zabu of nΩd
Free Insultation
- Feb 9, 2007
- 14,620
- 805
- 113
Poetry
- Thread starter Dazed and Brutal
- Start date
Oh TV
The 3 "gets" for everyone to see
Get laid
Get paid
Get entertained!
Oh Internet
The 3 holy slogans
Get laid
Get paid
Get entertained!
What
The 3 "gets" for everyone to see
Get laid
Get paid
Get entertained!
Oh Internet
The 3 holy slogans
Get laid
Get paid
Get entertained!
What
Valerie
¯\(ã)/¯
- Aug 29, 2005
- 6,765
- 4
- 38
I'm not good at writing, so I'll post a couple of pieces I like (some I've posted before in some other thread)
The Prisoner - Emily Bronte
A fragment.
In the dungeon-crypts idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
"Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!"
He dared not say me nay--the hinges harshly turn.
"Our guests are darkly lodged," I whisper'd, gazing through
The vault, whose grated eye showed heaven more gray than blue;
(This was when glad Spring laughed in awaking pride)
"Ay, darkly lodged enough!" returned my sullen guide.
Then, God forgive my youth; forgive my careless tongue;
I scoffed, as the chill chains on the damp flagstones rung:
"Confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear,
That we must bind thee down and clench thy fetters here?"
The captive raised her face; it was as soft and mild
As sculptured marble saint, or slumbering unwean'd child;
It was so soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair,
Pain could not trace a line, nor grief a shadow there!
The captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow;
"I have been struck," she said, "and I am suffering now;
Yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong;
And, were they forged in steel, they could not hold me long."
Hoarse laughed the jailor grim: "Shall I be won to hear;
Dost think, fond, dreaming wretch, that I shall grant thy prayer?
Or, better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?
Ah! sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones.
"My master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind,
But hard as hardest flint the soul that lurks behind;
And I am rough and rude, yet not more rough to see
Than is the hidden ghost that has its home in me."
About her lips there played a smile of almost scorn,
"My friend," she gently said, "you have not heard me mourn;
When you my kindred's lives, MY lost life, can restore,
Then may I weep and sue,--but never, friend, before!
"Still, let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year after year in gloom, and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
"He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.
"Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,
When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears.
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunder-storm.
"But, first, a hush of peace--a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast--unuttered harmony,
That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.
"Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels:
Its wings are almost free--its home, its harbour found,
Measuring the gulph, it stoops and dares the final bound,
"Oh I dreadful is the check--intense the agony--
When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;
The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.
"Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald death, the vision is divine!"
She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering, turned to go--
We had no further power to work the captive woe:
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence, unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.
Shame - Paatos
The world was trembling under one psycho president
Yet there was no one sure of what he really meant
He lined up all the dissidents, said "paradise will come"
All nations mutilated, and slaughtered one by one...
Shame! Shame! Shame!
No one left to follow orders
He's expanding his borders by wasting everyone
There is no love in what you've done
There's no humanity
Your way of chasing demons is pure insanity
You line up all the dissidents, say "paradise will come"
Now all nations are mutilated and slaughtered one by one...
Shame! Shame! Shame!
No one left to follow orders
You're expanding your borders by wasting everyone
There's no one left to hold your hand
No one left to hug you
No one left to make you smile
No one left to kiss you
No one left to watch you tie the rope around your stiff neck
No one left to hold your hand, no one left to watch you die...
The Prisoner - Emily Bronte
A fragment.
In the dungeon-crypts idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
"Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!"
He dared not say me nay--the hinges harshly turn.
"Our guests are darkly lodged," I whisper'd, gazing through
The vault, whose grated eye showed heaven more gray than blue;
(This was when glad Spring laughed in awaking pride)
"Ay, darkly lodged enough!" returned my sullen guide.
Then, God forgive my youth; forgive my careless tongue;
I scoffed, as the chill chains on the damp flagstones rung:
"Confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear,
That we must bind thee down and clench thy fetters here?"
The captive raised her face; it was as soft and mild
As sculptured marble saint, or slumbering unwean'd child;
It was so soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair,
Pain could not trace a line, nor grief a shadow there!
The captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow;
"I have been struck," she said, "and I am suffering now;
Yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong;
And, were they forged in steel, they could not hold me long."
Hoarse laughed the jailor grim: "Shall I be won to hear;
Dost think, fond, dreaming wretch, that I shall grant thy prayer?
Or, better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?
Ah! sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones.
"My master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind,
But hard as hardest flint the soul that lurks behind;
And I am rough and rude, yet not more rough to see
Than is the hidden ghost that has its home in me."
About her lips there played a smile of almost scorn,
"My friend," she gently said, "you have not heard me mourn;
When you my kindred's lives, MY lost life, can restore,
Then may I weep and sue,--but never, friend, before!
"Still, let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear
Year after year in gloom, and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
"He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,
With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.
Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,
And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.
"Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,
When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears.
When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,
I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunder-storm.
"But, first, a hush of peace--a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast--unuttered harmony,
That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.
"Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;
My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels:
Its wings are almost free--its home, its harbour found,
Measuring the gulph, it stoops and dares the final bound,
"Oh I dreadful is the check--intense the agony--
When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;
The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.
"Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;
And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,
If it but herald death, the vision is divine!"
She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering, turned to go--
We had no further power to work the captive woe:
Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given
A sentence, unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.
Shame - Paatos
The world was trembling under one psycho president
Yet there was no one sure of what he really meant
He lined up all the dissidents, said "paradise will come"
All nations mutilated, and slaughtered one by one...
Shame! Shame! Shame!
No one left to follow orders
He's expanding his borders by wasting everyone
There is no love in what you've done
There's no humanity
Your way of chasing demons is pure insanity
You line up all the dissidents, say "paradise will come"
Now all nations are mutilated and slaughtered one by one...
Shame! Shame! Shame!
No one left to follow orders
You're expanding your borders by wasting everyone
There's no one left to hold your hand
No one left to hug you
No one left to make you smile
No one left to kiss you
No one left to watch you tie the rope around your stiff neck
No one left to hold your hand, no one left to watch you die...
A8
Member
- Jul 29, 2007
- 975
- 0
- 16
"she" is a friend of mine, we co-wrote it, but mainly her.
this is something i've been toying around with but cant seem to finish:
I guess you think I need protection
Or need to be deceived
Cause peace has fled
And courage no longer
Occupies this breed
entanglement
Member
The Ozzman
Melted by feels
The Ozzman
Melted by feels
Transcontinental Highway
A fall breeze
and an orange sunset
convey this rite of passage
a journey into the unknown
Places to see
and things to accomplish
in a strange land
somewhere far beyond
the reaches of consciousness
A fall breeze
and an orange sunset
convey this rite of passage
a journey into the unknown
Places to see
and things to accomplish
in a strange land
somewhere far beyond
the reaches of consciousness
I thought these prose were rather good:
A damning reprisal felled the heart of an oak, with flowing blows upon the trunk of the beast. It's here it fell, it's here it will fall, and here it shall be forgotten - hollowed by time and rotted by age. No more will the sun rise on the scorched limbs, and no more will assurance be granted towards its pleas.
No, here will be the grave of the tired oak.
A life not lived and a life ungiven.
A damning reprisal felled the heart of an oak, with flowing blows upon the trunk of the beast. It's here it fell, it's here it will fall, and here it shall be forgotten - hollowed by time and rotted by age. No more will the sun rise on the scorched limbs, and no more will assurance be granted towards its pleas.
No, here will be the grave of the tired oak.
A life not lived and a life ungiven.
Perdition's Light
dinosaur jr.
- Apr 5, 2004
- 1,497
- 1
- 38
I'm Hungry
i'm hungry, feed me now
i gotta eat something
give a shit, give me a piece of a cow
i'm hungry, come on where's the meat?
give me a piece of fruit, not that kind
i'm hungry
give a shit about lying around
in a nursing home watching TV
give me a piece of anything
hungry, i don't want to be your friend
i'm hungry, give me what you got on your plate
i'll, get your hands off, i'll take what i want
i'm hungry, i deserve this food
don't you dare not feed me food
i'm hungry, who isn't?
got something stuck in my throat
probably a piece of pheasant
what did' you put in this food? what are you poisoning me?
my throat is bent, my throat is all bent up
help nurse, my throat, the bent, the bent throat
i got a bent throat
what do you mean what the fuck's the pr(oblem)
the throat is bent
you can't eat food with a bent throat
you try fooding eat
you eat, yeah you eat all right
i watch you eat, i never get no food
what do i get leftovers, leftover leftovers
give me some rightovers for once
my throat wait a minute
but i'm hungry, i'm hungry
oh man i am hungry
April Fools (He Had the Change done at the Shop)
he had the change done at the shop
earlobes for cocks
april fools
he had his balls thrown over the top
like a mop of hair
april fools
he had his buttocks transferred
to his cheeks on his face
april doom
because then where would the poop come out of
ohh his mouth
well he decided he wanted a vagina down south
april fools
where his belly button once stood
now stood a cock with a mouth at the end that ate the food
well, what a peculiar guest he was
at summer swimming parties
what with the nipples protruding from his eyelids
and, of course, beneath his chin the penis
and on his knees the sacks, he had two put there
april fool
jester wally jewel boy navel-eyed jack wiglet bill
you’ve had your fill of transplants please
you wish you could change back at will but...
tits coming off the backside, 69 to be exact
i thought it was pretty many but you be the judge
april dick
well, he became a woman then a man
then a dog, then a sheep, then a man, then a god
he had 'em all put on his body
gimme 75 tits, gimme 1400 balls
gimme cocks coming out of every living pore
ohh vaginas everywhere, a walking sex machine
ohh wonderful at bathing parties
april fools
but this was no, no april fools
this was for real
this was goddamn scary when he walked through the village
when he took his place next to the other boys in line
to serve his patriotic duty
well, it’s kinda rude the way people stare
he said "i’d like all, all the things i had put on me
covered up with billions of pieces of hair"
-The Frogs
i'm hungry, feed me now
i gotta eat something
give a shit, give me a piece of a cow
i'm hungry, come on where's the meat?
give me a piece of fruit, not that kind
i'm hungry
give a shit about lying around
in a nursing home watching TV
give me a piece of anything
hungry, i don't want to be your friend
i'm hungry, give me what you got on your plate
i'll, get your hands off, i'll take what i want
i'm hungry, i deserve this food
don't you dare not feed me food
i'm hungry, who isn't?
got something stuck in my throat
probably a piece of pheasant
what did' you put in this food? what are you poisoning me?
my throat is bent, my throat is all bent up
help nurse, my throat, the bent, the bent throat
i got a bent throat
what do you mean what the fuck's the pr(oblem)
the throat is bent
you can't eat food with a bent throat
you try fooding eat
you eat, yeah you eat all right
i watch you eat, i never get no food
what do i get leftovers, leftover leftovers
give me some rightovers for once
my throat wait a minute
but i'm hungry, i'm hungry
oh man i am hungry
April Fools (He Had the Change done at the Shop)
he had the change done at the shop
earlobes for cocks
april fools
he had his balls thrown over the top
like a mop of hair
april fools
he had his buttocks transferred
to his cheeks on his face
april doom
because then where would the poop come out of
ohh his mouth
well he decided he wanted a vagina down south
april fools
where his belly button once stood
now stood a cock with a mouth at the end that ate the food
well, what a peculiar guest he was
at summer swimming parties
what with the nipples protruding from his eyelids
and, of course, beneath his chin the penis
and on his knees the sacks, he had two put there
april fool
jester wally jewel boy navel-eyed jack wiglet bill
you’ve had your fill of transplants please
you wish you could change back at will but...
tits coming off the backside, 69 to be exact
i thought it was pretty many but you be the judge
april dick
well, he became a woman then a man
then a dog, then a sheep, then a man, then a god
he had 'em all put on his body
gimme 75 tits, gimme 1400 balls
gimme cocks coming out of every living pore
ohh vaginas everywhere, a walking sex machine
ohh wonderful at bathing parties
april fools
but this was no, no april fools
this was for real
this was goddamn scary when he walked through the village
when he took his place next to the other boys in line
to serve his patriotic duty
well, it’s kinda rude the way people stare
he said "i’d like all, all the things i had put on me
covered up with billions of pieces of hair"
-The Frogs
The Ozzman
Melted by feels
Hello Old Friend
A moment's light in the dark
reminiscing forgotten times
of splendor and happiness
Bitter memories
of what might have been
force me to drown myself
in the friendship
of a fermented enigma
A moment's light in the dark
reminiscing forgotten times
of splendor and happiness
Bitter memories
of what might have been
force me to drown myself
in the friendship
of a fermented enigma
skeptik
Member
- Feb 7, 2003
- 24,413
- 71
- 48
Tennyson: In Memoriam (54 - 56 fragment) 1850
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final end of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;
That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth with vain desire
I shrivell'd in a fruitless fire,
Or but subserves another's gain.
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last--far off--at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.
So runs my dream: but what am I?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.
The wish, that of the living whole
No life may fail beyond the grave,
Derives it not from what we have
The likest God within the soul?
Are God and Nature then at strife,
That Nature lends such evil dreams?
So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life;
That I, considering everywhere
Her secret meaning in her deeds,
And finding that of fifty seeds
She often brings but one to bear,
I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
Upon the great world's altar-stairs
That slope thro' darkness up to God,
I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.
"So careful of the type?" but no.
From scarped cliff and quarried stone
She cries, "A thousand types are gone:
I care for nothing, all shall go.
"Thou makest thine appeal to me:
I bring to life, I bring to death:
The spirit does but mean the breath:
I know no more." And he, shall he,
Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair,
Such splendid purpose in his eyes,
Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies,
Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,
Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation's final law--
Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek'd against his creed--
Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills,
Who battled for the True, the Just,
Be blown about the desert dust,
Or seal'd within the iron hills?
No more? A monster then, a dream,
A discord. Dragons of the prime,
That tare each other in their slime,
Were mellow music match'd with him.
O life as futile, then, as frail!
O for thy voice to soothe and bless!
What hope of answer, or redress?
Behind the veil, behind the veil.
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final end of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;
That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth with vain desire
I shrivell'd in a fruitless fire,
Or but subserves another's gain.
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last--far off--at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.
So runs my dream: but what am I?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.
The wish, that of the living whole
No life may fail beyond the grave,
Derives it not from what we have
The likest God within the soul?
Are God and Nature then at strife,
That Nature lends such evil dreams?
So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life;
That I, considering everywhere
Her secret meaning in her deeds,
And finding that of fifty seeds
She often brings but one to bear,
I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
Upon the great world's altar-stairs
That slope thro' darkness up to God,
I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.
"So careful of the type?" but no.
From scarped cliff and quarried stone
She cries, "A thousand types are gone:
I care for nothing, all shall go.
"Thou makest thine appeal to me:
I bring to life, I bring to death:
The spirit does but mean the breath:
I know no more." And he, shall he,
Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair,
Such splendid purpose in his eyes,
Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies,
Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,
Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation's final law--
Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek'd against his creed--
Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills,
Who battled for the True, the Just,
Be blown about the desert dust,
Or seal'd within the iron hills?
No more? A monster then, a dream,
A discord. Dragons of the prime,
That tare each other in their slime,
Were mellow music match'd with him.
O life as futile, then, as frail!
O for thy voice to soothe and bless!
What hope of answer, or redress?
Behind the veil, behind the veil.
zabu of nΩd
Free Insultation
- Feb 9, 2007
- 14,620
- 805
- 113
I think I notice a common theme in your poetry.
Btw, I hope your life isn't as bad as the poem suggests.
The Ozzman
Melted by feels
I think I notice a common theme in your poetry.
Btw, I hope your life isn't as bad as the poem suggests.
It isn't, but sometimes when I'm feeling down, my old friend alcohol cheers me up.
Zephyrus
Tyrants and Slaves
"Tv regere imperio popvlos, Romane, memento
(hæ tibi erunt artes), pacisque imponere morem,
parcere svbiectis et debellare superbos."
-Virgil (Aeneid VI.852-854)
(hæ tibi erunt artes), pacisque imponere morem,
parcere svbiectis et debellare superbos."
-Virgil (Aeneid VI.852-854)
Zephyrus
Tyrants and Slaves
"Remember, Roman, to rule these peoples with your imperial power (for these will be your arts), impose upon them the way of peace, spare the vanquished and, to the proud, show no mercy..."
Perhaps the greatest 3 lines of the epic.
Zephyrus
Tyrants and Slaves
Similar threads
