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Thread: poetry thread

  1. #1
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    poetry thread

    please post your favorite poems, poets, and little bits and pieces you've written in this thread.
    please make criticisms concise, constructive, and worthwhile.

    I've recently been expressing the age old class struggle at my local political meetup through prose; it's gone over well. I'm drawn to ideas of Romantics.

    sullen faces, caked on with factory dirt and grime
    trudge through muddy fields, beckoned to the heart of industry
    and the wings of the calling monster beat a frigid gust, icing the streets
    stripping each man, woman, child, each of their dignity
    nothing is spared, there is no pity

    and these people, their tears mix with that caked on remnant
    to drip through a valley of scars, time worn to the skin
    a sludge to form the artist's compliment
    of the streams they played in, the rivers they fished in
    and the lands they lived in.

    our mother, she screams in her murder.
    stop and listen, for you can hear her now

    she calls to us now, brothers anew
    to take the smoldering coal that lies within each of us
    ignite it now with our passion, our eternal love for man
    an entity to arise with no masters no slaves
    an new state shall arise
    now dawns the golden age

    tell me what you think.
    Last edited by KINGJONES; December 29th, 2015 at 07:55 PM.

  2. #2
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    Is This A Thread? Really?
    Why would you do this to me?
    Am I Supposed to write poetry?
    When All I Want to To Die Free?
    What the fuck? Just Let me be.
    Im Stuck! I Cant See!
    Sitting Duck. Can't Leave!
    Hit By Truck. Die in street.
    So Much For Luck. Life Bittersweet.
    What the fuck? Wheres the beat?
    Im Back again On My Feet.
    Looking For New Friends to meet.
    King Jones? A Man To Greet.
    Living on stones. He was So Sweet
    But his Hormones Were not so Neat
    His Brain was Bad, Easy Overheat.
    Disease he had, But His Dick was a Treat.
    I Was Sure Glad. To Take In His Meat.
    Ahaha Jones Your Such A Guy.
    You Got That Look in your Eye.
    Makes Me Want to Fly.
    Please Come Back, I'm Gonna die.
    Jones Please Don't Say Goodbye.
    Without You Life Isn't worth the try.
    Jones Please Just Stand By.
    Make me Breakfast, Tie my Tie.
    Be My Slave, on you i Rely.
    Love You So Much As I Imply.
    My Alkali, my Fruit Fly.
    Jone ! Jone! My Warcry.

  3. #3
    Holy Shit Osiris's Avatar
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    condolences homie

  4. #4
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    prose is not poetry

  5. #5
    Holy Shit Osiris's Avatar
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    get rekt garbo kid

  6. #6
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    I would hate your poem if it wasn't about me jacob.

  7. #7
    Godlike
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    "Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before"

  8. #8
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    well i made this thread and robert was going to post his poetry in it with me
    but apparently for the past 2 hours that we were poem writing robert was jacking off

    and he just goes and asks me over teamspeak "whats a syllable" when i try to explain a sonnet to him

  9. #9
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    can someone delete this thread because this fucking retard kaptenrobert ruined it for me
    hes just googling words to figure out how many syllables they have

  10. #10
    M-M-M-Monster Kill BloodyNine's Avatar
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    when i was in a psych ward at 17 there was this pretty girl claudia whose 'friends' tried to kill her with rat poison in a 5th of tequila. she later tried to kill herself and ended up there. we held hands during group therapy once. we wrote some little shitty love poems to each other and we said we'd meet up after we got out. later, we got out and talked a little on e-mail but after a while i stopped responding. the idea was more romantic while we were inside. i wonder if she's alive

  11. #11
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    jesus christ

  12. #12
    Holy Shit Osiris's Avatar
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    EXPOSED

  13. #13
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    ya i told the people i met in the psych ward that i would try to keep up with them but in reality i wanted to forget they ever existed and would probably get sick if any of them found me and tried to contact me

    cool story though man glad you shared

  14. #14
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    bloodynine is like the narator in jesus' son i'm fairly sure

  15. #15
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    insdie of jesus' son nigga

  16. #16
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    bloodynine that wasnt really funny man.

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    Jones makes fun of me for taking a while to remember what syllables are (English is not my native language!!!!!) and then he can't even figure out how many syllables "Really" has !!

  18. #18
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    you have 1 post and 25 wongs bury yourself nerd

  19. #19
    Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

    A penny for the Old Guy

    I
    We are the hollow men
    We are the stuffed men
    Leaning together
    Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
    Our dried voices, when
    We whisper together
    Are quiet and meaningless
    As wind in dry grass
    Or rats' feet over broken glass
    In our dry cellar

    Shape without form, shade without colour,
    Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

    Those who have crossed
    With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
    Remember us—if at all—not as lost
    Violent souls, but only
    As the hollow men
    The stuffed men.

    II
    Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
    In death's dream kingdom
    These do not appear:
    There, the eyes are
    Sunlight on a broken column
    There, is a tree swinging
    And voices are
    In the wind's singing
    More distant and more solemn
    Than a fading star.

    Let me be no nearer
    In death's dream kingdom
    Let me also wear
    Such deliberate disguises
    Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
    In a field
    Behaving as the wind behaves
    No nearer—

    Not that final meeting
    In the twilight kingdom

    III
    This is the dead land
    This is cactus land
    Here the stone images
    Are raised, here they receive
    The supplication of a dead man's hand
    Under the twinkle of a fading star.

    Is it like this
    In death's other kingdom
    Waking alone
    At the hour when we are
    Trembling with tenderness
    Lips that would kiss
    Form prayers to broken stone.

    IV
    The eyes are not here
    There are no eyes here
    In this valley of dying stars
    In this hollow valley
    This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

    In this last of meeting places
    We grope together
    And avoid speech
    Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

    Sightless, unless
    The eyes reappear
    As the perpetual star
    Multifoliate rose
    Of death's twilight kingdom
    The hope only
    Of empty men.

    V
    Here we go round the prickly pear
    Prickly pear prickly pear
    Here we go round the prickly pear
    At five o'clock in the morning.

    Between the idea
    And the reality
    Between the motion
    And the act
    Falls the Shadow
    For Thine is the Kingdom

    Between the conception
    And the creation
    Between the emotion
    And the response
    Falls the Shadow
    Life is very long

    Between the desire
    And the spasm
    Between the potency
    And the existence
    Between the essence
    And the descent
    Falls the Shadow
    For Thine is the Kingdom

    For Thine is
    Life is
    For Thine is the

    This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    Not with a bang but a whimper.

  20. #20
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    Quote Originally Posted by therobertwongs View Post
    Jones makes fun of me for taking a while to remember what syllables are (English is not my native language!!!!!) and then he can't even figure out how many syllables "Really" has !!
    Exclamation points can delay an email response from me by months

    -tao lin

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