... here is a sample of my poetry. Please don't flame me, as this counts as off-topic, and well.. RiderofJustice asked me to do this, so I'm being polite and endulging him, not whoring my work, which by the way I feel isn't all that great to begin with, so sorry for subjecting you to this
:
More of my work can be found here, if you're interested:
http://www.eliteskills.com/u/heartlessname
:A Lot of Animosity by Joe Gagnon
I'm not much of a man;
and as a lot of land my value would be little at best.
I'd be far off from the caring cities;
a petty, worthless piece of property
owned by ever-present contempt and ferocity.
I'd be fenced off by a hideous, decrepid wooden symbol
of harder times long since past.
Not even the blackest of birds
would dare to stand and call
into my desolate meadow of amarathine malevolence.
All around there'd be forests which encourage
their mindless inhabitants to lead artificially crucial lives;
in an effort to draw more from the receding vines
of interdependance which only empower the wealthy
with larger roots tapped in sin.
The statuesque trees standing seemingly graceful
with nature teeming within believe themselves to be
so superior until winter comes endless, killing spring
to reveal nature's truth.
That false habitat of conformity is home to everything
I was tricked to crave and born to despise.
And for all the green I'd be yellow.
Unkempt deviant grass, dry and rigid;
ready to snap from the lightest touch of cruelty
or become an endless inferno from the tiniest spark of ignorance.
My ground would be disgusting, littered with lies and violence
covered by the thickest layer of inpenetrable clay packed with regret
as to hide the lost memories and shame buried deep beneath.
You can scratch away some of the filthy topsoil
but it would be too impure to view anything.
To walk upon me, you'd know I was not level,
the earth varying with each step.
Inside me, discover the sight of dead branches on sickly plants
combined with a revolting silence intermittantly disturbed
by the crushing and breaking of my heart's dying foilage.
For years I was untouched, left in decay and rot,
yet flies strayed from me still.
The sun laughed in the sky as it passed over me,
casting down rays of hope that only scorched and robbed my earth
of what little precious moisture was stored.
But through luck you were lost
and found your innocence treading on my terra firma demonica.
You fell in love with harsh scenery
and with one kiss bought the land forever.
I'm not much of a man;
and as a lot of land my value would be little at best.
I'd be far off from the caring cities;
a petty, worthless piece of property
owned by ever-present contempt and ferocity.
I'd be fenced off by a hideous, decrepid wooden symbol
of harder times long since past.
Not even the blackest of birds
would dare to stand and call
into my desolate meadow of amarathine malevolence.
All around there'd be forests which encourage
their mindless inhabitants to lead artificially crucial lives;
in an effort to draw more from the receding vines
of interdependance which only empower the wealthy
with larger roots tapped in sin.
The statuesque trees standing seemingly graceful
with nature teeming within believe themselves to be
so superior until winter comes endless, killing spring
to reveal nature's truth.
That false habitat of conformity is home to everything
I was tricked to crave and born to despise.
And for all the green I'd be yellow.
Unkempt deviant grass, dry and rigid;
ready to snap from the lightest touch of cruelty
or become an endless inferno from the tiniest spark of ignorance.
My ground would be disgusting, littered with lies and violence
covered by the thickest layer of inpenetrable clay packed with regret
as to hide the lost memories and shame buried deep beneath.
You can scratch away some of the filthy topsoil
but it would be too impure to view anything.
To walk upon me, you'd know I was not level,
the earth varying with each step.
Inside me, discover the sight of dead branches on sickly plants
combined with a revolting silence intermittantly disturbed
by the crushing and breaking of my heart's dying foilage.
For years I was untouched, left in decay and rot,
yet flies strayed from me still.
The sun laughed in the sky as it passed over me,
casting down rays of hope that only scorched and robbed my earth
of what little precious moisture was stored.
But through luck you were lost
and found your innocence treading on my terra firma demonica.
You fell in love with harsh scenery
and with one kiss bought the land forever.
More of my work can be found here, if you're interested:
http://www.eliteskills.com/u/heartlessname
K, yer sposed to read the whole thing before you just, silly. 
