/lit/ - Literature

>>2340280
Yes, yes, diving and tragic
Neuralgic detractors, define
"Prophylactic"
Galactic, itself a reason to dream in
Physics, churlish and quarkish,
Which flavor are you?
I choose you, Debonaire
Gruyere, or perhaps American singles
A singlet, homosexualized, leotarded
Despised, demonized, re-introduced
Photo-developed, laboratory-abused
Perused, set down, read on the toilet
Crumpets and tea; stumpets and me
A strumpet with thee
Thy Holy woman, passed around with
Glee
That skrilla, that paycheck, that green
Those fleas and disease
I once knew a girl who was nicknamed
"Rotch" and dated a guy named Chester
I asked, one day, if they were moving
Out East, to Rochester, and they
Got very cross with me indeed
Crotch rot supreme; I could smell it
From across the room
He didn't use that wrap
That he should've, did he?

>>2328930
We reach our final destination
Bold and benighted before the night
Nigh, crested and gilded, golden-plumed
Such as the slightest stars through a glass
Clearly; such is the life of a businessman
Drunk in his hotel's bar, alone, tiki-madness
Ending two tiki-hours ago, ticking madly past
Such as the constellations themselves
Celestial animals, celestianimals, non-molested
They stay crunchy in milk, guaranteed
Pinching, biting, pushing, shoving, joining in the great
Pantomime, great and black and still a mote
Before it all, the city's light pollution
Their battle call, the light cast against the cloudcover
Their Levant, ripe for Reconquista
Ripe for squeezing, its celestial juice
More tasty than even that of the blood orange
And a great source for Vitamin C, too

>>2278917
Christmas tree,
Stare at me, see me
Through your lights I see
Me staring, I am the tree, I pee
Green, needles sparing no-one or
Any orifice, facial or otherwise, guise
Without or within, taken aboard, Captain
The boatswain, what to do? what to do? Xanadu
Ahead, the hard rock of Asgaard, Amon Amaarth and
I do believe we've reached the end of our three-hour tour
Our three-hour tour, totes and complex, O complexing world, to be
A tree without respect, the star of David blaring upon a shirt ironed and handed
Barbed wire blaring upon a pink cross, affixed upon the Crucifix, Pontifex Maximus Oedipus Rex;
Schizo-Capitalism and Schizo-I'm-a-True Believer; What to do? What to do? When Bloomingdale's is out of it,
Out of what? Whatever; it'll never do: money rules everything around me, queef, get the money, dollar dollar billz, Mall, the Eye of Sauron upon, all up on, you.

Christmas tree,
Stare at me, see me
Through your lights I see
Me staring, I am the tree, I pee
Green, needles sparing no-one or
Any orifice, facial or otherwise, guise
Without or within, taken aboard, Captain
The boatswain, what to do? what to do? Xanadu
Ahead, the hard rock of Asgaard, Amon Amaarth and
I do believe we've reached the end of our three-hour tour
Our three-hour tour, totes and complex, O complexing world, to be
A tree without respect, the star of David blaring upon a shirt ironed and handed
Barbed wire blaring upon a pink cross, affixed upon the Crucifix, Pontifex Maximus Oedipus Rex
Schizo-Capitalism and Schizo-I'm-a-True Believer
What to do? What to do? When Bloomingdale's is out of it, out of what? Whatever. It'll never do.
Money rules everything around me, queef, get the money, dollar dollar billz, Mall, the Eye of Sauron upon, all up on, you.

>>2278860
>>>/b/
if you want deep thought.

>>2278813
/B/

>>2278367
To celebrate a merry day
On this day, our day, Christ's
Day, O happy day! Howie Day
Dies irae, but hey, you know.
Happy happy joy joy to the world
And all that, a cat in yer hat
Three eliminated maps and a
Homo for the hollydays, I'll
Take that, Jack, ghouls for
Gouda, woulda coulda
If I was, perhaps
Speciously smegmatic
I would aromat my own
PhD in acrobatics, or
Maybe just follow D&E
And get a degree in
Aesthetics, I want so much
To be a disappointment.
But herphaps that's the point
To be sinful and merry and pippin
And so to one and all a good night
Cap and to one and all a good
Jackrabbit stew, brewing warm
And fragrant on the stovetop
And to all, I hope you're out of the
Cold, family to love, crow and dove
And turducken to snack upon and
All that, much /luv/ from /lit/, in our
Asspie asswipe way, from Rand and King
KFC, DFW, PKD, the tripfags, the always
Dependable anon, and of course, the
Totally existing or totally not, subjective or totally not
God above
And Joyce's love letters
-TheGrandPoemer

>>2267222
They kind of seem like they would be.

>>2267197
Mah nigga.

Mi corazon, mi corazon
Dancing deep within the bathosphere
Himself a raging roid addict
Addic-dick Kick-case
Cuckoo-face, poo-poo-face
In before, nigger jigaboo moo
Cow, cuckoo!, it's jigs in place
A plastic face, strapped over a
Bank robber's facade
But then again, aren't we all
Just de Sade, but perhaps a bit
More moderate
Perhaps a bit more von Sacher-Masoch
Than Sadist
Masochist a bit more
Than poltergeist, poultry-heist
A foul a stench
A monkey's wrench, a hen, a green swan
Black, a Natalie Portman batting down the
Hatches with OP, in their little butthurt
Little black submarine
The Black Keys

>>2266207
the bitten skin of a peach shreds soft and light
Beneath its blight, a shallowly bitten bit of bend of
Light, resplendent beneath the fray, prismed and distorted
Disordered, its white radiance bent to different ways like the fallow to the ground
And seeds spray, like fluid at a bukake party
Bamonte, Williamsburg's 'bergiest burg, for Burghers and buccaneers
Bukake a flume of fluid, of aforementioned
A bit of Beatrice Portinari to make the lonely nights
Go by, blighted by plight and strange light resplendent like the seed in the ground
Grown flesh, flora, and fruit, tutti fruity like OP
A bit light in the loafers, laughter fills the auspicious halls, echoing, resounding
Not unlike the first bite bitten into an unripe peach's skin, or perhaps the echo of a dick's fat flat slap against OP's chin

>>2266207
the bitten skin of a peach shreds soft and light
Beneath its blight, a shallowly bitten bit of bend of
Light, resplendent beneath the fray, prismed and distorted
Disordered, its white radiance bent to different ways like the fallow to the ground
And seeds spray, like fluid at a bukake party
Bamonte, Williamsburg's 'bergiest burg, for Burghers and buccaneers
Bukake a flume of fluid, of aforementioned
A bit of Beatrice Portinari to make the lonely nights
Go by, blighted by plight and strange light resplendent like the seed in the ground
Grown flesh, flora, and fruit, tutti fruity like OP
A bit light in the loafers, laughter fills the auspicious halls, echoing, resounding
Not unlike the first bite bitten into an unripe peach's skin, or perhaps the echo of a dick's fat flap slap against OP's chin

>>2253895
For sale: cellar door, never worn.

>>2253714
She's cold as ice
My heart lay in pieces at her desk
In biology, I stare up her dress
Does she say Hello? No.
Back to the Smiths, the Cure I go

She's like fire or a volcano's
Ejaculate, her jacket I sniff
Her pantaloons I purloin
I sniff that shit like sirloin
Her loin, I'd love to take a bite of
Like vampires in the night
Sparkle sparkle, sparkle sparkle
To die by your side
Is heavenly stairway, really
Sparkle sparkle, sparkle sparkle

>>2251409
I hiccuped a soft goodbye to my dearest
Wife and daughter, boarded train
And left the town that I'd called home
For all my life

The scenic countryside
Swayed to an unheard breeze
It said, it seemed, that I was heading
Towards some light that I'd failed to notice
Yet

We arrived in an August day
Light like gold seraphim on display
Through the trees that blew with the
Same breezes that I'd seen in that car
Those hours ago

And so I went to the work to which I'd been hired
Took my lye and gloves
Put on the mask and respirator
Apron, boots, goggles, watched the skybirds
Dive and parry high above

I picked up that jug of corrosive substance
Sprinkled over the bodies
That littered the grounds in heaps in pits
Looked around and thought of my family
Standing within that station, surely bombed
To oblivion by now

>>2251409
Apologia, an apology under da sea
An epigram, an epitaph, extispicy
Extra spicy parallellograms
Suckling pig, pictrogram, grammarian
Care again, share and then I guess
It'll be time again to share again
Guess and win, pick and sin
Its troubling, grin and win, its time again
To kick a shin, to write and read some
Finnigan, see dat riverrun, recirculation
Quite a beastly sin; enringed in tin
Quixotic and quick, rapidemente
It's sick, a certain sequela picked again
From a certain uncertain number
Of untamed effects, mindful of its ruddy nature
Muddied in blood, and red and black like mine
Again, its sin and sure to win again like sin

>>2236356
Ayn Rand's anal glands
Need expressing, go to the vet
Doctor sticks his fingers deep inside
Her wet, sticky, conceited hole
And viol! The Fountainhead.

>>2225348
Nothing would make me happier, OP
Than an anon on /lit/ most happy
A most sordid thing to hear, to see
Than butthurt ranging far and wide

Not gonna happen, though.

>>2225321

I bolster my courage
A furor, demure and its tawdry
Expletives, mfw I'm great
At fuckin up even the most laconic of scenes
It's obscene; everything its own idiomatic example, contained:
Wistful, a fistful of collars, my dog's mauled a small
Child, isn't it aw-
-Ful and intangible
This feeling I get when she fails to look back
Over her shoulder; an idiot's idiomat
To reciprocate my own actions, most unmirrorlike
A private refuge for subterfuge, surfeit inhibitor
It's also awful, it's likely a special type of offal
So I grapple as they gas my dog in that small lab
Behind the desk so brown and tall, the lab tech/secretary also not looking back as my own violent friend is put to her own last, big sleep
She fails to look back from her screen, like that girl that I fell for all that time ago

Alright, I think I got em all; and I put in an Eastwood allusion too.

Mallarme, Mallarme
Always the ennui, always the azure
Mallarme, why so blue?
Why so angsty, why are you
I assume you were a grown man
When you wrote these poems, for the most part
So why do you sound just a bit adolescent?
If I wanted poems about how ineffectual we are
How dark the night is, O how the soul trembles
I would read high school freshman poetry
About how no one but Stephanie Meyer
Will ever understand how dark and misunderstood the poemer is
Angsty freshmen frenchmen, Mallarme, no harm
No play, no foul, poult-ray
Chicken, fried in its own juices
Much like the squid, its ink
In a polyurethane bag
Fast and bulbous
Fast and bulbous
The mascara snake
Like a tin teardrop, beneath the ennui-y azure, monsieur, monster, allez-vous?
But the cover of your book is pretty cool, I suppose
A cool azure, and your stenciled face in dark, lines sends the soul a-tremble
Oh, Mallarme, O, Mallarme
And Stephane is a girl's name
Just thought someone should tell you
To your cover

Jesus, Christ, Fabulous

There is no tripfag more I would like to poke
In the ass with a fondue fork
Than that most odious, heinous of post
-ers here than Sunhawk, may he burn in Queens
Tripfags' machines, justified barely
Scraping the edge of something clean
Dirtying this petri plate called life
Undue, under the sun, cybernetic strife
Philosophizing sans-wisdom about misgiven
Issues, here's a tissue, faggot, dry yon tears
Moisture, monsieur, is obscene here
Scandalous, umadbra? mighty and mean
Cruelly mocking those with who emote
But goddamn it's funny, their motions
And crispy portions of chicken and potions
Of BBQ sauce on that pic, please, it's hot
And I'm not leaving this thing until I've got
Her FB page, OP, must creep
Immediately

There was once a man I knew
Who liked to go to see little girl movies
And listen to the Who
Well that man was and continues to be
Known to me as a pederast
He would gas the whole crowd at these
Gatherings, the noxious fumes arising
From his butthole, flapping hard in the wind
Prolapsed as it was, so unfortunate a malady
As that
Well, he would take the whole crowd home
In his van, My Genderation blaring commendably
And wildly
And when he got home he would dress the whole
Crowd in his favorite jeans and fancy things
Like cravats and poemer's shirts and all that
And when they awoke, they had been violated
Dressed badly, and, worst of all
Had seen about half of Breaking Dawn

>>2196328

A Historical Poem for Your Enlightenment:

Tom Arnold walked into a train station
One day
And said, clippers in hand
I am going to do this in the most public place I can think of
He commenced to shave his head
And, to the growing crowd's disbelief
He had, of all things, a mouth in his crown
Set deep, it looked as a scar
But upon further inspection
It was, in fact a mouth
With forkèd tongue
And errything
Well, needless to say
Everyone was amazed
As equally as if Morgan Freeman had pooped
On Molly Ringwall's vagina pineapple
And out of the headmouth
Came the words "I'm a gigantic faggot, feed me dick!"
And so the people obeyed
Swayed by overwhelming emotion
Brought on by Tom Arnold's head mouth
Twas so elegant, this nigh-devilish orator's words
So sound its smithing of persuasive speech
One could not help but obey its gentle propaganda
And eventually, as more and more people heard the news
Of Tom Arnold's head mouth
More people came and fell under its terrible power
Until eventually, the entire country had galvanized
To its words
And this is how Nazi Germany was founded