Poetry
- Thread starter Dazed and Brutal
- Start date
DeepUnderground
Undergrunt
I'm a poetry junkie and there's some interesting writing here.
panzerfaust666 I think you have the beginnings of some really great poems there.
I like this in particular:
panzerfaust666 I think you have the beginnings of some really great poems there.
I like this in particular:
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
Awesome thanks! Seeing that you liked that particular part, you must understand what I am going for. Appreciate it!!!!!!!!
Einherjar86
Active Member
$15,000 for a grave!?
A coffin, stone and burial plot!?
That's money I should like to save
If to expire I choose not.
For death, what an outrageous cost!
Be cremated, I think I will!
However, something yet is lost...
I'll have to pay the heating bill.
A coffin, stone and burial plot!?
That's money I should like to save
If to expire I choose not.
For death, what an outrageous cost!
Be cremated, I think I will!
However, something yet is lost...
I'll have to pay the heating bill.
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
zabu of nΩd
Free Insultation
- Feb 9, 2007
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damnromulans
Klingons do not faint
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
I wrote this after reading a disturbing article about Children in Russia who are sent to Mental Hospitals for no real reason. It was in the National Post iirc
In two
Silent Children
the incurables of
ward no.6
They play
Dont leave me here
I dont
want to
stay
Cut into their heads
under cold skies
(heads) split in two
in three...
stay with me
Heads split in four
in five...
Cut into their souls
Under grey skies
their lost
but
They aren't the devil's play thing
In two
Silent Children
the incurables of
ward no.6
They play
Dont leave me here
I dont
want to
stay
Cut into their heads
under cold skies
(heads) split in two
in three...
stay with me
Heads split in four
in five...
Cut into their souls
Under grey skies
their lost
but
They aren't the devil's play thing
Einherjar86
Active Member
I like the final line of that. The rest of it is a bit too informal and paratactic for my tastes; but the atmosphere is good.
Alright, here's my latest short flight of fancy:
Oh Oscar Wilde, oh Oscar Wilde!
Such clever verse you do employ;
Your poesy's neither meek nor mild,
And no endeavor to enjoy!
If only I could deftly wield
A quill with such a cunning point;
To expose secrets long concealed
And with the ink my soul anoint!
To be a saint of decadence!
A knight of all that's blasphemous!
To purge the slate of innocence!
My tongue and teeth so venomous!
A click of heels is vanity,
A wink and grin is deadly pride,
And one man's deemed insanity
Is yet another's tender bride.
A pinch of salt is just the cure
When sprinkled in the proper wound;
But vinegar works best, for sure,
When powder's nowhere to be found.
So with this pen I'll diagnose
The foul disease and thus prescribe
The proper drug and too the dose
In this: my dexterous diatribe:
Some poetry can be too sweet;
Some far too dull, and some too tame;
Some poems regress, and some repeat,
Some make us work and leave us lame;
And some are just so damn debased
They're not worth reading e'en at all!
We're best with all these words erased,
So we're not read into a pall!
So take your tomes and burn them, quick!
Cast them down and with the dead!
Just think how less we shall feel sick
With all the shit we haven't read.
Alright, here's my latest short flight of fancy:
Oh Oscar Wilde, oh Oscar Wilde!
Such clever verse you do employ;
Your poesy's neither meek nor mild,
And no endeavor to enjoy!
If only I could deftly wield
A quill with such a cunning point;
To expose secrets long concealed
And with the ink my soul anoint!
To be a saint of decadence!
A knight of all that's blasphemous!
To purge the slate of innocence!
My tongue and teeth so venomous!
A click of heels is vanity,
A wink and grin is deadly pride,
And one man's deemed insanity
Is yet another's tender bride.
A pinch of salt is just the cure
When sprinkled in the proper wound;
But vinegar works best, for sure,
When powder's nowhere to be found.
So with this pen I'll diagnose
The foul disease and thus prescribe
The proper drug and too the dose
In this: my dexterous diatribe:
Some poetry can be too sweet;
Some far too dull, and some too tame;
Some poems regress, and some repeat,
Some make us work and leave us lame;
And some are just so damn debased
They're not worth reading e'en at all!
We're best with all these words erased,
So we're not read into a pall!
So take your tomes and burn them, quick!
Cast them down and with the dead!
Just think how less we shall feel sick
With all the shit we haven't read.
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
Wow Einherjer, great work. I especially love :
To be a saint of decadence!
A knight of all that's blasphemous!
To purge the slate of innocence!
My tongue and teeth so venomous!
Also, I understand what you mean about it being very Paratactic. It's not so much a conscious decision, but I think they develop like that because I am trying to use them all as song lyrics as well. On top of that, I dont like when my writing is super clear on the.
But regardless, thanks for reading!
To be a saint of decadence!
A knight of all that's blasphemous!
To purge the slate of innocence!
My tongue and teeth so venomous!
Also, I understand what you mean about it being very Paratactic. It's not so much a conscious decision, but I think they develop like that because I am trying to use them all as song lyrics as well. On top of that, I dont like when my writing is super clear on the.
But regardless, thanks for reading!
zabu of nΩd
Free Insultation
- Feb 9, 2007
- 14,620
- 805
- 113
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
I meant to write them!!!! Ah well. I am great at speaking in person and I have decent grammar and the like when I write ( i.e. Poetry ) , but always fail hard on UM.
Einherjar86
Active Member
No worries, the pressure can be too much for all of us sometimes.Fitting lyrics to song structures can often render them less syntactic; and this is to be expected, since you obviously want to fit them to the rhythm and meter of your song. So I realize that this has some effect on your poems. Sometimes, I actually find that taking myself out of the rigid boundaries that I usually give myself for poetry and trying instead to compose lyrics for a song can actually benefit a piece. My "Harlot Sat in Babylon" poem actually came together after I composed a rhythm and melody in my head and formatted the words to fit them. I play it on acoustic guitar a lot now.
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
Yeah that's actually a great idea, constructing a poetic rhythm to a song instead of writing something and then putting it over top of music that it wasn't necessarily written for. Also, I remember that poem of yours, it was posted in this thread right? I remember liking that one alot. Just the word Babylon is powerful.
Einherjar86
Active Member
I think it's somewhere here. Thanks, I was happy with it too; hopefully I'll have the musical version of it recorded soon and posted on my myspace.
Alteredmindeath
Wasteland Survivor
Einherjar86
Active Member
New one I finished recently:
Old Prester John and Hester Prynne-
An oddly pair were they;
One made of faith, one maid of sin-
Made oaths in early May.
Oh where now shall this tale begin;
Upon that fateful day?
Their union consummated in
A brothel in pompeii.
Now Prester knew, and always had,
That Hester was a curse;
He thought that poetry was bad,
But she was even worse;
He thought that she would be his death,
Her marriage be his hearse;
His memory would be her lethe,
His throne would be her purse.
Yet all the wine of Roma could
Not satiate his lust
For she whom he had known he should
Not grant into his trust;
And if she did, he thought he would,
Though did not think he must,
Propose to her right where she stood
Beside the Caesar’s bust.
So Prester John and Hester Prynne
Were thus engaged to wed;
And John, who could not tame his sin,
Took Hester into bed
The night before the proper vows
And marriage rites were read,
And in that sordid den of sows
He took her maidenhead.
Now heads of maidens often draw
A decent price or more,
But by the Holy Roman Law
A man can't sell a whore;
So Prester mourned what he had done;
Mourned what and too wherefore:
Wherefore her purity was gone-
The virgin cloak she wore.
And so, now worthless and debased,
He staged a clever act:
Her memory would be erased,
His credit be intact.
He moved at once, and with much haste,
To show that Hester lacked
A certain skill for social taste,
And too a social tact.
It was revealed she'd been untrue
And made of men a feast;
She'd loved and left, without a clue,
One hundred men at least.
She sought pecuniary prey
Like some financial beast,
She thrived on others' hard-earned pay,
Her hunger never ceased.
Of course, all this was Prester's ruse,
For she was no such thing.
To him, she was truest muse
Of which the poets sing.
But for his flaw he did accuse
She who would wear his ring
Of dealings he could not excuse
If he was to be king.
So Prester John had Hester hanged
The day they were to wed.
This king and harlot so estranged,
Where once was love instead;
They strung her up and watched until
The priest pronounced her dead,
Her body buried on a hill
Behind the graveyard shed.
Envoy:
Now let this sleeping spirit stir,
Now let it rise again.
Now let revenge awaken her.
In Jesus's name. Amen.
Old Prester John and Hester Prynne-
An oddly pair were they;
One made of faith, one maid of sin-
Made oaths in early May.
Oh where now shall this tale begin;
Upon that fateful day?
Their union consummated in
A brothel in pompeii.
Now Prester knew, and always had,
That Hester was a curse;
He thought that poetry was bad,
But she was even worse;
He thought that she would be his death,
Her marriage be his hearse;
His memory would be her lethe,
His throne would be her purse.
Yet all the wine of Roma could
Not satiate his lust
For she whom he had known he should
Not grant into his trust;
And if she did, he thought he would,
Though did not think he must,
Propose to her right where she stood
Beside the Caesar’s bust.
So Prester John and Hester Prynne
Were thus engaged to wed;
And John, who could not tame his sin,
Took Hester into bed
The night before the proper vows
And marriage rites were read,
And in that sordid den of sows
He took her maidenhead.
Now heads of maidens often draw
A decent price or more,
But by the Holy Roman Law
A man can't sell a whore;
So Prester mourned what he had done;
Mourned what and too wherefore:
Wherefore her purity was gone-
The virgin cloak she wore.
And so, now worthless and debased,
He staged a clever act:
Her memory would be erased,
His credit be intact.
He moved at once, and with much haste,
To show that Hester lacked
A certain skill for social taste,
And too a social tact.
It was revealed she'd been untrue
And made of men a feast;
She'd loved and left, without a clue,
One hundred men at least.
She sought pecuniary prey
Like some financial beast,
She thrived on others' hard-earned pay,
Her hunger never ceased.
Of course, all this was Prester's ruse,
For she was no such thing.
To him, she was truest muse
Of which the poets sing.
But for his flaw he did accuse
She who would wear his ring
Of dealings he could not excuse
If he was to be king.
So Prester John had Hester hanged
The day they were to wed.
This king and harlot so estranged,
Where once was love instead;
They strung her up and watched until
The priest pronounced her dead,
Her body buried on a hill
Behind the graveyard shed.
Envoy:
Now let this sleeping spirit stir,
Now let it rise again.
Now let revenge awaken her.
In Jesus's name. Amen.
damnromulans
Klingons do not faint
Hey poets.
This is probably too gay for most of you but perhaps a few of you would be interested in contributing.
I've started a blog with the intention of showcasing little vignettes people have written that are somehow related to romance and heartbreak and such emotions. If anyone is interested in contributing, please PM me. Prose, poetry, free word association, whatever. Anything goes. fictional or nonfictional.
This is probably too gay for most of you but perhaps a few of you would be interested in contributing.
I've started a blog with the intention of showcasing little vignettes people have written that are somehow related to romance and heartbreak and such emotions. If anyone is interested in contributing, please PM me. Prose, poetry, free word association, whatever. Anything goes. fictional or nonfictional.
Einherjar86
Active Member
I don't write much "romantic" stuff in the relationship-y sense. I love poetry from the British Romantic Period, but that's not what you're looking for.
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