Poetry
- Thread starter Dazed and Brutal
- Start date
Zephyrus
Tyrants and Slaves
Might as well post some material I've penned in the past few months. Poems are numbered in the order I wrote them. The titles are plays on words related to the number:
IV: The Tetrarchy Dethroned
Rage and a man I sing,
Alone in a dark wood of man's first disobedience.
The Muses have abandoned me,
Apollo's light shrouded in a Stygian fog.
Helicon's heights sheer as Mount Improbable,
Abstracted to a realm of life unattained.
The Philosopher's pages are naught,
History over Poetry; Many over One.
Detonation of cosmic eternity - Big Bang:
Ex nihilo ad nihil: the essence of dark matter.
Prince of the New Science,
Leviathan of the New Atlantis,
Sidereal Messenger of the Descent of Man.
Drowning in seas of primordial soup,
Horizon's a flicker of Pharos' flame.
So godlike the fiery nature,
The furnace of our siring star.
Rage and a man I sing,
Alone in a dark wood of man's first disobedience.
III: Trinity
Make your wager, place your bets
Take a leap before your death
Make a heaven in your soul
Holy telos takes control
Bishops heed the Caesar's call
Fix'd your Creed in golden halls
Politeia, Plato's state
Heed the guardians, passions hate
Rise to love the astral source
Tell the end of history's course
Make your wager, place your bets
Take a leap before your death
Make your life a living hell
Scoffing at cathedral bells
Zarathustra set you free
God's death made a god of thee
Anarchy within your soul
World of shadows takes control
Essence fails to thrill your mind
Join the suff'ring of mankind
Make your wager, place your bets
Take a leap before your death.
II: Dualismus
kalos theos agathos
hagios athanatos ischyros
kakos anthropos aischros
monos thanatos etymos
Division of cells, genetic mutation
Genesis, celestial construction
Demiurge of natural selection
Emanation, descent to matter
To meet our ascent from filth.
Scholastic hubris, duae viae,
God in a testtube, theosis of man,
Chiron and Chi-Rho, centaur savior,
Ruptured by a Razor's slice.
Internal bleeding, eternal war.
Extension, intervention, redemption.
Extension, invention, pretension.
Tension erotic, despotic.
Hecate my mother, Janus my sire.
Cosmic intellect, imposed by whom?
kalos theos agathos
hagios athanatos ischyros
kakos anthropos aischros
monos thanatos etymos
IV: The Tetrarchy Dethroned
Rage and a man I sing,
Alone in a dark wood of man's first disobedience.
The Muses have abandoned me,
Apollo's light shrouded in a Stygian fog.
Helicon's heights sheer as Mount Improbable,
Abstracted to a realm of life unattained.
The Philosopher's pages are naught,
History over Poetry; Many over One.
Detonation of cosmic eternity - Big Bang:
Ex nihilo ad nihil: the essence of dark matter.
Prince of the New Science,
Leviathan of the New Atlantis,
Sidereal Messenger of the Descent of Man.
Drowning in seas of primordial soup,
Horizon's a flicker of Pharos' flame.
So godlike the fiery nature,
The furnace of our siring star.
Rage and a man I sing,
Alone in a dark wood of man's first disobedience.
III: Trinity
Make your wager, place your bets
Take a leap before your death
Make a heaven in your soul
Holy telos takes control
Bishops heed the Caesar's call
Fix'd your Creed in golden halls
Politeia, Plato's state
Heed the guardians, passions hate
Rise to love the astral source
Tell the end of history's course
Make your wager, place your bets
Take a leap before your death
Make your life a living hell
Scoffing at cathedral bells
Zarathustra set you free
God's death made a god of thee
Anarchy within your soul
World of shadows takes control
Essence fails to thrill your mind
Join the suff'ring of mankind
Make your wager, place your bets
Take a leap before your death.
II: Dualismus
kalos theos agathos
hagios athanatos ischyros
kakos anthropos aischros
monos thanatos etymos
Division of cells, genetic mutation
Genesis, celestial construction
Demiurge of natural selection
Emanation, descent to matter
To meet our ascent from filth.
Scholastic hubris, duae viae,
God in a testtube, theosis of man,
Chiron and Chi-Rho, centaur savior,
Ruptured by a Razor's slice.
Internal bleeding, eternal war.
Extension, intervention, redemption.
Extension, invention, pretension.
Tension erotic, despotic.
Hecate my mother, Janus my sire.
Cosmic intellect, imposed by whom?
kalos theos agathos
hagios athanatos ischyros
kakos anthropos aischros
monos thanatos etymos
zabu of nΩd
Free Insultation
- Feb 9, 2007
- 14,620
- 805
- 113
You seem to be exploring a few different styles/structures, which i approve of. If you want an opinion, i like the first one (IV) best. It's still pretty stream-of-thought though, so maybe try making more of the phrases come together in something of a logical progression.
Zephyrus
Tyrants and Slaves
Yes, IV is my favorite. It seems the meter I've come to think in has been hendecasyllabic, like that of Dante.
A couple more in that meter:
VII: Out of Hell I Make Heaven
"Il faut cultiver notre jardin," he ends.
Behold, Epicurus, thy doctrine in French!
Our nature is Eden, all knowledge is death.
Negation defines every truth, every breath.
Reduction, Aquinas, straight to the absurd.
The prima of causa is only a word!
"By means of a faculty," morals, old Kant?
A truth beyond language is all that we want.
Alas, only facts, only science's Muse,
Who measures this cosmos for us to abuse,
Illusions of godhood since Eve ate that fruit,
And carnal desire to all knowledge took root.
Yet knowledge needs something unchanging to be,
Lest Chaos blight meaning, release energy,
The Will to build bridges o'er Heraclite's stream,
Defiance of time and the hypocrites' dream.
Now gather the tyrants, historical lords,
Who read carpe diem and earned their rewards,
If famous or infamous, fame still endures,
The Florentine dignity to you restores.
These hendecasyllables falsely doth freeze
My thoughts like a horse on the Parthenon frieze,
Forever a photograph, marble or ink,
The symbols imposed when I will myself think.
VI: Hexentanz
Abstractions, distractions and zealous contraptions,
Inventions of fear that empower the weak,
Of those whose own reason's the price of assurance,
To raise to divinity words, only words.
Lord Time is the master, and hist'ry his Word.
From chaos creation, from order stagnation,
A death of the spirit, no love and no strife.
Why not Dionysus once dead now reborn?
A tragedy, comedy, satyr-play life.
The panpipes resound o'er the narthex and nave.
All music, like language, the taming of chaos
To patterns, illusions of essence sans time.
What's human? A word from the Latin for dirt.
What's nature? A will to potestas/Macht/power.
Republics and empires but castles of sand,
By oceans of Chronos the tide will come in.
What's that? Worship nothing?! What better a king?
The means of production is all that I need.
Producing we're godlike, the coiners of words,
The masters of meaning who rule o'er the weak.
A couple more in that meter:
VII: Out of Hell I Make Heaven
"Il faut cultiver notre jardin," he ends.
Behold, Epicurus, thy doctrine in French!
Our nature is Eden, all knowledge is death.
Negation defines every truth, every breath.
Reduction, Aquinas, straight to the absurd.
The prima of causa is only a word!
"By means of a faculty," morals, old Kant?
A truth beyond language is all that we want.
Alas, only facts, only science's Muse,
Who measures this cosmos for us to abuse,
Illusions of godhood since Eve ate that fruit,
And carnal desire to all knowledge took root.
Yet knowledge needs something unchanging to be,
Lest Chaos blight meaning, release energy,
The Will to build bridges o'er Heraclite's stream,
Defiance of time and the hypocrites' dream.
Now gather the tyrants, historical lords,
Who read carpe diem and earned their rewards,
If famous or infamous, fame still endures,
The Florentine dignity to you restores.
These hendecasyllables falsely doth freeze
My thoughts like a horse on the Parthenon frieze,
Forever a photograph, marble or ink,
The symbols imposed when I will myself think.
VI: Hexentanz
Abstractions, distractions and zealous contraptions,
Inventions of fear that empower the weak,
Of those whose own reason's the price of assurance,
To raise to divinity words, only words.
Lord Time is the master, and hist'ry his Word.
From chaos creation, from order stagnation,
A death of the spirit, no love and no strife.
Why not Dionysus once dead now reborn?
A tragedy, comedy, satyr-play life.
The panpipes resound o'er the narthex and nave.
All music, like language, the taming of chaos
To patterns, illusions of essence sans time.
What's human? A word from the Latin for dirt.
What's nature? A will to potestas/Macht/power.
Republics and empires but castles of sand,
By oceans of Chronos the tide will come in.
What's that? Worship nothing?! What better a king?
The means of production is all that I need.
Producing we're godlike, the coiners of words,
The masters of meaning who rule o'er the weak.
Einherjar86
Active Member
Very interesting. I think T.S. Eliot would be proud. Some of the metrical approaches and rhyme schemes could use a bit more refining, but that's not to say there aren't some neat things going on. Just as an example for what I mean by meter and rhyme:
"Yet knowledge needs something unchanging to be,
Lest Chaos blight meaning, release energy..."
The stresses on "energy" force us to say the word somewhat awkwardly in order to fit it into the metrical pattern (EN-er-GY). But those are the kinds of things you work out; the subject matter and thematic interests of the pieces are bursting at the brim, which is why I think T.S. Eliot would approve. His poetry was always filled with classical/literary/philosophical references.
"Yet knowledge needs something unchanging to be,
Lest Chaos blight meaning, release energy..."
The stresses on "energy" force us to say the word somewhat awkwardly in order to fit it into the metrical pattern (EN-er-GY). But those are the kinds of things you work out; the subject matter and thematic interests of the pieces are bursting at the brim, which is why I think T.S. Eliot would approve. His poetry was always filled with classical/literary/philosophical references.
Xorv
Drug the Priest
i smoke weed to this song, in a ritualistic fashion. Tremulous in nostalgic passion I bestow a sequential grand sin, an armada of a thousand to smash in between a rancid mad binge......and i elope to the recces where cognition deepens - where death envelopes in the end -........ I felt demons ...in sudden reason I awoke to greet them - it depends. I smoke weed to this song in a RI-TU-A-LIS-TIC.........
this is the song........
[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MM1JvBz4cE&list=HL1335064716&feature=mh_lolz[/ame]
this is the song........
[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MM1JvBz4cE&list=HL1335064716&feature=mh_lolz[/ame]
divine_torture
leVel
Here's my latest:
"Detour Within (Sleep)"
Here, in the violence
... I sleep soundly
Let's compromise your gain for my ruin
The diversions gave way to our departures
I feel it's not the same
So vivid are those tragedies
And comfort comes when I am not
Desperate, I destroyed it all
Stored my deterioration for another time
So lucid are those capacities
Washed to shore while no one could see
Cascades of endearment drown me now
I color this road with bright pastels
Vendettas sold for decency among the wicked
Corporeal visions are faithful
Cast me down into the tempest
I am the elder now, my friend
You may not follow me today
Subsiding, I rest again
Conclusions made by will of mind
Corrections made by the beast inside
Drink deep of my intricate decisions
Question the reasons and violate the codes
Imbrued in filth
Damnation's reprise
This bores into you
Wondrous flight of the feeble
I set it all aside for now
Let us wander into the azure
Justin Flemings - June 9, 2012
"Detour Within (Sleep)"
Here, in the violence
... I sleep soundly
Let's compromise your gain for my ruin
The diversions gave way to our departures
I feel it's not the same
So vivid are those tragedies
And comfort comes when I am not
Desperate, I destroyed it all
Stored my deterioration for another time
So lucid are those capacities
Washed to shore while no one could see
Cascades of endearment drown me now
I color this road with bright pastels
Vendettas sold for decency among the wicked
Corporeal visions are faithful
Cast me down into the tempest
I am the elder now, my friend
You may not follow me today
Subsiding, I rest again
Conclusions made by will of mind
Corrections made by the beast inside
Drink deep of my intricate decisions
Question the reasons and violate the codes
Imbrued in filth
Damnation's reprise
This bores into you
Wondrous flight of the feeble
I set it all aside for now
Let us wander into the azure
Justin Flemings - June 9, 2012
Master_Yoda77
Juggalo
the new "drunk as fucking fuck thread"
Drunk a Fuck
Fuck you Trevor and Corey
I'm listening to Pentagram
And fucking Pagan Altar.
Drunk a Fuck
Fuck you Trevor and Corey
I'm listening to Pentagram
And fucking Pagan Altar.
Cronopio
Glorious Imperator
A translation of a poem I wrote in Swedish several years ago. Hopefully the sentiments carry through.
Daguerrotype
this is everything:
whoever embraces the light
has forfeited the right to live
and whoever welcomes the dark
the right to die
i am so tired
can you fathom
how the days multiply
growing endless ; spread
boasting with power
it should be so simple
to whomever
all i want is to fall asleep
in a black rowing boat that smells of tar
slowly drifting across the mirror's surface
fearlessly closing in on
the contours of a face
Daguerrotype
this is everything:
whoever embraces the light
has forfeited the right to live
and whoever welcomes the dark
the right to die
i am so tired
can you fathom
how the days multiply
growing endless ; spread
boasting with power
it should be so simple
to whomever
all i want is to fall asleep
in a black rowing boat that smells of tar
slowly drifting across the mirror's surface
fearlessly closing in on
the contours of a face
Einherjar86
Active Member
The dead, they only listen. They
Don’t holler, they don’t cheer
The dead, they only hear you say
What you want them to hear
The dead, they will not judge you, and
The dead, they don’t accuse
You put to them your story and
The dead will not refuse
The dead, they only listen well
To what you have to say
The only problem I can tell
Is dead men never pay
But still they’ll listen through and through
To everything you’ve said
It’s true that all there is to do
Is listen when you’re dead.
Don’t holler, they don’t cheer
The dead, they only hear you say
What you want them to hear
The dead, they will not judge you, and
The dead, they don’t accuse
You put to them your story and
The dead will not refuse
The dead, they only listen well
To what you have to say
The only problem I can tell
Is dead men never pay
But still they’ll listen through and through
To everything you’ve said
It’s true that all there is to do
Is listen when you’re dead.
divine_torture
leVel
Fucking drunk poem right now:
"You Nugget"
I'll smack you
Asshole
I don't need a god damned reason
Because Subway is in my face
And stomach
And it is delicious
You are not Subway, fag
I'll punch your face in the face with my fists
You fuck
I asked a bitch to see her naked
She sent a picture
I said "Sweet" and then watched Donnie Brasco
Hellz yeah!
"You Nugget"
I'll smack you
Asshole
I don't need a god damned reason
Because Subway is in my face
And stomach
And it is delicious
You are not Subway, fag
I'll punch your face in the face with my fists
You fuck
I asked a bitch to see her naked
She sent a picture
I said "Sweet" and then watched Donnie Brasco
Hellz yeah!
Master_Yoda77
Juggalo
My God, I don't remember writing that drunk as fuck poem.
And DT's poem is fucking incredible, like. Shakespeare and Milton are crawling in their graves.
This line is especially poetic
"I'll punch your face in the face with my fists
You fuck"
And DT's poem is fucking incredible, like. Shakespeare and Milton are crawling in their graves.
This line is especially poetic
"I'll punch your face in the face with my fists
You fuck"
divine_torture
leVel
Astrum
Psion
all of your posts are golden nuggets
this isn't poetry but I'm writing a "fiction blog" based on a single character in which i will publish chapters of a main story, with random unrelated fillers in between. sort of like a tv series. The main story I'm writing is called "Psalm of Cognitive Dissonance" and it's about a man who comes to terms with existence, birth, death, life, and all in all can't decide whether consciousness is a mechanical function of nature or if there's a soul and a God. I'll post a link when I publish the first chapter.
divine_torture
leVel
Another drunk poem:
"Wishing and Such"
Danzig is playing right now
The girl I banged yesterday intrudes my thoughts
Fuck you, black people on welfare
With your mass production of children
For benifits
You've ruined this terrible city
I bet Jessica Alba would enjoy
My tater-tot casserole
I wish it were here
But I ate some, and shared the rest
Because I like being nice
Or something
"Wishing and Such"
Danzig is playing right now
The girl I banged yesterday intrudes my thoughts
Fuck you, black people on welfare
With your mass production of children
For benifits
You've ruined this terrible city
I bet Jessica Alba would enjoy
My tater-tot casserole
I wish it were here
But I ate some, and shared the rest
Because I like being nice
Or something
Zephyrus
Tyrants and Slaves
divine_torture
leVel
Drunk and listening to Enslaved poem:
I'm drunk
I fucking love the beauty that is Enslaved
I feel like rubbing one out, but I'm too drunk
I bet work sucks tomorrow
But fuck that, I'll be hungover
And my boss is my buddy anyway
I made delicious stuffed pasta shells last night
They sound so good
I'll butt fuck a girl now
But her boyfriend wants to fight me
Fuck him
I'm a gangster at heart anyway
Bitch
I hope I fall asleep for a long while now
I'm drunk
I fucking love the beauty that is Enslaved
I feel like rubbing one out, but I'm too drunk
I bet work sucks tomorrow
But fuck that, I'll be hungover
And my boss is my buddy anyway
I made delicious stuffed pasta shells last night
They sound so good
I'll butt fuck a girl now
But her boyfriend wants to fight me
Fuck him
I'm a gangster at heart anyway
Bitch
I hope I fall asleep for a long while now
Vimana
Member
- Mar 2, 2007
- 11,671
- 20
- 38
I pushed the layers until I found me
I unraveled the cocoon
I looked into the human sea
Like gazing from the moon
I guide your mind with words I wrote
A crazy simulation
The point of which seems far remote
But will be known at the destination
We make art to simulate experiences
Without having to go through them
We see inside the minds of others
In their expressions, our asylum
We see into and beyond ourselves
And lose ourselves in the crossfire
Afterwards adding books to our shelves
A better glimpse at our desire
Wrote this in like three minutes or so, currently coming down from a long acid trip.
I unraveled the cocoon
I looked into the human sea
Like gazing from the moon
I guide your mind with words I wrote
A crazy simulation
The point of which seems far remote
But will be known at the destination
We make art to simulate experiences
Without having to go through them
We see inside the minds of others
In their expressions, our asylum
We see into and beyond ourselves
And lose ourselves in the crossfire
Afterwards adding books to our shelves
A better glimpse at our desire
Wrote this in like three minutes or so, currently coming down from a long acid trip.
Zephyrus
Tyrants and Slaves
I came across an unfinished poem and I almost like it that way.
Kenosis Erotika
Erato's energy, with cosmic calculus,
Scattered the darkness by shadows cast,
Angelic, Satanic, perched on a Pharos' tower,
Immolation in Promethean flames,
Lusting for mystical union.
The virgin flees, the climax vain,
And rains upon the Attic mount,
Eternal seed, the martyrs' mystique.
We demigods
Kenosis Erotika
Erato's energy, with cosmic calculus,
Scattered the darkness by shadows cast,
Angelic, Satanic, perched on a Pharos' tower,
Immolation in Promethean flames,
Lusting for mystical union.
The virgin flees, the climax vain,
And rains upon the Attic mount,
Eternal seed, the martyrs' mystique.
We demigods
crimsonfloyd
Active Member
Here's some poems I've written recently. I'm trying to use more rhyme and meter- which is something I've traditionally ignored.
Behold the Earth
She is the earth
Her eyes, a doorway
Primordial hearth
A grey halo
Encircles blue-green sea
Telluric orange ledges
Escape the center and flee
Toward the threshold,
Fading,
Just before the aurora
At the center
Globes pitch black
A wordless maze
My own peer back
Eyes locked,
Synchronicity,
Connection
She is the earth
And after years in the ether
A home, rebirth
This next one is from a novel I'm writing. The main character is a young poet- 18 or 19 in this scene. After being fucked over by a lot of people she trusted, she wonders the streets alone at night, and ends up in a park, where she writes this poem.
Solitude
To our eyes,
Stars make constellations
Star to star,
There is no relation
Consumed in their own light
Stars do not see each other
They suffer their own plight
Without sister or brother
To ignorant eyes,
Friendship bodes elevation
Once in the heavens,
The vision lacks divination
Consumed by our own light
We see not the other
The illusions we ignite
are nightmares feigning as lovers
Then this is one I wrote a while back, more the way I traditionally write.
Mahogany Zenith
The gentle landscape of her face
reaches its pinnacle in the matching dark mahogany of her hair and eyes.
Her hair is a soft stream,
effortlessly flowing downward.
It subtly loops and curls
articulating a soothing harmony,
like waves swirling within coves.
Her eyes are two translucent marbles.
Within, curtains ebb, concealing and revealing.
When the curtains spread apart,
I see the most humane empathy,
and when they shut,
there is a dizzying mystery.
This sheltered look has its own terrifying beauty,
inaccessible yet enthralling,
like a cold gust of wind.
Behold the Earth
She is the earth
Her eyes, a doorway
Primordial hearth
A grey halo
Encircles blue-green sea
Telluric orange ledges
Escape the center and flee
Toward the threshold,
Fading,
Just before the aurora
At the center
Globes pitch black
A wordless maze
My own peer back
Eyes locked,
Synchronicity,
Connection
She is the earth
And after years in the ether
A home, rebirth
This next one is from a novel I'm writing. The main character is a young poet- 18 or 19 in this scene. After being fucked over by a lot of people she trusted, she wonders the streets alone at night, and ends up in a park, where she writes this poem.
Solitude
To our eyes,
Stars make constellations
Star to star,
There is no relation
Consumed in their own light
Stars do not see each other
They suffer their own plight
Without sister or brother
To ignorant eyes,
Friendship bodes elevation
Once in the heavens,
The vision lacks divination
Consumed by our own light
We see not the other
The illusions we ignite
are nightmares feigning as lovers
Then this is one I wrote a while back, more the way I traditionally write.
Mahogany Zenith
The gentle landscape of her face
reaches its pinnacle in the matching dark mahogany of her hair and eyes.
Her hair is a soft stream,
effortlessly flowing downward.
It subtly loops and curls
articulating a soothing harmony,
like waves swirling within coves.
Her eyes are two translucent marbles.
Within, curtains ebb, concealing and revealing.
When the curtains spread apart,
I see the most humane empathy,
and when they shut,
there is a dizzying mystery.
This sheltered look has its own terrifying beauty,
inaccessible yet enthralling,
like a cold gust of wind.
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