ITT: your best

Wow that was disappointing

IREEE! I REEE!
My wrath on thee!
Kike, shill, faggot, cuck and nigger,
White man's brain is surely bigger!
I do not want to be a soyboy,
You say "oy vey please eat my soy, goy!"
I do not want to join a Klan,
Or be a skinhead Nazi man.
Look soft! The glow of CIA in the night!
A-REE! A-REE! Screech the alt-right.
They holler and shriek with all their might,
Forgetting Americans aren't even white.

El negro roba.

>Trying this hard to fit in.
Leave.

The piece of property stole a piece of property.

The nigger "borrowed."

The nigger conducted a five finger discount.

what's with all the fucking racism?

I fucking love /int/ memes
Stfu cuck

Threads like this ruin the board. Stop bumping.

The nigger stole the (unfinished draft).

A nigger who does not steal is not a nigger.

If u can answer this you don't write enough

Lol

I love doggerel

If a nigger does not steal, is he still a nigger?

The nigger steel

Jet fuel can´t melt nigger steel beams

Il negro ruba

I've never been on /int/
>taking 30 seconds to write a poem is trying hard

The negroid pinched an unattended bicycle.

A niggardly nigger doth confiscate an article of a white man, it is true.

and you can burn my hand
and you can bruise my tongue
i cry in silence at the majesty
and the things i dont want to understand
are the things i have understood
for a long time
that make me cry in silence
at the mystery

It is in the interest of every nigger man woman and child to procure an item that does not belong to them for the benefit of themselves and only themselves so that it may barter the burgled item for cash to display its wealth to the rest of its tribe of niggers and assert its dominance within the niggardly hierarchy, thereby cementing its need for procreation and respect every second of every day until a stronger, faster nigger procures its own wealth to flaunt and assert itself at the top of the tribe, thereby perpetuating a primitive cycle to which they are forever enslaved and made dance to as time turns slow as the mind of a nigger.

damn...

DA MUHFUGGIN NIGGA STOLED SOME SHIIIIET

I analed her good
she said yes thats good
right there deep in my bum
bury your chunky pork-sword
puncture the innards of my soul
and so I kept slamming away
like a comet shooting for the stars
pummeling away, away, away
boy did I fuck her good in the bum
all her friends told me I did
they all said, you really did, she said so
about me giving her that good dick
anally of course, she's saving herself
for marriage, thus the poophole
loophole, that glorious loophole
the poophole that I stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey
despite it being july, hot damn that ass was sweet
like a honeybaked christmas ham
during july of course, but still, hot ham ass
sweaty and salty and sweet like meat
gave it to her so good she came back for more
of my amazing penis game so strong
yeah i ass fucked her real good
all her friends tell me
everyone talks about it

the niggerfication of a noble nigger is the worst nigger of them all

I wrote poetry once. I miss love, even if it's embarrassing.

I'm a cripple;
stuck in my lips,
quivering hips,
heart having skips,
your stupid dimple...

fucking shite-
this love thing's a blight-
A warm disease
a bleedin breeze
I want to hear you say please

I'm on the floor
you've got me at the core
I'm sore
and a boar
and a bore
and you soar

bare your souls, gentemen

Los negros roban.

Time, as we see it, is like looking through a keyhole while falling from a cliff. But once the key is in place, and turned, and the door opened, it is the world left behind which begins to lose focus.

If a nigger steals and no one is around to see it, does he commit a crime?

you started a fucking nigger thread. great job, idiot

Then stop bumping, you idiot.

Stolen

lol ironic

That's not how you use lest.

Yes it is.

>lest definition
>for fear that
>Do you not avoid these anxieties for fear that you may in some way inflict them on those that occupy these worried imaginings?
seems fine to me.

this is from my /pol9k/ book. i am sorry, i really must apologize for this.

you are bait

the bait had strange timing, as soon as i came to harvest (you)s, after posting this yesterday, this had been posted less than a second past loading the page. excellent timing, really.

Probably the worst piece of writing I've ever read.

is it worse than joyce?

>Epidemics are so planned upon the Forested Suicide, retinas inclined to the filmed wrappings; leticia is so consumed! One must disgust such Princesses, that weave their Nightly Decompositions; sporadic skies, that whisper strange incantations, compose the worldly laughter, that converts to tears. Dinners melted on the faced communal, consuming fleshy drinks that worm their ways to extincted strangulations: suffocation.

Ok. Thanks for the criticism.

this is actually bad

Go on, then

The man sat on a craggy rock with his dick in his hand. "Ouch," he said. "It hurts."

Somebody please post the exerpt of the book whereby every third word was nigger

kys user

Once lived nigger, a dastardly nigger, of tribe nigger, a city of niggers, of sad niggers, and violent niggers. What is nigger, not violent nigger, ten little niggers, killed five niggers, raped four niggers, commanded by nigger, king of niggers. That, my niggers, is our nigger, our story, niggers.

All niggers steal.

youre going to pay for making this shitty thread

>that post
>that post number

ayyyy

I remember how I learned the nature of Beach leaves, going for walks with my father through those grey New England winters. For three years from November until March, the world seemed especially colorless. He would drag me outside into the cold for my own good, out of love. My legs had stopped listening to me. I fell forwards through the sleeping forests, an infant atop stilts, tumbling down the icy rooted paths towards the water. My thoughts were not my own. My body; burning, crooked, and crumbling, no longer heard my voice.

What makes the North American Beech Tree so distinct is that it hails from the tropics. Long ago these giants wandered into a foreign land, gradually northwards from warmer climes. Lost in the snow, they were forced to leave their authentic selves behind; to adapt, to survive. Unlike the maple or oak with their dark skins and jagged ridges the Beech is smooth, flat, and light. Here in the north, the Beech stands out. Ever a stranger, there is no one in the landscape quite like it.

I had learned from books that the purpose of this adaptation is to distribute solar heat evenly, to prevent deadly frost cracks from forming in the bark; but I believe differently. I believe, the Beech looks this way because deep in its sturdy trunk, it remembers. As it sleeps under the low New England winter sun, that lazy egg yolk, dripping in the sky, it dreams of home.

The Beech comes from a land where there is no winter, where the leaves may live year round without a care in the world. In that place of memory they always full, they are always green. No such thing exists up here in New England; not for these giants, so stranded in the cold. No, their leaves shrivel into pale white nothings.

Turned downwards on their stems like scraps of paper quaking in the wind, they are a sore sight indeed. However fragile, the Beech leaf holds a quiet strength. It never lets go. It holds on because in the tropics, because in spring, the leaves do not let go. It refuses to die because it remembers what once was, because it knows what again will be.

I remember being in withdrawal; what it meant to be paper thin, to flail in the wind, to hang pale above the icy ground. I remember how I learned the nature of Beech leaves, and what they whispered through the forest that would set me free.

We stopped talking. There were some things that people just can’t say, and it lives in their head very clearly, but it must get torn up and mangled on its way down to their mouth because it comes out very small and very dead. In your head it’s something that can carve rivers and valleys and out of your mouth a corpse so disfigured it could hardly be remembered as something that was once great. He didn’t want to kill it, so I didn’t press him any more. If it was one of those very strong very powerful things it would make its way into my head like a bullet, without words. If it was really so strong it wouldn’t need words. Words are a crutch for the weak things and if an idea needs words to get in your head it’s not much worth thinking about.

I like this one. What did you write it for? I think it must be a very sad thing to write if desolate passages like this come up.

This is actually really fucking good from the angle of a normal man going bat shit insane from being on Veeky Forums too long

Reminds me of Welcome to the NHK, in a good way. Please keep writing.

A small play-set there on the ground. Children's toys, a set of tiny chairs, and a small table. Sheets of white paper lay scattered about, along with some coloured crayons. I had to close my eyes, but I could not see you there.

This is nice.

Niggers steal.

Too often I think back to the time in which my journey intersected with yours, a million years ago when we both lived in that windy little town outside of Cortez. Too often I think about how it moved me; how every night, the desert was so clear and beautiful. Out in the middle of the plains I’d find you standing under the heavens, staring off into infinity with those massive eyes of yours. You were very much a creature of that place. To me, you were something of a spirit, an enchantress who seemed to emerge from the red dust of that land; who every night would exhale the stars around me. I the stranger, the temporary, this un-belonging thing from the east, felt drawn to that. If I could go back, I’d try to be brave. I’d do my best to toss my fears out into the open, to throw them on the ground, to point and laugh at them and hope to god you’d do the same. If nothing else in the world, I wanted lie there with you in the damp cool grass under the heavens, for us to feel small, but not apart. I remember you told me you felt alone, right before I had to leave, how your words had made my chest hurt. I wanted us to laugh about the awkwardness and distance we both seem to feel from all other things, about the absurdity of our lives, about the absurdity of ourselves. I wish I had been brave enough to be vulnerable, to truly know who you were. In your own subtle way, you certainly tried your best to know me. I miss the tranquil desert sky where one can see the machinery of the cosmos in its workings. I miss the clarity, the stillness, the voices of those massive silent things, and the part that you played among them.

>What did you write it for?
The simple processing of soothing own pain and fear from things in the past through artistic sublimation. It was born at 4AM in a sweltering dorm room last October.

all you racists, please, kys.

You must be a nigger. Tell me, what did you steal today?

WHY ISNT THIS THREAD GETTING ARCHIVED???

because idiots like u keep bumping

wth is this garbage

What's wrong with it?
Go on, explain in detail what you don't like about it.

i know it's probably part of a larger story, but it works quite well on its own desu

the fact that a thread like this can exist on Veeky Forums

Stop writing

He sat and he started to sing. He knew it was a bad idea, even more so than lighting a fire but he cared not.
His comrade had fallen. His only earthly companion gone. Buried in the soil not two feet from where he now sat and to hell if he wasn't going to see his comrade out with a warriors tune. The first screams of the horde cut through the night sky. They heard his song.
He stood, gripped his sword tightly and sang louder still.
The small fire pit reflected light against the makeshift wooden tombstone that he carved for his friend.
"Here lies Cat. A true comrade. A loyal beast to the end." It read.
More screams went up. Closer now.
He gently rubbed the tombstone and walked out into the fog, still singing, sword held aloft, ready to fell any creature that dared interrupt Cats send off.

a better image

The nigger only takes. What he gives is an antagonist to civilized society.

Niggers are born to steal. Woe is the nigger who does not steal!

>The nigger only takes
>What he gives

nice job contradicting yourself
I bet you're actually insecure, can't form a powerful opinion and stand behind it, instead turning and cowering, crudely attempting a shot a humor- as humor appeals more to the layman than preaching contrary opinions. Get good or give up, don't get stuck in the halfway limbo user.

lol what a nigger

u rite

Los negros roban.

>The nigger stole.
>The nigger steals.
Wow, I totally didn't know that.

These threads are an example why Veeky Forums is turning to shit. And it's not going to change for the better anytime soon.

Blood slipped from the cut across his face.

Someone tell me if they catch the pun.

I wrote it you faggot
I did post it about a month ago though

He was bleeding from the mouth?

The Nigger and his Own

To steal, or not to steal, that is the question:
Of the nigger

a nigger that does not steal is not a nigger

i went to maury and he said that baby aint mine
so I threw that dumb skank on top of a mine