Poetry

[damnromulans]

Are you seriously implying that only people who are prodigies at their hobby pursuit of choice are allowed to enjoy said hobbies, ThrashizFTL?

 

[ThrashizFTW!]

wat

i dident understand dat

 

[ThrashizFTW!]

i just sayin' the truth

 

[damnromulans]

Here's a translation from English to Simpleton English:

You think people no good hobby no can do hobby?

 

[Einherjar86]

Haven't written much lately, but here's a short piece I'm happy with:

"It may have been the storm"

It may have been the storm outside

That woke me from my dream,

Where I was told that, when I died,

A voice would speak my name;

Or then, perhaps it was the dream-

The dream I dreamed so deep-

That made my waking all but seem

A product of my sleep.

 

[Einherjar86]

Each stood in witness of the greatest work of all;
The tribe, the clan, crying “Prophecy!” before
The urban abyss, the great swath of industry,
Surging amidst the commuter tides, against

the

grain

Of the northbound/southbound march between
The hub, the Mecca, the goal of pilgrimage
And the event horizon of the suburbs.

Beyond vacant corners one could hear
The proselytizers, those faithless promoters
Of an executive order. “Repent!” they proclaimed,
And “Rejoice!” “Repent!” “Rejoice!” Each heard condemned
The consciousness to which the state had given birth
And suckled, though it offered forth its own lifeblood
In sacrifice to the unborn god.

All civilization stood agape at the sight
Of that manufactured progeny, that
Spawn of an unintelligible being,
Whose iron womb coughs forth deities driven
By something harder than death,
More unyielding than instinct.
The maw of a mechanical biology devoured
The spectators in one great totalitarian
Gulp and imposed this regime of ribbed gears,
Scaly plates, treaded limbs and mandibles.

Many fled to the fields, took refuge in
The wilderness where the whelp of the beast
Couldn’t reach, and there they dug and sunk bunkers
Of maple and travertine into the unsullied soil.
They hunkered, shaking and praying, and waited
For the apocalypse to pass.

 

[V.V.V.V.V.]

Reminds me of this fucking dude, and his completely over-the-top-evil machine-organism army of techno-death:

 

[Master_Yoda77]

That thing is fucking evil.

I've got some song lyrics for my band. Some of the lines seem a little awkward, but when sung they flow well.

The Úlairi

They ride forth upon their
Steeds of fright, Invoking
Terror so powerful
With their shrieks of panic

Controlling, the one who
Bears the ring of power
In darkness it binds them
Servants to the one above

Hooded Beasts
Cloaked in black
Riders of night
They come for thee

Winged fiend of shadow
Naked and featherless
Towering above their
Enemies, consuming

All will fall against their
Will of hate, immortal
Wraiths of dusk, vaporous
No man can destroy them

Hooded Beasts
Cloaked in black
Riders of night
They come for thee

RUN!

 

[panzerfaust666]

its been a while...




hold back the clocks hands
let freedom breath free, not gasp
untie your foot from the rope
from the anchor
let the world bend to you like a bow
bow to you
let No mutter/sing/grunt its
funeral blues

abhor abhorrence

for our time on earth is no parenthesis
don't let death's antonym
slip by

 

[Dazed and Brutal]

Something I wrote cause I can't sleep and am bored

Palms of water
Hold me when it gets cold
Tin can in an asteroid
Never heard what was told
Sappy tree suckers
I heard their convinced got sold
With ruins rusty rotten
I haven’t forgotten - I’m bold

So be quiet
I don’t wanna wake up
Don’t be defiant
You wait for the shake up
Please keep silent
It’s all covered in make up

Fingers of Fire
Her Flesh is flame
Never around for the clouds to cry
Saharan heart butane
Engulfs the lion’s mane

really just rambling, no form, no did I feel the need to tidy the end up at all

edit - shmeeh

 

[Einherjar86]

Each stood in witness of the greatest work of all;
The tribe, the clan, crying “Prophecy!” before
The urban abyss, the great swath of industry,
Surging amidst the commuter tides, against

the

grain

Of the northbound/southbound march between
The hub, the Mecca, the goal of pilgrimage
And the event horizon of the suburbs.

Beyond vacant corners one could hear
The proselytizers, those faithless promoters
Of an executive order. “Repent!” they proclaimed,
And “Rejoice!” “Repent!” “Rejoice!” Each heard condemned
The consciousness to which the state had given birth
And suckled, though it offered forth its own lifeblood
In sacrifice to the unborn god.

All civilization stood agape at the sight
Of that manufactured progeny, that
Spawn of an unintelligible being,
Whose iron womb coughs forth deities driven
By something harder than death,
More unyielding than instinct.
The maw of a mechanical biology devoured
The spectators in one great totalitarian
Gulp and imposed this regime of ribbed gears,
Scaly plates, treaded limbs and mandibles.

Many fled to the fields, took refuge in
The wilderness where the whelp of the beast
Couldn’t reach, and there they dug and sunk bunkers
Of maple and travertine into the unsullied soil.
They hunkered, shaking and praying, and waited
For the apocalypse to pass.

I revised the above poem:

“The Second Coming” (an imitation)

Each stood in witness of the greatest work of all;
The tribe, the clan, crying “Prophecy!” before
The urban abyss, the great swath of industry,
Surging amidst the commuter tides, against
The grain, against the widening gyre,
Against the enigmatic, drawing poles
Of the northbound/southbound march between
The hub, the Mecca, the goal of pilgrimage
And the event horizon of the suburbs.

Beyond vacant corners one could hear
The proselytizers, those faithless promoters
Of an executive order. “Repent!” they proclaimed,
And “Rejoice!” “Repent!” Each heard condemned
The pestilence which the state had borne
And suckled, though it offered forth its own
In sacrifice to the unborn gods.

All civilization stood agape at the sight
Of that manufactured progeny, that
Spawn of an unintelligible being,
Whose iron womb coughs forth deities driven
By something harder than death,
More unyielding than instinct.
The maw of a mechanical biology devoured
The spectators in one great totalitarian
Gulp and imposed this regime of ribbed gears,
Scaly plates, treaded limbs and mandibles.

Thousands fled to the fields, took refuge in
The wilderness where the whelp of the beast
They thought couldn’t reach, its hour, at last, come round;
And there they dug and sunk hideous bunkers
Of maple and travertine deep in the unsullied soil.
They hunkered, shook, like little slippery worms,
And waited for the slouching beasts to die.

 

[panzerfaust666]

I carry a space for another heart, always, with me


if only a drop of rain
could just unclose you
gently unfurl you
koru, koru
unfold you
like the wind a napkin
uncurl,
any of you

if only i could blame it on the beat that rumbled below us

slide your hand,
away from her
young one!
the air around is still clear

 

[Vimana]

This is a poem about how awesome it is to be completely stoned and take a walk through nature in warm weather.

Gliding through the meadows
The buds give dimension to the lights and shadows
Water surrounds me
And pictures transform beautifully

The world keeps on moving
And I'm in sync
The sky is blooming
And all of the flowers seem to wink

Holy mother, I see it
Bring me closer to the spirit
This is kind of a dream, but I don't care
'Cause my dreams are surrounding me everywhere

Nature seems to wait for me
Fates line up with chaos and destiny
The grass doesn't crunch, 'cause it's alive
And now I don't need the tangible to survive

Life is a sweet song
Sung by the energy in my head
And the vibrant colors of this flower bed
Here nothing can go wrong


Here's some rap I wrote while sober and while high.

It ain't easy
Livin' in a mailbox
It ain't easy
Livin' in a mailbox

The days are so long and tough
If the mail's ion yo' face
The metal feels rough
And there ain't much space

You can't bring bitches back
But it ain't a big deal
Except for the lack
Of ho's to feel

It ain't easy
Livin' in a mailbox
It ain't easy
Livin' in a mailbox

This bitch and I fucked on a conveyor belt
I'm sure it's the best thing she ever felt
But then I saw that she had a twitch
So I puked on her ass and said "two girls, one cup, bitch!"

Now this life is gettin' real hard
And my mailbox ain't warm inside
So be glad you got xbox, retard
Or you'd be standin' on the curb with your arms all wide

It ain't easy
Livin' in a mailbox
It ain't easy
Livin' in a mailbox

 

[Einherjar86]

I carry a space for another heart, always, with me


if only a drop of rain
could just unclose you
gently unfurl you
koru, koru
unfold you
like the wind a napkin
uncurl,
any of you

if only i could blame it on the beat that rumbled below us

slide your hand,
away from her
young one!
the air around is still clear

I actually think this is very good. I especially like: "gently unfurl you/koru, koru/unfold you/like the wind a napkin/uncurl,/any of you"

I almost wish the lines went:

unfold you
like the wind
a napkin
uncurl you

Anyway, the musicality of those lines is very nice either way. It's not my style, I can't write like that; but I always appreciate muscality in poetry and strive to get some in there once in a while. Out of curiosity, Marlon, have you ever read C.K. Williams?

Here's a humorous poem I composed a few weeks ago:

"On reading Moby-Dick in a bathroom stall in Stuart Hall"

I seek the green and docile Earth
Advis’d to me from ‘top the mast
Of Fiction, but this girdled girth
Has dropp’d, and I must cry “Avast!”
Upon the vessel porcelain
I sight the six legg’d demon crawl
From out the darkly, downward drain
Within this kingliest of stalls.

The grass, alas! The seas elude
My fancy in this flimsy cell
Where I can picture but the crude
Tattooed vicissitudes of hell;
The flushing maelstrom ends the gale
Of which I had no little need
I thus zip up my great white whale
And seek a better place to read.

 

[panzerfaust666]

Thank you thank you!!! Thanks for the advice there as well. I had just written the poem last night, so its not in its final version quite yet. No, I have never read any C.K. Williams, but hes another one that I should sit down with and read. The only Poetry I'm really familiar with is E.E. Cummings, I love his work.
So what exactly does Musicality in Poetry mean? Like Ive said before, I never paid attention to these things in school, so Im a little behind .

See, now on the other hand, I wish I could write like you. It has a great rhythm and I love the way it gently rhymes; a good balance.

 

[zabu of nΩd]

Agree with Pat on your poem, Marlon. I think that's the best thing of yours I've read.

Pat, that piece is fucking awesome Not only is the language exquisitely elegant but you manage to be exceedingly lowbrow and highbrow at the same time. Well played sir.

Probably a lot of stuff in this thread I need to catch up with / comment on, but my life is just too upside down these days for me to get into poetry...

 

[Einherjar86]

Thank you thank you!!! Thanks for the advice there as well. I had just written the poem last night, so its not in its final version quite yet. No, I have never read any C.K. Williams, but hes another one that I should sit down with and read. The only Poetry I'm really familiar with is E.E. Cummings, I love his work.
So what exactly does Musicality in Poetry mean? Like Ive said before, I never paid attention to these things in school, so Im a little behind .

Not behind at all. I don't even think it's a technical term, although I don't study poetry so I'm not sure. I meet with a poetry group once every couple weeks and we share material, and I always hear them mention "musicality;" basically, it's referring to the placement of words in conjunction with one another, taking into consideration meter and rhyme. You don't even have to be following a specific meter or rhyming perfectly; it's just the way lines flow, and it's something you either have a knack for or you don't (in my opinion); I wouldn't entirely write off saying that it can't be learned. One thing to do, of course, is to read lots of poetry.

The poem you posted above thrives on its musicality (which mine rarely do, unfortunately); the way certain lines work ("unfurl you, uncurl you, koru, koru," etc.) just allow the piece to move in a very liberal sense. You're not forcing anything, and the words really complement each other. I'm also a sucker for foreign languages in English poetry, which I'm assuming "koru" is...? I could be very wrong.

I think the middle section is the strongest part; it's where you really let the musicality thrive and play out, and it really is very pleasant to read. You might try making the whole poem structured that way. Of course, you don't want the whole thing to sink into the same rhythm; that just gets monotonous. Rather, find ways to make each section musical. You do a really nice job with the middle part, and the beginning and end aren't bad; but perhaps fooling around with line length and vocabulary might take you into some interesting places. Just something to toss about. Good job though!

See, now on the other hand, I wish I could write like you. It has a great rhythm and I love the way it gently rhymes; a good balance.

That comes from reading entirely too much English Romantic and Victorian poetry.

Agree with Pat on your poem, Marlon. I think that's the best thing of yours I've read.

Pat, that piece is fucking awesome Not only is the language exquisitely elegant but you manage to be exceedingly lowbrow and highbrow at the same time. Well played sir.

Probably a lot of stuff in this thread I need to catch up with / comment on, but my life is just too upside down these days for me to get into poetry...

Thanks mate! We need to hear some more of your stuff soon...

 

[panzerfaust666]

Ah, ok! I had a feeling it would refer to something in that vain. But yeah, I have been trying to achieve a level of musicality for a long time, so maybe it was learnable, because it did take me some time to attain it.
Thanks for all the advice. I will definitely go over the poem again with your thoughts in mind.

Thanks Grant!!

 

[Cronopio]

A poem I wrote once.

Death found you

Death found you,
trembling like a child

Clutching the image of a
woman who never loved you

"Why do we suffer? And
why do we welcome torment

with arms outstretched, as if it were
a long lost son, why do

we cradle it and kiss it and write
songs about it, poems, why

is it our light and our most beloved
companion, the one for which

we'd forsake all? Answer me this
and I will gladly go with you."

To which Death replied, not smitten
by the boldness of your speech:

"I had her last week, she
was a good meal."

 

[Alteredmindeath]

whine whine whine and cry
go kill yourself pussy and go die
Im sick of hearing your whines and cries
go kill yourself and fucking die
Nobody cares about you worthless pool
of blood, guts, and drool.
Go eat shit and die in your room
Nobody cares about you and your rules
Punch me in the back and go hide
When I find you..you will die
I will stab you in the throat as the blood runs dry
Now go find a way to die, because nobody cares about your whines and cries