beta virgins are eternal romantics.
post your best lines of poetry, faggot.
Ideas of the Hairy Ainus or
the Bagabos of Mindanao-oh
like the poor bastards we put down for fools,
amused by their absurdly sloping chins,
their noses crooked in comical contortion,
eyes that bug out or skew about their sockets,
so you just can't keep a straight face, but smirk,
suppress a snicker that escapes in splutters,
snort-downright chortle-pointing at the rubes-
rolling with uncontrollable hilarity
-only to look up after hours of laughter
to see the clowns are laughing too; in fact
that they surround us like Tibetan Yogis
in levitation to a chant of chuckling.
>>7746729
I can't, I sacrificed my gift of poetry in order to get laid and find a gf.
>PENIS VAGINA
>PENIS INSIDE VAGINA
>CUNT HELICOPTER
HOME POEMS POETS LOGIN
Canto XVI
And before hell mouth; dry plain
and two mountains;
On the one mountain, a running form,
and another
In the turn of the hill; in hard steel
The road like a slow screw's thread,
The angle almost imperceptible,
so that the circuit seemed hardly to rise;
And the running form, naked, Blake,
Shouting, whirling his arms, the swift limbs,
Howling against the evil,
his eyes rolling,
Whirling like flaming cart-wheels,
and his head held backward to gaze on the evil
As he ran from it,
to be hid by the steel mountain,
And when he showed again from the north side;
his eyes blazing toward hell mouth,
His neck forward,
and like him Peire Cardinal.
And in the west mountain, Il Fiorentino,
Seeing hell in his mirror,
and lo Sordels
Looking on it in his shield;
And Augustine, gazing toward the invisible.
And past them, the criminal
lying in the blue lakes of acid,
The road between the two hills, upward
slowly,
The flames patterned in lacquer, crimen est actio,
The limbo of chopped ice and saw-dust,
And I bathed myself with acid to free myself
of the hell ticks,
Scales, fallen louse eggs.
Palux Laerna,
the lake of bodies, aqua morta,
of limbs fluid, and mingled, like fish heaped in a bin,
and here an arm upward, clutching a fragment of marble,
And the embryos, in flux,
new inflow, submerging,
Here an arm upward, trout, submerged by the eels;
and from the bank, the stiff herbage
the dry nobbled path, saw many known, and unknown,
for an instant;
submerging,
The face gone, generation.
Her sustenance, to the butchers.
Her riches, to the thieves.
She dances in her element,
The scattering of leaves.
The laws of men are fragile,
Hers are iron-clad.
They show themselves in shadows, cracks,
the desperate and the mad.
Let her cull the unwilling,
Show no pity for restraint.
The tragedy is not in evil,
but in the weak who yet remain.
An orgy in a slaughterhouse,
A crucible of hunger,
Her domain is everything,
She is mother nature.
My love is a fever-- longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease.
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors see.
But tis my heart which loves what they despise,
Who, in spite of view, are pleased to see thee--
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
>>7746805
"A crucible of hunger" mismatches rhythm and rhyme with "She is mother nature"
I would probably have chosen "And Nature is her Mother"
I am not gay
just
lonely
a touch is a touch
and so is hairy skin
>>7746832
I like it.
>>7746805
Cool poem, why did you decide against rhyming in the final stanzas?
>>7746856
been there...
>I am not gay
>just
>
>horny
>>7746870
BRAVO
>>7746858
I feel gross though, because it's basically a rambling medley of Shakespeare's sonnets stolen whole-cloth from Star Trek.
SHADES OF THE CUMULONIMBUS CLOUDS
...in aging patina
It is up to these old heads to conspire
With the gleamy manicures of the gallants from Christie’s
To ply their aesthetics for a worth more than several barrels of oil
Even then
As monstrous drills pilgrimage to the plains, the price
Of them are shuttered in these hands
In their collusion, they try to avoid contact with this spinning geist
Of me in my swivel chair
Plying the enjoyment of the hour
Shadows of ambiguity stand in absent
Gazes at the forms of the presence
That these have worked and worked for years
Example: Rodin’s The Walking Man
Whose cranial vanishing is undercut by the rigor of his stilts
And the weave of his chest pulling up a force no reason can deign
So bequeaths the knowledge of one spiry connoisseur to the kiddo
Who has ten levels of gem-swapping to conquest
“Ferocious, this cut of bronze that seems
To contain within it the power of the day
And to underlie the importance it’s worth
I shall quote this, by Rilke”
“Man’s movement has become more hesitating
They have no more the athletic and the resolute…”
And the kid, comboing through the stages, opines
“lolzwtf. dats liek. juz sum randum. dude.”
And yet through this galleire my syllables flow
To wish them merry, and good God be with
As I take a ten-step backwards lead
Cleaving a space through the in-between
The two bodies shift as they see my design
While the air –
Billows five speeds of wind
Thrusting my wheels three times as fast on as fast as the swivelchair runs
Putting my knee up, and hoisting up, on a standing sway at point break
I leapt as high as I could onto the headless head, joints kicking off,
Intoning a soft apologee: “Sorry Roddy old chap, it’s not you, it’s me”
And waving back at the kid staring wide eyed at the world –
To the soft pads where sits
The shades of the Cumulonimbus
Clouds with the magnitude of all sky
That beckons as neither to you, nor I
Yet something ever smaller, a motionlessness
In the air, among this density of heave and hurt
A tiny cusp, as where I could reach –
Where even the dark rains sing far and free
>>7746887
Well you can use it with qts still. They won't know. :^)
as when
leaving your parents’ house
for my parents’
as if a virgin in a white tunic once consecrated
the water spilling the culverts,
as if,
I thought a good clean
leap of the stream
and landing
would rid me
of the spirits
that you placed
in my mouth,
which failed me
when I denied what was happening
between us in your backyard,
and in these legs that misled
me away from you
both now and then and each
finger which caught in
the gravel to scrabble me up
the side, both knees
which knelt,
sourly in the clay
I did not look back, but only
for knowing the ghosts
you had invoked
were not fanned out
on the far bank
cut off from me
but stuck, instead,
a shape of frost
on each phrase
which could have answered
when I did not
>>7746788
I was lost in the first stanza
You could take that two ways
1)your work is a brilliant piece whose translation is lost among amateurs, like me
2)It's unflattering, unmoving, it's shit.
>>7746937
>can't tell if trolling
I hardly hear them now.
Just auditory clues,
cues to signal– keys to
slot in neuropaths and
drafts to notes to sheets to
this music. Peace in the
pieces– where I sit but
don't listen. These songs that
tend to sidle step in,
change some stone to flesh and
numb law to love. I want
rest but instead this sly
test sets in for the night.
I hardly hear them now.
>>7746937
It's Ezra Pound, so the former with a little twist of the latter.
-
I dreamt of you again last night
can't say I enjoyed it much
what a waste of sleep
-
I search for you in everything
glad to see none of your soul
in that stranger's eyes
-
You were a river
cold as ice
take me once again
-
In there: the lazy pacing of their paws
creates a stillness almost dizzying;
and as one of the cats then suddenly
takes the gaze carelessly watching
and pulls it into its own great eye, -
and that gaze, as if caught in a whirlpool's
spirals, for a time stays afloat
and then goes under, lost to oblivion
when this eye, which apparently rests,
opens and crashes shut with a roar
and hauls it all the way into the blood-
Thus in ancient times out of the darkness
the cathedral's great rose windows
would seize hearts and drag them in to God.
I slept in late today, because
In sleeping state my soul was Lost
I could not find the Elder Tree
That always woulds’t help beckon me
With crystal pears and persimmon
Led me to my awakening-
For the fruit dripping sweet,
Helped the scented morning greet,
But tree O I lost her thee
Stark in darkness (musk so fair)
Let instead I saw a pond
That held a soliloquous divonne
Who bore her angrous head and spake
Why dou-st hurt my curtained wake
I am crying for the Murder of
My beauteous gracious Lovest gone
And she stark, and and she Shed
Her blackly coverlets and hair
And turned into a furious Gheist
That scared me to a friv’ius gasp
And serpent chased me one and three
Steps down the path of ‘finity
And tumbled me down dusted stair
And broke my fall on abyss Aire
And fell forever, then and there.
Till waking brought me morning’s glare.
>tfw lots of girls find you attractive
>tfw you can't stand any of them
>tfw modest, non-superficial, and chaste girls are impossible to find
I knew one, but she moved away.
I'm starting to think I'll be a kissless virgin forever.
>>7747261
i know that feeling
>>7747261
just fugg them, no need to marry
>>7747282
I don't see any value in meaningless/casual sex. I'd rather jerk off than have to deal with these people.
>>7747293
one day it won't get you off anymore and you'll need to get into more trashier porn. if you don't think it's true, just think of how you probably used to get off to still pictures and just sexy girls on tv in general and now you probably watch hardcore porn. well, I don't know you so maybe I'm wrong and, regardless, I respect your position.
>>7747303
I stopped watching porn about 2 years ago. I just use my imagination now.
When it gets to the point I need to look at nudes to get off I take a break for a month or so.
>>7747306
well done
>>7747261
Just pull a Kant, go lifelong nofap and channel all of that sexual frustration into philosophical frustration
She reads a book from across the street Waiting for someone that she'll never meet
She'll never know how much she means to me I'd play the game but I'm the referee
I never had the nerve to ask
Has my moment come and passed?
>>7747508SURRENDER
>>7747306
So are you getting laid doing no fap That's the whole point
>>7747517
As I already stated, I don't want to "Get laid".
I just want a nice gf, but I'm having a lot of trouble finding one.
>>7747522
Well getting laid will help you build experience with women which will lead to a girlfriend eventually
>>7746729
You are the er
and I am the fuck
I er on the side of caution
fuck me, daddy.
Picked of live daisies to tangle is me,
Barren and wasted by half cuts of tree.
Though slap marks or bruises the bane of my thigh,
To your house in daisies and half cuts go I.
Alas! What boots it with uncessant care
To tend the homely slighted shephard's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless muse,
Were it not better done as others use,
To sport with Amaryillis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neara's hair?
Spake she so slurred, such that it took to jouissance
Not quite nude, but newly nuanced
Quite calm, quethe I, cold and alone
That warmth may walk to me at my wone
>>7747306
that's fucked up
