/lit/ - Literature

[just another faggot No.6121235]

any anon's on here who are into writing their own poems if so whats the best poem you've ever written or thought highly of?

[Anonymous No.6123204]

No, but I like these:

Hola niños, viva el arte;
Como en casa, en ninguna parte.

OR

El perro ladra, el gato maulla;
Y la araña pica, la muy capulla.

[Anonymous No.6123242]

On Blossom Street,
cold, legs-crossed, you are dreamt of.
Too many stories
composed of unvoiced fantasy.
Eight stories high,
stand above, watching the streets’ motion.
Your legs intersect with mine, haphazard,
as is accustomed to New England infrastructure.
Where is the order, I wonder,
wrapped around a tree like your body.

>my personal thing, i know it's bad but i like the metaphor

[Anonymous No.6123262]

>>6123242
I liked it

[Anonymous No.6123282]

>>6123262
thanks, anon. i like writing in general but i feel like i lack experience enough to write interesting shit. all i tend to write about is liking girls who don't even know who i am

[Anonymous No.6123286]

here's some poems I was writing earlier in my thoughts

--

Human beings are the least pleasant thing to look at,
I prefer the grime on these city walls and streets,
Which at least knows how to rest in its place honestly and peacefully.

When I was younger I used to hate insects,
because I didn't understand them with their little legs I thought disgusting.
But now I sympathize with insects because they're just doing what they're told without thinking,
And now when I hear a human being open its mouth to speak I almost faint.
The cleverest human being is just a stupid animal that think its clever.

You will say to me: what about children? At least they are natural and honest.
No, not even children. Even they are full of a disgusting arrogance,
that makes you tired and want to go to bed forever.

--

Today I was walking along the city streets,
trying to avoid looking at anyone as I usually do,
when, unfortunately, a business-type woman walked towards me
(I could tell because of her grey coat and the way her boots clicked
that she was an arrogant business-type woman).
So I slowed down almost to a halt,
and waited for her to decide which way she wanted to walk around me.

Then when she had gotten past me and as I was beginning to forget her forever,
I thought about her snickering at me thinking,
"Some people just aren't decision-makers. They have no direction in life.
"Some people are just born losers."

--

Sitting in a lecture theatre,
listening to a lecturer talk,
glazing my eyes over lecture slides,
It occurs to me that I'm already dead.
I can see the coffin doors shutting over my pale dead body.
Then people go about their lives forgetting me while I sleep forever.

I don't know anybody, and nobody knows me.

--

Walking out of a building I see a stone on the ground.
It is happy to know that between me and this stone there is only a trivial difference,
a matter of volume and mass and other numbers.

Now that I am older I have lost the passion for counting things that I had when I was a child.
Perhaps this is the difference between immaturity and the maturity people mention so often.

--

Leaning casually against a lamp-post.
Waiting for the tram at noon.
Looking along the tram-lines, the ancient English countryside in the distance.
The cold and crisp morning air fading,
The yellow afternoon sunlight growing brighter.
It is easy to see that God is alive and that whoever said otherwise was a liar.

--

I've fallen in love with maybe three dozen women.
And of those three dozen, I don't know how many of them are real women and how many of them are dreams.
Regardless, there's only one of them that now looking back I care about.
She's called Kate and I suppose she stands above all the rest because she reminds me of someone . . .
Myself.

We were both born essentially lonely and essentially sad.
We both had the same vague wistfulness about life.
Which is why when I alone the only person who could sympathize was her . . .
even though we'd just met.

[Anonymous No.6123305]

>>6123286
one more

--

Some people talk about money out of convention.
Their voices are louder than they usually are.

Some people talk about money out of enthusiasm,
Their voices are quieter than they usually are.

Regardless, wherever money is talked about God is dead,
and I can't love money because it's just an abstraction.

[Anonymous No.6123510]

>>6123305
>>6123286
hey i really like these

[Cake No.6123578]

Brain vat
Racing rat
First to find the kitty cat

Hazmat
Magic hat
Last in line to getting that

[Anonymous No.6123621]

>>6123578
I can't not read this to the tune of R.E.M. "It's the End of the World"