts away the snow.
I am the relieving breeze that dries your sweat away.
I am the raging storm inspiring the brave.
I am the sense of purpose.
I am the quite voice in your head telling you not to give up.
I am the violent battlecry scattering your enemies.

Pain is tempory.
Glory is eternal.
Courage is immortal

[Anonymous No.4637441]

She comes down the merry river and he floats along the way, crimson hue fill the cloud born sky with a touch of blue; perils and dangers, lovely scattering and sky-born flattering, loving eyes which gave way to loving souls,
Merry days filled with touching heavens, lie in bed in nights wake;
Times like this to regenerate, flitters of pale white glimmers; float about your vision like flower petals;
Wayward season;
Hesitate and find no reason, leads to dead ends and discontent pride, left alone in a dismal fright, rise again and find nothing left to fight

[Anonymous No.4637518]

Ate some eggs, had hiscoffee
Called his mum on the walki-talki
Told her to make him a shisha
For him to think a bit more clearer
She said no, so I did it myself
Made some mess, so she came to help

27 year-old kid who's wasting his life
Never wanted a job or a wife
27 year-old kid who wastes his mind
Reading books of fictional tales
Listening to adventures while lost in time
dreaming of sleeping inside whales
Waiting for death to see him out
always sick; too tired to even shout
inside cries of an empty den
Waiting for the wall to be shattered
But what what does it matter?
So now what? And then?

[Anonymous No.4637520]

>>4637518
She said no, so I did it myself
>he did it himself*
forgot to edit

[Anonymous No.4638139]

Remember someone always
watching as you either struggle
to keep on halo on or misplace it
in the morning ,
as it was once warm and luring,
now quite the unfriendly pocket,
(I hope he's not crossing fingers anymore)

[Anonymous No.4638321]

>>4629797
I thought it was amusing.
>>4629825
but then again... i like 2chainz
>catch up to my campaign
>coupe the color of mayonaise
>i'm drunk and high at the same time
>drinkin champagne on an airplane
etc

really... my guiding star is just how boring or interesting something is. It's like.. I think poetry is enough of a high art, inaccessible, without having to try to make it even more pretentious.
And.. I suppose... even with film, my favorite genre is 70s euro-horror (Jean Rollin, etc...), which, even though it's a product of knowing a bit about cinema and having seen many films, it's not really pretentious on any level...

captcha: sang layette (french translation 'blood baby')

[Anonymous No.4638336]

>>4629931
reposting because it's too good to be ignored.
it's more than catharsis,
people; it's a hella sharp steeple.
-----------------------------

rape poem

thursday breakfasts are
always the same, except
for what we eat. you fuck
me on on the table then we
seat ourselves to our eggs
toast, left over roast.
then you boast about how many
times you made me come, and i
roll my eyes cuz you’re so dumb
boy. girls don’t get off on pride
they get off on dirty lies that
make us cry at night, we like to
get hurt because it reminds us
of being babes, touched where
we shouldn’t, needs untouched
when our mamma’s wouldn’t.

my mother gave my radio to
my rapist.
he was moving away but he
really just stayed in
the city and i saw him
at the grocery one time. he said
i looked pretty
and my eyes went shiny and rolled
back into my skull, like that night
he went to sully and grit me up with
tears and cuts and said: shhh little girl
can’t let ur mama hear.

i’m a dirty whore now,
but somehow still a fucking
bore. i don’t gore men out though
i wanna because i never fuck, the
thought’s mad alarming.
they’re many toothed piranha swarming
round my cunt eating me inside
and out until i’m not even
left with marrow. i should have
taken a right down that alley way
but hey
it was my fault right? i should have
put out, i mean up
more of a fight. fuck you, police man jones
u got loans out on that pussy you buy
you love to hear them cry
just as you hate that you didn’t get to
bone me first.

oh dear i’m cursed, so they told her.
he ripped my purse right off
my shoulder, gotta sleep in on
the streets again tonight and
start the fightin’ meets
and greets, but yeah i deserve it, i’m preserved
for you baby you’re my one and only rapist
for the evening
don’t you feel special. fuck
man, i gotta be leaving.
but you kick me in the gut
til i’m heaving.

believe me, says the cosmos
you’ll be okay, if you love me most.
then i died and i thought ‘well shit, you’re
a goddamned liar’
he said back to me that i really had
oughta been a bit better of a crier.

[Anonymous No.4638576]

>>4638336
The consistency of your rhyming makes my envy drool.

This is anarchy poetry.

[Anonymous No.4638580]

Just kind of browsing because of what /b/ has done to my attention span.

>>4629568
>>4629725
>>4629931
>>4629937
>>4629954
>>4634402
Liked these

>>4635439
Loved this

All of my poems are performance pieces (I have nobody to perform for though) Would this thread be interested in me Vocaroo'ing them?

[Anonymous No.4638781]

>>4638580
do what you do, it's your mission. don't ask /lit/ for their permission.
---------------------------------

purgatory

firestorms scatter
sands of my cat’s
cashed ashes;
the forest still stands
barking burned
words for fascists.

mannequists laud
disorder and bending
their own theme;
i learned they turned
my coat into a goddamned
fashion scheme.

i spent this war
shipping out onto the river
lethe.
do not worry,
i have already forgotten
thee.

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

this needs to be less hokey. help please.

[Anonymous No.4638831]

>>4638781
I love this. I love the lack of in-between words. You get smacked word after word. Only bad thing is
>my coat into a goddamned
It doesn't flow as well, maybe just have
>my coat to a goddamned

--------------------------------------
He hath a number of flowers wanting picking
where his dance of feet will show them living
but piercing the wall
between myself and meadow
is sadly something i’m not willing.

[Anonymous No.4638836]

Blonde

Poets say it’s "like gold."
Yours isn't. It's too light,
Not as self absorbed.
Under the shine of light
Gold's color's unaltered
Gold. Your’s more like the light
Itself, blading through the
Gentle brushings of leaves
Against the leaves, and the
Winds, firm but flexible. Deep,
when light's been split by tree,
it shades and shades to the
Deep brown of roots. Only
here, you find the wires, gold
thin, of an apparatus
made for catching
bolts of lightning.

[Anonymous No.4638844]

>>4638781
Same guy as above. Seriously, this is really fucking good, especially when read aloud. The s's in the first stanza clash and then the "barking burned" gives you this slight break, it's so pleasurable. Then the second stanza too has its own sound to it, more straight sounding. Beautiful, my god.

[Anonymous No.4638863]

>>4638831
>>my coat to a goddamned
that adds more layers even (over to/into)

>>4638844
thanks so much! i was worried it was just going to be a "good" poem, more than just filler but never meant to be a thriller.

[Anonymous No.4638873]

>>4638831
>He hath a number of flowers wanting picking
>where his dance of feet will show them living
>but piercing the wall
>between myself and meadow
>is sadly something i’m not willing.

also fuck this is good too

[Anonymous No.4638887]

>>4629954
>Smells like summer sounds like bees buzzing
nice alliteration

[Anonymous No.4638891]

can someone please explain why people writing in prose are using stanzas?

>>4629563 this was my favourite not counting what i just said

[Anonymous No.4638902]

>>4638863
I honestly don't understand your poem, maybe after a few more reads (and it keeps luring me back in for another read) i'll understand. But from a vocab and rhythm standpoint, this thing is so pleasurable to read.

[Anonymous No.4638911]

>>4638831
>He hath a number of flowers wanting picking
>where his dance of feet will show them living
>but piercing the wall
>between myself and meadow
>is sadly something i’m not willing.

thats beautiful

[Anonymous No.4638924]

SONDER
1. mostly my spine feels like a broken wishbone, snapped. i saw you shirtless and sweating out jack daniels and i wanted my tongue to turn into a wishbone so i could drink all the whiskey and make you feel like i was coming true.

2. your eyes look like unhooking my underwear with the cracks in your teeth, they look like i’m showering in gasoline and your fingertips are matches. my eyes are UFOs circling and looking for intelligent life. not a UFO. a fox with one eye, an owl with no wings. all the animals left the yard.

3. the skulls on the walls of the mausoleum are laughing. they’re looking like they know your secret.

4. dirt under my fingernails, dirt under my skin, dirt under your eyelids.

5. the moon follows me.

6. two thirty am in the coffee shop and you walk in with your hair wet and your eyes wet and stare at the red circles on my skin and say “you look like a bullseye” and i think that’s a compliment.

7. (you are the arrow.)

8. the moon follows me. escape plan: burn all my books and go to london, sit on a park bench where nobody knows the sadness, drink coffee black as blood, smoke pot and look regal when old men frown. wrinkle your nose like you are wondering too. burn all my books, sit on somebody else’s kitchen counter and deal cards, every one of them a joker. make new friends, burn all your books, every one of them a joker. wake early enough to say hello to the milkman, drink the cream and throw the rest into your neighbour’s garden. the moon fell, the fox regrew an eye and the owl is flying icarus style. burn all your books, go to london, shed your snake skin, you are not the hunter

you are the mouse.

[Anonymous No.4638952]

>>4638902
well there's a lot to it but it's base memory was about being an extra in a political movement that didn't do what they say they do.
so basically the day in the life of everybody hah.

but past its sense memory it takes on a life of its own and has a lot of different layers you could dig into.

[Anonymous No.4638960]

>>4638902
Last critique. The last few lines, I feel, die off.
>do not worry,
>i have already forgotten
>thee.
I don't see the purpose, maybe it needs rewording.

And once again, your first stanza gives my brain an orgasm.
>firestorms scatter
>sands of my cat’s
>cashed ashes;
>the forest still stands
>barking burned
>words for fascists.

omg
>barking
the double meaning, so great.

[Anonymous No.4638970]

>>4638960
the water in the river of lethe (in the underworld) causes you to lose all memory if you drink it.
i liked the whole "fuck you goodbye" feel of the ending.

[Anonymous No.4638997]

>>4638960
>Last critique. The last few lines, I feel, die off.

i like the feel of that. it's fitting, i mean she's in a warship traveling in the underworld. of course she had to die off.

[Anonymous No.4639009]

How'd I do?


A match is lit
Then pressed to the tip of a cigar
He inhales the acrid smoke
And would know my allegiance

For Queen and Country
Loyalty to the crown
Perhaps a deeply rooted belief
Perhaps only a habit now

Smoke drifts away in silence
The rain patters on the cobblestone
Hands me a manila folder
They wanted me to have this

Past the minarets
Past the ziggurats
It is a long, twisting path
I am watched, but not followed

An agent of the Tsar
Hard eyes from years on assignment
Unblinking behind her long lashes
The colour of gunmetal

It is her Game now
But today she will be playing by my rules
A lazy sun sets in the west
The shadows run like ink

Silent tread through dust and sand
A turn of the head
No, I am no-one of consequence
Just a traveller on his way to the East

She suspects nothing
Picks up a carpet bag lying in the plaza
Unfastens the latch
Stifles a shriek

The clock slices off another hour
Twitch of a newspaper
Smoke rises to the open sky
My contact awaits my answer

He smiles, satisfied but cold
A carefully discarded envelope
He snubs out his cigar
Another move in the Game

[Anonymous No.4639076]

>>4638997
How did you guys figure this out. I must be bad at figuring out poems.

[Anonymous No.4639080]

>>4639076
i wrote it. it's in first person and it's about me but a part of me that doesn't really exist.

[Anonymous No.4639093]

>>4638902
>I honestly don't understand your poem, maybe after a few more reads (and it keeps luring me back in for another read) i'll understand. But from a vocab and rhythm standpoint, this thing is so pleasurable to read.

For me "firestorm" immediately evokes the firebombing of Dresden. So in the world of the poem it's like an attempt has been made to eradicate fascism (and the human ills it represents) by firebombing this forest ("facism" coming from the latin word for "bundle of sticks" i.e. a forest), but it hasn't worked, the trees are only burnt and can regenerate. All it succeeded in doing is killing an innocent bystander (as well as the ideas and emotions that cats represent from a mytho/psychological perspective).

This makes the first stanza a statement about the resurgence of oppression, hatred, xenophobia etc worldwide, calling into question that way in which the "war" against these qualities is being fought.

Those who share some of the blame are the "manarchists" who purport to be fighting for individual freedom, but in fact perpetuate the kind of patriarchal fascism so deeply rooted in societies that it resists attempts to burn it out. They are as fake as mannequins, valuing the fashionability of the counterculture rather than the actual fight for the future of mankind. That fashion might as well be fascism for all the use it is.

The poem ends on a somber, flat, kind of abrupt note. There's a feeling of the narrator/character/poet giving up, thinking of the dead, the worship (warshipping) they have done to honor their memory, but then that memory has already been forgotten given the feeling of futility and despair, I guess at the idea of the world turning in on itself, perpetual war, and there being no cohesive effort to avert the likely future.

[Anonymous No.4639105]

>>4639093
this is beautiful and brings me closer to my Self than i could express. thank you for that.

[Anonymous No.4639114]

A RAT PATTERS ACROSS THE ALLEY. MY HUNCHED PRESENCE SEEMS NOT TO ALARM IT. GRASPED IN MY HANDS IS A FLASK OF HALF DRUNKEN WHISKEY. AS MY HEELS TURN SLOPPY AND MY STEPS FROM TRUE TO IMPROVISED I LOSE COMPLACENCY.
MY BODY RIDDEN WITH POISON I GAZE UPON GARBAGE BAGS. THIS WILL BE MY RESTING PLACE. I WINED, DINED AND SLUMBER WITH RATS TONIGHT.

[Anonymous No.4639122]

I started feeling like a dull moment
with fire in the back of my fingers
as the sun shone in my face
and the house just felt like dinner

Take your meat with a fork
and feel like a fucking dork

[Anonymous No.4639134]

I have no way to introduce this, other than a possible mantra someone would repeat when really freaked- or something involving murders, rapists, and psychos (oh my). Or I can skip the film imagination and say it's crap... Idk, im going to curl up under a blanket

Be cool
Be chill
Be chill
Be Fonzie
Be ice cubes
Be ice cream
Don't scream
Be cool

[Anonymous No.4639155]

>>4634402
>>4634443

I am the creator of these. I'd like to share something else I finished up tonight. This is in my opinion the best thing I've made. The words just sound right with this one.

Can't find the forest,
too stuck on trees.
but now you're invested,
so I'm left pretending,
its all I can see

I asked for a window
to open my cell
you came as kaleidoscopes
climbing, colliding
you came as yourself

whether I'm ready
is not up to me
we go where we're ordered
to bunker or breach
to the close of creation
as shells and stories

a spiral staircase
Astoria, Queens
I claimed you while conscious
got sleepy, forgetful
and lost you in dreams

you folded you leg
right foot to left knee
you laughed at my back
said you could not believe
how violent I could be
just brushing my teeth

drove from the service
the truth in my teeth
my woman beside me
a clutch of hydrangeas
a strange sort of peace

in loss, I'm made certain
unveiled clarity
it's you I will marry
my lover, my family
you always will be

but every word
seemed to small to speak
so we watched the sky reach
ambivalent peaks
we made our projections
present and free

[Anonymous No.4639166]

>>4639155

i like this, and if it's stilted at times it still manages to have cute unforced rhymes

[Anonymous No.4639173]

>>4639166
Thank you. Yes clearly I'm not the best writer, but I'm always looking to improve. Any critiques you'd like to share?

[Anonymous No.4639185]

I was king of dread
upon my throne I rest.
Living fancy, love of broth
I pulled it upon myself.

Capital pleasure exceeded depths
Callous removal of spirit
upon nature my soul rests. within
the tree of quivering sorrow

But nigh utter his lips
Dropping upon the ground
Continue and die, for all who had
Revered the pastors oath

Shoo away the captured youth
Let them squander their deeds
Then come reason to live by,
for this they will accept.

Quotation led to quarrel
And upon some more.
They lived up to their names
and they did oppose their neighbor

Thus concludes the tale.
A man with no heart
A woman with true treachery
And boy with no pleasure
The lives of these teaches one many
and thus so.. and thus so.

[Anonymous No.4639206]

Carefully sidestepping his shadow,
His eyes slipped the mirror.
Here revealed his entire life:
From now, ad infintium.

[Anonymous No.4639561]

last one of the evening

(1) death, you make me fresh+ready
to strike
this match on this moonstone so that
the sun can be with her.
i moon over you, sun
day is pretty
nighttime is
prettier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

(2) go weigh-in
the paststilles of filthy
cardinal windows. ditchin'
cigarettes, i know
i've sinned-some
where along the way
i fucked up
my clean slate? "please
don't berate me, sir. i am
not macgyver." i'm just
in need of a good vodka
and maybe a screw
drive her.

[Anonymous No.4639605]

>>4639561
This is fucking incredible. The first part is romantic, the second sexual. They flow seamlessly together and the title fits them both perfectly.

I don't know how you did this.

[Anonymous No.4639623]

>>4639605
well i just astral projected and i think the cosmos gave it to me. i wrote the second half the other day and it wasn't working but then something happened.

oof, the mind is cool.

[Anonymous No.4639624]

>>4639605
samefag

[Anonymous No.4639628]

>>4639624
no sry mr. jealousy. you should see what people say about me&my poetry. half of them are /lit/ faved and i've only been posting a week.

[Anonymous No.4639630]

>>4638781
i wrote this too and

>>4638960
isn't me.

but envy has a way about it,....

[Anonymous No.4639775]

A glass between
I see you through;
A final drop
To part us lonesome two.

Woodwinds are those days whittling
a way or two,
to sing the blues on rivers where
I've placed my socks
and sunk my toes
drunk my fill of you. Still unaware
of the days that will fall behind
unforeshadow'd 'til I
stare back on the bottom of that glass.

[Anonymous No.4639804]

Je bois ma vie et
Vous mangez il.
De s'exprimer dans leur accent
Vous devez ressentir de l'amour
comme elles le font.

[Anonymous No.4639892]

>>4639804
>Je bois ma vie et
>Vous mangez il.
>De s'exprimer dans leur accent
>Vous devez ressentir de l'amour
>comme elles le font.
are you a native french speaker?
It's just that I don't speak a lot of french, but I know most of these words.

[Anonymous No.4639965]

Not the best I've written, but not bad for mostly asleep at 4am

3 drinks in a pew as the choir sings
2 from my flask and one from the priest
christ's bones unbroken hit my stomach like a rock
the collection plate is filled, with a gag and a cough
Just one more confession

One cigarette for you and one for me
If you didn't look like my mother, you'd be pretty
It isn't much, but it's pretty much what I got
The bar is empty and we're all that's left
Just one more concession

[Anonymous No.4641010]

>>4639630
It's funny that how once AnonA men get usurped by a woman, they start throwing aspersions.

[Anonymous No.4643641]

Cast away
this unpleasant gaze
and leave the wonder
I used to find.

Not so far,
these memories flew,
from the thought of lost
possibility.

[Anonymous No.4643668]

There is a wind:
it blows and then changes
Direction- suddenly becomes twisted,
and the children stagger by the window,
Hands out- begging for a drop of the wine,
the peasants of Galilee eat and feast merrily,
On the tender flesh of the Lamb deferred,
the mark of survival glows brightest- and then fades,
In the black night Sky cracking apart along the edges,
a single Eye glares down: the universal Observer!
Finding beauty in human misery and pathetic squalor,
the substitute Lord replaces all kindness with His law,
The cruelest babes are nursed with crueler milk,
those willing to live are enslaved by the majority,
Blind and deaf to the story of poor Job:
there is no law but the rule of the Lord,
And the Lord rules by His own law,
Force is the only right,
Everything that is, was; everything that was, was before;
And there is nothing new under the Sun.

[Anonymous No.4643692]

>>4638336
what is this SJW bullshit?

[Anonymous No.4643700]

>>4643692
alt lit. when you see it, curse it.

[Anonymous No.4644632]

>>4643700
fuck off this is art, says the creator.

[Anonymous No.4644702]

similar anthropology

sitting in my apologies
glittering out collages
i see in my eyes
swirling purple sunrises

the key to mankind is to be
kind and careful
dare to be full of life
and to forgive the strife
that they knived into you

staggering onto platforms
for trains headed westbound
lest they found us after
we got over our laughter
of murdering our rapists
who taped us up and threw us
onto blue mats.
tattered dresses with useless
steel swords underneath,
they stole them then stabbed us
with our sacred protection
(then again with their
own filthy weapon)

we had been blessed that day
holy water cross our chest. under duress
we were forced to false pray, on
our knees we opened our mouths
for the body of the anti
christ oh christ we’re lying
in a puddle of your blood.

come into me if you must.
don’t let me die again, i cry
withholding tears. i know i’ve
been sinning but my life is only
just beginning. aren’t i worth
saving just one more time, god?

i’ll repent in the morning.
but for now the lent grail is
calling
mary, please take
full care of this grace
in deep mourning. she would like
to merge into you,
if you could purge her of her.
“for behold, i was conceived
in sin, and in sin
my mother deceived me”

fin

[Anonymous No.4644720]

>>4638891
remember
ether
eternal
ear

doesn't seem versificationally intentional enough?

pleasure
feathers
heart
ear

this is not prose.