Poetry Thread

Vacuum Eyes

trauma? me? mother?
what set you astray?
a, b, c, other
if other, please say

why you

"don't care" what people think
can't talk about yourself
can't laugh without a drink
don't care about your health

the air whirls - absorb it
i am sequined with stars!
as i twirl, they orbit
emit and hide your scars

they're not that bad, are they?
you haven't told me shit
hermetic, you can't pray
can i help? just a bit?

i'll provide a slipstream
for us to stay out late!
club tonight's tried space-theme
please tell me, i'll relate

and let me see your eyes
what was the big event?
hold me, i'll take their cries
imbibe whatever's pent

let's chill and find a flick
spielberg! nostalgia time!
or just cuddle - you pick
if i'm with you, i'm fine

i am

but you're not, i see
forced to act natural
inhale, and tell me
please, was it gradual?

Attached: Untitled.jpg (460x840, 56K)

The air is heavy with hatred tonight.

The street is stained with the blood a thousand dead niggers.
A thousand dead niggers, who died, fingers on their triggers.
A thousand fatherless niggers now, no homes and no love.
Pray in that Southern Baptist Church, but there's no God above.

The sand is vile with the blood of middle-eastern rats.
Blowing themselves up over anything, this, and that-
Allah was a pedophile, a murderer, a rapist, evil,
interesting that those dune-coons pray to him, still.

Dirty kikes in their office suits, hiding their cash,
Ill gotten gains for those who should have died in a furnace's blast.
Hook nosed semites, have never done a thing of worth-
the "Chosen People" never belonged upon this Earth.

A billion bug-eyed chinks constantly producing and copying,
I am reminded by them of their emperors worth mocking.
Can any of them create a thing? Can they do naught but steal?
Oh, they make cartoons, sure, but I mean something real.

Crackers and their stolen lands,
all they wage is war.
No thought for the other man,
just what they can take for-
their own.

The World would be better off if we all just died.
I'll start, if you promise to follow me.

this is actually funny

Walking through the market
I came in contact with
Different exotic smells
That were offered on old stands
By people with veiled faces.

Because of that storm
For a small duration
I have forgot the smell
Of your perfume.

Some parts fit more and are said shorter in my native language. My plan is to construct the setting as a middle-eastern market, henceforth the veiled faces and there is also a part about sand, which I didn't include here because it reads like shit in English.

youtube.com/watch?v=gZ-mHx1yav4

It sounds like it is almost in metre but not quite right.

WALKing THROUGH the MARKet

I CAME in CONTact WITH
DIFFeRENT eXOTic SMELLS
THAT were OFFERed on OLD stands
By PEOPle with VEILed FACes.

BeCAUSE of THAT storm
FOR a SMALL duRATion
I HAVE forGOT the SMELL
Of YOUR perFUME.

I normally find most poetry of the negro persuasion (or so-called "hip-hop" music as the kids call it) to be quite ineloquent and boorish. But I thought I might take a jolly good crack at it anyway.

and I tick-tock walked and worked around the clock
the bee buzz-buzzing and hurt all over

stinging, singing, droning all itchy all over
fuzzy, falling, sleeping, the wasp nest broke

call me mister coma, my head's all smoke
my legs all rubber and made of rope

give me money, honey, women, a bar of soap
a comb, a razor, a will, a tazer

and never any fun and never anyone
no fun, noone, can't take, can't make

alone in the house and walked all over
lying on the floor and made to turnover

fuzzy, falling, sleeping, I'm flat out broke
and covered in muck, my head's all stuck

so I touch my leg and touch my shin
and touch my head and fall apart

a comb, a razor, can't sleep, can't wake

silence, a delicate glass
filled to the brim, quivering,
never overflowed—
shattered softly by your wavering voice and you,
stepping lightly now through that shining mess,
pause again and again to pry out scintillant bloody shards

that is accidental

I agree, had little laff to myself reading that