My life is a spiraling abyss

[FengharTheNord]

cutting is my only escape

the darkness consumes me.

THIS IS A THREAD FER UR POETRIES AND STUFF.

Here are mine. Don't laugh at me I'm serious and an artist I am beautiful

Here is a poem about my taint

Buttered, Jammed, Honeyed, or Hammed
My Taint is t'aint ready to be viciously manned
So please be careful when preparing your festive feast
upon the place that grows my yeast

THAT WAS INNAPROPRIATE PORNOGRAPHY KILLS SOTP

This is a poem that makes no sense

Heat Lightning
Hot Miami Night
Spark in the alleyway
bright loud night
Smoke and Blood trail from a hole in a man who is already broken
A crimson smile drips from his face
Sick Grin, Dead Man
Gunpowder Derby

Here is a poem about true love

Robot Lovin
Hard to Get
Stuck it in an Oven
Burnt a bit
Sexy readout voice
Tempted me
So I made the choice
Preemptively
Mechanical Abstinence
No more stuffin' cogs
Now I'll waste my pence
On stuffin some dogs

BLARGHLAGRLE

At the peak of day
I laid there, back susspended
I felt floating, though there was hard rock
beneath me
My Brother was waiting

Two sandy obelisks pierce the sky
There are Holy words on them
Words spoken, listened to, etched in, and saved
above me
My Brother was waiting

A man dressed in blood stained jewelry was speaking
I did not hear, for the words he spoke were for
the huddled peoples, at the base of the pyramid
below me
My Brother was waiting

Something caught my eye
The man held silver in his raised right hand
So sharp it cut the sun
above me
My Brother was waiting

The people's muttered prayers rose to a cacophony of wails
The man's hand came down upon me
The orgy reached climax as I, separated, spun freely
below me
My Brother was waiting

The faces curdled and mixed and swirled
But at the bottom I recognized one settled in a crimson puddle
As the roaring drained out of my ears I heard a whisper

I knew

Above me, my Brother was waiting.

STOP LAUGHING AT ME I'M AN ARTIST SHUT UP I HATE YOU

Here is a story made entirely of 5/7/5 haikus*

i woke up in there
strange familiarity
"this can't be my house"

blood stained the walls- floor
screams below cracked the silence
i grabbed my tin bat

i tore down the stairs
it wasn't too dark to see
i didn't want to

for there stood a man
and there laid my family
dead, torn, and broken

i don't remember
can't tell if I was screaming
but I killed that man

something had happened
my vision started to blur
there was a sharp silence

the white seemed nothing
muddled faces surrounded
i ached all over

all mouths were empty
opened wide for some purpose
a darkness swept out

their feet touched no ground
i was covered in silence
their hands never moved

i heard a noise though
more though like i felt a noise
a friendly face shown

he swung a barbed club
breaking the mouths of demons
"lets go" he told me

we broke out of there
but we were closely followed
their numbers increased

his pace fell behind
his screams never broke my gait
it wasn't my fault

it wasn't my fault
they kept following
it wasn't my fault

i lost my movement
legs pumped; but i stayed in place
sobs shook my body

they came in closer
Oh please it wasn't my fault
then everything stopped

AND
I
FELL

up into the sky
right into reality
blood was everywhere

i had staved them off
a voice in my head had told me
i am not yet dead

i left that coffin
hoping to find a saviour
instead stepped in blood

more blood everywhere
people rising so strangely
caught up from puddles

sky had been bleeding
ground had been stealing the souls
some people didn't rise

my eyes ached they spun
wretched out once, twice now i'm done
no one noticed me

my legs moved alone
independent of my needs, wants
i didn't know where

moving through the cries
shoving my way through the screams
i start to forget

lost identity
i tore through time silently
lost language, lost soul

bodies became ghosts
i've fallen behind myself
but i think no thoughts

i ran through the world
i collapsed in to its core
from my mouth crept dark

conciousness rose once
reminding me i'm hungry
but there is no i'm

we've become the core
we cry silence we eat souls
we always hunger

SURE I DON'T CARE WHATEVER GOD

Here is an old man poem

these dusty old Bones
were once filled with groans
of fears that once did start
this dusty old Heart

and from these dusty old Lungs
came screams that were sung
from the agonies sustained
in this dust old Brain

in this dusty old Mouth
was held the sounds of the deep south
that never escaped past the lipst till demise
one final gasp adn the closiing of these dusty old Eyes

and all this dust is accumulated in this dusty old Tomb
my final resting place, my eternal womb

and I'm lowered down into this dusty ground unceremoniously
now words are spoken, no one knows me

And in this dust, I have found Peace.

A POEM ABOUT AN EVENT THAT OCCURRED THAT INVOLVED MY FATHER

They say its chilled
So you can't taste it
Because if you could taste it
You wouldn't want to drink it
But the tap is still flowin'
Into my cup
I've been drinking tonight.

I wear it like a coat
It keeps me warm
It protects me
And maybe if I stopped
If I hadn't at all
Then it would have been too cold
to go out
And drive



And when your world stopped
I kept driving
That morning when you woke
You didn't know
When you went to school
You didn't know
But when you came home
And you didn't know
Where I was
She told you

You didn't cry

You are a young adult
You didn't know why
You are a just a child
You waited till I got home
You hugged me- just like any other day
And you pretended to be fine



But in my dreams I cry
In my thoughts
MY NAGGING
INCESSANT
THOUGHTS

I cry

And now you are out of the house
And I forget your face
And I forget
What this place once was
A home?

Too cold

They say its chilled
So you can't taste it
Because if you could taste it
You wouldn't want to drink it

SHUT UP I HATE ALL OF YOU DON'T LOOK AT ME

Alright, so go ahead and don't read my stuff because it's totally tl;dr and post your own poetry and I promise I will read it and not laugh at you guys.

*They are more like senryus but whatevs

[LordRetard]

I really liked the Robot Lovin one.

I can't find many of my poems because they're all mixed in with my parables (which I will get around to posting very soon), but I found a couple that aren't very good. Some of these I had to look in emails for because I deleted most of them.

Return to the temple where I was birthed
Screaming in its halls,
Running around,
Running in circles,
Trying to find a way out.

I made some changes just now to that because I hated how it was originally.

I hate this poem but I love the concept:

As it spills the blood
Tormented soul
They said "Kill it, Kill it"
The disease might leave you
Lying in a puddle of blood
Making trouble, cleaning up
Their bodies are crawling all over
Climbing the towers
Leaving me
The dust settles
Their bodies are broken
Skin torn and chained
Their screams
The last correction
Clinician's medicine
Vampire hunter
You can't be more than human
I never saw their spirits fly

And one more poem from my Writer's Craft collection:

A terrifying prospect;
Can you imagine that for the past eight or four or twelve hours
You've been living a lie?
How tragic.
It's a shame you'll believe anthing you see.
And if you don't exist
Then that just blurs fact and fiction that much more.
If the images are horrific
Then it's working.
It's easier to kick you when you're down.

[mountainmage]

Here's some copypasta from my dA account, two of which are about the forum rpg. (number 1, the best one!)

The "don't laugh at me" thing applies here as well.

The Beginning of the Quest
In a distant land there stands
Dire mountains of fire
Among the slag in a cave above a crag
A thin man named Seraphin
Lives and trains to harness the fire in his veins
Lonely years of learning has set his heart to yearning
For new sights and deadly fights
He treks from one town to the next
For a grand quest he had obsessed
He found his answer in the Standard of the Lancer
Seraphin found himself facing west at Kleinhaber's behest
In a line of people, two plus nine
Men and women of no great measure trying to earn themselves some treasure
A motley crew, people he'd have normally slew
Who he must now trust
I introduce myself then, Seraphin of the Fiery Mountain

The Group Sets Off
A bracelet and map were tossed in my lap.
When asked to explain these items twain,
He said, "The map always bears he who wears it.
So long as the band is around your hand,
It will trace your path upon its face."
Without further delay we were on our way,
We sought the place where the bearers had fought
The men who had stolen both their lives and precious standard.
Betwixt Calava and Buellen was where they had fell in
The trap sprung by they whose eyes were set upon that glorious prize.
One night upon the road, my keen sight
Spotted nigh a roaring fire blazing high.
We sent out one of our members as a scout.
An apt warrior, Pesmerga, wrapped himself in shadows
And stepped without a sound to see what could be found.
He reported strange floating creatures with curious features;
Ovoid beings one meter tall with three naked humans in their thrall.
We stood there awhile wondering if they were hostile,
Discussing the best course of action, whether diplomacy or force.

Shepard's Sigh
For thy tender embrace
I wouldst gladly chase
Through the fields and vales
Until my yearning heart prevails

And thou shalt be my bride thereafter
The mountains shall ring with our merry laughter
The days will be a magnificent celebration
Of love and joy and unbridled elation

Oh, the countryside will be our home
And our flocks will gracefully roam
We both shalt live in prosperity
And pass it on to our posterity

For if thou wouldst but take my hand
We two shalt walk throughout the land
Thy radiant smile wilt warm my life
If thou wouldst be my lovely wife

Just what is it? (Sorry if this sounds like something a hipster would say while playing bongos)
What exactly is faith?
Is it blind devotion to a leader?
Is it unwavering belief in a deity?
It is all these things.

No concrete definition exists.
It is a fickle feeling.
It can be rocked.
Revelations and epiphanies and the like.
It can be swayed;
It just dissapears, or is moved to another.

It's an extreme form of trust.
War destroys it.
Who is it that thus leads us into it?
Who is it that thus caused it?
Terminality raises the question,
Why?
Who is it that thus kills me?

No, it can't be defined.
Only life itself is more abstract.
Yes, that is my definition.

The Burden of War
Shots were firing overhead
All around lay wounded and dead
Only one remained in the foxhole
Sandbags scattered about his head
That is the hatred of war

He peeked above the burlap shield
Witnessing his comrades yield
He heard the desperate cry of "Retreat!'
And watched his allies flee the field
That is the fear of war

The soldier knew he had to leave
For the dying soldiers, he would not grieve
Self-preservation was his goal
Or so he tried to believe
That is the folly of war

He saw his sergeant on the ground
From his mouth he heard no sound
He felt his wrist, there was no pulse
He was appalled at what he had found
That is the truth of war

He wanted to leave, right then and right there
Back to his love, with her long golden hair
Away from the death, away from the gore
Wrong was the saying that said war was fair
That is the illusion of war

That was it, he could fight no more
He ran for his life towards the sea's shore
Images plagued his mind and soul's core
Sanity wept from his every pore
He heard death knocking at his life's door
That is the burden of war

Untold Canterbury Tales: The Footman
There was a footman, in fine blue livery
You’ll never find a serving man with greater chivalry
The locks on his head were auburn and coiled
On his feet, azure pumps, soft and unsoiled
He was of average height, though thin as a cord
A swift messenger for his patron and lord
He attended to his master’s will
And paid careful attention to his master’s bill
Tho’ not a footman’s normal chore
Truly did his master adore
The footman that he would ask of him this plebeian deed
For he spied not any hidden greed
(the master was old and blind, you know)
And for this task a bonus was bestowed
On him (or so the footman reckoned)
To be perfectly open, I wasn’t deceived for a second!
Occasionally, a payment would go astray
But the master was never dismayed
For he was well propertied, and was never at a loss for money
(The footman mentioned this with a tongue like honey)
If any suspected the footman of dishonesty, with a haughty voice he’d yell “For shame!
Look to the accountants to assign the blame!”
He’d speak kind words of his master, and how faithfully he’d served
The extra quid he absconded with was well deserved
By the by, he was an upright bloke
He knew very well how to tell a joke
The horse he rode was a dusky mare
Fit to be ridden by a millionaire
He introduced himself as Robert Green
And he rode to Canterbury to become spiritually clean.

The Footman's Tale
Now as a messenger, I’ve heard many a story,
Some with happy endings, some quite gory.
But the one I tell at present,
Concerns a certain peasant,
And his misadventure in the search for gold.
‘Tis a sadder tale than any ever told.
Now this vagabond, his name was George Michael,
His life a never-ending cycle,
Of poverty and destitution.
He lived near a swamp rife with pollution.
Years ago, his wife had left,
Leaving him quite bereft
Of naught but avarice and desire.
Many a night he would conspire
To waylay some poor gent
Traveling past on his way to Kent.
One stormy night, he gathered his nerve,
He picked up a dagger that would serve
As his ticket to the upper society.
He prayed to God in a last act of piety.
Now as it were, a man was walking,
Down the path our highwayman was stalking,
And he was chosen as the unlucky mark.
Though he were obscured in the dark,
Our brigand heard the familiar jangles
Of gold in pockets and pricey bangles,
The likes of which would set him up for life.
He pulled out his instrument of strife,
And snuck up on the unwary man.
It was over before it ever began.
He retracted his bloody dirk,
Picked up his loot with a queasy smirk,
And ran back home to count his gains.
Meanwhile, lawmen on the same road found the remains
And immediately rode to the nearest homestead
Only to find George Michael with his hands stained red
He was taken into custody and brought into the town
He heard the word “Guilty” as the gavel rang down
His neck in the noose the town crier said
“For the murder of James Michael, this man shall be hung until he’s dead.”

The Man
I didn't dial because I'm in denial
and my brow's wet, but don't fret
Eventually I won't be the man you met
Even though,

I refused to move forward, and instead I just lowered
to the lowest, of the low
Eventually I won't be the man you know
Even though,

I ran and ran, 'cause I'm a lonely man
and there are very few, who are like you
Eventually I won't be the man you knew
Here we go

The man has come, knocking at your door
But pay no heed, he's left before
The scar will remain, forever and evermore
Therefore,

The man will make you remember the pain
When he left you there, standing in the rain
All of your love, wasted in vain
He was a bane

The man says, "Take me back", while wearing a smile
You give them an inch, and they'll take a mile
Eventually, it will all be bore to repeat
and it'll happen once more

He's all just talk, so go for a walk
and get away, as far as you can
Don't forget, he was the man
But no longer the man for you

The tides are shifting, as my spirits are lifting
and I've planned, to be hand and hand
Eventually, the hour-glass will run out of sand
and I'll be a man, once again

Mountain Haiku: One
Winter; where is it?
I put on my jeans and laugh
Florida Weather

Mountain Haiku: Two
Time ticks so slowly
Work to be done tomorrow
Why am I still up?

Mountain Haiku: Three
Pleasant to the ear
Music evokes something strange
The last song is best

[FengharTheNord]

Sanity wept from his every pore

- I liked that line a lot!

“For the murder of James Michael, this man shall be hung until he’s dead.”

Awesome twist ending!

[mountainmage]

Sure you liked the line(s) but what did you think of the poems?

Also, can I take it that your dad passed away in a car accident?

[FengharTheNord]

Sure you liked the line(s) but what did you think of the poems?

Also, can I take it that your dad passed away in a car accident?

I did like the poems, I was just pickin' out particulars from 'em.

And no, he didn't die, he just went out drinking and driving one night(presumably after a fight with my mother) and he got arrested and I didn't know where he was and it was not a very good day.

But yeah it's just emoshite

[mountainmage]

Well, that sucks, but it's still better than what I imagined.

[FengharTheNord]

Well, that sucks, but it's still better than what I imagined.

Indeed.

[AHMETxRock]

Wait, are we posting our OWN poems, or other people's crap?

[mountainmage]

WE'RE posting OUR own POEMS. Feel FREE to JOIN in!

[FengharTheNord]

YEaH WhAt hE SaId~!

[Khazd]

Inspiring use of caps there MM.. well done!

[mountainmage]

If it's so inspiring, why haven't you written a poem about it yet?

[Rainbow]

Inspired by CAPLOCKS
Emphasize,
You do
Your emphasis.
Madly, you direct at prior type
To show the
tRutH
through madness.
Up
And down
Like children on the trampoline,
Your words change case
Like birds change color from the
Winter
To the
Spring.
Fenghar writes
His words
In
Unorthodox, but inspired
Capitalization.

[Edminster]

Inspired by CAPLOCKS
Emphasize,
You do
Your emphasis.
Madly, you direct at prior type
To show the
tRutH
through madness.
Up
And down
Like children on the trampoline,
Your words change case
Like birds change color from the
Winter
To the
Spring.
Fenghar writes
His words
In
Unorthodox, but inspired
Capitalization.

Alright that's pretty awesome right there.