OG Poetry Thread

I'll start :^)

An Ode to Sleep:

How come the perfect state of mind
Is absent from our conscious thought?
The comfy night (or day, when it’s a nap,
Or messed up schedule, or a midnight shift,
I know there might be reasons to go hit those Z’s in kinda freaky times, I do it all the time),
It gives you hope to live without bemoaning every little, daily strife,
Methinks that’s why a shit-ton folk, as if they were in constant pain (perhaps they are, who knows),
Accuse each other of possesing a disease of mind, or better said in layman terms,
They say: “Fuck off retarded piece of shit, you little bitch, I’ll shove your finger up your lass-like ass,
I hope you die and no one gives flying fuck. Go suck my dick, you dick.”
That is why you, O Sleep, O mighty peace, are really all I seek,
A day in bed with silent thoughts, a day with life’s all-mighty gift:
The chance to disregard (if only for a night) the fact that we’re alive.

Help me understand what is poetry?

idk, just write a bunch of shit but make it sound good (usually w/ meter, rhyme, similar sounds, etc.)

>tfw you write Shakespeare/Wordsworth tier shit but you realize your work will be buried under the ashes of more thoughtful posts

etch it into stone with an almanac translation into most modern languages and then put the stone in some geologically stable area with protection from wind/rain erosion

Physical existance is a chore. When we're asleep it's like we're dead. No sense of time, no thoughts, only peace.

will do user. future humans better find this shit

that pretty much assures death is pretty comfy

There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so big he could suck it
He said with a grin
As he wiped off his chin
If my ear was a cunt, I'd fuck it

I read this out loud and it was...

ear rape

jumpy meter at times but otherwise bretty good user

my edit:

There was a man from Nantucket,
His dick was so large he could suck it,
He said with a grin
As he wiped off his chin:
If my ear were a cunt I would fuck it.

This is exactly why I bash those who emphasize meter over rhyme. Anyone can get a grip on iambic or trochee, and write a poem. It's about subtle nuances with rhyme and phonetics that weave in and out, at play with the rhythm and a semi-consistent meter bouncing around a time signature of limited syllables per line that makes poetry musical. Then all that is simply the orchestra to the play of words you must create with the life granted to them by their musicality.

Pretty much. Once you get the hang of iambic you can write all kinds of shit with no effort and a few interesting words, and it sounds pretty okay

pseuds or trolls...

...this site is an enigma.

/lefty/ larping poem:

Fuck off Nazi,
Go get a Taxi,
Got banned from Uber
And became a YouTuber,
Pepe has died, Kekistan fell,
The meme wars are done,
Now fuck off to hell

6 PM, Shrodinger Park
Where, until you enter, the people
Are both alive and dead, sleeping
And awake, lovers and non-lovers
Illumined by a rosary of fireflies
(Those contracts of love penned
in night, cairns of light for feet
of the people both lovers and not)
Consider your transgressing state
In a park where steps are made and
Not made, what happens to the hand
You clutch, is it still mine, or
Others, or none at all?

Extra credit: When I (outside)
Photographed your face (inside)
The moment the shutter opened,
Did you see me capturing you, or
Did your eyes just observed itself?

Not everything must be a masterpiece
Sometimes I just need to write -
but have nothing to say.
So i'll write these lesser works
the effect of a blubbering idiot
putting words to feelings I cant describe.

Efficacy of the word used to express abstractions
Efficacy of the body to resist these abstractions
an anchor in reality
a foot in the cave
a bridge to rivers banks that my words cant cross
my skin is damp - the air thick
sheets stick to skin welded by the summer air
All life and experience lead to this very moment
and here I lay
Putting pen to paper with nothing to say
>descriptions of lying in bed
my legs that have waded through salt crashes
shoulders that bear steel
a heart that has been overworked -
pumping blood in desert trailers,
and accelerated by shit.
Now fingers that write words:
with nothing to say

> I am who I think you think I am.

You can't read minds.
You can't infer thoughts.
You can't give yourself your own narrative from another perspective.
Slow down.
Deep breath.

Do not think.
Do not slip from your eyes.
Do not withdraw inside.

Do.
Ask.
Question;
do not assume.
Do not pause,
only resume.

Where one mind lies,
all lie; and all lie.
Do not listen,
speak. Do not think,
speak admission.

You aren't a pessimist,
neither an optimist.
You are one or the other,
but don't love yourself.

Too accept is to step
to stone life set in stone.
Die as who you are
and not who you think.

Rebump

The Man Who Ate Dynamite

BOOM
CRASH
OW MY STOMACH
HURTS

Amen
Last time that I meant it I was hating my complexion
Aching
For the blood to flow like it erection
Need a weapon lacking registration motherfuck the peaceful message
Culture fornication like a rapist
Ape shit
Grand old party fucking up the playlist
Drake shit
Everybody told its just the old way
New day
Call up everyone around it's racism birthday
Shoot and kill you sunday

Start the fire
Sparkle revolution like the star
Tired niggas seeking restitution for judicial scar
Higher being looking down at petty spar
Shoot the car
When they drive us down they'll know what we're about
Founding fathers? More like liars reigning over drought
Camping in a foreign land they pushing niggas out
Replaced by the people that they hate so fucking much
Make you motherfucking brunch with the antifreeze
Say it with me thank you, please

Motherfuck the white man game
Motherfuck the white man shame
Motherfuck the white man gain
Most these bitches lacking any brain
Holy father where the rain?

Black on black violence is the symptom of the segregation cart
Couldn't find a job that's how the pushing start
By the time its over money coming in
Once had a taste you can't go back to bin
Greed the oldest sin

Every cell hoarding matter
Jail cell for the splatter
Penitentiary an ordinary habit
If you owning privately lets talk about it
Nothing ethical about it
Making money off the fight against poor
Nigga what you dressed for
Best you'll ever look in is the coffin
No one give a fuck until reporter watching
You'll be lucky just to breathe
Don't trust me best believe
If I find out you involved with shit I'll kill you; hang you where your kids can see

Motherfuck the white man game
Motherfuck the white man shame
Motherfuck the white man gain
Most these bitches lacking any brain
Holy father where the rain?

Hate been on tap
Coming out when I rap
Hummer for the road kill
Wait the cemetary fill fast
Missionary for the long last
I'm traditional like blackberry on blast
Vengeance get me half mast
Sentence me to death before I take your fucking breath
There won't be much left
Call it justified theft
Wallet won't be happy: no cash for a fair day's work
Fill a shirt with some holes
White father been exposed, all told