/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.7199038]

OC Poetry thread?

Let's do it.

[Anonymous No.7199059]

r8

I read the Phtah-Hotep, I read the obsolete
Rig-Veda. Yet nothing gives me rest…
The Unconscious haunts me and I swirl possesed,
Restless harmattan in aeolian rage!

I’m witness here to an insect’s death!…
Alas! Now all phenomena of earth
From pole to pole seem to make real
Anaximader of Miletus’s ideal!

Atop the heterogeneous hieratic areopagus
Of Ideas I wander, a lost magus,
From Haeckel’s soul to souls of Cenobites!..

The thick veiling of secret worlds I tear;
And just like Goethe, I catch the sight:
Of universal substance ruling there!

[Anonymous No.7199067]

My first post in one of these threads, so go easy please:

My poop
It stank
Nigga
Wardine
Be cry
Wallace
He hang
Pinecone
Banana
Plus he live
Joyce
He loved
Nora
And her farts
And handies
Now I
Lay
Down the mic
Flavor
Flav
Yea-a
Boi
BASS—

[Anonymous No.7199093]

>>7199067
In this case, it is easy to go to your post

half
stench
dark
ward
fur
Wallace
education
conical
bananas
In addition to long-term
Joyce
love
Nora
then pagpangutot
Handi
this
in
loudspeaker
beautiful
yellow flowers
Yes -
son
-

[Anonymous No.7199101]

>>7199093
Very nice counterpoint

[Anonymous No.7199122]

Phtah - Pastor Read
Oil rig Veda. But it is not ...
Whirlpool I do not seem to have the Spirit
eoolsed pleasures storm!

Insects call death! ...
sorry! And the country
Straight pole position,
Anaximad.

We are different, and the priest border
lost
Heckel monks! ..

Secret killer is changing.
Goethe See also:
Decision to support the Global!

[Anonymous No.7199174]

It is to your liking.
I can hear your heart.
My friend, my heart, my day
Real estate, luxury,
Design, wealth and wisdom.
There are positive.

Li Di's success
Here
Read More
I hope
Proofread
The use of nuclear weapons.
Wings, energy
It means a lot.
But Tissot
And with you I know,
Cell.
Current TISA
The
Andy still undecided
Immediate.
Atwill victory,
again

Opens.

I am all love -
But, listen to me
Your mind
Efforts to improve the heart rate
Today Show
Always tomorrow.
Free Arabic
This is a good thing.
Women's health issues and their equivalents.
But,
Imagine fog,
Chicken flash
Gladly
Free thought.
Or more layer
Palestine
Crown hopes.

I love that!
In fact, it can be pure clay
"Once the right to even this day.
All life is a gift of theft.
Reason
God bless the midway point
God.

[Anonymous No.7199226]

In 1960, the United States, in London, tent, is opposite (music smart sister "Please do not be eager to know why," Judy Collins and folders, you can see the members). Moya in 1969 with her husband, Trevor, who prepared the new police, the daughter of my project Judge Judy Expo Convention Dybl in Hong Kong in 1968, the album New Fotheringay, will be completed next year. . "Forest Year 1971", circus, not Robert Daniel Zeppelin lead to failure.

1974 Danny Lucas, the first two lines intersect, and decided to run 60 (best source English (31) is part of blood loss), this is a drink

[Anonymous No.7199275]

We know and a half hours of pure music. Texas, in honor of the son Ash. Illness, alcoholism, crime, low-income and money. In real life, the music was not the only one. One of the greatest singing Hank Williams. Unfortunately, sound and light guitar in 1969 and in 1973, books and music, and of the greatest benefits of decompression or at least three risk. The first city, Houston, Texas.

[Anonymous No.7199278]

>>7199059
seems a bit esoteric. the diction is nice as is the meter, but it gets a little much in places

>heterogeneous hieratic areopagus

is a bit much imo

I like the theme though, and it has a distinct voice.

here's my swill:

Idle, grey, oh darkened mind,
You want to stray, but cannot find
A thing to claim your fading day
A vault of nothing - vapid waves
Throughout your lofty chamber spill
Till drowned in emptiness, you fill

[Anonymous No.7199293]

Hislop:

Mangere, gray, Shiromani Akali Dal, Ohio
2 missing
It defeated one day fall
Wave taste - low
All rooms, there is a big drop,
I filled the sink waste

[Anonymous No.7199311]

Killer: I will forgive you
In addition, I
I worry about the support
I recommend
In such a situation, we want to play.
The virus
They, stems cut
Cut
Spring
Dry season
You smell comics.
Fragile by heat our forests, USA.
Guests looking for a wilderness.
Dry sand, it's nothing to find.
Who sand and fire, the leaves were dried.
God became seriously.
The average frost emperor!

[20 No.7199522]

A crippling freedom
is called a gift

[Anonymous No.7199526]

A glass curtain, held before the shrinking seas
Ride, you monster

Ride.

[12 No.7199532]

Support for patients
Called Available

[Anonymous No.7199535]

Decisions, and the use of glass
You go up

More.

[Anonymous No.7199538]

In the latter portion of
twilight on a
temperate
autumn
day

-fin

[Anonymous No.7199539]

Currently working on this one. It needs a lot of work at this point.

"Breaking up with the swan princess"

I want to unweave you. Undo all the poetry of your body and leave you there. Take that spinning wheel of time and pull it back thread by thread. Pull back all the cloth and let the hyacinths and biscuits fall to the floor. I would love to see you then, unwoven. And yet to end this fiery dance of Leda and Zeus, I would have to become the weaver of the six swans and unweave the magic poetry through six shirts of nettles and broken glass. This beard itself is only the first shirt of nettles. Blindness would be the next and deafness would follow after. I would have to loose my hands, my phallus. And yet I could wear those five shirts of nettles with ease. The last, however, would be the vow of silence, the troat filled with nettles, the dead tongue. That scares me princess, to have no poetry in my world. Yet I need to see you without the magic spell. I need to see you as the divine first did, as you really are. I need to see the human, because poetry only let me see you as the swan princess. Tchaikovsky be damned, music only left us in flames.

[Anonymous No.7199541]

complete
Dark
cool
Autumn
Japan

-f

[Anonymous No.7199549]

Why would you post your original material anonymously where anyone else can easily steal it?

[Anonymous No.7199552]

4chan is for fags
what's why i post on 4chan
because i'm a fag

[Anonymous No.7199553]

"Broken Swan Queen"

Activities. After the singing of the body. Open, pull the line to take the helm. Drag clothes on the floor, ready hyacinths and biscuits. Want to see, and put the belt. But in order to avoid fire and ka poetry and magic bottles, six Nazi Leda and Zeus, dance, grass Weaver 2.6. This is only the beginning of the beard appeared. Blind, deaf and read. I called organ. However, we are willing, I will put on. But, back to the singer died. I was surprised, and the world. But I want to see the magic. If you want to see the important things, because I began. I think the people of the prince, because I see people singing. Only the music of Tchaikovsky

[Anonymous No.7199558]

4chan fags Pair
But it has been published on 4chan
I think that is a very busy

[Anonymous No.7199559]

>>7199549

Because the poetry itself is more important than the writer. As long as it gets out there I suppose

[Anonymous No.7199566]

>>7199559
>Because the poetry itself is more important than the writer.

Alternatively known as plagiarism.

[Anonymous No.7199570]

Neurotic Sex; Neurotic Life
crying out Guilt into the night
collective experience holographic Braine waves
overslept, truncated independent phase

Whim directed wandering unto years of mine
seasons of days subsumed into pure time
Fears of my youth the very authority code
in the solitary worship of my overstuffed ego

[Anonymous No.7200424]

ESL here, don't be too harsh (in italian it sounds way better).

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

Do you remember when, in somebody's home
that was ours for a time,
we forged a star?

We had walks with it only during the night
so it can see its majestic reflex
against the windows of the closed shops
we were too scared to penetrate.
We said : you have to fly away, beloved star,
you belong with the celestian children,
they need light for doing their homework.

The ambulances, in earth as it is in heaven
took us away with a big waste of special effects
we still had the scripts in our hands
written with the soil we said to hate.
Reckless runs, rocks
and drain pipes happy to be climbed
will not save us
neither the emergency kisses that,
whilst the mess of mannequins and bruises,
I loved to give you.

[Anonymous No.7200912]

>>7199038
I am a gay Warrior.
I take the Stick Hard and Fast.
My gayness transcends me to last.
Logic! Pff! Take it up the Ass.

[Anonymous No.7200922]

>>7199549
>implying any of this garbage is worth stealing
>implying anyone cares
lol fag

[Anonymous No.7200929]

As Ganymede in ancient silence hangs
Suspended in its time-forgotten hush
Inscribing what our Grecian reason grasped
A lonely object gulfed in lasting black
I sit alone, my filthy cock in hand,
And blow a tearful load unto the stars

[Anonymous No.7200944]

Natural loose weave fabric hands of David and some of his pain in the stomach, I noticed that the temperature of the skin bleaching of human consumption should create the sensation of pain. Block and the car just think Mechanical Colin Farrell. I'm a fool, or the light, and you do not know me, show me, I saw a stranger. Your wife, ink really something. Southern Italy, hell. Sand, shoes from Bauhaus pizza? My dad and I go to the woman calling. God, I do not want to fight for your sins. I tried to imitate the sound the cat died hours because I just started yesterday afternoon, the balance of $ 50 before bad Sadly, we turn to the sound of horses died. At first, it is siku Mulligan Mulligan, and the head office is now nothing in comparison to the oil ngolalo goat Mulligan cried the whole body. You homeland keeps a house in the middle of a small house. Great beds, windows, TV, bathroom and unity. I think about fashion magazines, but sometimes I can not help, but the one thing in my life, my health, success and happiness, regarding the underground. Severe test. You are good writers have the right to express its efforts to ensure accountability. He loved and lost 琼乔谢尔维 03:00 Steven Gerrard and his dream of a great honor to have a good start to his bald game we did not sleep, I began to cry all the concerns and needs.

[Anonymous No.7200959]

No one gives a shit about your shit,

Only people who give a shit about their shit
Will pretend to give a shit about your shit,
But it's still shit.

/lit/, you're shit.

Your poetry shines B.O.,
Your tears and life experiences
Are as personal and intimate as your sweat,
And your sensitivity, that Oh This is So Beautiful,
Is not unlike a man reaching an orgasm, and I don't care
About your orgasms.

Your poems are cum.
Your balls are sweaty.

And your metrical choices and flowery words
Are cheap deodorant, cheap shampoo,

The french masking their shit.

I've yet to see a good poem here, one that says something
And doesn't smell.
Or maybe a poem that smells like trees?

Surprise me

[Anonymous No.7200965]

The first cluster development Ganymede
Silence hung forgotten
We know that the Greek exam Questions
Black is the only clueless gulfed
I just sat on your hands dirty dick
However, its load is exploding star

[Anonymous No.7200975]

>>7199059
>I’m witness here to an insect’s death!…
>Alas! Now all phenomena of earth
>From pole to pole seem to make real
sort of weak...

i liked the rest

[Anonymous No.7200978]

english language is terrible for poems, it has no soul at all. romance languages for the win

[Anonymous No.7200982]

Who cares about you
Giving a dog droppings
With the ability to care for hair
But mixed themselves.
/ Accreditation / not good for you.
Voice and B.Ö. he
Au tears and life
Yes, sweat and friends
Oh, well, I think
No, you junub and I do not want
Junub you.
Jochen music.
Ball sweat.
And therefore, the size of your
Not cheap deodorant, soap, cheap,
French underground dog feces.
Although I say something here to play
Do not smell it.
Or maybe music, it smells like a tree?
fear

[Anonymous No.7200999]

World-life crisis and global economic downturn Sex
At night the roaring Conditions
The holographic experience of a group of brain waves
Cut with
I've lost over the years,
Time, it's a good time
Code feared a difficult childhood
My goal and bend

[Anonymous No.7201022]

>>7200982
kek
god this is funny

[Anonymous No.7201038]

Tea View

My name is John. But I always wanted to write to you as an expert, and I'll give you the world for a day or two. You are the worst thing in the world. Of course, you ask? I find it very interesting and high fun. But, he said, because the new server, he said.

The stranger and I was deeply moved, and I think we Yount me to write stories, so that we can do, please write to Figure 2, but I will try to follow the chin! I (found money and alone I am not very good), and I met at a temperature YouTube channel Women's World Cup, she turned to thank you for your attention.

I told my wife ,.

[Anonymous No.7201060]

The only person you have ever known is the person you will never meet.

r

[Anonymous No.7201168]

Oh, life burn bright!
I see your face hanging in the night
Such gems, such as the ear, rich in Ethiopia,
Beautiful site using very rich!
This is a semi-frozen chickens, pigeons, and made away from this,
Scientists do not go, because the screen lady.
After the end of this event, I am very comfortable on stage,
Prohibition to touch my arm.
My heart is still in love? In fact, before this
I can not see, because the beauty of the night.

[Anonymous No.7201206]

0 I am a farmer, my plan!
But here is the game
However, because of the risk of gold.
So in this sense, they can not see.
This wann'd
Other documents focus on QDI.
Earthquakes, music, etc.
This means everything!
Hecuba!
Hekabe born in Bulgaria
What you see instead
You may have a stronger signal
Danger? I do not want to shoot
General ജാലകപ്പടിയില്
Darkness crime, fear
It is useful
College eyes and listen
All dust, debris plate;
John Campbell - My dream unpregnant.
I did not say anything.
In your life, and much more
Damn'd holiday'm crazy?
He called me, but evil? My President?
I do children's faces
In fact, my nose? Also: I do not know.
This can be done in your life?
Ha!
"I Swounds:
Dow believes liver'd
Pain and suffering
And our weapons
Bloody violence of the wicked!
Cool, violence and exploitation?
0
My ass! Then the Great Spirit
I am very happy murder'd
Heaven and Hell advice
Prostitution can not be zero.
Curse? - Fall ജാലകപ്പടിയില്
We Oratu!
Upon't save you! FOH! Remember this! I asked
Guilt
If you do not know
Hence,
It is divided into Proclaim'd
As I said, I do not know.
It is a miracle that I love
Meanwhile, my father made me.
He gave the money to my uncle
10 tons of high-speed and fatigue.
Of course, I know that I love this world.
Satan
And control
Both times, pressure.
Spirit of Truth
After the war, I think,
New Games
King of Hearts

[Anonymous No.7202283]

Thoughts?

[Anonymous No.7202795]

R8 out of 8

[Anonymous No.7202797]

>>7202283
Too many adjectives. Try to simplify it and use mostly verbs and nouns

[Anonymous No.7202805]

>>7202797
Thanks mate. In cases of both enjoyment and criticism it's been the adjectives people feel strongly about. What makes them too much

[Anonymous No.7202809]

>>7202797
Thanks mate. In cases of both enjoyment and criticism it's been the adjectives people feel strongly about. What makes them too much?

[Anonymous No.7202841]

>>7199038
I don't get this picture. I get the reference to camus but why superman?

[Anonymous No.7202846]

>>7202795

cringe/10

p-r-e-t-e-n-i-o-u-s

[Anonymous No.7202849]

A musing wind blows past me,
it calls upon some unknown depth within me,
a subtly who's meaning I cannot.
it flicks just past my ear
"gimme dabussy"
I don't understand the meaning
I whisper back
"how do I get dabussy"
it tells me there is a secret
a one true line that drowns men in "dabussy"
I heard legends of this line,
passed down from tyler the creator himself
a single streak rolls down my face
"I am reddy, tell me"
in a slow and and paced with inflection
this conscious wisp says
"Gurl I jus shit my pants can I get in urs"


R8 plz

[Anonymous No.7202852]

>>7202805
They delay the action of the poem and obfuscate the message of the poem. Keeping it simple will allow you to communicate more clearly and make your message more obvious. Now, that's not always fun to do with poetry, but you can still take pleasure in creating clever sentence structure or symbols or anything like that while being clear.

[Anonymous No.7202864]

Give it to me straight, docs.

[Anonymous No.7202867]

The black abyss that is my soul
The shining light that gleams above
The darkness and the comfort of sin
Saw the light and it was blinding

Make my way out from this pitiful hell
Face wounded with scars and the atmosphere to breath
To much for my lungs this air out of well
I wear the mask to cover my depth
A part of a league that hangs fools in the gallows

Not understanding what my true call in life
Some call me by forgotten name
The people that are dead know me as Bane

[Anonymous No.7202886]

>>7202864
No soul, nonsense, pretentious.

>>7202849
Comical in an unfunny way

>>7202795
Using jazz, and downtown has been done to hell a billion times over now. Its bad

>>7202283
Disgustingly delightful imagery

>>7201206
awful

>>7201168
Great tone, shitty execution

>>7200999
Meh

>>7200982
Brilliant

[Anonymous No.7202895]

>>7202852
The meaning is that it's just the nastiest thing I could come up with at the time

[Anonymous No.7203118]

[Anonymous No.7203631]

Let it out.
It's just pictures from your dirty mind
And when you try to close your eyes
All the pictures seems to slide
You're on your own this time

After staring the ceiling
I fell asleep, now I'm dreaming
All the restless emotions
Dissolved into an ocean

And when I'm swimming the water
Horror memories haunting
I tried climbing the mountains
But I got lost in the canyons

I made it in the plains
But I failed out in the waves
I try to grab a straw of hay

You tried crossing my ocean
Then you noticed it's frosen
It doesn't mean that you're evil
When you are tired of people

And when they say that they bother
You can wonder, who are they
They try to puzzle my secrets
But I won't give them the pieces

I made it in the plains
But I failed out in the waves
I try to grab a straw of hay

[Anonymous No.7203658]

Weeping is for the weak
Even as I reach the peak
Of this tremendous pain
Driving me insane
I will not let tears run

The pain pulsates within
Prickling needkes of tin
O the pain the torture
Why must there be no cure
Down in streams I am undone

[Anonymous No.7203673]

I sent the poem in pic related to my ex

[Anonymous No.7203676]

If you are influenced by T. S. Eliot you are shit because T. S. Eliot is shit.

[Anonymous No.7203688]

>>7203118
language is for communication

pls communicate to us instead of trying to convince yourself that you're profound

[Anonymous No.7203690]

>>7203673
You have gifted yourself with an immortal dent in your self-esteem to be painfully reminded of for years

[Anonymous No.7203697]

>>7203690
not really mate, I'm passed the age where I get embarrassed about things and "cringe" for nothing

[Anonymous No.7203720]

>>7203697
You mean you have given up ?

[Anonymous No.7203724]

>>7203720
Given up on what?

[Anonymous No.7203817]

>>7200982
Great

[Anonymous No.7204068]

>>7203688
How is any part of that difficult to understand?

[Anonymous No.7205572]

>>7204068
Not that guy, but the language is flowery without purpose or direction and doesn't actually seem to say anything. It's nearly masturbatory, and though that word's thrown around a little too liberally I feel it fits here. Hands, ears, and truth is a cliche metaphor, and the following O! give me the image of an author patting himself on the back rather than of a city, or whatever it is you're speaking about.

[Anonymous No.7205598]

Paletress doing work

[Anonymous No.7205661]

Castara, see that dust the sportive wind
So wantons with. It's happ'ly all you'll find
Left of some beauty. And how still it flies,
To trouble, as it did in life, our eyes.
Oh empty boast of flesh! Though our heirs gild
The far-fetch Phrigian marble, which shall build
A burden to our ashes, yet will death
Betray them to the sport of every breath.
Do you, poor relic of our frailty, still
Swell up with glory? Or is it your skill
To mock weak man, whom every wind of praise
Into the air does 'bove his centre raise?

If so, mock on. And tell him that his lust
To beauty's madness. For it courts but dust.

[Anonymous No.7205663]

>>7199038
I wrote this poem for /v/ last night but it was not well received due to it being more than 5 lines long and not rhyming.
They have simple minds over there.

Any ideas on how to pare it down without losing too much?

Comfy
by Anon Anonovsky

Then cold October comes,
And I put a pot of coffee on.
I hear it percolating as I walk
Up the creaking staircase
(it's an old house, and every
creaking floorboard tells a story)
To get a blanket from the closet.
I push aside a tangle of electrical cords:
the power brick from my Gamecube
which brings back high school memories
playing Smash and TimeSplitters,
woven together with the power cord
from the first PC I ever built. (I still remember
that first boot sequence, as if I were
Doctor Frankenstein and my rig
the curious monster.)
I push it all aside and draw up
handfuls of a deep red blanket.
Wrapped around my shoulders,
It envelops me like a plus +3 cloak of constitution.
Downstairs the coffee is done.
I pour a mug and settle into my spot on the couch.
These new generation console controllers
still feel unfamiliar in my hands,
As if your favorite flavor of Doritos
had changed the recipe just enough
to make you sense something amiss.
The television screen glows to life.
The grey fall sky outside opens up
and rain begins to spit upon the windows.
A gentle patter enveloping the house,
Shrouding me from the outside world.
I take a sip of the dark, bold brew,
Wrap the blanket tight around my shoulders,
And click my fingers against the buttons.
In an instant I am somewhere else,
Another place in time or space or
maybe even an alternate reality.
I am a hero, a champion,
A leader... I am not the boy
Sitting alone in a darkened room
Swaddled against the cold,
With thumbs working furiously
across a piece of plastic and wires.
I am whoever I choose to be,
A life among infinite lives.
Reality takes a backseat
to the world within the game.
I am content.

[Anonymous No.7205937]

>>7200929
You deserve be hanged

[Anonymous No.7205987]

>>7200929
Ganymede was cup bearer to Zeus, which was the smallest position of honor a ruler could give someone.

If this poem is viewed from an ancient Greek standpoint, Ganymede is literally being executed by hanging.
The narrator stands masturbating before the youth's corpse as day fades into night.
Everyone else has left, and the narrator ejaculates "a tearful load unto the stars".

The ancients believed that the stars were ancestors immortalized in the skies for their mighty deeds.

So the narrator sees his own seed as worthy of immobilization.

A grand ejaculation of legend, if you will. A cum to be pontificated upon for countless generations to follow.

[Anonymous No.7206128]

Rusty red tackle box, owned by my grandfather
A bit of you rests in here, I never knew you
But the photo of yourself and my mom on the dock
And the wooden fish used as a lure that you cast
I wish you could tell me about life and it's traps
The snares I encounter that entangle me in their grasps
Never knew my father, I was raised by my mother
And raised her, she sleeps on the sofa in this one bedroom apartment
While I look at your face and wish life had gone different

[Anonymous No.7206136]

>>7205663
insert lol didn't read meme but that pic is comfy as fuck
i wish i still had all my old ds games :(

[Anonymous No.7207438]

cock

[Anonymous No.7207613]

>>7199059
it reads like a poseur Lowell. Out of curiousity, age and country?

[Anonymous No.7207971]

For Gordo

You sit there,
Slumped and languidly
Drunk,
And I feel
A little bit of pity
As we say:

"Hello"
"Hullo"

You, who
Seemed so entrenched
Into the settee of your living space,
With the grot and the beers
And the thin skin of curtain
dividing outside,
Sat so alike,
I felt immobilised
As we spoke with
Five layers of alcohol filming your eyes:

"Just a drink Gordo."

And you drink it!
All five glasses of
Supermarket whiskey
All gone in one sitting,
In that infinite regress
And uniform routine
Of half-slept habit
And cigarrettes into
Off-milk into
Mess into
Sitting
And in nothing else
But looping still

-Yet-

I must sit with you,
And from above I dared to be ashamed
Of the still-stuck squalor your slouch has claimed;
So unaware that in this patterned hell,
Our blood has carved a seat for me as well.

I wrote this when I was 17, never had a knack for poetry, may write it into a short story instead

[Anonymous No.7209302]

cock

[Anonymous No.7210844]

cock

[Anonymous No.7211312]

before we were ugly,
you observed a sunlit moon,
and asked me:
why does it not have its own light?

at birth—

I was an ugly child.
A child who wore the wrong things:
the gruesome letter on my gold
belt glowed: a capital G
glued in the center of two leather strips,
the playground gossip surmised
that it stood for Girl—it stands
for Girl! haha Girl! What are you doing?
Girl, go back to playing with your dolls.
Go, go, go you ugly,
uh-guh-lee girl

—the doctor discerned us
by features that did not belong,
to us.

the moon
steals
because it was not born
a star.

but does that have to be true?

It was true that I grew uglier.
Hair invaded guarded skin,
my voice entrenched,
frame stretched up and squared.
To reverse the irreversible,
black lines blurred on my eyes,
red lines haphazardly scrawled
over my stubbly face—my portrait:
too abstract for cis, unpassable
like de Kooning drew me. Makeup—
gateway to getaway,
But ugly stayed with me,
an apparition fogging bathroom mirrors

— Burn in hell. Hell?
— Eternity, for us.

I was an ugly child—twelve
when the therapist uttered the word
transgender
and my mother dismissed it.

— You were born ugly. It is your birthright.

the moon
steals
because everyone thought
it was just a phase.

My phase was wallowing in Boy,
in loose-fit polo tees and v-necks,
blood-soaked video games and short hair,
and short hair, and loving a girl
—whose father threatened my life—
who could not love me regardless
and dreaming out the white picket fence
suburban home (two kids, one dog) we’d live in.
MAN—eighteen years, half my life ago
when a prominent golden G
marked me.

the moon does not exist for light
but it is so hard to tell
when the sun has imposed light
upon it its entire life

when we are,
I will wear floral dresses with black blazers
on Sunday evenings overlooking the lakeside.
And my canvas will still be de Kooning,
but maybe a former critic will fall in love.

And on that lakeside,
where I am beautiful,
the tide
will not be pulled
by the sun.

[Anonymous No.7211613]

Hey /lit/, /tg/ here. I want to learn how to write sonnets and ballads, medieval style of writing. What's a good source to start teaching myself those things?

[Anonymous No.7211620]

Help please
I need to shoehorn 3 similes and a metaphor into my poem about handicap stalls
Any suggestions on what I could do?

The most spacious of them all
Certainly enough room to sprawl
Without profanities scrawled about the wall
That’s how you know you’re in the handicap stall

A place safe from public restroom conventions
Toilet flushed and floor dry
Although not suiting its intentions,
I choose it every time

It does not discriminate
Whether it be one or two
Moves one to anticipate
The urge to use the loo


My options are to either stick some in throughout the poem or to add a verse with just similes and metaphors.

[Anonymous No.7211961]

Oh woe is me, cynical over nothing
Not even feeling the pain I moan about
Yet complain on how my innocence was eroded and destroyed.

My now sharp intellect,
shielded by my headgear, and the maturing bristles nestling under my chin,
only exemplify the homosexuality I have embraced and painfully enjoy.

[Anonymous No.7212030]

On Monday, oh, oh yeah
Many people think
But we believe our clients.
Now, in the depths of my heart.
Stiff brush that we Sakeenah security.
I hope that he lied to the experience.

[Anonymous No.7212058]

The most interesting one
Of course, in fact, headroom
Social blank wall.
As such, it is known to reduce
Lawyer Public Safety Signs
It should be dry land, filled the toilet.
But, in a sense,
We will choose the time
satisfied
Or, one or two at any level
and marriage.
Massage Stories

[Anonymous No.7212469]

>>7211613
http://pastebin.com/cBZknniE

[Anonymous No.7212608]

Been a while /ocp/, gonna post something a bit old which i've re-written.

I'm willing to give my opinion on anything but I wanna know the guy who posted it is still following, so reply with your post if you're interested please!
___

Around a square table we sat.
On wooden chairs, beneath blue-colored sky-
we sipped for life.

Modesty sealed the golden cups.
We drank the wine-flavoured liquid, so we won't forget it -
and prick up dry-mouthed.

We counted forward and to the back.
Curved our lips, cheering to a candle being put out.
Another year to our old father.

[Anonymous No.7212830]

With ribs cracked open
His lungs placed on his shoulders
The bloody eagle

[Anonymous No.7212836]

I FAPPED
I SNACKED
I PLAYED SOME GAMES
I SCREECHED
I REE'D
IT'S YOU I HATE
TO MOM
THAT CUNT
I WANT FAST FOOD NOW
OR I'LL KILL MYSELF
YOU FUCKING COW

[Anonymous No.7212859]

sample:
drive to where the beer is.
sky cascades, spillage on my windshield.
i hate the radio but i keep it on anyway because
well.
wipers broken. a voice, somewhere.
laughed about stars, how dead they are.
planet of voices dying, or maybe
i just can't get a signal.

i

september never ends
we just leave it behind,
slithering auroras almost
tangible. blame inertia.
my ruin could have been yours
only, i was first to howl at the wind. sing with me, my love i want to taste your voice.

[Anonymous No.7213026]

>>7200944
I hate stream of consciousness shit

[Anonymous No.7213127]

>>7212836
pretty good.

[Anonymous No.7214550]

>>7199038
Posted it in general critique, buttfuck it.

Oh lady of sky blue eyes,
why do you say "No" to my lies?
I know you think yourself a prize,
but if needed would you do what's wise?

Would you do it on a bike?
Would you do it with a spike?
Would you do it for a like?
Would you do it on the mic?

Would you do it in a ditch?
Would you do it with a snich?
Would you do it for an itch?
Would you do it like a lich?

Would you do it for a four?
Would you do it with the corps?
Would you do it on a shore?
Would you do it in a war?

Would you do it with a grunt?
Would you do it for a blunt?
Would you do it on the front?
Would you do it on a hunt?

Would you do it for your gut?
Would you do it in a hut?
Would you keep your merry strut?
Could you keep that mouth shut?

Would you chew on the yarrow?
Would you drown all your sorrow?
Would you live on a borrow?
What would you do tomorrow?

[Anonymous No.7215200]

fingers
fingernails wearing chilies from the clipper
their cuticles left were only even
the Cuticles right on their points
Burned off by the chilies

[Anonymous No.7215217]

>>7215200
actually maybe
fingers wearing chilies from the clipper
cuticles left only even
cuticles right on their points
burned off before the chilies

[Anonymous No.7215231]

unedited pls don't bully

Image is the element of one thousand faces
developed into medium with one thousand overlapping traces
of those things one must know;
image the congealing of everything
one has known or has been taught,
the unification of origination, borne of innate thought.
Cast in iron and cast in marble,
set in eternity and unable to warble--
the image, which flashes,
is caught forever creating the chassis
of one thousand yet unthought ideas.

Image is never that which is crafted;
it is the image
over itself re-grafted.

[Tallis !!y+12CeFwYOo No.7215269]

J’ai connu cette époque et j’ai vu triompher
Le bronze des héros et la lyre d’Orphée.
Les dieux divinisaient la vie et la santé;
Ce sont les seuls humains que je sache chanter.
L’Olympe lumineux surplombait les mortels
Et c’était la beauté qu’encensaient les autels.
Ce monde était trop beau pour ne jamais mourir :
Du sol qui a tremblé on voit la croix surgir.
S’arrachant lentement de Rome les décombres
Elle perce les cieux et y jette son ombre.
L’Olympe sur sa base a soudain vacillé,
On entend sous la terre une voix s’écrier :
« Ouranos par Cronos, et par Zeus ce dernier
Ont été de leur trône à l’oubli envoyés!
Il est venu ton tour, Ô roi des Immortels :
Les dieux doivent finir, il n’est rien d’éternel. »
C’est le cri des Titans, des Géants, des Cyclopes;
L’Olympe de ce cri résonne et s’enveloppe.
JUPITER de son trône un instant s’est levé
Comme il voit que son Aigle à ses pieds s’est lové :
La bête de son bec veut ramasser ses plumes,
Comme un tison mourant, le tonnerre au sol fume.

JUPITER
"Suis-je ainsi déposé, moi le père des dieux,
Le suprême Immortel, l’Agamemnon des cieux
Et mon Aigle vient-il déposer à mes pieds
Du dernier empereur le rameau de lauriers?
L’homme n’a aujourd’hui qu’un faible cœur d’esclave
Et son monde n’est plus qu’une mourante épave;
La foule triomphante adore sa faiblesse :
Que la terre ait l’humain, qu’il soit à sa bassesse!"

JUPITER titubant de rage tord les poings;
Il respire avec peine et n’en hurle pas moins.
En larmes, Ganymède apportant une coupe
Sur des verres brisés pose pied et se coupe.

JUPITER
"Jamais! tant qu’un esprit gardera la pensée
Du respect de l’honneur et des gloires passées,
Tant qu’une homme sur terre estimera la loi
Moi seul demeurerai de l’univers le roi!"

Mais la coupe qu’il prend est complètement vide
Et échappe soudain d’entre ses mains livides :
L’ambroisie sur l’Olympe a fini par tarir,
Appuyé sur son trône, il commence à mourir.

JUNON
Tu as eu trop d’amours! tu as gâché ta force;
Il est venu le jour de l’éternel divorce!

JUNON dans l’air s’en va comme part la rosée.
MINERVE dans sa main tient sa lance brisée :

MINERVE
Où sont donc mes vaisseaux aux rapides rameurs
Et la vierge athénienne aux corbeilles de fleurs?
Les os de mes héros se sont changés en cendre,
Mes ailes à mon dos ne savent plus que pendre.

Elle voit ses statues être au sol renversées
Et chute tel l’oiseau d’une flèche percé.
HERCULE s’est défait de sa peau de lion
Et tente de porter des dieux la nation :

HERCULE
Des monstres par mon bras par milliers ont péri!
Les dieux, jusqu’à Junon, en ont été surpris;
Sur mon dos j’ai porté de ce monde le poids
J’ai aidé à bâtir les murailles de Troie
Et le monde par moi partout était dompté
Mais l’Olympe est trop lourd et son temps est compté!

Soudain l’Olympe croule et il meurt écrasé.

1/2

[Tallis !!y+12CeFwYOo No.7215277]

>>7215269
PLUTON
Consumés, le Tartare et les Champs Élysées!
Les Titans enfermés sont morts dans les décombres
Et je veux désormais m’en retourner dans l’ombre!

Il sombre dans le vide, emportant les enfers.

NEPTUNE
Mon trident dans ma main ne secoue plus les mers
Et mes monstres pourris jonchent les profondeurs;
Où s’en sont-ils allés, les vagues en fureur,
Amphitrite aux pieds blancs qui courait sur l’écume,
La Néréide au loin distinguée dans la brume,
Les Tritons de la conque arrachant les accents
Et les dauphins des flots dans la nuit jaillissant?
Mes hippocampes morts s’enfoncent aux abîmes
Et emportent mon char dans leur plongeon ultime!
Que m’avale la mer dans ses fonds azurés
Et recrache mon corps aux rivages dorés!

DIANE follement traverse des forêts,
Ses chiens changés en loups égorgent des gorets

DIANE
La liberté des bois m’a livré ses ivresses!
Des femmes voilà peu je veillais aux grossesses,
Elles ne mettent plus qu’au monde des cadavres!
J’ai perdu des forêts le dernier de mes havres :
Je veux goûter du sang et boire des poisons
M’égarer dans la nuit, y perdre ma raison!

Comme il fut d’Actéon, les bêtes la dépècent.

MARS
D’abord j’ai combattu seul avec ma jeunesse
J’étais ivre de sang et j’arrachais la peau
Des hommes qui venaient contre moi en troupeau —
Puis la Phallange vint et l’armée ordonnée
Marchait aux instruments que l’on faisait sonner;
Avec Rome le monde a cédé devant moi,
Devant nous l’ennemi ne savait que l’effroi —
Aux côtés d’Alexandre un Empire à nos pieds
A préféré la honte au fer de nos guerriers!
J’étais près de César quand la Gaule ses armes
Laissa tomber des mains d’un de leurs chefs en larmes;
Nous avons effacé du monde le Punique
Rome de l’univers a été maître unique.
ROME aura de sa main écrit l’humaine histoire
Et pour l’éternité la grandeur et la gloire!
Mais le Barbare arrive et ses hordes sans fin
Ont de ROME sonné le funeste destin :
Pour conserver toujours un souvenir divin
Je rends grâce à moi seul et je meurs en Romain!

Il saisit son épée et la plonge en sa gorge.
VULCAIN exténué travaille dans sa forge;
Ses fours sont refroidis et à peine encor fument,
Son marteau continue de battre son enclume.

VULCAIN
Plus fort! Battez le fer! Plus fort! Brisez vos os,
Déchirez vos poumons et fracturez vos dos!
Continuez de frapper et pliez les métaux!

Les forgerons battant l’enclume des marteaux
Se défoncent les mains, s’aveuglent d’étincelles
Portent leurs mains brisées pour tâter leurs prunelles
Et s’en vont en pleurant se perdre dans les mines
Les fours étant éteints, les forges en ruine
VULCAIN se porte au crâne un grand coup de marteau.

[Tallis !!y+12CeFwYOo No.7215280]

>>7215277
BACCHUS
Que m’importe aujourd’hui? enfin, ce n’est trop tôt
Le monde se défait, la morale se meurt!
Entendez-vous, amis, de la fin les clameurs?
C’est le temps des orgies, frappez du pied la terre
Laissez pousser la vigne et buvez du cratère!
Saisissez-vous de moi, et faites-moi l’amour
Jetez la terre aux yeux qui ont vu trop de jour!
Je veux être partout, je ne veux être plus
Je veux dans l’infini être enfin dissolu!

Les Bacchants à ces mots ensuivis des Bacchantes
Égorgent un agneau, et nus, boivent et chantent —
Leurs thyrses à la main ils se frappent au sang
Et les vierges violées poussent des cris puissants;
Battant les tympanons ils baisent un phallus :
Dans le sang et le vin ils démembrent Bacchus.

Le ciel est obscurci et l’écume est glacée;
VÉNUS tremble de froid, ses lèvres violacées
Par un dernier effort forment une parole;

VÉNUS
Flétries, de la fleur la robe et la corole.
L’humanité par moi le bonheur connaissait
Et la rose à ma vue à nouveau fleurissait;
Mes seins de leurs rondeurs dessinaient les vallées
On fit d’après mes yeux les noirceurs étoilées;
J’ai contemplé ma cuisse et je l’ai trouvée belle
Aussi a-t-on créé le rivage après elle.
J’ai fait vivre la vie et mon souffle a fait naître
Les champs où l’animal dans les herbes peut paître;
J’ai trop aimé l’humain, mon amour m’a perdue
Maintenant, dans le froid, ma beauté a fondu.

Ses doigts deviennent bleus, sa chevelure blanche
Elle tremble un instant et son corps entier penche.
À ses lèvres fanées elle dépose un doigt :

VÉNUS
J’aurais aimé aimer une dernière fois.

APOLLON dans le ciel s’enfuit en vrombissant
Sans relâche fouettant ses coursiers hennissant.

APOLLON
Plus haut! Encor plus haut! délaissons la figure,
J’ai assez de la forme — il me faut l’idée pure!
Je veux toucher l’abstrait jusqu’à ne toucher plus,
Montez toujours plus haut, atteignez l’absolu!

Mais ses chevaux cabrés s’étouffent dans leurs mors,
Le soleil de son char enflamme les roues d’or;
Sa course poursuivant, il monte dans l’espace
Une trainée de feu son ascension trace.
La peinture écaillée tombe en pluie sur les mers
Mais le char enflammé monte encor dans l’éther;
APOLLON dans un cri va toucher aux étoiles;
La voie-lactée non loin lui présente ses voiles;
Des mondes sous ses yeux parcourent leurs orbites :
La planète alentour suivie des satellites
Décrit de son soleil le parcours éternel;
Il voit les galaxies et leurs flots fusionnels,
Dépassant leurs amas, il monte encor plus haut
Et voit de l’univers s’ordonner le chaos;
Les plus lointains objets, les trous noirs les plus vieux
Passent derrière lui comme il gravit les cieux;
Le monde se dévore et se crée sans arrêt;
Ce monstre d’énergie lui confie ses secrets.
Il passe dans son char les astres premiers nés,
Le chaos à la nuit est enfin retourné.

[Anonymous No.7215298]

>>7215269
>>7215277
>>7215280
kitsch

[Anonymous No.7216485]

There's a jar of cured lemons by the sink.
You wash Dishes, I'll draw bath.
First room on the right, at the base of the stairs,
First room at the top, you can stay for a night
Or two if need be. There's a wardrobe with hangers. If you have any clothes. If not,
Think slowly unwinding those cold steel coils.

[Anonymous No.7216499]

>>7205661
I am no critic of the arts, but, while the content is masterful it just seems broken. There's much more potency to be hoped out of your poems, flowerposter - if indeed that is you.

[Anonymous No.7216502]

>>7216499
Aaaaand I just realized it is Habington's poem, but it doesn't negate my previous point in that I just don't know how to read it.

[Anonymous No.7216680]

At day, reading for laughs out of slash pol slash.
At night staring up at the moons of Jupiter.
I am lucid for a moment until kicks in the shitty hash
And I wish to the night sky that I were whiter.

[Anonymous No.7216683]

A veil was parted today.
Before, smoke would cloud the room;
now, sunlight scatters the dust,
and I can see the men
hanging on the curtain.

[Anonymous No.7216702]

>>7216680
>>7216680
At night, reading is my duty, out of slash pol slash.
Watching the greentext swirling around and around.
I take then my walker talkie out of my stash
And press a button: "The goyim know! Shut it down!"

[Anonymous No.7217380]

I am just beginning to write poetry. Any critiques are welcome.

First week:

I internalize the faces of too many strangers on these streets and through these halls so when I sleep all day the dream and reality are identical
Please don't get me sick
Please don't get me sick
I found a single slippery sandal last night
A rough rancid realistically unoriginal sandal
That was too small to be mine but just large enough to be significant
Please don't get me sick
Please don't get me sick
I have vivid flashbacks of the times I walked home alone
Introductory, perfunctory, seemingly circadian phrases by which I am bludgeoned with on a daily basis
angry patriarchs with shiny heads and sunglasses that they don't need to see at night stare bitterly infront of themselves
Please don't get me sick
Please don't get me sick
I'm forgetting a piece of me wherever I go
From strands of hair to newspaper I am forgetting
I think I forgot my allergy meds this morning!
Please don't get me sick
Please don't get me sick
I fell asleep in puddles
I struggle with the action of answering, but not asking big questions
I second guess their significance in my world view based on the assumption that they have been answered for me. I know this is wrong, but it's something I can't help but do
Please don't get me sick
Please don't get me sick
Is the only thing I have right?
being fundamentally wrong?
Where did this all start?

I need to start seeing others in a new way
so that I can stay
happy as long as I don't get sick
I hate being sick
Please don't get me sick
Please don't get me sick

[Anonymous No.7217444]

>>7216502
Was curious to see what if anything had to say about it. I agree about the syntax and sentence structure, it's a tad on the jilted side because of the placement of stops and so on in the middle of a line but I think it works to the effect of the sonnet somewhat.

[Anonymous No.7217445]

They put you in
holes in different seasons
purple
and gold; he followed

close. Should have:
scattered your ashes
like the lost tribes of Israel
reunited Somme
where they will never
know

Should've done
more.

You were good for each other
most;
let the wind do the rest.

[Anonymous No.7218847]

cock

[Anonymous No.7218881]

>>7217380

lame, modernist garbage.

[Anonymous No.7219978]

>>7218881
Thats the past of tomorrow baby

[Anonymous No.7220127]

>>7199067
who is girl?sauce

[Anonymous No.7221762]

cock

[Anonymous No.7221768]

if i shall be a snowflake
i might as well be the one which snows the hardest
the snow will tomorrow
i'll be there tonight
before you can see me
i'll vanish in the sky to my heroes

[Anonymous No.7221774]

>>7199038

>>50756281
I think it's time you kids tried your hand at something a little scarier than 4chan, a place where:

>mods can't delete your posts
>mods can't ban you
>uses state of the art technology that makes impossible for the NSA or even the admin to spy, collect or sell your data

I do not hold myself responsible for anyone who opens the link in this gif

you might be gay if you like poetry btw

[Anonymous No.7222014]

>>7199038
here you have it, why not

[Anonymous No.7222027]

>>7217444
Curious question, flowerposter. What is your favorite poem?

[Anonymous No.7222367]

>>7222027
I'd be lying to say I have a favorite, but this is one of them.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem-alone/172022?iframe=true

I probably read this poem more often than any other.

[Anonymous No.7222422]

>>7220127
Lia Marie

[Anonymous No.7222455]

r8 m80
Yesterday
The lark crested the morning sun,
my snot racked brain lobed over my bed
and crested onto the floor in a nice crash.
I heard the yellows of the morning breeze.
I drank in the calming disparity. I licked
the apple's ashes from the dead tree,
and knew that yesterday was far away.

[Anonymous No.7222495]

>>7211312
THAT ENDING MADE ME SO HOT. There are some word choice errors and the piece needs working on flow but the overall poem was awesome.

[Anonymous No.7222501]

>>7211620
>"a reverent crawling ground"

[Anonymous No.7222528]

>>7217445
great poem
>>7222014
too many stereotypes and it's a little bit off. Not saying you're a bad writer, but your subject is so bland that you could do so much better with something that actually inspires you.

[Anonymous No.7222612]

This is the city of contempt
This is the city that never sleeps with you
I love it so much I want to kiss the pavement

[Anonymous No.7222617]

think because it's empty
open up to brevity
clarity fogged, buried
unearthed fears in the clear
cheer indecisively


r8

[Anonymous No.7222657]

>>7222612
kissing the pavement is not a surprising concept so it falls quite flat.
>>7222617
This doesn't really mean anything to me and the wording is kinda weird and very try hardy. honestly if you found a subject that you could talk about at length and cared less about how you said, you'd see much better results

[Anonymous No.7222676]

>>7222528
It's a tad bland I guess, but it gets harder to write in a language which is not my own and still try to make it sound childlike, clunky or outright monotone.
Thanks for the advice though. Will keep posting more

[Anonymous No.7222678]

>>7222676
*Still try not to make it... I should go to bed

[Anonymous No.7223051]

Starve Them with Art
Only true art is created purely from chance
all the rest is a cruel joke.
A starved raving of a madmen with feelings
that only splay themselves on
paper and vinyl records. The repeated patterns
of a Motel 6. The motly grill
marks of a dollar menue burger. The pickles and
their transparent bodies. This
is art. The remade and premade produced for the
masses. This is the cud we feed
them. This is art, this is our daily bread.