Written by Bad English on 11.04.2012 at 00:56

AR I like 1th better good one every next 4 lines was weeker(no offense) I have same thing when i write opening is awesome and goues weeker, weeker
other poem was good , more how good song, it can be perfect but after 1th one what I read 10 times and try visualased, its harder get in secend one , both are good, but I like 1th better

yeah i noticed that strength in my songs just fall after good start... maybe its just the way i wrote...and just for the record : both of them are just songs not "high " level poetry...

After some more down time, I've continued my set challenge in transcribing the 5 steps of grief in 5 poems. Will be working these days on the 3rd, Bargaining
I'm not really content with this, maybe I will go back to it to change it, I do think it can use some improvement.
Grief - Part II: Anger

Boiling inside, hidden away
As the colors faded into the evergrey

And rationality seemed pointless
As I was falling in distress
And rationality seemed worthless
Floating in distress
And rationality seemed meaningless
The victim to my distress

This void of solitude that dwells within
Corrodes my brain, fuels my pain
There is only rage in this place
And frowns on my face

Fires would have you if something would change
No more of a dead story turned to ember
No more do I wish to remember
?to be filled with anger

If anybody is interested in the rubbish I sometimes write here it is:

They say rest in peace
but if the ghosts should go on living
that wouldn't be peace
I hope the ever life
after death never exist
I need to sleep in an endless night
Thus I forget all my dead dreams
I desire to fall in that abyss
I may forget all that meant to exist...

Since we are talking about unfinished stuff ,here is little addition to the subject:

Left in a state of war
endlesly prepared
darkest chaos to survive
hoplesly dehumanized

aband all emotions
thats they all said
so that i did
Those are for the dead

Left in a state of war
hoplesly enslaved
For ethernety to come
forever undead

Flesh turned to still
Finger forever on trigger
wicked mind that wanders
is the ammunition of death

I never open my self to anybody, never let people in
I neve rfelt for foolish thinkgs, never cryd for love
I never hurt anybody, never left someone to die
I never killed just for killing, I never fired all my bullets to
I never felt in war, I never felt from the sky
I never wrote things what didnt coem from inside, I never did it for money

I can sold love
and buy a million stars
I can sold a million stars
But I can not by love back

I can sold my life
and buy a golden coffin
I can sold a golden coffin
But I can not buy my life back

I can sold my past
and buy a golden future
I can old a golden future
But I can not buy my past back

I can sold who I am
and buy a one night stand
I can sold one night stand
But I can not buy who I am back

Down and tired


Down and tired, Im dreaming
How I go down and away in my coffin
Down and tired, Im hoping
To go away and forever
Down and tired, Im crying
Till I pass away, alone
Down n tired, Im praying
About battle what I can not win
Down and tired, Im talking
Till lungs colapes forever
Down n tired, Im dying
and my heart stop pumping blood

15-light my 1th cigarete , dremt about rock n roll
I drunk n drunk , I didny know I gonna fall

16-and million kisses, paradise belongs to you
rejected and broken, I remeber how parent faces from turned stone cold till forever gone

17-making love and I thought time stands forever still
Kicked out , I didnt get a job and money to pay my bills

18-and this child is running free
I remeber elders said thats how it use to be

19-getting beck my lige afain, and she is crying bitter tears
I didnt know how it will go from now

20-I start a work, working shity jobs what dont make sence
I remeber she try to say ''im pregnent'', but was afraid and fade away forever

21-I died in war, I felt in those desert fields
Im dead and free, my spitit is going home

Just one I came up with on the dot:

Technophobic

The future grew before our very eyes
Modernization became the biggest prize
Man became synergistic
With electric blood and a mainframe mind

His face hidden behind a glass veil
His hand plugged in different outlets
His beating heart was nothing more
Than a pulsing power core

A low frequency hum
drones in his brain
A preprogrammed value separates his thoughts
Between the lucid and the insane

The skyline is alight
With the cybernetic drapery
Flashing signs, neon words
Take in the wondrous sight

A virus seeps
Into his head
His body is hollow
His mind is dead

-System Failed-

^so lets continue Lit's Technophobia ,with a twist of old days:

Home Again (Return)

From sea ,a hero
Emerges from cold waters
Warrior says the wind
Chieftain says the rain

From bow of his bought
Shouts old god's names
Scared of fog ,mist unknown
Calls his kin at the shores

In armor with Raven's crest
And wolf's skin made cloak
Proudly rides through woods
Frosted they were when he left

Rode down to the village
Greeted with mead and hails
With the stories of wonders
Truly ,a great man had returned

Written by Cyroth on 18.04.2012 at 21:38

After some more down time, I've continued my set challenge in transcribing the 5 steps of grief in 5 poems. Will be working these days on the 3rd, Bargaining
I'm not really content with this, maybe I will go back to it to change it, I do think it can use some improvement.
Grief - Part II: Anger

Boiling inside, hidden away
As the colors faded into the evergrey

And rationality seemed pointless
As I was falling in distress
And rationality seemed worthless
Floating in distress
And rationality seemed meaningless
The victim to my distress

This void of solitude that dwells within
Corrodes my brain, fuels my pain
There is only rage in this place
And frowns on my face

Fires would have you if something would change
No more of a dead story turned to ember
No more do I wish to remember
?to be filled with anger

The sincerity here works, I like this piece; have you completed all five poems?

Written by [user id=130727] on 18.04.2012 at 21:59

If anybody is interested in the rubbish I sometimes write here it is:

They say rest in peace
but if the ghosts should go on living
that wouldn't be peace
I hope the ever life
after death never exist
I need to sleep in an endless night
Thus I forget all my dead dreams
I desire to fall in that abyss
I may forget all that meant to exist...

Nah, this isn't rubbish; you've got a good portrayal of nihilism here, being stuck in some kind of emotional void with no reasonable way out.

Written by Bad English on 05.06.2012 at 20:17

I can sold love
and buy a million stars
I can sold a million stars
But I can not by love back

I can sold my life
and buy a golden coffin
I can sold a golden coffin
But I can not buy my life back

I can sold my past
and buy a golden future
I can old a golden future
But I can not buy my past back

I can sold who I am
and buy a one night stand
I can sold one night stand
But I can not buy who I am back

Maybe a bit of bad english, yes, haha, but you've got an awesome thing going on here with mirroring ideas through different perspectives.

Okay, here is one of mine:

Tarnished Souvenirs

The glint of youthful souvenirs slowly dissipates, even beneath the dawn's rising and roaring sun,
all forlorn to a perpetual relapse where we so fearfully dread to dwell,
unknowing of what lies beneath the pins and needles of our ravaged hearts;
soaring asunder, nowhere bound.

My visage crumbles as the mighty lunar chariots emptily gaze down upon me,
and how I often wonder what decay the others see -
the dormant, domestic decay - and to what prose they'd scribe of my self-inflicted mockery;
convulsions of anxiety, my fatherland.

A catharsis without climax, a climax without release, a release without blood -
suffocating upon the pollution of our cruelty - as fleeting joys half-slake the void's ravenous thirst,
and the most genuine of aspirations turn only to abstinence in the thickets of this festering borough;
a refuge of hate, the nucleus.

As I awake from the hazy depths of a blackened reverie I see that the walls are yet the same,
colorless and without character, like the vacuum absorbing my spirit,
and it is within their hesitation that I find my solace doleful and snuffed;
inner-loneliness, the validity of failure.

As twilight conceives another starless night, from naught and to naught,
the horrific realizations defile me again and again,
'till the glint of youthful souvenirs shines no longer beneath the dawn's rising and roaring sun;
meaninglessness, the only promise worth keeping.

Written by Waniyetu on 27.06.2012 at 18:43

Written by Cyroth on 18.04.2012 at 21:38

....

The sincerity here works, I like this piece; have you completed all five poems?

Sadly, no, I have not written (again) for a long time. Although the challenge still stands.

Written by Cyroth on 27.06.2012 at 19:18

Written by Waniyetu on 27.06.2012 at 18:43

Written by Cyroth on 18.04.2012 at 21:38

....

The sincerity here works, I like this piece; have you completed all five poems?

Sadly, no, I have not written (again) for a long time. Although the challenge still stands.

Well, if the inspiration ever comes, you should complete and share.

Thanks to you Waniyetu I've started working again on something. So without further due:

Grief - Part III: Bargaining

The clock melts away our time
Far from my reach, yet so sublime
Faded star, I can't see you clearly
My heart surely paid the price dearly

Oh?how I'd bring myself in your arms
But to no success?to my distress
Like thorny roses you'd bleed me with your arms
You'd bleed what I had, avoid us of our caress

Yet I'd beg of you to look inside
To reach those fondling times that where
That now grasp every breath of mine
?and drift amiss the eventide

You disappeared with part of who I once was
Something burning, lost, in a cold breeze
With a last plead on my knees
The last word left us gone. (Please)

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 20.06.2012 at 00:25

^so lets continue Lit's Technophobia ,with a twist of old days:

Home Again (Return)

From sea ,a hero
Emerges from cold waters
Warrior says the wind
Chieftain says the rain

From bow of his bought
Shouts old god's names
Scared of fog ,mist unknown
Calls his kin at the shores

In armor with Raven's crest
And wolf's skin made cloak
Proudly rides through woods
Frosted they were when he left

Rode down to the village
Greeted with mead and hails
With the stories of wonders
Truly ,a great man had returned

How much Odyseus and Iliadas insiparted you here?

THE EMPTY KING'S REFLECTION:


-cracks knuckles-


air i feel
so cold and so warm
on this ground i kneel
i stand above all
and all of nothing
i sit here in my frozen fortress
sweating to death
morbid thoughts running though my head
thoughts saying "i wish i was dead"
i run to the bathroom to check my reflection
all i see is a venomous decrepit reflection of myself
i reach out to it,
i wave to it
it does the same
i go back to my thorne and laugh
then i cry
i look down at the ground
and sigh
where have the days gone by?
i take a blade and i grip it hard
i drive it into the ground
and frown
i break down into tears
what have i become?
a madman no less?
a fool?
a drunken pest?
i do not know
i collapse in the aftermath




i wake up to pitch-black darkness
so cold and so warm
the air i breathe is no more
my skin white
my skin pale
i laugh as i wail
i take one step and stumble
i see nothing . . . .


but a former reflection of myself.
i wave to it
i reach out to it
it does the same. . . . . .


(feedback is welcome guys)

(a short one)

Fallen soldier




i cry as others die
my brothers collapse around me
i take my shield in hand
my sword in hand
i run toward the horizon
not knowing what's in store
im struck by arrows and i fall
the same fate that befell them all.

Written by Waniyetu on 27.06.2012 at 18:50

Okay, here is one of mine:

Tarnished Souvenirs

dude...THAT WAS EPIC. it's so vivid...are you a professional poet? as in have some published?
and were you properly trained?

because there is no way this could come from an amatuer...
this is the work of continues writing and planned creation over the years am i correct?

Written by axelx666 on 02.07.2012 at 04:44

Written by Waniyetu on 27.06.2012 at 18:50

Okay, here is one of mine:

Tarnished Souvenirs

dude...THAT WAS EPIC. it's so vivid...are you a professional poet? as in have some published?
and were you properly trained?

because there is no way this could come from an amatuer...
this is the work of continues writing and planned creation over the years am i correct?

First off, thank you for such a flattering response, it's quite heart-warming, thank you! I am not a professional, I have never had anything published (although I haven't tried, either) and I haven't received any kind of professional training. I have, however, been writing since I was a teenager, mostly drawing from internal strife caused by external circumstances and such, and over the years I've honed my abilities I suppose. It's purely emotive writing, I don't pay much attention to structure and have no idea how to write rhyming poetry or the like, haha; no less, I try to conjure up imagery that is representative of the emotions, so that visuals can accompany the feelings and reactions brought on by the poem.

Written by Waniyetu on 02.07.2012 at 07:39

Written by axelx666 on 02.07.2012 at 04:44

Written by Waniyetu on 27.06.2012 at 18:50

Okay, here is one of mine:

Tarnished Souvenirs

dude...THAT WAS EPIC. it's so vivid...are you a professional poet? as in have some published?
and were you properly trained?

because there is no way this could come from an amatuer...
this is the work of continues writing and planned creation over the years am i correct?

First off, thank you for such a flattering response, it's quite heart-warming, thank you! I am not a professional, I have never had anything published (although I haven't tried, either) and I haven't received any kind of professional training. I have, however, been writing since I was a teenager, mostly drawing from internal strife caused by external circumstances and such, and over the years I've honed my abilities I suppose. It's purely emotive writing, I don't pay much attention to structure and have no idea how to write rhyming poetry or the like, haha; no less, I try to conjure up imagery that is representative of the emotions, so that visuals can accompany the feelings and reactions brought on by the poem.

anybody who can write something that amazing needs to be told that. i've been writing too since i was in ohh 6th grade,i started because of a girl,she broke my heart and bleh. i've written mostly short stuff, (i use my free time during school to do so) and that's all poetry is, emotive writing. i tell some of my friends and they are like "oh poetry is for chicks" i just shake my head, i write because i have emotional problems and sometimes i just don't know how to deal with things, so i pull out a piece of paper and write from the fathoms of my soul. when i first learned about poetry i thought it had to rhyme, and because of that i struggled for a few years. but alas in time i learned most of the poetry i write is a self-represantation of my life. (like you said) but when i write i think to myself does this sound right? do i want the audience to feel this or see it? i CANNOT write happy poems..i've tried my hardest and the closest i got was "and they died peacefully"
but i take it growing up you had a difficult life then? i've been bullied,harrased,etc to the point where i don't care if people see how i feel, my psyche is no more. i gladly wear my heart on my sleeve and that serves as inspiration, it's my muse,and this world is my canvas so to speak. you have an extensive vocabulary (which isn't quite miraculous now an days) and i am curious on how that is.. please elaborate on that if you may.

Written by Bad English on 02.07.2012 at 03:44

How much Odyseus and Iliadas insiparted you here?

actually nothing ...

Written by Cyroth on 29.06.2012 at 02:02

Thanks to you Waniyetu I've started working again on something. So without further due:

Grief - Part III: Bargaining

The clock melts away our time
Far from my reach, yet so sublime
Faded star, I can't see you clearly
My heart surely paid the price dearly

Oh?how I'd bring myself in your arms
But to no success?to my distress
Like thorny roses you'd bleed me with your arms
You'd bleed what I had, avoid us of our caress

Yet I'd beg of you to look inside
To reach those fondling times that where
That now grasp every breath of mine
?and drift amiss the eventide

You disappeared with part of who I once was
Something burning, lost, in a cold breeze
With a last plead on my knees
The last word left us gone. (Please)

This is absolutely fantastic! I am going through a lot of similar emotions right now so this poem really hit home, however, even if I couldn't acutely relate to it, this is a beautiful piece, and even better than the first in my opinion. Great job!

Summer Rain

What happened whit me, I can not enjoy this summer rain
In this gloomy night, seems rock n roll turns to dust
Im 27 and much much more, but Im here and fooling around
Never made a sucsess in life, now Im going to underground
I like your lips, your touch, your kiss, your....
You litle funmaker, you lady death
All feels so cold so dark in this purgathory afterglow
But it will end when I can enjoy this summer rain again



Unhapyness


What if unhapynees makes you live longer
Son of a bitch you're alive, even falling down from rainbow
What if unhapynees makes you stronger
Walking trought sands of time you dont feel moral pain
What if unhapynees makes you stay on shape
Modern day slavery can not broke your spirit
What if unhapynees makes you mentaly ill
But in this heavy rain you still standing still
What if unhapynees makes you see
What only blind men see and understand¨
What if unhapynees makes you cry bitter tears
But you never will die in solitary prison cell
What if unhapynees makes you try commit suiscide
Because you dont feel anymore how life fucks you every day
What if unhapynees makes you fire all your guns
But you neverf will spend life in H Block

Part 4 is here

Grief - Part IV: Depression

Confined emotions inside a hollow shell
Everything lost in sadness to forever dwell
No faith of escaping the sorrow
Only bitterness to swallow

Left in the night to seek a tranquil place
To find a cure for the void inside,
A formless space
Deep in my mind

It grows with every hour I'm awake
The love loss?a torture game
The intolerable pain?nothing the same
In this continuous heart ache

So I ask why not tonight end it all
Take a leap and fall
Is there anything left, somebody tell me!
This is my last moment before the dark sea.

Havent been to this site in years. Good to see people are still writing! will look into people's poems a bit more tomorrow. for now, im going to selfishly post something of my own. feel free to comment, thrash it or ignore it.


Between choices of consequense,
I stand at the boarder,
Along coast lines and reflections,
Wondering which way to go

Faith inside,
We both wander of,
But in different directions

Ad infinitum,
As presented in the unknowing patterns,
Creates the deviation in the minds of philosophers,
And nothing would remain the same

Written by Torelli on 25.07.2012 at 01:57

Havent been to this site in years. Good to see people are still writing! will look into people's poems a bit more tomorrow. for now, im going to selfishly post something of my own. feel free to comment, thrash it or ignore it.

Va bra , är du tilbacka i MS
Bra nyheter ))
Hur är leget min vän?

Good to see you beck, good news, how are you???

Written by Bad English on 25.07.2012 at 13:57

Written by Torelli on 25.07.2012 at 01:57

Havent been to this site in years. Good to see people are still writing! will look into people's poems a bit more tomorrow. for now, im going to selfishly post something of my own. feel free to comment, thrash it or ignore it.

Va bra , är du tilbacka i MS
Bra nyheter ))
Hur är leget min vän?

Good to see you beck, good news, how are you???

Forgot to answer. yes, im back as you may have notice But i think it will only be temporary, MS is a summer distraction for me. But i guess i will pop up any random year or so.



Back to the thread. Has any of you gone through your old works and relized that the old stuff you wrote before descripes your current life and events so much better than it did when it was written? As if you have grown into the poem or something?