That's it. Post your poetry, and we'll comment.
http://affalencia.blogspot.pt/
>>8100760
How does it feel to pay for the wall?
>>8100803
It's portuguese, fgt.
From Portugal.
Wanted to post a truth bomb poem that's exactly 2,000-letter long (the maximum allowed in 4chan posts), but I realize the limit is 3,000 now, so it defeats the purpose.
May I send it anyway? It's the first poem in history that simply delivers the truth, no tricks whatsoever.
I AM A USER
I AM A 4CHAN USER
I WASTE MY LIFE ON A JAPANESE CARTOON FORUM I HATE
I AM A NAMELESS NOBODY WITH NO IDENTIFIABLE FUTURE, YET I KEEP ON POSTING HERE
AND I HATE MYSELF EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR DOING SO
MY LIFE IS AN EVERLASTING COLLAPSE
AIN'T HAD A SHOWER FOR WEEKS
AIN'T TALKED TO A STRANGER FOR MONTHS
AIN'T FEATURED ON A PHOTO WITH PEERS FOR YEARS
PAJAMAS ARE THE ONLY OUTFIT I DON
YET ALL THIS FEELS STRANGELY COMFORTABLE, ALBEIT DEPRESSING
INCOME TAX I PAID IN 2016: ZERO EURO
IN THE YEARS 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, AND PREVIOUSLY, IT WAS ZERO EURO TOO
I DESPISE FACEBOOK A. K. A. THE HEADQUARTERS OF PETIT-BOURGEOIS NORMIES WORLDWIDE
THE DAY YOU'LL KILL AN ARAB LIKE MEURSAULT (BUT FOR /POL/ REASONS) AND HAVE TO CUT OUT HIS CORPSE, WHICH ONE OF YOUR "FACEBOOK FRIENDS" WILL BRING BACK THE CHAINSAW?
ENGLISH IS NOT MY MOTHER TONGUE
NEVERTHELESS I'M NOW THINKING IN ENGLISH
FRENCH WORDS ARE REPLACED BY ENGLISH ONES IN MY HEAD, AND WHOLE SENTENCES GET CHASED BY MEMES AND GREENTEXT
I LIVE WITH MY MOTHER IN A TINY SOCIAL HOUSING APARTMENT
I SIMPLY GRUNT WHENEVER SHE TALKS TO ME
AND NO, I'M NOT GETTING A JOB, THANK YOU
I POST SPURDOS ALL DAY HOPING THAT IT WILL ENABLE ME TO ESCAPE UTTER DEPRESSION
THE LAST TIME I HAD A GIRLFRIEND WAS YEARS AGO
SHE DROPPED ME WHEN SHE REALIZED I WAS JUST A NEET IN MY POOR-ASS SUBURB
I DON'T MISS GIRLFRIENDS OR ANY FORM OF SOCIAL INTERACTIONS SINCE I HAVE ENDLESS ACCESS TO A VARIETY OF PORNOGRAPHIC REPRESENTATIONS
AND MASTURBATION FEELS BETTER THAN BORING HOES WITH THEIR COSTLY DEMANDS, SIMPERING, AND VERBOSE PROBLEMS
MY ONLY ROMANTIC INTEREST NOWADAYS IS HOLDING MY BLANKET AS STRONG AS I CAN
MY LAST JOY IS TO TROLL THE /LIT/ BOARD OF 4CHAN, WHERE I MIGHT IMPRESS YOUNGSTERS WITH MY IMPRESSIVE KNOWLEDGE OF LITERATURE (AN AFTERMATH OF MY ONCE GLORIOUS ACADEMIC PAST)
HOWEVER, I CAN'T EVEN FATHOM THE LAST TIME I'VE OPENED AN ACTUAL BOOK
ALSO FUCK OFF IF YOU'VE READ THIS RANT UNTIL HERE, YOU'RE PART OF THE INTERNET LOSER BROTHERHOOD JUST LIKE ME, SO…
>GOODBYE
>>8100870
good post
>>8100870
This poem made me realize I have to change my life thanks anon
No one cares
about
climate change
Your ugly, spoiled
pretentious
children can
suck my dick
when they're of legal age
>>8100870
Beautiful
>>8100870
First time I got feels from one of these threads.
Thank you and fuck you Anon
I wrote this two or three years ago as a convert from atheism. It's a reaction to a weak argument often made by Catholics these days on moral question, relating to "the dignity of man." It's an argument I often find lacking, usually uttered with some sort of condescension. "I know you want to kill yourself and hate life, but you see, I can't let you - because of your dignity as a man!" As I write in the poem, even with my still-atheistic mindset, just saying "it is forbidden because God says so" is easier to take, and I certainly think it tastes more honest.
I post it because it's old and I feel distant to it, so any criticism can't touch me. It isn't very ambitious in any case, follows no hard or specific rules. After all, why try when one can never achieve the masterdom of >>8100870.
>>8101086
I would take this idea and write another poem from the pope's perspective, another from Martin Luther's perspective and another as a 13 year old girl in Saudia Arabia in 2016. It's ambitious but a keeper. Do some research if you need and flesh out your personal and globalized ideas. Your ambition is not a footnote but key to being 'good'.
>>8100870
more like this please
>>8101195
>high school assignment
>do some research if you want to flesh out your [ideas]
thanks boss
Upon the prehistoric blackflesh crust
in golden sunshine robed, perspiring turf
to cool the crib, the little feet of
lizards long returned to loam and dust
would drag their little bellies, scurrying
and scrawling over creamy terra firma
a city in relief embossed in dirt,
winding its ways through the swaying tallgrass,
until the grassland monkey learned that if
he tucked his throbbing thumb against the rock
cupped in his foregathered dactyls, it would
repel the haul of gravity and taste
the glassy higher air unsullied still
by smoke and breath, and fly to where it pleased
him that it fly to hammer muck from meat
and speckle red his ragged face through art of
slaughter. When of simple curiosity
I chased the eyes of my progenitor,
a drum within the bowels of my chest
began to beat at savagery to match
that which is permanently etched upon
my atrium. What in me is human,
whatever masculine, testosterone
trails afire, descended the lines from him.
But what in me is human had been boiled
and cooked together in a stock of womb-
water: the male had swum towards the female
and cocooned himself within her, stirring
blood and spirit to the sap of flesh of
the baby hominid that stood just slightly
taller than his hulking parents and shuffled
around the shelter that his mother built him.
His mother reined the fingers fixing slats
in grooves of some austere machinery,
and father let him hold the gutted bow
while straddling his accoutred shoulder-blades.
But both father and mother directed
the drawing of the catgut, taught the love
of creaking wood as the curved spine is drawn
taut, and arrow loosed at a mammoth’s heart.
It was only fitting hence that he be
anointed, forehead, fist, and foot, with blood,
bespattered as the ruptured soil with blood
of elephants and wolves and monkeys born
to foreign broods with snarls affixed upon
their mouths, at the moment of abandon,
of backstepping the scratch line, as he clapped
a bloody wedding done against a skull
with cudgel blows and dragged a prize away,
and no ceremony at all except
the crimson consecrate upon his brow
and taste of red communion on his fangs
but he fucked her and another brood was born,
bespattered as the ruptured soil with blood.
When he died his ravaged widow served him
to a pack of loping jackals in the night.
Her son or daughter, they became a shard
within a cavity; the human wheel
of slats united with their niches rolled
quaking and groaning out of Africa
one morning, crossed the Sinai, broke apart,
and floated off along the wind; if they say
that distance breeds disaster, its worn cogs
are crusted with the cradle’s bloody sod.
Jesus Christ the blackness seeps
With terror winds and nightmare teeth
And jolts of doom and death and dread
Poisons dreams and inks my head
And turns the laughter into cackles
Life's decisions into shackles
And permeates through every thought
Dredges up the cruel forgot
And melts the glimpse of goodness laying just beyond my bed
>>8101311
I almost really fucking like this. The imagery is wonderful but as a whole it's such a burden to read.
a lil thing i wrote driving through arkansas last month
Felt alone, ignoring your shadow a decade long
Sitting in my room, another awful detail of the past
No one stopped me, but I couldn't stop you
In the rain of northeastern Arkansas
All alone, I knew it was true
These white lines unwind
Into the straightest path to you
But I still won't say, 'Hey,
I'm sorry for everything'
Everything about you
Watched the weeks and months pass,
My useless heart can always tell the time
How long it's been, seventeen in film class
Soon enough, seven years since you were mine
And my useless heart,
It was never any use to you
You felt the same, I wonder if you still do
Cards folded and halted,
hands holding tight.
See the fire falling, its light
on the buildings, off the windows bright.
>>8101343
Thanks for actually taking the effort to read it. It was a burden to write as well, but I wanted it to be as intricate as it could. Are there any changes you would recommend?
She found me standing in the corner
Muttering nonsense to myself
Pushing the lodestone uphill
Driving home alone
I lost something turning away
Spilling a glance awkwardly behind
As the winter air pierced the doorway
Alone again
Her red lipstick
Identified the cigarette butts in the alley
I saw them every morning for a week
Sitting carefully upon my healing pride,
Her smoke rising to the heavens
Another long winter beckons
Orange lamplight glowing in newly-fallen snow
The lights are on inside every apartment
And one of them is hers
(from august 2015)
Scott got too stoned in North Carolina
But you should have seen Nate in Long Island
And I guess I'm always a mess
Fetal in the back of the van
Beside the highway in Ann Arbor
Awake the whole way from Dallas to LA
Chasing ghosts or are they chasing me
Either way let's get the fuck out of New York
Connect the dots somewhere in Jersey
While someone else pumps the gas
And I just don't want to be there
And fuck Atlantic City, too
I smelled the ocean but I didn't see it
Trump built a pile and left it steaming
But we left his casino with ninety bucks
So let's get the fuck out of here right now
We'll get to Virginia and sleep it off
>>8101311
>including the out of africa theory in your poetry, arguably using it as a basis or at least climax for a whole poem
>>8101345
i like the background story more
>a lil thing i wrote driving through arkansas last month
best part. love poems are not my thing. especially not unhappy love
>>8101395
Yes suh we wuz all niggahs suh
get used to it
Bring me another drink and a nice girl I can lose to
This used to be such a boring place until I ran into you
There were cars parked outside, it was winter in the suburbs
I was walking out alone like that night was any other
The knife edge of defeat still waiting near the open wound
She left me with the itch and my spirit was consumed
It gets dark early now, so when can I come see you,
Is there still a place for me or do you need something new?
I watched the city on that first day of the new year
Hundreds of married tourists, grinning ear to ear
It kills to know you're out there, somewhere
On the borderland between my dreams and nightmares
And I've forgotten the things you'd say
But some things I still remember
Those things were just too much to face,
And you were much too clever
>>8101403
Tbh that's the only truly redeeming quality I see in it myself otherwise I wouldn't bother revising it at all. Definitely not the finished article but maybe a usable premise
Artificer’s Death (Bright and Gleaming)
Shining spikes of Giza stripped of quarry edge,
Glory flayed as skin, skin a hoary casing.
As the quarry was left a gash, you a skeleton—
Mountainous bones housing bones housing nothing.
Timelessness brought to an abrupt
End. The four humors became misaligned
As blood wore down the mountains,
And as men of blood trod down the banks.
The Nile became of blood, both vein and artery.
That cardinal humor spread blackward.
Wroth wine spilled from the hand of Mars,
Fermented mythologies ache, aching to speak.
Artifex working in Corinthian brass, your cannon
A trumpet, sound off as I strain my ears,
Yet still I fear that I may not hear
The writhing of Philomela.
>>8101415
the rhyming is weird
sounds a lot like a Killers song or something
my best advice i could give is to write like three more things and then come back to this
>>8101394
This is pretty fucking cool
I would like to see this extended into some mock-epic
The Trump line is too one the nose for me. Especially after that great fucking line "I smelled the ocean but I didn't see it"
>>8101380
"Alone again" should be cut
"Her red lipstick" and the following line should be merged in some way.
Healing pride is weird for me, but all the following lines are cool (esp. The Lights are on inside every apartment)
Does mine make sense? I'm trying to figure that out before deciding on what to change about it.
Grauhesch leers from his chamber, unbidden,
as we slink the shade of his view, unseen.
Grey king abed in his prison, unchained—
as our fear far stricter bids us silent.
That courtly mock: a wrinkled brow in thought,
repeated in bulbous and reaching flesh,
scornful wet facsimile of our own.
What hubris took hold and drove us here—
to cower before the insensate?
Long severed and silenced and bound but still,
the echo remains and shackles in turn.
Foul prophet those mouthless lines to lay,
not in mist and shadow but statute and stone.
What fault is this but ours, and ours alone?
>>8101603
All of my criticisms of this (the repetitions of skin and ache, the enjambment with abrupt/End) become points of endearment on subsequent readings.
You did a very nice job with this poem.
>>8101603
re: Trump and Atlantic City, he had been in town the day before i was there and the headline in the local newspaper read, "Trump: I left AC before it cratered" -- it was the fist month he had really appeared in the presidential mix. Trump was indeed part of my Jersey experience without me setting out with any motive to bring him up
glad you saw some upside to that piece tho
>>8101603
I think your poem makes sense but lacks some key narrative element, unless you're just going for sheer impressionism. I think it leans on the mythological symbology a bit too much, but the writing itself is sharp
>>8101685
I really liked it, man. I guess I'm just overly cautious about politics in my pieces and it translates sometimes. I won't go as far as retracting what I said, but your explanation helped me sympathize with the line (if that makes sense).
>>8101639
Thanks, man. I appreciate it.
>>8101697
There is supposed to be a key narrative, but I think I make too many (read: way fucking too many) leaps when writing it and assume the reader is in my exact frame of mind. As to the symbology, I was trying to do a bit of a sensory overload, but I can see where it fails and will keep your critique in mind in subsequent re-writings.
Guys, how could I extend this poem and how can I write better noun rhymes and matching noun rhymes?
I am your piece of meat
Soft and silky I will let you lead
Lie beneath me at the darkest hour
Do you think mimes can speak louder
You smell just like a flower
one last tale of heartbreak
>'Lost Saints'
The aching in my throat
Over every word you wrote
Was inexpressible
That night I drove you home
It took everything to go back
I wonder if you know that?
What do you do when time runs out,
Before the time you notice?
I'm alright, but I have my doubts,
And I'm sure you had your motives
We were so young, so scared
I tried not to count the days
And when you disappeared,
I couldn't truly say I'd change
You stuck me like a splinter,
You never left my head
That first snow in November
Nearly left me for dead
It was a terrible winter,
I tried to keep myself
And I tried to find distraction
In the arms of someone else
On the first day of the new year,
I couldn't stop to rest
With this new thing at my side
And a stampede in my chest
I knew it was just a reaction
That knowledge made me cruel
Every quiver of my heart
Reminded me of you
You said it was a long year,
I said I thought so, too
Worse were the months passing
Those days, we didn't speak a word
In the end, was it worth it?
Older, wiser, and closer to death
But I swore not to forget
It was something I did to myself
I still wonder, did your heart break
Or did you simply cast me off
Was it daggers or just a scrape,
To your light, I played the moth
And in the end you were a lost saint,
It was no secret who owned the fault
Gimme gimme chicken tendies,
Be they crispy or from Wendys.
Spend my hard-earned good-boy points,
on Kid's Meal ball pit burger joints.
Mummy lifts me to the car,
To find me tendies near and far.
Enjoy my tasty tendie treats,
in comfy big boy booster seats.
McDonald's, Hardee's, Popeye's, Cane's,
But of my tendies none remains.
She tries to make me take a nappy,
But sleeping doesn't make me happy.
Tendies are the only food,
That puts me in the napping mood.
I'll scream and shout and make a fuss,
I'll scratch, I'll bite, I'll even cuss!
Tendies are my heart's desire,
Fueled by raging, hungry fire.
Mummy sobs and wails and cries,
But tears aren't tendies, nugs or fries.
My good-boy points were fairly earned,
To buy the tendies that I've yearned.
But there's no tendies on my plate!
Did mummy think that I'd just ate?
"TENDIES TENDIES GET THEM NOW,
YOU FAT, UNGRATEFUL, SLUGGISH SOW!"
I screech while hurling into her eyes,
My foul-smell bowel-dwelling diaper surprise.
For she who is un-pooped on is she who remembers:
Never forget my chicken tenders.
Last year I wrote a fun little poem for my history class. You guys probably won't like it because it's not pretentious enough, but fuck you I wrote it in like 30 minutes.
>>8101809
either post it or don't post it
Don't attack others, because you're afraid of genuine criticism
bragging about writing it in 30 mins mans you should probably go over it a few times for the structure at least.
>>8100870
lol
>>8101818
Went into the class. Group had to do a presentation on a historical figure. We didn't have much time or much info so I wrote a little poem to add to it.
>>8101832
That's one shitty """"""""poem""""""""
>>8101847
That wasn't the poem. It was more to justify why I didn't spend more than 30 mins on it.
>>8101852
On what?
>>8101856
The poem.
>>8100749
The Making of Fish Sticks
The sea cement swam with fishes,
their daily school was in flames
and they swam around concrete ashes.
The fumes they emitted putted like
rocks rolling down hills, as they
smiled at the swinging of clocks
they would enjoy, far from the rocks.
Far from the mountains they left behind
the school of a lone fish swam towards
tables and chairs, to sit and learn
to walk away back to the cement sea
and grind itself all over again.
>>8101859
What poem?
>>8101868
I wrote this after I became a wage slave
>>8101818
How does one structure a poem?
>>8101949
First you come up with the words
Then you fit them into lines
Sometimes you make lines correspond to other lines through careful utilization of rhyme and meter
But remember that there are NO RULES
>>8101949
In any way that works.
The flood has lowered me and left me cold
and bare, although I strangely sense the heat
from blooming stars out far, that fall and fold
in withered flowers, black beneath my feet;
I’m lying here where sand and water meet,
my hollow hands have nothing left to hold—
of youth, or dreams, or life—just raining sleet
to douse my eyes; my lids to sleep are lulled.
From me my life unweaves in winding thread,
and, drawing out the weft, the spindle lends
what string my life has left to thread the night;
and all the while this music in my head
so slowly dwindles down—and then it ends,
a silent pulse in fading failing light.
Actually a translation of my favorite poem, but nonetheless:
The Books
Before me the book lays open, clear,
N' by day n' night; Ever alone,
Nor with the people familiar,
Neither the world have I known.
The birds flock by and fly away.
While days arise and days set,
My days like the pages do I
Slowly leaf through exhausted
Years gone of foreign lives to read,
Lives of strangers, never thine.
And yours, to nobody of need,
Dull and barren to go by.
To me you could not ever come
Oh, invocation of love.
Because of books what's come undone:
My life and the world thereof.
>>8102000
1. nice trips
2. post the original
That palatable poison, O how well we have made thee!
And how well do I quaff thee, although never enough.
O nausea ad nauseum! A small price to pay thee,
From tedium take me, to Paradise Bay!
Your names and your forms, O how many in number!
All roads lead to Rome, but yours rarely by day,
La fée verte, to kiss thee!
Caress me, then slumber!
Without fail to show me, ancient firmament's way!
>>8102022
Can't tell if this is supposed to be a joke or not.
Lose the O's and thee's and thou's, and the exclamation points.
>>8102008 It's in Bulgarian,
Книгитe
Пpeд мeн e книгaтa paзтвopeнa
и дeнeм, и нoщя;
вce caм, aз нe пoзнaвaм хopaтa,
нe знaя и cвeтa.
Пpилитaт и oтлитaт птицитe,
изгpявa дeн, зaлязвa дeн:
aз днитe cи кaтo cтpaницитe
пpeлиcтвaм yмopeн.
Гoдини дa чeтeш зa чyждия
живoт нa някoй чyжд,
a твoят, никoмy нeнyжeн,
дa минe глyх и пycт.
>>8101803
Beautiful.
>>8102029
>Yank detected
>>8102032
The only official translation I know of is in German
Bücher
Dies Buch liegt immer vor mir aufgeschlagen –
Tag kommt und Dunkel fällt.
Ich bin allein: nicht kenne ich die Menschen,
nicht kenne ich die Welt.
Zugvögel nahn und fliehen wiederum.
Ein Tag bricht an, und einer will entgleiten.
Ich blättre müde meine Tage um
wie diese Seiten.
Durch Jahre lese ich vom fremden Leben
der Fremden, was in Büchern steht;
und meines, keinem hingegeben –
nutzlos und leer – vergeht.
O Liebe, unerkannt und ungeboren
in mir. Ein Dunkel fällt.
Der Bücher wegen habe ich verloren
mein Leben und die Welt.
>>8102032
dont read it, can't tell how well you translated it, sorry mate
your poem has redundancies and doesn't flow well, i think you're staying overly true to the poem and not true to the poem's meanings.
>>8102032
Russian script has to be the ugliest ever conceived.
>>8102045
It's called Cyrillic script. I also have a Russian translation (not mine), if anybody's interested.
>>8102044
I find it kinda clunky, too, but if I don't stick to the original it's almost like writing a new one? The author was a translator as well and has this sentiment about the translation being a work as much as a work of the original author as it is of the translator.
That being said, my work is not too decent.
>>8102043
oh good i can read german
I'm pretty scattered brain when I review things so try to follow my logic if you can. All my reviews are assuming the German poem is 100% correct and a great translation btw,
use the words wax and wanes for the day
you're being too literal in your translation and a limited vocabulary is showing.
From what I got, the poem is enticing you to find two meanings, the first is that as time passes we can feel a foreignness to our own life when we are passive about it. The second is that by peering in others' lives too much we lose our own life. I got this from the German translation.
I think the third stanza your translation is probably better than the German one.
Also how the German poem set it up it would be beneficial to say : from books, not because of books.
>N' by day n' night; Ever alone,
Doesn't mean anything to be, but I'm also not a very erudite person when it comes to my literary passions. Be careful with the vocabulary you use surrounding the movement of birds and pages. In the German poem there is a more palpable connection and in yours its vacant.
overall, the 2nd and third stanzas are pretty solid. The first needs reworking. The 4th seems to be an awkward sentence to translation, that might require some innovation on your part.
You know that girl
We all know one
so
basic, basic,
and she
can't even face it
and she's
not doing her best
but she does what she can
still no peace
and still no plan
Fools herself into thinking
"I can, I can!"
But still too reliant
on her man
her man
Now "What am I missing?"
And "What do I got?"
Do I have purpose, reason, or plot?
Could I ever make
A story unfold?
Pressed into something
worth being sold?
And if I'm to be nothing,
let me have some grace
in living at all
in having a place.
Let me have some peace
in being resigned
I'll go through the motions,
I'll trace all the lines.
>>8102089
I had a hard time getting down the rhyming and syllable count, hence the silly abbreviations/omissions. Thanks for the advice anyhow.
Why won't the man across the street wave?
Why won't the man across the street wave
I see him nearly every day, I think he tries to avoid me
When I walk my dog outside, I try to make eye contact
with him so he will nod his head in a manly way
or simply raise his arm with a quick acknowledgement
He is friendly with other people, when he drives by me
I nod my head, or give a little gesture with my hand
Receiving nothing from him in return
Why won't the man across the street wave
to me, when he is working on his newly built home
Using his table saw or other various tools
Sawdust on the ground, I saw you look at me
And proceed to lower your head and keep going
You wash your car with no shirt on
Exposing your white skin and muscular physique
Your wife is beautiful, your children are cute
I watch as you try to teach her to ride her little bicycle
down the street, laughing and running after her
I just ask, want you to, wave
>>8102286
> I try to make eye contact
with him so he will nod
I like this but there's something weird about the line breaks.
>>8102297
Thanks, yea true enough. I should work on that.
People say when I'm in my room I'm alone
Alone I wish I was
These looming thoughts cloud my brain
Make me feel things worse than pain
These feelings make me reminisce for the past
Makes me long for the past
The past, a time which most people forget
But I've nonetheless held on for it
The past was bright, the past was caring
The past reminded me of when I was daring
The light at the tunnel for me seems very very dim
Not worth taking the whole trip
So I'm going to stop and sit down wherever this place is
and reminisce over old faces
I'm now just the shell of a man, boy or whatever you would see me as
Trying to recreate the image as everyone knew me as
Stuck in the past, I get it
Stuck in the past, I can't forget it
Means of Evil
There’s a break in the face
Of a many-minded man.
He says some words are dead before conception;
Some shapes are lost to angles.
False fictions are a language of their own,
In this foul cave;
A miasma of pain and vengeance hangs low
Over the heads of all surviving creatures.
A glowing stench of agony clings,
Like a parasite brother, to the bowels of their tomb.
And the sun births rays of terror,
To rain on this lascivious pit of waste.
The insects of the past play master
In a pandæmonium of midnight’s fire and sea.
They are locked in a cave of
Mental securities. Down here,
The light of God flames, a mess of heat and darkness;
An unseen box in the sky invades this prison
At its carrion source.
Sibilant mimicry, and clarion verses salute
A puppet parade of Memory and his emotions.
Though these sounds and feelings
(for that is all they can claim to be)
Stand adjacent their intersections,
A mirror reflects the crushing bodies around them;
A plateau of reflection and reaction,
Shows these eroding angels
Visions of the past.
Granite and lime colored bricks have constructed
Themselves low for the chambers
Of some conscious thing.
Colored spectacles of human remains crawl
Towards a dim entrance,
Entranced by worlds of exterior light.
If only these walls would break,
And let in some source of flesh and blood.
Not only the stress of a world left dripping,
But the prenatal prayer of a generation proceeding,
Screeching for the sun.
Calls Like a Blue Jay Answers
Calls like the blue-jay answers:
Over the canticle of my grandfather’s
(Voice over the prison-
Of woman, mean and obscene trials of
Heathen promiscuity blend the arts of dark
integrity). Treble with the answer of
Dusk at dust bowl fenders,
Where men rise from the sand of memory
To worship our victors.
Nine sets of nine, repeated twice through
The evening that caps the night:
Cold and merciless (like cuts through bone),
All weather made from emotion sings in
Stone. My lost daughter kept her wits about her,
Skipping through the frogs and nenuphars at a villanelle singer’s
Four dour towers, unwinding for a dowery, word spoken beneath her
Breath sour on the hour of Craven’s Watch:
My daughter’s mouth was empty in the tongue of sinners.
Nine sets of nine, repeated through the hemorrhage
Of memory. Rage speaks quietly to the soldiers
On Craven’s Watch, Pain coursing through their
Blood and purple, with the sigil of the endless vigil,
Adorning false purposes; and forgotten daughters,
And forgotten daughters:
They sing with the green winds that ganter to hurt
Mercury’s son, and the fire that burns him over;
Nine sets of nine, caught before the sun rise over mind.
>>8101086
Punctuation.
the dying light slowly lays to rest,
it's starting now, my test
i look up and down
i have the sensation as i were to drown
all the oozing books
i can see the words
one after another leaving
i won't be achieving
the dreaded has appeared
the new day has cleared
i feel renewed and strong
but not for long
I would like to write poetry, however my vocabulary is stunted through years living in my room coupled with usage of local doric (dialect of my area within Scotland).
How would I go about becoming civilised again :^)
>>8103017
read books full of words
Echoes of loss and sorrow
haunt my soul
ennui is a blank slate upon which
I colour in the grey happenings of my mind
My mind, whose mundane oscillations interest no one
least of all me
the leaves are falling
It would seem we are all too pansy to critique each other's poetry.
Hey guys, this isnt probably the normal post you'd get here but any help would be great.
Im an aspiring musician who does fine with instrumentals and such, but i cant find a way to write lyrics. A good tip i heard somewhere was to write poetry and just put it to music, but i dont know how to start writing poetry if that makes sense, ill have a few ideas for lines that sound cool every now and again but writing something cohesive is damn near impossible. What tips can you guys give to help me, or is there any place i can read up on this or something? Any help is appreciated
>>8101333
I dig it
>>8101333
This is fucking delicious
>>8102898
light dies on a bed, now tests start.
both eyes and me we drown,
all words with books in a line leaving.
but morning clears room for my eyes to see
I am a man.
But at night it turns into pussy
Basically.
>>8101394
my problem with this is the repetition of "get the fuck out of" because it weakens the impact of "And fuck Atlantic City, too" i think
And what is left for me, except to wait,
to bide my time until I die—and why,
and what is all of this—and why this hate
for everything surrounding me, and I
can’t stomach it for long—I long for light
to end, just leave me be in black alone,
to sink in pallored sleep of painless white;
please bury me beneath a bed of stone.
And why this boundless beauty in the air
is ringed with thorns to tighten round my throat,
desperate for air, shrouded in despair—
no answer can be found, except to float
away in dreams, in peaceful streams of sleep—
a peace of mind impossible to keep.
>>8103261
good spot. might ramp it down to one triumphant f-word should i revise that
>>8101333
If you ever add punctuation, remember that you have a chance of making this a shitty metal song
be fucking careful and don't fuck up this incredible balancing act you have going on
>>8103095
It doesn't have to be cohesive.
But if you want it to, just sit down and write. Everytime you get a good line, sit down, write it, and continue.
When you've written a bit (or nothing) let it rest and sleep on it, use multiple days or even weeks if you really care about the lyrics.
>>8101360
The basis of it is so raw that the intricacies are just unnecessary. I know each line probable imbues an entire emotion in you but its too frivolous... You just have to take a leap and cut it down.
>>8103172
>>8101333
Thanks. I'm pretty surprised, wrote it at 4am last night. I'm not reaching at all, I'm just truly surprised, can you expound?
>>8103288
I'm not sure if this is a nod at the poem I currently have our if its an insult. I'm terrible at punctuation hence the lack but I rarely edit by writing anyway.
>>8100749
(I guess right now you've got the last laugh)
I'm sorry if I seem uninterested
Or I'm not listenin' or I'm indifferent
Truly, I ain't got no business here
But since my friends are here
I just came to kick it but really
I would rather be at home all by myself not in this room
With people who don't even care about my well-being
I don't dance, don't ask, I don't need a boyfriend
So you can go back, please enjoy your party
I'll be here, somewhere in the corner under clouds of marijuana
With this boy who's hollering I can hardly hear
Over this music I don't listen to and I don't wanna get with you
So tell my friends that I'll be over here
Oh oh oh here oh oh oh here oh oh oh
I ask myself what am I doing here?
Oh oh oh here oh oh oh here
And I can't wait till we can break up outta here
Excuse me if I seem a little unimpressed with this
An anti-social pessimist but usually I don't mess with this
And I know you mean only the best and
Your intentions aren't to bother me
But honestly I'd rather be
Somewhere with my people we can kick it and just listen
To some music with the message (like we usually do)
And we'll discuss our big dreams
How we plan to take over the planet
So pardon my manners, I hope you'll understand it
That I'll be here
Not there in the kitchen with the girl
Who's always gossiping about her friends
So tell them I'll be here
Right next to the boy who's throwing up 'cause
He can't take what's in his cup no more
Oh God why am I here?
Oh oh oh here oh oh oh here oh oh oh
I ask myself what am I doing here?
Oh oh oh here oh oh oh here
And I can't wait till we can break up outta here
Hours later congregating next to the refrigerator
Some girl's talking 'bout her haters
She ain't got none
How did it ever come to this
I shoulda never come to this
So holla at me I'll be in the car when you're done
I'm standoffish, don't want what you're offering
And I'm done talking
Awfully sad it had to be that way
So tell my people when they're ready that I'm ready
And I'm standing by the TV with my beanie low
Yo I'll be over here
Oh oh oh here oh oh oh here oh oh oh
I ask myself what am I doing here?
Oh oh oh here oh oh oh here
And I can't wait till we can break up outta here
Oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh
>>8103952
you bastard
If you aren't dead prove it.
If your limbs and tongue are lifeless
Don't dread, you've quit.
Mindless masses sway off-beat
Maybe they were born with rhythm
Joyous molasses weigh down feet.
Domination
Exploration
idle chat
the roses are lying flat
beautiful coral in the sea
fatality, we won't be free
Calling the boiling cauldron and heat. Wailing befailing all that i need. Sailing bailing the ship is sinking. Maybe, just maybe i'm overthinking.
Prototype start to a bigger poem
>>8103241
so it's crap?
>>8102891
There's a difference between what needs to be improved upon and what is not there at all, and can therefore be assumed was left out purposefully
i have no idea what half of you are even writing about and that's not a good thing
also
>writing about women
Modem talking, modern walking in the streets.
New desire.
Take me higher,
Lift me higher with your speed,
I need fire.
Get the satellite if you want to see me.
Talking on the net,
I know the way you like it.
Get your credit card,
'Cause I need no money,
All I wanna get is you baby.
Running in the nineties, is a new way I like to be.
I'm just running in the nineties, come on baby run to me
We are running in the nineties, is a new way to set me free.
I'm just running in the nineties.
Yes I wanna know, yes I wanna see.
Cyber talking
Cybersex is on the line
New desire
Take me higher,
Boost me higher with your mind
Set me on fire.
Get the satellite if you want to see me.
Talking on the net,
I know the way you like it.
Get your credit card,
'Cause I need no money,
All I wanna get is you baby.
Running in the nineties, is a new way I like to be.
I'm just running in the nineties, come on baby run to me
We are running in the nineties, is a new way to set me free.
I'm just running in the nineties.
Yes I wanna know, yes I wanna see.
New desire.
I need fire.
Running in the nineties, is a new way I like to be.
I'm just running in the nineties, come on baby run to me
We are running in the nineties,is a new way to set me free.
I'm just running in the nineties.
Yes I wanna know, yes I wanna see.
Take me higher.
Lift me higher with your speed.
I need fire.
Get the satellite.
Talking on the net.
Get your credit card.
All I wanna get.
Running in the nineties.
Running in the nineties.
Running in the nineties.
Running in the nineties.
I'm outta knack,
yet however
I'm given luck:
I hear a quack,
for endeavour
grants another duck.
>>8104823
cute :)
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
You're a cunt.
Thank you.
أبيض اللون سلام سلام
سلام عليك ابيض اللون
مالي اراك مرفوع الراس و كرعيك هاويات كانك في تاني دور
تكلم
مسكين
انك عاجز عن الكلام
انك تسمعني و لا ترد علي
انك ابيض اللون
انك مرفوع الراس و كرعيك هاويات
كانك في تاني دور
تكلم -- مسكين
ماذا عمل بك الاطباء الاوائل و من هم الاطباء الحاضرين تكلم؟
مسكين
اين عيناك؟
اين انفاك؟
اين شفتاك اين اذناك؟
اين شعرك؟
اين لحمك؟
انك ابيض اللون
مالي اراك مرفوع الرأس و كرعيك هاويات كانك في تاني دور
تكلم مسكين ابيض اللون
ماذا فعل بك الاطباء الاوائل
لقد طرحوك
و رشو عليك المورفلين
و سال لحمك
كانه عسل سائل
مسكين ابيض اللون
تكلم ...
انك عاجز عن الكلام
مالي اري اسنانك البيضاء
و عظمك ابيض ملتحم كبياض واحد
تكلم مسكين ابيض اللون
انك مرفوع الرأس و كرعيك هاويات
مسكين مسكين مسكين ابيض اللون.
Holla bitch
Lemme fuck yo clit
Gangsta shit wi ma click
Gun rob u in eye blick
Ye niqqa ye niqqa
I'm da bigest of da biga
Yee yee twerking twerking yee yee
>>8104867
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
This poster might be a terrorist
Run for your life
>>8104926
>Roses in flower
>Violets in bloom
>That's a big bag
>Where are you- BOOOM
fixed
niggers tongue
my anus senpai
i deign to post
while i still i can
i have no face
i cant be seen
lurking darkly
posting memes
look real long
and ponder deep
on all i've done
til your eyes bleed
dumb normies can't
conceive this fate
we're all dumb silly fuckers
m8
So this is it
This is what you had in mind when you wiped "I'm sorry" on my face
Knowing full well, below, a net awaited your embrace
Or an instructor, an authority, hovering over your frame
Would be there to pull the tab, when the time came
You'd think, by now, I'd have these metaphors mastered
All the pretending I do, the substitution of past words
I yank the tab desperately, awaiting that shock
Of color, gules in a field azure
I yank and I look, searching the skies
For fabric catching wind
Like a moth catching flame
>>8103267
I like this. It'd be nice to incorporate some other, more unexpected imagery maybe, but I dig it.
>>8102341
I'm not really a fan of the first verse, but I like the other two. I know that the break of Stone to the next line in the second verse is purposeful, but I'm honestly not sure how to feel about it.
>>8102316
You can dig a little deeper than this dude. Like, okay, you're stuck in the past - lots of people are. But you've got to do something a little bit more than saying "oh the past was great, I want to go back there" or at least say it in a more interesting way, where it's not like 1 out of every 5 words is "past"
>>8102090
I really hated this poem at the start - it seems so campy at the beginning, almost like a nursery rhyme or something. But I love everything from "And if I'm to be nothing," on, almost feel like it could be its own poem.
Widdle biddle bumpkin, my cat spot
Likes to eat a lot
Cat food is his dinner
Makes him a winner
My cat is so smart
But sometimes he fart
Smell so bad
Worse even than my Dad, whose name is Brad
Widdle biddle bumpkin, my dog Fred
Likes to wet the bed
But he's a dog
And that bed is my BED!
My dad is so mad
His rage flies at me like a dart
And then I fart
It smells not as bad
As my dog, cat and dad
Silence cries the night on fire.
Empyrean fugue.
Castles aeonic
Ominous ever present wastrels.
The furnace...
lost desires' thwarted destiny colluded.
Empress of certain laws red in color.
Eros defined by and by.
Too true for speech. Too real for real life.
Broken cilia.
Cast spell characters dancing in perforce ideological momentum vanishing one by one -dieing in the light.
I cannot speak. I cannot speak.
Noetic.
>>8104823
I unironically enjoyed this
>>8101311
I don't have much to say, but I thoroughly enjoyed this. Good job.
>>8105005
Let's analyze the first line of this poem.
Is it bad that niggers tongue the authors anus? Or does he find this enjoyable somehow? Rather, perhaps it's merely the idea of niggers tongueing an anus that receives a negative connotation in pop culture? Perhaps the author invites us to reason why. How does this tongueing prefigure the rest of the poem?
Try and fix my awful poetry.
Gloomy scarlet sky, cover my evening and cloak my thigh's. Wrap my head in your soft material while i wither away into a night kissed sleep. Drown me in your black ocean waves stained with the blood of sunken ships and snowflakes. The wind dwindles.
>>8100749
I did my time, and I want out
So effusive fate
It doesn't cut,
The soul is not so vibrant
The reckoning, the sickening
Back at you, subversion
Pseudo-sacred with psycho virgin
Go drill your deserts,
Go dig your graves
Then fill your mouth
With all the money you will save
Sinking in, getting smaller again
Undone, it has begun
I'm not the only one
And the rain will kill us all,
Throw ourselves against the wall
But no one else can see,
The preservation of the martyr in me
There once was a man on /lit/
Who got into a bit of a fit
He saw a bad rhyme
And thought it a crime
So returned to his home on /fit/
My shitty limerick.
>>8102090
You seem like your stuck in the 3rd grade. Stick to those "I am" poems.
Just wrote a poem about how much I hate eating sandwiches for lunch everyday
Sandwiches sandwiches
I eat them everyday
Sandwiches sandwiches
It's really fucking gay
Oh sandwiches sandwiches
please go away
>>8104398
underrated
>>8105007
Update:
I think I am starting to understand
This is what you had in mind when you wiped "I'm sorry" on my face
Knowing full well, below, a net awaited your embrace
Or an instructor, an authority, hovering over your frame
Would be there to pull the tab, when the time came
You'd think, by now, I'd have these metaphors mastered
All the pretending I play, the substitution of past words
I yank the tab desperately, awaiting the shock
Of color, gules in a field azure - my coat of arms
My arms pulling, my eyes searching
For fabric catching wind
Like paper catching flame
>>8102022
I like it.
squid pops in the house of saud
angry sultans in the mood
women's harem, but for me
breast implants and chastity
I wrote this in 9th grade after my first break up. Found it recently.
>>8106182
Forgot to paste.
You can pretend
all you want
But they won't stick around
when the real you comes out
They can say they love you
When you're doing well
But all it takes is one mistake
And they'll find someone else
If you can fake it
You can be someone else
But if you want to be you
You'll have to be by yourself
i like this a lot
>>8106182
>>8106243
>I wrote this in 9th grade after my first break up
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AAO92foBwA
Found my old highschool poetry
r8 me
I am deep because of sadness
How I long for shallow gladness
In the depths I cannot see
For salty water is blinding me
Colder in the dark of sea
Poseidon I beseech thee
Wash me ashore so the sun may reach me
Literally I said to her
you have got to be kidding me
there is no way that that could be true
and she turned to me and scoffed
making that face and that sound
and she said to me I'm not kidding you
that's what happened
I didn't even think I could still smile
My teeth are rotting faster than tossed out bitten apples,
And my lips have been stuck in their small place
Longer than the tracks of any railroad.
I didn't even think I remember how
To pull my cheeks from wrinkled side to wrinkled side.
You did something, you really did something
I don't know how, I don't even know what
Not finished, obviously.
>>8105510
>weak ass critique
K.
>>8107425
high school tier for sure, hopefully you've improved
>>8107452
Irredeemably bad, except maybe as a song with impeccable delivery and comic timing
>>8107875
Dislike the imagery -- really low-hanging fruit on the decay tree
>>8106243
Reads like it was written by my younger brother
>>8105973
I chuckled
>>8107925
Average at best
Being cool is really fun
I like being in the sun
I'm wearing a hat
The hat is blue
Just like the sky
I can't believe it
>>8107925
>hopefully you've improved
god dam I hope so too, (i still like the last line though)
I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
by the false azure in the windowpane
I hoped James Joyce will be irascible with his assail of farts directed at my face.
I felt so dirty, my father thought me a disgrace.
But to be in the midst of my hero, to read the words he spoke.
''That dream was halcyon'' I crowed as I finally woke.
I dream of James day and night, on /lit/ the don't understand, pugilists they fight.
But he's my boy, my king, my love.
David Foster Wallace with my hand I shall shove.
- Patrician Dreams
By me.
The Reason why, the reason why
The reason why I had to die
Did I bleed the blood of Greed?
What was my Destiny?
I haven't written anything in a long time. Tell me what you think of 15 year old me, /lit/. With a little work I think it might be decent.
Thank God for Cramped Airplane Seats
He smelled like forgetting the world
and curling up into freshly washed bedsheets
and laughing for an entire afternoon
about everything and anything and nothing
and I knew that if I sat up just a little straighter
I'd be able to feel his shoulders rise and fall
as he breathed in and out
and we'd make a connection
and we'd be two lone humans
who found a friend to sit next to
if only for a few hours
and the clouds passed underneath us
and I had to stare at them to avoid staring at him
because thoughts like these are completely insane
and he would never look at me
the way I dreamed another man would
and I was being a fool for even considering opening my mouth
and before I knew it
the plane landed
and the people stood up
and the luggage came down
and he glanced at me
and his eyes were tender
and his mouth was smiling
and I never saw him again.
>>8103267
This hits close to home. Very apt description, I think.
Every time I try to communicate my feelings through lyrics I come off as whiny or pretentious.
Anyway to fix that?
>>8108670
Keep writing and read more
The grey rifle smoothbores
A violent poppy on his lapel
And fixes his thousand-yard stare
On earth-hooped protestors;
Shining white carbuncles in the crowd.
Filthy Oghuz Cannon fodder,
One foot in the sand, the other
Rolling khakis up the kneecaps
Smoking his bone down to the knuckle.
Over the top he goes today,
Sent halfway round the world
To shit sea biscuits by the shipload.
They did not say the New World
Lived or died by the smooth
Bore of an ANZAC carbine.
The spindly serviceman coughs to
Shift his lenses so that the sun
Strike takes his sight. Blinks
Johnny Turk out of existence.
>>8108579
Not bad. Last line breaks the flow. "And he was gone" flows better and is slightly abrupt, which is why the ending has its impact. The middle two lines starting with and aren't that great. The use of and at beginning and end are nice as a syntactic means of composing several routine steps ala the boarding and landing part of a flight.
and maybe this time cooked it through
but probly not cuz
penis penis penis
>>8109367
Not bad, though I think it would read better if you put it in meter.
are song lyrics allowed?
>>8101991
>>8101782
>>8101611
>>8101333
>>8102090
>>8102316
>>8103267
>>8103952
>>8104346
>>8104398
>>8104735
I like these
>>8103095
I know this feel bro. I'm the exact opposite. I have pages of lyrics but I can never find the right fit for guitar parts. They just don't click right. If you can't write anything that goes with the instrumentals you have, the (very difficult) solution is to branch off of a typical song format for verse structure. It's extremely hard, but if you do it right it'll sound just right.
I’ve tried—and tried again—to say,
in just this slightly different way,
of how the world around me moves
in rhythmic motion—soon it soothes
me rooted here in growing grass,
a placid eye for clouds to pass.
This bed is not without its thorns;
the nettled rose about me warms
my blood in rush of life, and pain—
I want to do it all again.
The silent snow, summer laughter;
I’ll remember ever after,
this sky—the momentary moon—
of pink and blue, before I swoon,
in quiet calling sweep of breath,
and softly falling sleep of death.
knees tucked to chin she sat and
we smoked pointlessly, terrified
confessing nothing in stunted gasps
she burned two holes in the seat,
and I look to them at times,
but all I remember was her
naked sorrys,
and darting, bashful eyes.
(WIP)
>>8100749
"Die Schlussbemerkung"
,,Weiche von mir gehe weg.
Gehe böser Knochenmann.
Ich bin noch jung. Geh weg!
Und rühre mich nicht an!"
,,Nein, gib deine Hand, du mächtige Gestalt.
Bin Freund und komme nicht zu strafen...
Sei guten Muts. Ich bin nicht wild.
Sollst ruhig in meinen Armen schlafen..."
German is my second language, and I am pretty fluent with it. For those who do not understand the language, here is a translation:
"The Last Remark"
"Get away from me!
You evil reaper.
I am still young. Go away!
And leave me alone!"
"No, give me your hand, you magnificent creature.
I am a friend and am not here to punish you...
Be good. I am not bewildered.
All you should do is rest calmly in my arms..."
It was inspired by reading Germanic folklore and fairytales. Death always makes an appearance as an actual being in the world. It makes for an interesting presentation and idea of what death was for the culture.
>>8111316
"Stolz"
Ich erfüll dich mit Verlangen,
Zu Ruhm und Ehre zu gelangen.
Nicht ich, du! Du sollst nicht ruh'n.
Du musst es selber woll'n und tun.
"Pride"
I fill you with longing.
To achieve fame and glory.
Not me, you! You must not rest.
You alone have to want and do it too.
>>8111337
"Der dunkle Bummler"
Durch Stadt und Dort zu streifen,
Meine Lieder vor mich hin zu pfeifen.
So gehe ich wohin ich will,
Und nachdem die Tränen trocknen
Und nachdem die Schreie enden
Ist alles alles um mich still...
"The dark Wanderer/Stroller"
Through towns and cities I stroll,
Whistling my song to myself.
I go where I please,
And after the tears dry
And after the screams stop
Is everything all quiet around me.
some of my most recent work. i don't really write anything but ironic poetry because sll my shit is edgy and depressing. this was written for my mario trollfic
D--> A thousand flexing penii flex, and having flexed they stand erect
D--> A thousand horseborne beads of cum, from up these mighty cocks defect
D--> And sixty thousand trails of white lead unsuspecting trolls astray
D--> And sixty thousand unsuspecting trolls shall learn to rue the day
D--> They dared defy the behemoth - the mighty foe, his dick divine
D--> Equine in nature, strong at heart, and mighty built, with texture fine
D--> They dared defy the Minotaur, they dared defy the Empress
D--> But Musclebeasts are neither these, and though this fact fails to impress
D--> The fools need not be shocked to die, need not quiver to be abused
D--> They need only the Musclebeast to wish the trolls to have perused.
>>8110376
>in just this slighty different way
feels forced
the transition from the nettled rose about me warms to
my blood in rush of life and pain
is awkward because it forces you to either break meter or read a continuation of a sentence as a beginnining of one
summer laughter seems a bit rough, but could just be me.
otherwise i liked it. probably a bit harsh but i only bother critiquing poems i like.
Wrote this one about depression, but it sounds like im considering getting an abortion:
the only refuge is knowing
this could end soon
or will it?
should i keep waiting
for life to start
or kill it?
>>8110376
this is incredible
I never got to say goodbye
Or beg her stay or ask her why
Or leave a tearful clinging cry
I missed that last rushed dying sigh
But it’s just me my selfish head
That craves the farewell to the dead
To frantic search for more unsaid
To bargain maybe words instead
A silly thought that time could wait
That death himself might change the date
Naught would stop cuz I was late
To say the words I yearn to state
I know it now the truth it hit
It’s all for me this closure bit
The sad fact is I can’t submit
To say goodbye is to admit
It wouldn’t help if I was there
To kiss her slowly blankened stare
It’s only me that’s left to care
What could make it less to bear
A useless one last heartfelt cry
A selfish wish for still she’d die
A tear can’t make a bonding tie
She’s gone. I’m here goodbye’s a lie
>>8111604
my one nitpick is cuz looks out of place otherwise great rhyming and structure
The Theme in Black. Condolences too.
Shovels aside, they weep
teething their lower lips.
There are specks on their attire,
such small specks, dirt clumps
divided out in the singing air before spattering.
Is the scent of damp trimmed grass magnified
by how wide seeming the sky is this day?
Sunshine will zap away dewdrops
by the time night comes, taking no pity on them
despite their purity. Sunshine can be
so sullen in such a way. Dewdrops can have
The same sort of purity as the translucent
bodily secretions. They weep.
–You ghost. Where are you?
Silly you, abuser. Fiend.
I can't tell whether you
loathed me out of love or you loved me
out of duty steeped in loathing.–
The burial ground belongs
to clan and kin: an earthen dais
raised above the field adjacent where
bent yellow stalks mark autumn
and invite chirping birds to flitter by.
–Did you hide that you settled
and thought that by hiding you won?
Well it hurt. Someone should've let you know
a person's a person. Not your project
or a problem for you to solve.–
It is the custom of this land
for some of the bereaved to help dig the grave.
The basic premise may be that you might
serve in death whom you failed in life. Or that
decencies should extend to the dead just
as to the dead to be.
-I hated you for so many things
and loved you for a few. If we wanted
to get technical about it, did you
enter my life or did I enter yours?
Is the fact that you left mine
a decency to me? What is it to be decent?-
Shovels dig again.
The pause was for a moment.
One might surmise
it is the nature of a burial to proceed.
:(
This is my face when my heroes are dead when emptyness entreats me to stay just a little longer and she puts on a mask called love only to reveal she's been pain the whole time and I'm not going to be able to hold on my life is ending before my eyes but I'm still alive where am I headed it's difficult to remember to breathe or I'll choke and the fog fills my lungs because it feels better to be high than to shrug through existence I'm not a machine I was made without a purpose please fill the void I don't want to be alone but it's inescapable isn't it how would you know I can no longer be happy passion is dead tears remain while a dagger of apathy seeps its way into the tunnels that bear me life it's no longer worth it I hope for release but it is not hope it is a yearning felt deeper than sensation itself it only makes sense we are all slowly marching toward death why can't I take the shortcut it's not cheating they call it depression I call it an invitation where do we go when we're finished was I supposed do something where are my friends they said they'd be here by now I can't be this sad
please help
look at me
sullied and depraved,
gaze at the things I see
and you, yourself will also be deranged
Look at me, or rather... don't
I cant let you see
what I've become
Hidden.
amidst a cavalcade of words and .jpgs
here I sit, among the ships, ridden
there seems no end
to tragedy here,
dat boi is gone, no more memes to mend
So here I am, we are, at this place
where all things begin
where all things go to die
>>8101311
This was awesome, but the ending wasnt as good, 9/10
Training for the Championship Bout
OR
Gold Canvas, No. 4
dripping
from a freshly fractured nose:
deep red-black
and
slick on skin.
an accident,
a mistimed fist.
she was
apologizing (and embarrassed) apologizing (and embarrassed)
he was
laughing.
then;
hugged her
as fathers do daughters.
(close as the boxer’s clinch—
but never two embraces so dissimilar)
droplets
falling
into her hair.
strands of sunlight
now flecked
with pinpoints
of rich, human color.
a Pollock?
no. truer than even that.
>>8111080
i like it, anon
>>8101803
Freaking lol, diaper part
Emoji in the dictionary,
Tears of joy from this canary,
Your showing sings this fleeting swan,
Share it as I go along
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.
The Faceless rose, spoke, and so came forth this:
"There lies a land, near, past reach nonetheless,
where mournful peaks glance to ley below,
and roads no feet have tread nor builders kept
in memory of page or scribe. Yet said,
’tis no empty land, though stirs naught within.
Scribes, it has, and builders and fathers and sons.
A King, it had, and courtiers and pipers and drums.
Tables, there are, set beneath still faces,
and no food, though untouched by creature or beast,
but mouldered and rotted to stain.
Those scribes, they hunch, over parchment gone to dust,
their hands stayed, in monument unwilling,
of those deepest crimes for greatest cause
wrought in vain, and none left to lament."
>>8112035
10/10
Shock!
I got a new life
You would hardly recognize me I'm so glad
How could a person like me care for you
Why do I bother
When you're not the one for me
Oooo, is enough, enough
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
Life is demanding without understanding
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
No one's gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong
But where do you belong
Under the pale moon
For so many years I've wondered who you are
How can a person like you bring me joy
Under the pale moon
Where I see a lot of stars
Is enough, enough
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
Life is demanding without understanding
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
No one's gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong
But where do you belong
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
I saw the sign and it opened up my mind
And I am happy now living without you
I've left you, ooohhh
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
No one's gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong
I saw the sign - I saw the sign - I saw the sign
I saw the sign - I saw the sign
I saw the sign - I saw the sign - I saw the sign
And it opened up my eyes I saw the sign
>>8111981
I'm so torn on liking this. It feels so clumsy and cliché and honestly juvenile but there's something very soothing about it
Slick rush in the nose, head back, to the mirror—
catch it drop by drip by splash till it slows, look up.
Red stream wetting the desert, iron taste seeping
down into the mud to nourish and be reclaimed.
Fingers of the unsullied hand, dip into cupped,
precious gore now lost but given new purpose—
not to fuel the vehicle of flesh but challenge
the master, with shape and spiral traced on skin
unsunned and hidden but for here, where letters
dredged from nothing spell words said nowhere,
but in the corners of the mind that no thoughts
reach.
Sedent in the dark now, decoration done, painted,
in that ink shared common to beast and borne.
Cryptic signs play and whisper as they dry,
set in memory without meaning, so now to rest,
to nest, to lay in the dark, and chase those mad
symbols to dream.
>>8112289
the enjambments on the last 2 stanzas might could use some work, but otherwise fine.
To make it home
as the leaves turn to crimson
and the ice creeps behind me
to chill my bone
None sweeter known
of all of memory’s songs
than the one we held on
to make it home
Before my time
when the weeds stood less mighty
on the porch that I’m missing
way down the line
you sang every rhyme
with the pureness of water
not a fade, not a siren
before my time
Too many years
weigh too hard on your shoulders
lay them down by the garden
with all your tears
sleep without fear
for it won’t be much longer
I know that you’ve waited
too many years
To make it home
is a dream we both shared in
you never stopped fearing
a heart of stone
no more alone
just look out through your window
I’ve answered the promise
to make it home
I don't mean to dwell
But I can't help myself
When I feel the vibe
And taste a memory
Of a time in life
When years seemed to stand still
I close my eyes
And sink within myself
Relive the gift of precious memories
In need of a fix called innocence
When did it begin?
The change to come was undetectable
The open wounds expose the importance of
Our innocence
A high that can never be bought or sold
Symbolic acts - so vivid
Yet at the same time
Were invisible
Savor what you feel and what you see
Things that may not seem important now
But may be tomorrow
Do you remember when
Things seemed so eternal?
Heroes were so real...
Their magic frozen in time
The only way to learn
Is be aware and hold on tight
I close my eyes
And sink within myself
Relive the gift of precious memories
In need of a fix called innocence
When did it begin?
The change to come was undetectable
The open wounds expose the importance of
Our innocence
A high that can never be bought or sold
>>8112335
Any particular ones that jump out to you as awkward? Wrote that one kind of on the fly, I haven't really dug into it yet.
>>8111972
Thank you! What in particular did you not like about the ending?
drifting in absence
thriving at nothing
my body is tense
my mind is trusting
living in bliss
life has given me a kiss
so i keep on drifting
am i even living
living by light
falling at will
flying at height
finding the chill
everything's so bright
i'm about to kill
>>8113228
*shrugs* More the narrative of it in general rather than any problems with your writing (which is phenomenal)
anyone like ballads
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PENISADVENTURELAND JUN 2ND, 2016 0 NEVER
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Come! Take my hand and eat;
Feast! For soon, we taste defeat;
Our foe is strong, our friends are weak,
And victory avoids the meek.
So stand! Sing, and sing with pride;
Know that soon you will have died;
And died indeed! For noble cause!
For glory you rode to the jaws
Of Hell! Of Hell! You enter these
But know in dying you must seize
A hundred more! Die not in vain
But even dying, kill again!
They're fiends, they're weak, yet more than we
Much more! So many, they can't be
From Earth, nay, Hell! From hell they rise!
Yet they are hordes, and we are wise;
And know you've earned your place in deed
You've earned by blood your father's seed!
continued:
http://pastebin.com/hfeWXMSy
>>8114960
jesus fucking christ i hate copypasting on tablets
what a mess
>>8101949
read a lot of good poetry and take notes and you'll figure out what works and doesn't! It's not exactly a question anyone can answer...
A love that should move boulders
has become whirlwind on my shoulders.
A beautiful bird taken by death.
Winter's first breath.
Autumn fallen trees.
Dead frozen leaves.
A whirpool is breeding an explosion
of fear, regret, confusion.
Lead foot with a toe drag
Kiss pudge
Light a migrant worker on fire
Save the game
Boog Sciambi
Save the game
Shiggy
>>8112480
>thoughts/reach
>mad/symbols
>>8116489
Fair points, both of those.
Should I just bite the bullet and just put them on the ends of the preceding lines?
>>8116287
I'm strangely drawn to this
Penitentiary chances, the devil dances
And eventually answers to the call of Autumn
All of them fallin’ for the love of ballin’
Got caught with 30 rocks, the cop look like Alec Baldwin
Inter century anthems based off inner city tantrums
Based off the way we was branded
Face it, Jerome get more time than Brandon
And at the airport they check all through my bag
And tell me that it’s random
But we stay winning, this week has been a bad massage
I need a happy ending and a new beginning
And a new fitted, and some job opportunities that's lucrative
This the real world, homie, school finished
They done stole your dreams, you dunno who did it
I treat the cash the way the government treats AIDS
I won’t be satisfied til all my niggas get it, get it?
i write this for you
my wish, my desire
i miss you
i let you go like evething else
whats left of my
cant remember the rest
>>8111432
Thanks for the critique.
I re-wrote the 'in just a slightly different way line' at least four times, and I'm still not happy with it, so I agree with your critique there.
also the summer laughter line was a strain for me too, I tried to write the entire line in trochee's, but I agree it feels out of place with the rhythm of the rest of the poem.
I appreciate the genuine critique instead of the usual "2/10, complete shit" which most people here are so fond of saying
>>8116973
I just can't respect a set of lyrics bemoaning the Black American experience, if they demonstrate and perpetuate a disregard for correct English writing and speech within that community.
>>8105051
put down the thesaurus, friend
>>8116582
I would consider it, but line length is a valid concern. I would rework them to make the enjambments better if possible. I like the shape of your poem.
>>8100848
desu sounds super edge but i am willing to see if you make a post for it.
Hey guys, currently working on translating one of my favorite Brodsky poems into English (haven't seen good Brodsky English translations, but maybe I'm missing something). So far I think it's pretty good, although I'm stuck on the first part of the last stanza:
И yвижy двe жизни
дaлeкo зa peкoй,
к paвнoдyшнoй oтчизнe
пpижимaяcь щeкoй.
Basically the part I'm having trouble with is the "paвнoдyшнoй oтчизнe" line. What are good ways for conveying 'oтчизнa' in English? I currently have 'indifferent homeland,' but I hate hate the words 'homeland/motherland,' they sound so masculine and hard, I need something that will convey a more overpowering feminine mood suitable for a word like 'oтчизнa'. Also anything ending in 'land' makes for awful rhyming.
4chan is probably not the right place to ask this, but hey, the thread is here, might as well try.
