just started, please r8 and give advice.
Spitting flecks of formless cashmere shake in brains, scorn-squeezed.
By the iron shove of work on work,
I owe a sew to you.
A sew for your whipless power,
banking from our desperation.
A sew for your sneering,
for your end.
But still, i move forward.
Lacking the proper outcome.
I haven't slept
I haven't slept
But words upon you I have left
And words so spoken I have kept
For words so broken I have wept
And guilt has seen I haven't slept
I haven't slept
I just got up, I'm out of bedlam
But last I checked it was 2am
I didn't get much sleep
Just a little peep
Now I have to quit my job and study for a final fucking shit work coffee god fucking damn it FUCK SHIT AHHHHHHHHHHHHH
books are things, simple and trivial things.
they got text, text are things, trivial things.
text got ideas, ideas are not things.
things are not trivial ideas.
books are weird text things.
books are not ideas, but weird things.
weirth ideas are not trivial things.
because trivial things at least doesnt matter.
weird people are not thins, but trivial ideas.
weird.
oh, normies, you all should be no more than text.
oh text, shall you be the only i read.
fucking normies get out my text.
It's too late for you to listen
Dust has fallen between our words
and I am getting old
Your arched eyebrows,
probably still judging me
like crows on the clouds, too bright to look at
Now the days pass slowly,
and thoughts even slower
You haunt my frowning mask
If you would see me again
I would tell you all this
and it would make no difference
I try to concentrate and translate
make some money, move on
find myself on /lit, write some words
devoid of ideas, must move on
like a mantra it won't work.
But how you made me feel!
STEM is a meme, so take care not
to fall for it, for many have fought
creeping depression, for many have lost
so take heed and just simply read
It's clear you have chosen the words for their sound and their effect but it does get in the way of actually reading the words out loud. Also, what is a sew? There's potential but try writing in more plain terms about real things and then thinking about word choice. It shouldn't be necessary to explain a poem but almost none of it makes sense. Another suggestion: try writing prose, cutting it down to a poem and then cutting that down to just the few words needed to express the idea in an original way. Godspeed.
The golem pisses unmixed concrete,
over the wrought iron gate,
the stonework on the nose is complete,
off the wrought iron crown on the Jew's pate.
He chews his breakfast of gravel gruel,
in secret he adds a bit of tar,
his master, the Jew, so very cruel,
loves to shake his slave in a jar.
Rubbish. You've just discovered that repeating words and ranting incoherently can sound deep to other idiots like yourself. You should read more actual poetry to get a sense of what is missing (everything)
I like this one. The rythym is way off but it's interesting and it makes sense at least.
yeah, at eight minutes i had to pull something way out of my ass. definitely needs worth for rhythm i agree. made me think of how long it really takes to write a poem from scratch without inspiration.
I wade through waters shallow,
Never venturing to the deep--
Home of some abyssal sorrow;
No reward worthwhile to reap.
hinder not how but
to not hinder
how to
be not see at all
to be seen hindered at all
how to not be
and
see
The gun on my table.
Time is running out.
Red flowers bloom.
I loved her, though she didn't love me back.
That's fine, as long as she's happy.
I don't think I'm happy.
It's okay.
My fav so far (exept my own). Concise and unpretentious.
take out the comma in the first line though!
we can't talk about heaven
or what happened on the bridge
the child was not yet eleven
watching a shadow shape of girders
why weep here of murder
in icy blackness lay a smidge
rupi? girl get it together
s a m e f a g
it was suposed to be a joke, did you even read the last 3 sentences faggot
Fresh-cut mango smells so
fire, burn that dank ass bud.
It's a nice and careful burn--
red cherry lava trickles
smoke down the
bottle. More;
or, some
more.
Yes.
Deep breath.
Slowly breath out.
Now!,
quickly press your lips and take in all that you can
handle.
Hold it...
Hold it...
Let it all out.
Raise the banners high I cry,
raise 'em up, up towards the sky.
Sound the trumpets, pierce the air;
Steady march I say, over there!
All by this encroaching thunder, let enemies beware, shall be torn asunder.
Form the lines, prepare for an attack;
by the might of God, we shall keep them back.
Defend the crossing, by all costs;
if we should fail, all else is lost.
Take courage and defend your home, do not waiver, do not go alone.
Greater in strength, but lesser in number.
Lads, let it be known we can scarce forebear to blunder;
so gather your courage, take up your arms;
fight for your city, your family, your farms.
Stalwart and a bulwark on the bridge's head, standing firm, let glory won not go unsaid.
I met slave on yon far road
which to me in anguish spoke
I pray thee free me from mine yoke
thou arest mine only living hope
To which I only thus joked
fuck-a-youuuu go ask the pope
Why I'm buying my son a pet:
He will need someone whom to grow besides
And in time I know, they'll learn each other's needs and likes.
Someone to teach him how to want, and get, and lose, and share.
How to fight and cry and make amends.
I wan't him to know what a friend is like.
And they'll run together by day, and sleep together at night.
I wan't to teach him how to grow old.
And that time doesn't stop wherever you're from.
I wan't someone to teach him how to live
And some day, to teach him how to grieve.
The poster of is a cunt who needs ripping
diddle iddle i doo
Ignore this line please I know it's godawful
>And that time doesn't stop wherever you're from.
Also my punctuation is probably all over the place, and my writing is probably at the level of a highschool student. I'm sorry.
I'm working on my attention
and my awareness
I'm after mindfulness
for full self-improvement
What I get is average work performance
and dank memes
Could be worse
Could it be better?
(This is an open ending that makes the reader question whether it indeed could, although perhaps it couldn't)
Nobody understands me
I am a transcendental philosopher
This world is pure shit
I am anxious
But nobody understands my anxiety
Everyone just thinks of money, money, money
Fuck off, the world is shit
Why am I different?
Why do I have to suffer more?
Just because of my intelligence?
In that case I want to be dumb like them
Numb, petrified
A sheep among many
Can I beat it?
My meat, I mean
I mean I really wanna beat it
My meat, I mean
I mean what's all the fuss about?
I just wanna beat my meat
I mean
This one is deep.
Genuinely moved me.
Are you me???
>'crows on the clouds' i like that
How hard is it to be fully present?
Every query must be answered
Every passing thought must be acknowledged, without wincing or smiling
Strive to be equanimous, happiness is just liek sadness, it comes, we relish or we cherish it. And it secedes into the void. Like a gopher coming out of his hole, out of the primitive whims and a thousand years of barbarism, stamped.
I've never tried to write poetry nor have I read much of it. I'm just feeling kind of lonely right now so I thought maybe this would be cathartic for me. I think it has. Please no bully.
I loved first on a tepid April afternoon
Final bell resounds, chaos ensues
She led me to her bus, guiding me swiftly through the tumult
Sat awkwardly on the tiny seat next to her
The scene becomes surreal, overstimulated by
An ocean of voices, laughter, the euphoric scent of her perfume
More than I can bear
Eyes fix anxiously on the floor
She leads me off at an unfamiliar stop
A stroll through downtown concluded at the hillside
Sitting in the grass, pure innocence of youth
New textures, new experiences, new emotions
By that sickly little tree
Her snow white skin glowing
Radiant emerald eyes like the ocean
"Ya know I like you?"
My heart overflows with bliss
The restless soul finds release at last
This is really nice user but it shouldn't be a pet that teaches him those things, it should be you (or maybe that's the point?)
Float on the waves, watch the setting sun
Smooth in its rough, eternal push and pull
Your blessing without does it continue
To the end and farther yet.
cat posters hung up in doctors offices
carry the spirit du jour
putting back English on the cue ball
of my snubbed nose breathing vapor
(Gypsy Tears™ from Vape Nation,
pronounced 'nashe')
but I really love my exempt plates,
skating past disaster after disaster,
opening two doors, closing one,
littering recyclable goods, such as erotica
about japanese basket weavers named Mifune and Saito.
My armoire washes mossy skeletons
because my closet is full and teeth busy
chewing the fat of the land of the lost
myriad ne'er-do-wells and forget-me-nots
named by every mirror in the funhouse
as the executioner names his last song
Death of a Clown (mourn not the).
My inverted nadir spikes along jagged lines
carrying my feet forward upon mother's cracks,
until the back of the oven bursts open
and Truman's walls come crashing down
revealing the optics of vulnerability's eye—
yet the braille on the wall I can't read,
nor do I want to.
one hand written eulogy
one empty colonoscopy bag
one briefcase full of damp briefs
one colorized photo of russian factory workers
one pump and a sorry
one dopesick judge losing to gravity
one cabaret themesong for Lincoln
one broken cavalcade for Kennedy
one wish thrice wasted
one to-do list unmarked save
one dream undecipherably vacated
one house melting wax lanterns
and one helping hand helps the nulliparous
screw the lightbulb into the firmament
to wipe dust from the footmarked dash
so we can drive home safely no anthrax
High tides of seaweed waves rise,
cortex to corpus,
a swamp the color of wine
As i lay inward the cube expands,
last to love is the last to leave.
Forgiving the moment and a chance
to breathe.
Simple and silent my hand adjusts
her feet.
Alone at last the calm is set the
dye is cast.
Troubled women breathe for a moment.
To breathe to breathe.
Nice one
Cool
I watched the rain fall so suddenly,
no warning to be had.
We heard the droplets and the sounds that came.
You left once you realized it was too sunny here, you never once saw it.
I close my window when i see the familiar sight now.
please stop raining.
Cheek on a cold glass pane
Holding thight
Binary temprature, im in awe
There goes the pavement
Morning commute
Wondering wistfully of cosmic play things
Wayside, and bay breezes that eat the wind
And beat between from end to end
The lousy lump of paisley
Sorted by weight
the inventory sat on the lowest shelf
prone to being gnawed by
living things that live close to the dirt
placed carefully in a row
each item tagged and dated
outside the sun shone in an inconceivably blue sky
the clouds had sharp beutiful edges
and floated indeifferently above the earth
I on the highway
watched the city sitting in the middle distance
>took 10 extra seconds
beautiful
nice pepe
Pity; based on faceless tactics wrecked
Of facile moving numbers
He blundered through blithering stakes
Though the state's stale style states
It's all for naught, not for allmost mustering just some measly change in pennies
Coop's to stage a coup but who are you who take the coop
And shake the chicken shook of chilling children - still to churn -
Chastised for lasting masters fasting past a noon
That mooved faster than the cow upon said coop within a spoon now
Spilling out
Apologetic, pills amount to small pathetic pastures pumped with plenty undertons of poorly funded plums (for fun)
Did roots that poison and, well, poised to psuet the needs of sutured seeded sets, saw not see, did pick a play about another any anyways again,
Really stand to gladly grab the status stacked on such a bad?
Thus is thesis thumbed from soupy thoughts that though through and threw both through a loop,
Thorough thucking still to strain
And thunder struck to strike our Coop
so i haven't eaten since i saw you last.
now our universe enclosed in skin
becomes your region -- you eat, overdrink
and swell. i laugh and carry on dwindling,
but i have loved.
Bump
Bump bumble blood a bloo
Aloof foo froo foo doodle stew
Stu muh cu nussy sus crush
Crash crimp crucracrinary crass
Ass lump bump
Bump
Bump
Wasted time
Empty summers stretching back the past five years
Should I feel bad?
At the lack of experiences I could've had
I strangely don't feel at a loss
But I do feel as though this inactivity has come at a cost
Which I won't truly understand for some time
I didn't connect with them all as well as I could have
I cut myself off
I thought that made me better somehow
How naive I was
At work
Sitting on the shitter.
Don't want to work.
Don't want to be a quitter.
I only wish to be at home,
Doing things in my control,
Porcelain dreams that fill me whole,
Like shit in the bowl below.
niggers
niggers are
niggers are dumb
niggers are dumb?
niggers are so dumb!
>(This is an open ending that makes the reader question whether it indeed could, although perhaps it couldn't)
That line was good.
I want to carry a light summer dress and twirl and dance in a summer flower field. Hop and skip.
Feel the zephyr cold on my near barren nubile body.
Bedight in a bed of flowers and twist marg'rita flowers into jewlery of earings and necklaces.
Imbibe the scent of every crown I tear from its stem ,leaving it to parch heedlessly.
Have the shadow of an apple tree lay to become the pall over my fading beauty.
The minute fall lasts short as my beauty remains.
The bruise from the fall is as visible as in the pallor of my cheeks.
The folly waste of my youth only leaves me to blame.
My love now remains pent-up, circumambulated by every man I meet; every flattery turns to flummery.
I have withered and my flower has become sere.
>All "big words" taken from recently read Poe poems and tales.
>ESL 2 EZ
Won chastercationatingorforscentsor
sw
My eyes stare and
Wish dong
N
Lazer leg serge serg betweenback
Ice mealt g
o bac
k
Sick fuck
CHILD SCREAMING OUTSIDE
I Ftgrrer
gghghdhdhdhdrhdrhdrh drh drh drh dth dhdfh dfhhdfhfddfhdfhsdfhsdhdfhsdfh dfh shdfdhshdfhd sf
this is a poem
this si a poem
this is ap oem
this is pa oe m
REC 3PLAY REW FF STOP/EJECT 2PAUSE
earth birth Earth Birth
stream's over
;
Wasn't funny brophiliac
Title: The Martian
We think he would see himself orbed
And grey. How would he see us then?
As a star affixed to the radio-waves
That pulsed in bits, in shattered eyes,
Like a fly, cast off the world’s end
Told as everything was meant to be.
The alien rises within him for once –
Duelling forces of compromise
That will, one day, hope to goad
Each other into new, waiting flasks
One more step into the bold
Everness of the silvery
Whims across the time and space
Then – dissonance.
my diary
to be honest
Title: The Machinations of Wu Zetian
One stalk in the morning, across the fields
Of the rice farmer. He does not see
How much of time he has wasted. His wife
Grows old into a filling jar.
And then, surely, the coming of strife
As age bewilders. Warts forget
The young smile placed upon the stair
That climbs – to constant neverwhere.
So she, so far away from here
Knows the way that things can press
Against themselves – knows the crush
That can be her in a leather dress
Pulsing with monument
While being – none of the rush.
Title: Dali Duet
A:
How my love, can I know you
Swirled in the dreamer’s soft embrace
Mixed into this rapid gruel
Then, decentered in a skull’s face
Morose, compliant – dirge of the seem
That weaves itself through air. My dear
Gala! You shall not forsake!
B:
How my love, can I know you
As your moustache twirls the air
And you seem none of yourself.
I wish you were my inconstant there
Rather than, the ecstatic
Dali – the inconstant dream
That is small in the world to me!
Title: What Andy War-Holed
Press. One. Press. Two
Stick, and it comes through with it.
Press. Three. Press. Four.
Laughter, it rises through the doors
Of the Factory. My diamond lot –
Press. Five. Press. Six.
I’ll make you rich and fay-mous!
Press. Seven. Press. Eight
A printed dead man. A can of soup.
Two faggots sucking (he looks so fine!)
Press. Nine. Press. Ten.
Sometimes, I dream of myself
As a man – doing what a man can
While I counterfeit love, and women.
That's actually pretty good