/poetry/

or maybe better

drunk on love you fall to drunken stupor
X / X / X / X / X /
you promise her "this too shall pass"
X / X / X / X / X /
Of course you would fight and die for nothing
X / X / X / X / X /
Hypocrite that I am, I am but dust
X / X / X / X / X /
No man would not fight for their beloved
X / X / X / X / X /

...

By breaking through this strangling dust,
and breathing foul, and golden, fire,
into this maze of envied lust:
the potent fumes of self-desire.

Tangled buds of curling
scrag festooned his chafed cheeks,
eddying upwards from
neck to jaw, in whorled streaks.
Chords of bootgnashed blooms and
fianscent teased his sharp nose,
blending, as he kissed her,
into rueful repose.
George stood, paused, and, hefting
her coat, breathlessly keen,
through the spruced gloomy dawn,
punctuated each lean
fourplaced kiss with looping
glissandos of caress -
the sentried pines drooping
with autumnal nobless.
The soft glower of twilight
upon them - restlessly looming,
unreaped; faintly brooming
meadowed shades and flawed starsleight.
Enswept amber braids the wood,
hemming strands of mauve-dark pall
between threaded, sunrayed scrawl:
the old blazed rhymes of boyhood.
Crocheted pearls of dust-sowed frost
collapsed, spangling their loose cloth
with malodorous, grey froth.
His thrice-stained coat sleeveborne, crossed,
George drifted through close-sewn
saucers of sun. A stone -
cairn-plucked, depressed, and thrown -
danced, and settled, alone.

I like it OP, but I'd have to read it many times over and look up some of those words to completely understand it. Some explanation of what is going on would probably help me visualize it better. I'm reading the Iliad right now too, though I chose the Lattimore translation.
I like this too, but again I had to look up some words, and some I couldn't find with a google search, so some parts are confusing for me. After reading it a few times over though, I kind of get it. I don't think I can do either poem justice since I'm not knowledgeable enough about poetry to meaningfully critique these. I would ask why the rhyme scheme isn't consistent though. Is there a reason? Also, why is the top four lines separate?

Would appreciate any feedback on this poem:
I met a girl, slender and nice,
Thou spoke I only to her twice,
Love struck me with a vip’rous bite,
Now venom hot confounds my sight,
And that smooth skin does hold soft shine;
She slips and glides in ways so fine,
Her endless curves, enchanting eyes,
These I can’t ‘scape by any wise,
Nor we’re able would I not
Remove from her prey rightly caught.
For Love’s sweet poison courses yet,
And thou doom only have me bought,
That appetite I wish to whet.

I wrote The first four lines serve as a thematic anchor to the story of Saint George and a structural hint as the poem begins with little description of the scene beyond the characters, emerging from the 'maze,' 'fumes' and 'dust.'
It is unfinished though, missing its other 72 lines.
The first twelve lines after the quatrain are the first subject, the next four lines are a transition, the next twelve are the second subject, and the last four lines are a codetta, ending the first part. Each part has a different rhyme scheme and rhythm.

Try to avoid using words like 'thou,' elisions like 'vi'prous' and language rearrangements like 'venom hot' as it comes across as old-timey. I also think, when dealing with the theme of woman, it is best to choose the rarer parts of the body that one loves - in my poem I used 'fianscent' combining fiance and scent to try and express George's love through his personal word for her smell.

So I just write short poetry, because I'm to scared to write longer things currently.

But I'd like feedback on these 2 please

'Upside down tentation'

Oh addiction
up in the sky
why must you tell me
what to do
in between
my own thigh

and

Tick
Tick Tick
Tick
We are wound down
to our toes
click

The first:
Could use a second rhyme, perhaps as a couplet between the third and fourth lines?

For the second:
I think it works better with tick-tick tick in the second line, as it builds a kind of rhythmic tension that 'We are wound down / to our toes' needs.

The distant howls of a winter stray,
Man-grown grass interspersed in mud,
Tall trees in staccato of an unknown rhyme,
Life enables in a bourgeois dream.

Wooden benches carpet the forest,
Birds ballad of a foreign verse,
Brooding barks bow in obeisance,
Life enables in a bourgeois dream.

Overmen observe nature's cries,
March merrily in monsoon madness,
Grand streetlights pose as redwood trees,
Life enables in a bourgeois dream.

Cultures meet, identities lost
Wrong places and wrong times
Petals droop, and men scream -
Life enables in a bourgeois dream.

Two People
separated by distant shores
meanings lost
like ships in the fog
my heart the hull breached
to the depth of a dark sea
with luck to one day wash ashore

I remember when chick's eyebrows weren't fake and drawn on
When Tinder, Netflix and Chill weren't the kinda dates that I'd go on
Nowwwwwwwwww
Aww every single thing that you see
Always turns out to be a fucking meme
Mark of the beast is the hallmark of a fiend and you can it's reflection staring back in your screen
Insta booking my face snap with a dog filtered hashtag
Bring back the syntax
Character breaking the
Muffled chirps of a twitchy bird
Creating no risk high yield crypto ads
Senselessly swinging censorship hammers with jewel encrusted gold laced monogramed initials into the minds of the millennials
Buy my shit, talk about it then maybe I'll give you free exposure in a song I wrote about it
If you're sick of being broke senpai, get the stick out your ass and into dope man
Buy straight smack, forget the meth and the rock
No need to keep up with the Joneses when you're too busy jonesin' to give a fuck...

thank you, I'll try to find another rhyme to fit (its about god and masturbation hehe).

on the second, I didn't want to many ticks.

Repeat.

Finding a date:
Download upload write swipe match
talk text meet drink fuck sleep piss shit
leave

repeat.

Finding a job:
Search email upload write revise communicate email
schedule arrive wait handshake talk handshake
leave
wait

repeat.

Dealing with a tragedy:
Read text call talk cry sleep think dream
wake piss eat shit sleep cry call text read call text
cry

repeat.

Finding out you're pregnant from Tinder:
Panic vomit piss eat vomit panic panic panic
panic
shit sleep text test panic test call
schedule wait
abort

repeat.

There's some good stuff here but there's also some "get off my grass" stuff.
I wrote this for a Valentine's Day card

Two dormant continents we create
when in our waking slumber.
The previous evenings tight embrace,
by sleep is cast asunder.
A canyon lies between our lands.
An empty cold abyss
With bed instead of deepest sands,
your warmer climes I miss.

Yet in this somnolent microcosm
I can move tectonic plate.
So I will move to close the chasm,
an earthquake I'll initiate.
And if the tremors make her start?
She'll think we never were apart.

For what its worth user, I like it how it is. Good job.

It's funny, the things
A dream can do
Within only an hour
you spend a life or two
and almost as if
they've got a mind
of their own
when your up
they pull down
when your down
your not alone
like turning off
and tuning in
an antenna to
a dreams whim
and the thing, i think,
that strikes the most
is that the dream
tricks any host
when after all this time
ive been alive
and all the falls
i have survived
and all the dirt
crossed in my shoes
who would have thought
i could have flew
for in a dream
it is no question
to take to the sky
without a mention

so why not then
in a world so real
cant i do the things
the brain wants to feel
like dance with a lover
whom loves no more
in our best dressed
with family and porch floors
and it all feels
just too damn real
because worst of all
the things we hate
these dreams of ours
are masturbate
where we may see
a nobel prize
or feel the touch
of lovers eyes
and we may wish
to keep it together
the broadcast cant be held
in memory forever
in fact in minutes
we realize we're alive
the brain goes to work
discarding the lies.

Ayy lil gangsta nigga
Sock my cock else i pull the trigga
yo

I like it. Had to read it in a hip hop beat though. Especially the last lines

Hey lit, please gimme a hand. Im here lurking for some cool song lyrics, but I dont understand what X/X/X/ means? Could someone explain and give an example?

This is fucking excellent and you should make it a real song.

Are Haiku's accepted?
For every sin born
A punishment unending
The nightmare begins

not a haiku

5-7-5
What's the problem?

That's not what a haiku is. Syllables are only part of the equation.

Cheers pal. I acknowledge that its cheesy but I think romantic poetry has to be a bit cheesy.

I like it, though there's some awkwardness to the rhyme and metric structure.

Personallyy I think the line "like dance with a lover who loves no more, in our best dressed with familly and porch floors" feels out of wack, especially given the rythmic nature of dancing.

I also think more could be done to emphasize the freamlike nature of the things you want to do. I dont know about you but my dreams are often a lot more surreal than simply dancing surrounded by family.

Just my thoughts anyway. Take with a pinch of salt.

Syllabic poem. Haikus require a breaking word (splits the nature from the observation) and they also require an element be about nature or life. Flowers, birds, trees, etc.

Appreciate the comments thank you

Haephestus gave us bronze and lead
X / X / X / X /
a toll returned with heady fumes
X / X / X / X /
his terrors left in older age
X / X / X / X /
but to return in time of coal
X / X / X / X /

it clicks and clacks with unheld tool
X / X / X / X /
the machine pounds on bone of man
X / X / X / X /
the smith has craft a golden net
X / X / X / X /
he wrought with worker's hand!
X / X / X /

Not sure about the Marxist overtones of complaining about the capitalist machinery of the industrial revolution and its disregard for human lives. On the one hand I like the idea of trolling people by putting in a message calling for universal communist revolution on the other I genuinely do not want to be associated with Marxism at all as it is a bloodthirsty and awful ideology.

Eh. The subject is commonly nature and life but IMO the surprise bit is the most important part that is missing.

Moldy bread and spoiled milk
/ X / X / X /
are the pleasures of our time
/ X / X / X /
no ambrosia is our feast
/ X / X / X /
and no nectar is our wine
/ X / X / X /
your meal is the blood and sweat
/ X / X / X /
of one hundred other men
/ X / X / X /
so you bless the land's good yield!
/ X / X / X / X
or I'll make you meet your end
/ X / X / X /

A classical guitar with a whammy bar
perfect for slide, guaranteed a star
It's a Gibson Strato imitation Paul
This message brought to you by a shopping mall

It's a real tube amp with digital tubes
synthesized for clueless rubes
Recommended by a rubber band
Handcrafted by mechanical hand

Give me an endorsement, I couldn't care what
I will sell drugs you shove up your butt
I'm faker than all of you fakers
So does my offer have any takers?

Why not:

So exalt the land's drubbed yield
or be scattered for the hen.

That's reasonable but it sounds kind of inauthentic and forced. I don't like using "be" that way or words that I have to look up in dictionaries like "drubbed." If my audience has to look up words that's a problem.

I get that, but I think the last line especially needs a change - maybe it's just me but I can't stand the words 'good' and 'end'

Relentless ruler which does claim my heart,
Is yours the tenderness that I will deal
Eternally, to soothe my pride's sick art
And cloud the truths thine secrets will unseal
Will God deny me of this sacred act?
Will other soul achieve the greatest deed?
To rise your countenance in solemn pact
And feel your warm touch glorified by seed
Behold! The mirths that through my body seep
Awaking solemn ecstasy. Arise!
For Even Neptune, though his waters deep,
Lacks mysteries of thine uncultured eyes.
Sincere regards of love I ask of thee
Like burning forests of a man set free

Andantino e poco grazioso

Awash with tempest tongues, a sloughed flue pipe
intoned, dislodging tawny phlegm-gouged fluff
in tiny clods across the open slype,
wafting fumes into priestly dun snuff.
Smokeblue clouds wallowed, clogging nave and pew
with plumes from gnawed cigars; notes of clove
and rosewood blown through the hazy brew,
riled by wetted soot and hoarse, lisped shrove.

Limp Father Wald nipped his napped frock
sleeve, nodding off, unworried by dull wind,
his aching ankle raised in holey sock,
toes sweating from lank-lunged hymns for the sinned;
the choir echoed hueless scales, easeborne
into a duet of bowed bass and horn.

"Unchaperoned"

At the argument’s end he lurched into the night
and explored the backroads and the parking lots near them,
launching a bottle from the driver side window
as he finished it at the top of each K-turn.

Old songs he sang, wiping his lip, in a hoarse throated
shout, at times at a loss to remember their words
and other times imagining living in cities like London
Paris, Los Angeles, the places they referenced

For certain, he thought, a beautiful woman on
a crotch rocket pulled to a red light beneath one of
their skylines, rolled a cig with one hand and pulsed
the throttle with the other.

But he would never be single again, unless
Bernice left him or died, or what have you
but that’s not how life goes for civilized people
he told himself in the rear view reflection.

If the self is just the narrator of your actions
as he suspected of her- oh, to wave his finger-
if it’s nothing but a drunken bird that follows you home
and announces its presence in the morning,

then how do you insist that you love me when I tell you
ten years of our lives was just a misunderstanding,
and how can you live in the best of all possible worlds
when you have to go to work in the morning?

There is a women in the streets, And she’s afraid of the police.
Not the ones in her city, no.
She’s afraid of the ones who shoot up, the things they stole from the bodies, that they shot down.
The men afraid of red, and still they have it spread, within in their ranks, and down the river banks.
Where they get their water, they drink their blood. From men with the same history and names, yet different Idea’s that changed
They write their letters to their families, the messages placed them into their barrels to send those writings. They march south blowing through their tree’s with bullets carved with letters. The Metal scars marked with the letters F-O-R-G-I-V-E-M-E.
And as these F-bombs are shot through the courthouse in a whorehouse filled with the men from another sea. Family’s across that sea, reason behind each writing, each letter, and each bullet. So they load sentence shotgun shells, silencing sentinels sending sorrows, seen by soldiers encouraged to keep fighting.
They march down south with protests and flowers in their barrels. They preach of gray views, but are beaten and abused, by the police

As kids shoot kids armed with idea’s and machine guns. Parents of drafted sons read drafted envelopes, and how their sons pens and words weren’t strong enough for their guns and swords. So when they drink to forget family’s feed sorrow feeling faint fate finally taking their sons lives Laughs and cries from friends fiends, rivals, and foes. The colors of red white and blue blanket and suffocate the brothers of liberty and fire at their twin in arms.

As these brothers run from roof to roof, from roots to rooms, to homes to rubble, the replay the messages they sent in their heads, their faces covered in sweat and blood, whose blood is this? We all bleed red, so does it matter whose blood we shed?
What makes a brother? The faces their names? Or what's in their head?
Have we lost ours?
She’s not afraid of the police...
She’s afraid of The World Police, and Friendly Fire.

Very rough at the end because I just gave up

inspired by a act in "static" by Godspeed you! Black Emperor By the name of "World police and friendly fire"

>was a day a while ago when i'd be me
>on a subway to meet my girl
>when i saw a pup, wanted to pet the doggy
>but the pupper was on duty

>and you should not pet a dog at work
>so, i asked the doggo's man his name
>said his name was Spot, he did his duty well
>and the man would miss Spot when he's gone
>but his friend would always bring him back

>be me, underground
>and looking for my girl
>be me, looking back
>looking at Spot the dog

>be me, i got to pet the dog!
>and i'm on my way to home!

Maybe just

>be me
>on a subway to meet my girl
>when i saw a pup, wanted to pet the doggy
>but the pupper was on duty

>and you should not pet a dog at work
>so, i asked the doggo's man his name
>said his name was Spot, he did his duty well
>and the man would miss Spot when he's gone
>but his friend would always bring him back

>be me, underground
>and looking for my girl
>be me, looking back
>looking at Spot the dog

>be me, i got to pet the dog!
>and i'm on my way to home!