Own Writing Thread - Post your poem/story/whatever HERE

[Pete]

The Rules:
1. If you reply make sure we know who it is addressed to.
2. POST POST POST POST!!! ;)
3. Poems/Stories/Essays/Skits/Monolouges/ WHATEVER are acceptable.
4. By posting them in this thread you also give the IL Team the right to publish it in the IL, of course they must tell you first, but this stuff is fair game for them;)

(Edited by CrazyPete at 6:18 pm on April 6, 2003)

[Show me the Money]

This post is by SHow me the Money


Quote: from CrazyPete on 11:39 pm on April 6, 2003
1. If you reply make sure we know who it is.how can you not know?

btw, if you could also state if it's alright if we add it to the IL-- any contribution is always enormously appreciated!
(hey, you changed your post to say this-- what about fair editing?)

(Edited by Show me the Money at 11:15 am on April 9, 2003)

[Purple]

ooooh...sticky...


like a bullet piercing
through my soul
these walls are coming down
with a sledge i hammer
with some courage i dear
like stones breaking glass
im breaking the barriers

blah

this is the first "poemsong" i wrote in english, think its from when i was 11 or something... pretty old... got more, but that can wait untill later...

[hawarameen]

i posted this a while ago but i will post again here for possible inclusion in the IL

Your gates lock out reality
Dont want to corrupt your morality
A newer car is your aspiration
And credit is your salvation
Sunday times delivered to your door
ather be dead than be poor
9 - 5 for the rest of your life
The price to pay for a well dressed wife

this is about all those people living in HUGE houses with electric front gates, you know the ones

[hawarameen]

i posted this a while ago but i will post again here for possible inclusion in the IL

Your gates lock out reality
Dont want to corrupt your morality
A newer car is your aspiration
And credit is your salvation
Sunday times delivered to your door
rather be dead than be poor
9 - 5 for the rest of your life
The price to pay for a well dressed wife

this is about all those people living in HUGE houses with electric front gates, you know the ones

[sorry about the double post, computer error, there is also a thing i wrote called 'lifes a beach' which i think is good]

(Edited by hawarameen at 12:45 am on April 9, 2003)

[hawarameen]

this i wrote when my uncle was killed by a lorry in kurdistan. the usual questions were asked, you know, why me? what have i done to deserve this?etc...

Dearly Departed

If i said sorry for treating you bad
Would you come back to us then?

If i shout and scream till i'm silent
Would you come back to us then?

If i punched a wall till my hands were wet
Would you come back to us then?

If i was to go insane with rage
Would you come back to us then?

And what if i gave you MY life?
Would you come back to them then?

what got to me the most is what my uncle left behind, 6 kids and brothers and sisters. my mum still cries for him 3 years after he has died. the last verse is about that, i would have done anything to ease their pain.

[hawarameen]

Strangest scenario

I see her face in the stars at night
Her smile lighting up the whole sky

I hear her voice when the birds are singing
I could sit for hours just listening

But now you say your gonna leave
Leave me alone, alone to grieve

Not through any misunderstanding or hate
But through a simple twist of fate

So i wonder if I'll see you again,
and if the love between us will remain

If there was a sequel
would you love me like an equal?

And would you love me till im dead?
Or is there someone else instead?

(the last two verses are from a song, 'is it wicked by belle and sebastian')

sorry about the spamming

(Edited by hawarameen at 1:02 am on April 9, 2003)

[Pete]

Shades of Joy

Sipping on the sorrows of yesterday
A new dawn, a new gun, a time to play
I'm just sipping on the sorrows of yesterday
With a new dawn, a new gun, it's time to play

Walking around the winding roads
Stepping over a bloody rose
Silence, rising from my gut
The dark eye starts to shut

Frequenting the days long lost
Slowly wandering through the dusk
Dark clouds rising overhead
A flash of light, a child is dead

Forks bloth down filled with rage
Striking the lamb within a cage
Forceful shakings lift the ground
A muted scream is the only sound

Apart from life; Apart from death
We stand between in the ultimate test
A shattered whisper fills the air
Eyes locked forward embracing the stare

A knife protrudes from her chest
One blade, one lust, she failed the test
Laying in a pool of crimson gold
The body is limp; the spirit is cold

Forcefully slashing down
He knew he'd never make it out of town
Sacraficing his only worth
Burning up in the hearth

Old dreams, new lies, falcons soar in the skies
Arrows flying up, piercing it so high
With a screet its dance is over
A cloaked dagger returns to its cover

Amid all the senseless death
A baby wakens and takes its first breath
Only to see its mother die
This child has no time to cry

Sipping on the sorrows of yesterday
A new dawn, a new gun, a time to play
I'm just sipping on the sorrows of yesterday
With a new dawn, a new gun, it's time to play

[hawarameen]

LOL, that poem pretty much pisses all over my attempts pete,

good job!

[Pete]

Twist Cap

the sand that filters from the air
this wierd feeling of joyful depression
a gentle knocking at the door
car bombs end life quiker than knives
shimmering hope inside my mind
dark glum thoughts of heavy talk
sword swallowers preforming an art
mines flutter to the ground creating empy graves
a shot rings out in the night
bombs fall on babies as they learn to crawl
a title that limits and holds back
its absence changes far too much
no opression in this dark gloom
a loss, unfelt, is so deeply stinging.

a machine created out of the flames
the silent man speaks and the cryer is shamed
slitting the wrist of this bleeding Earth
pain darkness and then dull hurt
yet also happiness, that is never far
scars heal into the fall
rocks cut worse then steel
yet it is not life that they steal
bottled up and over flowing
the crimson bottle empties onto the floor
spreading across the carpet beneath
light pierces thousands of eyes
skin chaffes and peels as pigs squeel
broken glass crunches under fot
shattered dreams reform the wreck
as before nothing seems to be
wine is the curse of the team
give this Earth time and patience
the blood of life contained is its own sweet poison.

[Pete]

I should pull out my Archives. Ummm 100 pages of poetry for everyone.

[Purple]

a song (ive written):

Im tearing away
Pieces are falling and I cant seem to make them stay
You run away
But youre on the path of destruction
still; you seem to get away
how can I try to make you stay
My mind has gone away
my spirit has its ways
all this tension makes me feel
so alive
sometimes it seems easier
to burn it to the ground
just a slice over the wrist'
or a bullet through the head
how much i live through
just to escape my head

the sun seems to never arrive
but when it does i tend to fall to the ground
the sunshine burns my skin and makes me feel pale
it wont be wrong to ask you why
to remind you why were blind
youre digging my grave
and you say im mad

they say its true
somethings not right
destined to lose
its not right
all i do is fight and i lose my insides
all i do is fall away
this is my last time
a bullet in my name, but i juz dont know why
why should i be in pain when all i do is fight

[CommieBastard]

Wrote this a while ago, a monologue which i had a time limit for... I'll post it here cos i'm mind numbingly bored.

I sit, and I see a wall there in front of me. My bleary eyes stare, watering as i watch intently that which may, or may not, be. The walls are white and gleaming, they are soft to my touch, but this is deceptive of their nature. They are as a cage of steel adorned with barbed spikes, and around me stand the hordes of onlookers in their white coats, ever glaring, ever mocking. I feel a rage as their taunts go on, the pains in my head waxing ever stronger. No more can I keep control, as i throw myself forwards at them, and onto the pain which I cannot resist. What I see, what i hear they tell me is a fiction, yet those are spurious lies fed to me to anger me ever onwards. This is my pain, that I am left with only that which resides within me, once I could enjoy the beauties of that which they foolishly call an 'external World', but the thieves have taken away all of that, and threaten further to take my sight.

I lie now, in the corner of my darkened cell. Motion ever harder. The more i struggle the less i move, a paradox they've invented which is no less mad than all of my 'insane ramblings'.

As I grasp ever onwards, less and less do I perceive the World within which I did grow. No existence seems worth it any longer, but even those means for ending my pathetic drawn out life are out of grasp on this hell hole. Worse yet, the Worlds beyond, which I perceive, are darkening. Where once I could roam with joy, seeing beauties not yet known to man, now i stumnble through a darkened landscape, a confusing bombardment of imagery and agonies, as fell beasts and broken corpses slash at my material form, and at my very thoughts themselves.

The World seems ever bleaker, the desolate place i now inhabit is an infinite blackness stretching onwards, with shapes formed from infinite concepts, twisting about in perplexing shapes. My disembodied thoughts float on, as I curse the ones who brought this pain upon me, their names now long forgotten. Those traitors who I once loved who brought me to that dark prison so that i might be sent through the darker prison of my mind. Those men who spoke without saying, blankly staring on as they measured my mind like a chunk of meat. They knew nothing of what i thought, and yet laid claim to some divine 'cure' for my 'condition'. Ever did they jab me, filling me with their bile until i felt i would explode, and yet id only i had, instead of having to exist missing all that they stole from me.

A pain! A feeling in a corporeal form I had long since abandoned. The twisting shapes around me combine, a giant pattern forms before me, rushing ever onwards without ever moving/ A breath taken, and what my sight shows before me is not my World of shapes but rather a blackness impinged with red which i recognise, from long ago. Realisation dawns, as i open my eyelids to see before me a pseudo-world, one which looks ever more like an operating theatre as it swims into focis, and out again after. As my vision fades again I hear a confusing babble of noises that I cannot be mistaken of. Human speech is again with me, as is hope for a new life in a World which I have loved, a World in which my loved ones live. I pray only now to see those that i once knew, and yet, my vision is now gone, and I rest my weary soul.

(Edited by CommieBastard at 10:16 pm on April 10, 2003)

[CommieBastard]

I lie here in my bed,
my eyes tightly shut,
screening out the noise,
that penetrates my rut
of no ones open mouth.
Every time i turn,
agitation in my mind,
I have something i yearn,
that i can never find,
a mind trapped in a box,
chained to my ideas,
as i pray to god for rest,
i think back to my fears,
self analysis will never end,
i stare inwards at a self,
That never seems to mend.

could do with extensive editing, but i can never be bothered to do that.

[CommieBastard]

CrazyPete Posted on 1:22 am on April 9, 2003
I should pull out my Archives. Ummm 100 pages of poetry for everyone.

I know what you mean, i used to write prolifically and i could draw out so much of my crap it would be unbeleivable, although a lot of it has been lost.

[CommieBastard]

Six walls all around,
and not here any sound,
can you see the invisible man?
can you hear his silent cries?
just another face,
you do not care for the soul that dies.

Blood on the street,
and blood on my hands,
i wash them in a rancid sink,
but they never will seem clean,
just another face,
that will continue to go unseen.

Pressures hold me down,
with strength of will i push,
now i sit, and even stand,
it is not yet that i shall sleep,
just another face,
in that dark night that does reap.

stretching forth,
holding in my hands a hope,
now life is mine and i breathe free,
a new start, a new thought,
just another face,
that refues to
be caught.

(Edited by CommieBastard at 10:40 pm on April 10, 2003)

[CommieBastard]

Like a twisted automoton i keep on walking, unaware of my destination. My empty mind presses me on, as breath seems ever harder to draw. My warped feet stumble forward and a last rattling gasp can be heard slowly emanating from my chest, my watery eyes open wide, cuasing my haggard, weathered face to contort in a disturbing manner. Staring out at the dark shapes i thrust my hand forward as i fall onto the dirty ground

[Pete]

P-ful

Piles of people place plasticine among placid preachers
Popes putridly please the pugalist and passes the purse
Praires pass in parts piled with plains as a person,
A perpetual person, percieves it while placed upon a plane
A platform praised by Puritans, proudly picking pears,
Peace, parsnip, and parsely, the prisoned prides
Pablo plays his prodigal part passing Pilgrims for pests
Part of the parcle plunges pleeing partisans with the powers of Purgatory
Practiced pleats plot the parched pail of pleasure.

[Pete]

Light, The Messiah

Darkness descends into blinding rays
Golden piercings and pure
Cutting a path across the sky
From their Eastern base
These blades are unrelentless
Sharper than the edge of the moon
Rounder than the perfect circle
The swords of the heavens
Gutted fish lay in its wake
Spilling the blood of the taineted priests
Who wear pants, too small, under their robes
Slaughtered children sleep soundly
The exit wound is large but clean
Murdered lays the saviour
Rasta Faria, Mohammed, Jesus
Stapled together and bare
No signs of struggle, only of death
It seems their truth has taken hold
In the hearts of the silver beams
That slit his slender wrists
Gold in Red in White in Nothing
So destructively peaceful the beam of light is
It kills just as easy as it births
The light has no conscience
Darkness has disappeared
No one greets the new day
They float in the jubalent red sea
Staring blankly at the giving sphere
As if thanking it for the pain it erased
By comming the smallest, most trivial crime
By dealing the final, truest justice
Ligh, and its indiscrimanate blades, shift uneasily
With no one left to pray for it
Karma destroyed forever
The end of history achieved
Gods look at the mass homocide
They walk this Earth dropping their tears
Of course they do not exist
With humanity died Strife and Faith,
The twins who are similar in persona and physic,
The lost dieties vanish into nothingness
Not before the blood is dilluted by their urine and tears
Darkness rises and envelopes this dead Earth
Stars timidly tiwinkle and are devoured by the sky
Nothing exists in this limbo
Humanity failed the purgatory and has been purged
A silver blinding ray pierces the Eastern horizon
Darkness descends and death solidifies into life
The cycle of sin into truth starts again
A new day, a new test, an old game
Roll the dice and see what appears
Stare the snakes in the eyes
The curse will last another age
Fish swim the sease
Exploding shatrs of hope spread the miracle
In the depths of red days blood is split
And the Gods prove their fallacy
Dive, now, into the dormant life of the unborn
Close the doors of Hell forvere
Cruising above the black waste the vapour is at home in death.

editing? yesh! For these that I post I have only edited them once, from paper to screen. My epic that I am working on is currently being edited by 5 people...and I have edited the 6 cantos that I have written so far twice my self.

[CommieBastard]

stoned poetry written as it comes

i take a drag,
then raise my heavy head,
i look into your pallid face,
as i'm weighed down by this lead.

your cold blue eyes shine with light,
but as i stare you look with fright,
in the silent dark i am haunted,
you a shadow in this dark,
yet you're features are so stark.

I take a drag,
and lower my head,
another day, another bottle,
bile lying on my tongue,
i think of every song ever sung,
think of every broken soul,
of every weary haggard face,
that is a slave to the dole.

queitly, i stand on my weary legs,
and finish off my last dregs.
'goodnight' i say, and then leave,
walking where i'm taken,
by those hollow winds.

[Purple]

Can't anyone post some "happy" shit or something... Still; all the things that have already been posted are fecken great!:)

[Pete]

Happy shit...happy shit... let me see now.

XP

so today is the last day
a million things end
death is omniprecent
will you pick the wrong straw
plunging your family to hell
an earthly hell of war
or will someone far away pick it
or will someone near hand it away
to preserve an order with corrupted beginnings
that has had corruption compounded by the ages
today is the last day
pick your straw
face the reality
life is death


the name is a facial expression that is best represented by the characters "XP"

[Pete]

With HTML coding and all!

Fantastic Images

<body>
A seeping wind

Wheezing under the door

Blockaded under a weight

Of collective guilt

Built up over the years

Of wasteful, hateful murder

As the blood spills down the stairs

Covering the floor

Staining it red

We sit in our high back chair

Eating our deceptive dinner



A miserable sound

Choked and strangled

Falling down the stairs

Collapsing in the wet

Silently screaming

For the binds to be cut

That cut the flesh

Around my wrists

Around my neck

Cutting ever deeper

Into my body

As I lie

In the pool of the blood



A failure of trust

The destruction of flesh

Unimportant but vital

To my mortal life

The cutting rope

And the knife in my back

Blood pouring from my body

Out of the holes

Created by bullets



Red and juicy

Round

Unmoving

Lying on the table

In a basket

Sort of like an apple

It is my ripped out heart



The inaudible screams

Scratching down the board

Blood spilling from the broken nails

Tainting the green back

Erasing the words written in white

As the fingers grind into the slate



Like my heart on the table

A dove lies on the floor

Cupid’s arrow through its heart

A small pool of blood

A puddle of compromise

To shot the spirit of peace

With the arrow of love

We blow off our own head

So we can live another day




The shocking sorrow

That peace has been achieved

That places the calm acceptance

That the world is at war

Sold itself to its gun.

The weapon should be in the peasant’s hand

From the barrel of the gun comes power

What can a rage of blood

Mean when it is defined as peace

As what is right



Dark with a red tint

So you cannot see the blood

That is stained onto everything

And now collects in the corner

The floor is slanted

As bodies are not flat

Everyday the ceiling is closer

It’s teeth dripping blood

This is where today

The current peacemakers meet

In the Bore.



A silence I cannot understand

As thousands are slaughtered

And lay down on the ground

With blood all around

Those who are punctured,

But where not released

From the purifying pain,

Feast on the bodies

Blown apart by the guns

That lowered these people

To these levels



My heart on a table

In the fruit basket

A man without a face

Eats it like an apple



The uncut binds

Brutalated bodies

How nice does it taste

To eat your sister’s face

As you sit in her blood

Waiting to join the flow

But the bullets are not that kind

Take your sister

Leave you to devour her flesh



A slice of a blade

Always so close

Never butting

Finally embracing death

They refuse to give me

Let the Lady fall

End this pain

I hear the sword

Fall down again

Pausing only after glazing

Only gently and hastily touching

My accepting hairs



The torture of corporations

Always so close to the end

Never letting us take it

So we spend more

Give more of our soul

To the ever nearer

Bloody jaw



Crushing like a bug

Just as cruel

Ending a life

Extinguishing a flame

Allowing the soul

To join the flow

To face the unkind judgement

Those still brainwashed

Are destroyed

The captured revolutionaries

Although much fewer

Still are tested by the silver flow

But they are instead,

Embraced

To be reborn

When the time comes again




Material dominion

Infernal division

Spiritually debated

Across the censorship

Only for the acquaintance

Just give me death

I have been through enough

My own hand will not touch it

Binds around my hand

Chocking my neck

Circulation ended

Death to come

But impossibly weak

As they are viewed

Not neat.



My fantasy.</body>

[hawarameen]

theres a man on the moon
looking down on us all
he's seen our past,
our present, our future
if only he could talk
he'd tell us what he's seen
so many different faces
so many different places

[hawarameen]

a bit happier,

I will ove you more than life
if you say you'll be my wife
i will give to you this ring
the love and devotion it will bring
i promise to be true and to obey
until we are both old and grey
we may argue, we may fight
but we shall be in love again by night

[Pete]

an early poem by me

Standing Against the Wall

In this world that I cannot see
In this system I cannot care for
In this life where I have no control
I feel myself back against the wall
What is that thing infront of me
Is it you? Or do you support it?
Drop your mask to the ground
Look in that mirror
I bet you’ll be afraid of what you see
I’m standin all alone
Looking down the barrel of 9 rifles
Cigarette? Don’t smoke.
Blindfold? Let the murders look in my eyes
This cold hard wall behind me presses close against my skin
The wall that has been built for lies
That is why we have to crash it to the ground
No stone apun another
The warden calls the gunmen to order
They hold their guns up high
Pointed straight to my brain
I’m looking them in the eye
Mother Earth hold me now, I don’t want to be afraid to die
I feel the life embrace my soul
It is the comfort I need
The warden calls the gunmen to aim
And I look them in the eye
With Mother’s true embrace I’m not afraid to die
Three falter and fall out
They’re wishin they could fly
The warden begins to scream and shout
I fall to the ground as the bullets begin to fly
A quick foray that is soon over
No blood springs from my self
Cheers of friends fills the air
The Mother releases her true embrace
My life is a present from the Earth
Standin up, looking around, seein bodies on the ground
Of the nine four still stand
One kicks the warden’s face in the sand
The other three huddle together
Tears streamin down their faces
I look them in the eyes
Look them in the souls
The blinding white sears my sight
I speak to them loudly and clear
“My friends you are true spirits
Let us destroy this wall that stands
Bring peace and equality to our land”
They force smiles, because they grieve
For the loss of their innocence
“My friends,” I say, “if we could
Our movement would be peaceful
But the system only cares
About one culture one life one person”
The Mother reaches up to touch me
The time to fight is here
Cause in this world I cannot see
In this system I cannot care for
In this life where I have no control
My only choice, only one
Fight this war until the end
My end or its
The Mother’s embrace is always with me
If I die for the movement
I die happy. I fight the war.

[peaccenicked]

Against the Coalition of the Fantasy Makers.

They brought us news on TV of the war that they had won.
How military power can change the way that things are run.
Exporting revolution for the cause of world peace,
bringing democracy and to freedom to lands so ill at ease.

History has become Holywood and Bush is Che Guevara.
Bush wants to give the oil away to each Iraqi barrow.
Give candy to the children and bananas to the world.
So now we can all forget the bombs that they have hurled.

So we have seen 'Independence Day' and we are all in Love,
They can save us from an alien attack and all from up above.
If God was an entity who could pursue divine intervention.
They would hit him with a nuclear bomb and hold a peace convention.

Amnesty International has an unwanted armed wing.
Cluster bombs for Freedom are really not the thing.
And Depleted Uranium, is not quite in good taste.
The Freedom of a People can't be gained by spreading nuclear waste.

If I can apologise to all the media dupes who live on planet zog.
You should really have a reality check next time you do the bog.
200 billion dollars to make Iraq alright.
This blood-stained niavety is boring yellow shite.

Looting is the primary force in the world to-day
The majority of people in the world are struggling with low pay.
The Robber Barons of the past still rule the world at will,
and they are in there for the grabs in EVERY GIANT KILL.

Western democracy is the unfairness of the vote,
The campaigns of the rich men are shoved down every throat.
But inspite of all Deception, despite the reels and reels of spin.
The world joined hands together.
Someday we are going to win.

[mentalbunny]

The End of Hope

So fragile,
Like a porcelain doll
Coughing up blood.
Heart stopping
Pulse slowing and
Fainting
Alone, cut off
Floating in an endless
Void, heavy
Vacuum squeezing me
Dry of salt.
Let me disappear and
Cease to have feelings:
“He doesn’t love me”

Like drunkenness
Stumbling, heavy headed
Into locked toilet door
Arms weak, legs lost
Confused by blurry world
Mass of fuzzy colour
Thoughts crowding head:
“Why, fucking why?”

[Pete]

Friday 2003-04-18

Walking through these empty streets
Deserted of all life
I stand on the pinacle of life
And take a plunge down
Silence is my only true companion
She does not say a word
My thought flow through my mouth
She acts like she never heard
Feelings flood me from all directions
Threaten to drown me
Silence never dies, and is never born
She is omnipresent
The politics of my corrupted life
The rage boiling inside
Tear streaming from my face
Those that always hide
Time passes and life passes
Pain stays the same
In the dawn of the new age
Those who weep now pay.

[CubanFox]

Cuba

Cuba, the isle of defiance
Cuba, the isle of worker's reliance
Havana, city of the socialist dream
Havana, city of the worker's factory steam
Cuba, the isle of the Bay of Pigs
Cuba, the isle with no cappie bigwigs
Havana, the city of the love
Havana, the city not of hawk, but of dove
Cuba.

What does everyone think?

[CubanFox]

Che: A Shitty Acrostic

Communism
Hope
Equality

[Blasphemy]

I would have published some of my less-personal poems, but alas, they are written in my native language.

[mentalbunny]

Blasphemy, what is your native language? Post them anyway, someone can always translate.

[Blasphemy]

It's in hebrew. Besidea the fact that I think I am the only one here who speaks hebrew, it can be pretty hard to translate poems. I might give it a shot, but I fear that the translation won't be as authentic as the original. I might try writing in english one day.

[Comrade Gorley]

Quote: from CubanFox on 7:25 am on April 22, 2003
Che: A Shitty Acrostic

Communism
Hope
Equality


Actually, it's not that bad- easy to remember and very true.

Eerie, if you think about it..

[the SovieT]

to feel the fascist´s heart...
to rip it off and eat it raw..
to feel the pain..
of a homeless in the street..
its the new worlds desire..
of silk and golden dreams...
forged with bood and tears..
of a poor and dying man...
its the 4000 hungry children leaving us per hour..
and the mutilated youth from the sun rising scene..
its the new worlds order..
wanting law and protection..
geting rich by the hour..
and starving by the boarder..
its the minority...
living as a majority..
and the majority...
living as a piece of shit..
its exploitation..
its pain, hunger and fear..
its cruel reality..
its the new world...
but what is it to be?
taller than man..
bigger than me..
strong as a bull..
cute as a sheep..
kind as no one as been before...
is it god?
is it the devil?
no its the new world hope...
the union...
of the freeborn humanity...
the final push..
for a bether ending..
its the commies..
its not only love
more than love for the people...
its the hatred
the vengence..
the infinite justice of the masses..
that destroy the upper beings..
so rise people of all lands..
for we divide the glory!
we dont store the bread!
we divide it equaly..
so when the bourgeouse come...
they will find a united front of popular strenght..
Unite workers of all factorys and fields..
for exploitation ends when you want...
smash your patriarchy..
with your daily tools..
becuase we dont hide..
we fight until the end..
death is welcome..
everytime the stacato of the machineguns is heard..
and let it come..
slowly..
granting us a batle cry...
a unity hymn that will put us together..
but no...
this is not about death..
its life..
its hope!
its future..
its equality..
its a well planed future..
a humble yet mighty work..
the magnificent greatness of the peoples work..
.
.
.
why? becuase there is nothing superior than the term WORKING CLASS




(Edited by the SovieT at 1:23 am on May 2, 2003)

[the SovieT]

heheh my poems sound a lot bether when im drunk..

so drink some glasses of vodca before reading my shit wil ya?

[Dirty Commie]

Great poem Soviet

[the SovieT]

well thechnicly it isnt a poem its jsut a whole bunch of Bulshit rethorics...


but are you drunk? you arent alowed to speak unless you are drunk! :biggrin:

[Donut Master]

*Ahem* ... I'd like to present to you: CHEESE. A poem by Donut Master.


Cheese, cheese, what a wonderful thing.
Cheese is superior. Cheese is the king.

Cheese is great, and you can't deny,
Without cheese you would surely die.

Cheese has appeal, style and class.
Cheese will totally kick your ass.

Cheese over here, cheese over there.
Sometimes cheese is shaped like a square.

Cheese tastes good with crackers too.
I hate it when gum gets on my shoe.

Cheese is also über l337.
Cheese could walk if it had feet.

Somtimes it's wrapped in cellophane plastic.
Without out my cheese I will go spastic!

Refridgerate cheese so it won't go sour.
Fear the cheese's awesome power.

[Purple]

and just to depress people a bit;


black tears
from a person mourning
like it was the last day on earth
so scared of living and not be loved
so scared of loving but unable to live
afraid to run dry
her feelings deprived
hiding her own heart
trying to embrace the moment
but unable to express the light

it's a long way to heaven
and a short fall to hell

[the SovieT]

ITS J! ITS C! ITS JCP!


me and some cormades actually sang that once in a protest...

sad i know...

[Pete]

from the culdron,
that boiling pot,
seeps the essesne of this world.

long since persecuted,
never been caught,
death knocks now on the door.

the blood touches the ground
shinning without a sound
wind destroy the unbreakable.

in a moment,
a silent second,
this earth becomes a hearth.

How is that for random words off the top of my head with no structure intended?

[mentalbunny]

This isn't very good because I just wrote it, but I was so excited so I had to put it up here, what do you reckon it's about?!

Firm smooth skin
Supple but unyielding
Maybe just my conscience
But I don't want to sully your perfection
The temptation grows
And, as I run my lips over your perfect skin,
I can't resist
I open up
And engulf you bit by delicious bit.
Savouring the juice, the scent
So subtle yet so distincive.
Moments of passionate pleasure
Moments of tender joy
Exquisite ectasy when you're in me
But I want more
Closer, faster, slower, gentler
I reach your seed
And it's over
I fall back satisfied
And anticiapte the next encounter.

PM me if you think you know what it's about and I'll tell you if you're right, but you've got to promise not to give the game away by telling everyone!

(EDIT: Edited for typos)

(EDIT 2: Thanks felicia, I've changed it)

(Edited by mentalbunny at 4:25 pm on May 15, 2003)


(Edited by mentalbunny at 10:36 pm on May 15, 2003)

[Felicia]

hoolllllyyyy mother I love this poetry!!!!!

I can't write poetry, I try and it comes out like poo. I just don't have the right inspiration, either that or no inspiration will ever do.

Pete, you never cease to amaze me with your poetry, it's almost shocking! :o

[Felicia]

mentalbunny...... it seems a bit provocative... but yet, not trashy, but I noticed something.... shouldn't it be 'sully' rather than 'unsully'? I'm pretty sure that 'sully' means to spoil or make dirty... I'll look it up for sure :)

edit: yes, sully means to tarnish or spoil. but I LOVE the poem!!!!!!!!

edit: ps, I sent you a PM on what I think it's about.
(Edited by felicia at 1:46 pm on May 15, 2003)


(Edited by felicia at 1:51 pm on May 15, 2003)

[Purple]

With a smile on the lips
i greet you with a kiss
I will be on your side
for a couple of eternities and more
i hope that youll let me stay
and watch how you smile
i will wipe away your tears
i will hold you when youre down
i will be on your side
for a couple of centuries and more
.....


cant write more of this shit, its too depressing for me, ill just stick to the "darker" stuff............
and yeah i know it sucks...

the only one who manage to write romantic and still be the "king" is the PRINCE!

[Dirty Commie]

Damn creative people, I am the most un creative person in the world, amerikkkan society ruined my brain.

Damn it all.

I want to be poetic, my poetry sucks like britney spears.

[Pete]

And here I stand on the pillar of death...ahahahaha. Poems eh? I left my really good one at school. I didn't bring any homework home for the long weekend. Wait I have a pile beside my desk. I shall type one. Mwhahaha.


Focus In

The bloody knives forgive nothing,
They devouring crimson bones
Leaving only shards of destruction.

Dripping slowly, steadily,
Accumalating in a crystal goblet;
Salt water of the sacraficed
Dripping into the glass.

Peace be sorrow be life,
War be silence be god.
Slipping between the grasping fingers
As the butcher's knife falls.

Digits regenerate in a pool of blood,
Deformed and twisted they grow
Wrapping around the tear filled goblet.
Gulping down the bodies sea,
Twisting as life's poison sets in,
Corrupting the pure gills of death.

Music dancing across pianos,
Keys moving withouth a hand,
Eirry sounds of impending doom
Shower corruption from the humming cords
Engulfing civilization in its own flames.

Humanity flailing its arms in the air
Is pierced by the arrows of truth:
Nothing exists but what exists.
Creation is the power of the human mind,
Dream it in unsion and become it!
Life is in our hands,
So we destroy it.

Gardens bloom as the battle ends,
Scarlet water saturated the soil.
Flying upon a splintered haft,
Declaring intention to the world
The stained peace passes.

'Dont cry for me' the river says,
It will always flow forward
Towards the dawn's new horizon
And the boiling seas of sound.

Close the book and open the mind
Allow thought to flow,
On this new day a song is made
And destruction is created to be paid.



The creepy thing about this poem is how much it ties into my epic. Crazy shit, 54 pages so far. My mind is in its realm. This will become a cantos I can gaurantee it!

[Pete]

An old poem, I have so many...

Murderer Removed

-Of Course the burning will scar
-But, doctor, for how long?
-A few thousand years at the most.
-I want to make my mark forever though!

A debate over the scale of arrogance
To be burned into the thickest jungle,
To be seen from space.

-How many species will this destroy?
-Millions, atleast.
-But I want to kill billions!

Of such destruction,
Blood spilt for fame.
Look him in the eye-
Damn, he's just waiting to die!

[redstaruser]

excellent work in here everyone, keep up the good work! che lives!

[fascism101]

heres a poem

Take My Hand
Choke me with my own grip
Make me a victim of a tragedy
Halted fear and silenced screams

Breathing hard
And fearing the death that is coming upon me
IM drowning in sorrow
And I’m swallowed by confusion

Love was such a sacrament
But now its turned to a sin
Tyrant Kings of your soul
And corrupt queens of my heart
Are galloping through our love

Help myself turn away from this hate
Sleep until dawn
And be a nocturnal
Short lies, long explanations

See me with your infrared vision
Help me find myself in this forest of fiction
Lifeless leaves are the tears of the trees
We step on them
And the sadness is broken

[Pete]

This is how I feel about now (the poem is about a month and a bit old from when we had authors come in and read to us and we had to right a 'literary landscape' let me just say people did not expect this in 15 minutes)

I am Overcome

Reaching forever to the golden sun,
Crisp green leaves gently blow in the wind.
Shadows dance along the lush undergrowth.
Blue berries, forcing their way through last season’s leaves,
Grace the wooded field in clusters.

Standing on an outstretched limb,
Grasping for the other cliff,
I watch the sun slowly fall over the valley;
Darkness tucks the vale to sleep.

Turning my back to the broken rock wall,
That separates me from civilization
By a few hours walk,
I step into nature’s heart.

As darkness encompasses the hill,
As the cape of silence closes around,
I lay down far from the berry clusters;
This is the domain of bears.

Dusk progresses to the dead of night.
Sleep ushers conscious thought away
Until, again, the sun comes to play,
And blinding light drives my dreams away.

I awake rested at first dawn,
Standing high between the trees,
Trails jump alive before my eyes,
Piercing deep into the living woods.

I stand again on the branch,
Leaning over the deadly fall,
Below lies civilization,
Encroaching on this sacred wood.

My soul is torn between two pillars,
And now I walk the rope between.
Forever waiting for the buffoon to come
And for Zarathustra to bury me in a tree.

I walk away from the depths of the wood,
The heart of the North,
The grace of Mizephezhue.
Carefully I trace my way down
Into the valley of Man.

Rocks give way beneath my feet
Sending me down at breakneck speed.
Safety comes with an anchor of a sapling,
Holding my weight, regaining my balance.

Carefully I trace my steps slowly downhill,
And now my eyes view the ascent
Up to the apex of salvation,
But I turn my back and force forward
To an outpost of cursed civilization.

[commieboy]

here we go umm yeah i have a thing...all my poems have to rhyme

You're standing alone with your few comrades
and Reminisce of games as lads,
hold you fingers as a gun, say, POW POW and you're done.
those days have passed and you've all grown, you're the only one who's fears shown.through the the uniform you all wear and you turn in a dead stare. you may win and you may die and as you face the enemy you must cry, "I fight for what i belive in and what i belive is true! WATCH OUT MOTHER FUCKER THIS BULLETS FOR YOU!!!!

Go ahead and laugh...... or call me a total dickhead....both will work

[Pete]

Shades of Joy

Sipping on the sorrows of yesterday-
A new dawn, a new blade, a time to play;
Just sipping on the sorrows of yesterday-
With a new dawn, a new blade, it's time to play.

Walking around the winding roads,
Stepping over the bloody rows.
Silence boils in their gut-
The dark eye begins to shut.

Frequenting lives long lost,
Slowly accumulating in the dusk.
Dark clouds rising overhead-
A flash of steel, some Guards drops dead.

Forks surge forward in rage,
Striking like a lion released from its cage-
The forces shake the ground,
Muting screams all around.

Apart from life; Apart from death,
Standing defiantly on the King's steps
A shattered whisper fills the air-
Eyes locked forward towards the stairs.

A knife protrudes from a chest-
One blade, one lust, this display isn't a jest;
Black earth touched by crimson gold
Limp bodies make spirits burn cold.

Forcefully slashing down
A new rage seeps through town:
Sacrificing a day old creed,
Burning violence begins to feed.

Old dreams, new lies, fire falls from the skies,
Fears rise up as death rains from a high.
With tortured shouts this dance is over;
Cloaked daggers flee, returning to their cover.

Amid this round of civil death,
A baby wakes and takes its first breath-
Only to see its mother die-
This babe has no time to cry.

Sipping on the sorrows of yesterday-
A new dawn, a new blade, a time to play;
Just sipping on the sorrows of yesterday-
With a new dawn, a new blade, it's time to play.

[commieboy]

With the dead comrades in their fatigues, no one knows what they've done is planted seeds. one man falls but three arise, with dreams of liberty glazing their eyes. they left with hopes and dreams, until the screams, of utter pain, the flowing blood from the wounded vain. the dreams of running through the jungle, doesnt seem too humble, now that your friends are dead and you're all alone, all you can do now is fight to the death for your home.

[Pete]

It is easier to read poems if they are divided into lines/stanzas commie boy, but the rhyming is good:) Something I cannot do..Written today:

Cataract

A caressing thought screams over depleted consciousness,
Yet the deaf minions of commercial maintenance act like nothing is amiss.
Arching my back into the deafening storm,
Bracing from the pacific militant norm
Chains clang from a human factory
Turning individuals into toxic social batteries.

Shovelling the peat into the stove,
Watching the living worms squirm and burn.
Screaming like a virgin sheet of paper
Being raped by the black sword of words
Corrupted beneath a secret saviour,
Which forever seeks to install a mind filter.

So passages bend along the great line,
Not one artificially straight,
But the imperfectly perfect bend of the tree.
Slitting the throat of yesterday
From the dream of a present time
We progress deeper into the killing fog,
Bleeding new life from old bones and logs.

Whispers. Screams…Deafness.
No, only invisible tears,
Burning, always burning, the eyes that refuse to see
In a body flinching from lack of rest,
A mind dying from lack of use.
Forget this peace of the self
And branch off like the tree;
Living together and creating the trails.

Yet not everyone perceives.

[commieboy]

sorry about that, i did notice that...like right before i read your post....

The stars the stripes the blazing blue, hard to blieve non of it's true. We're not free until the day where we're all equal black white or gay.

We fight for liberty or soy they say, i'll bow my head in dismay, we kill the old the young and all between, they're not people they're a threat to the green. the green in the pocket of every texan, the green stolen from the mexican, who labors till death in the fields, and even in old age the effort never yeilds.

I live in a country full of lies and hate, in the sixties we decided integrate, but still in the south they segragate. it took us only about a hundred and fity years to end the slavery, but a black man cant enter a store, with all eyes on him when he gets to the door.

My country bombs for money, anything that will make that metal colored like honey. we're ran by some rednecks, who send men into battle, to slaughter innocents like cattle. while he rides high in his political saddle. payed by the citizens who have no say in the government these days, all we get are delays on our electoral college, made to elect people withouth the knowlege of the mistakes yet to come, the economical downfall has just begun.

[Pete]

Sealed Funnel

Passing over the flooding river
As it angrily surges across the tame plains
Scarring the painted face of the land.
Deepness purging a peace of blood,
Letting loose the scarlet tears
Of a black dead field.

Sleep in the silent door,
Hide from the bleaching stars,
Which reach down into a sea of tears:
The bloody veils of tomorrow.

Blind shots ring in false peace across the field.
Devoid of life, nothing falls,
Except a comet as it carves a crater,
Peeling away the Mother’s skin,
Scarring forever this painted field.

“Stop!” She screams to no avail.
A hammer is falling, and she is a nail.
Repetitious harmony
Slamming again and again
And now the plank splits in half.

Fire leaps from a shattered world
Filling this empty void with unrestrained heat
That eats deeper towards the inner prize.

Fight, oh fight, and never give up
It is the secret that is lost that is kept.
Now only silence lives.

[suffianr]

Here's a link to an old article, it's non-political, though:

http://www.spark-online.com/issue33/rahman.html

Tell me what you think...

[Urban Rubble]

The world is slowly rotting
From the core to the surface
Who would've though it'd come to this

As a child I was sure
My country was doing the right thing
Ah the ingnorance, of a young childs brain

I never looked around
I never second guessed
But I read some foreign books now I'm always depressed

The world is going to shit
It's tearing itself down
Because the leaders of the superpowers are a bunch of fucking clowns

Dropping bombs killing soldiers
In the name of democracy
A made up free world the dead would never get to see

Democracy is a sham
So is our freedom
Too bad so many joined, I think we could've beat em

Why should we care ?
The dead babies we never see
But they're all a result of our foreign policy

Build a bomb let it fly
At the slightest sign of aggression
The threat is just a way to justify oppression

What will you do ?
Stand up and fight ?
Or keep sitting idle while the bombs drop at night

I could keep writing forever
But I want to go smoke
But just keep in mind, democracy's a joke



I just wrote that while sitting here. Ya I know, it's not very good but I just wanted to write something to contribute.

[Sasafrás]

Something published in the school paper that I wrote in order to encourage my classmates to take part in the political process...

For most teens, the eighteenth birthday is one of the biggest events of life. After all, eighteen-year-olds are considered adults and they can get tattoos and body piercings without needing parental consent, they can get an unrestricted driver's license, and they can go to certain places and buy certain things (I'm sure you know to which places and things I am referring) freely without having to bother with mom and pops. But most of us teenagers think that these are the only "important" things that we can do once that eighteenth birthday hits and we often fail to remember that we can also become registered voters.

Many adults who actually care about politics are thoroughly convinced that we as a generation have no concern whatsoever for who is in any political office and that we surely have no concern for who is the president. We should prove them wrong. We have all heard that old cliché: “If you don’t vote, you can’t complain.” Perhaps you have also heard that if you do vote, you can’t complain because you’re the one responsible for putting the, according to the politically conscious, “idiots” in office. Taking both of those ideas into consideration, we as future voters should register to vote as soon as possible and then watch the news, read the newspapers, and do all the possible research so that we will be able to make sensible decisions about the men and women who are going to be leaders in our city, state, and country. The election of leaders is a very important process. Even within the school, many students “don’t feel like” voting for student council or class officers; however, I am not surprised because, disturbingly, many adults do not even get off of their couches and easy-chairs to go vote. “Oh, no!” they say. “I can’t miss Passions or any of my other soaps!” Can they not, for just one day, set the VCR and put on a pair of sweatpants and one of their many family reunion T-shirts, drive up to a school or church and vote? It’s not that difficult. I pose that same question to us. In just a few years, we will be the adults, and hopefully, we will not be like those lazy adults of today who refuse to miss their favorite television shows and therefore do not vote.

Time is drawing nigh. In 2004, our country will be electing a new president. It is hard to believe that it has been almost four years since the United States “elected” George W. Bush. We cannot truly say that things would have been different if we had another person as president, but we cannot be sure unless we could go back in time and see how different things would be with Al Gore or Ralph Nader in office. But so much has happened since Bush was inaugurated. We as a nation have gone through the tragic events of September 11, 2001, war with Afghanistan, continuous searching for the elusive Osama Bin-Laden, and thoughts of war with Iraq and diplomacy with North Korea. Again, I go back to the statement made previously: It is imperative that we made wise decisions about our country’s leaders.

In addition to taking time out to register and to vote regularly, we should remember not make our political decisions based on those of our family and friends. The best way that we can show our independence is by making decisions with our own minds and hearts. When we go out and vote for who we want to lead our country, we should think about many things. In order to prevent tragedies similar to that of September 11, we should try to elect officials who will not abuse their power, who have peace in mind, and who have good ideas concerning foreign policy. Furthermore, we should think about other important issues such as social security. We may not be old right now, but we will be and we should not have to dread becoming elderly. We are already adults! Think about it.

As we look forward, or even back, to our eighteenth birthdays, we need to remember that we may have been waiting restlessly for the opportunity get that tattoo, piercing, or “big-boy” license, but that in addition to getting those things out of the way, we also need to make sure that we go out and register to vote. That is the first step in becoming a responsible citizen. During present times in the United States, only slightly more than fifty percent of eligible people vote in national presidential elections. Only just about twenty-five percent of eligible voters take part in congressional elections during years with no presidential election. Let’s try to bring those numbers up. It is very important that we do so. Our future and our nation’s future are at stake.

[Sasafrás]

"Fuck You"

*****
I'll get a blade
and slice your fucking face
Don't piss me off
I'm an angry black *****
with a gun
And I will shoot your ass
Die,
You pussy-ass sucka
Man, you're lucky you're a teacher
Because
if you weren't
Yo' ass
Would be doomed.



"Vogelfanger"

Mood-Personality
Disorder(s).
"I'm going to bump up

Your dosage from 25 to 50 mg,"
Said Doctor
"See you in a month"


"Friday Night Special"

"The Revolution"
Proudly sponsored by
GAP,
Old Navy, and
Tommy Hilfiger.
Kept alive by contributions from
Cappies like you.
And now –
OUR FEATURE PRESENTATION


"Absolutely Not"

Channel 12, no
Channel 7, no
Channel 5?
No
Not there either…
So,
What channel is it coming on?
What? The Revolution?
Oh, no, my brothas and sistas!

The Revolution ain’t coming on that
there
Television
Get your ass off that couch.


"Dios"

This is some pure stuff
Like that shit they’ve got
In Afghanistan… You know,
Those poppies.
This shit’ll take you high,
To Heaven, even…
"So, what is this called again?"
Religion
The Opium of the
People


"Sertaline"

ZOLOFT; like candy
Type A Personality
Emancipate me

"Dear Kris Kringle"

Fuck you!
Was I always a
Naughty girl, santa sir?
You never came down my chimney.
You never gave me a keyboard, any Easy Bake
Refills, a CD, a TV, VCR, or
Happiness...
What, is my little house in the cove
Not on your path? Are you not
My saviour, santa sir?

[CubanFox]

Communism is not evil
Communism is this. Communism is that. It is all one hears when they look into socialism or communism or whatever it may be relating to left winger politics. Right wingers say that communism is a monstrous system of slavery where a single political party runs the show and political dissenters are sent to gulags in the Siberian tundra. This is rubbish. Why? Because communism has never really existed! The ideas of Marx and Engels have never been put into correct practice, except perhaps briefly during the Paris Commune of the 1870s and the very early stages of the Russian Revolution that destroyed the Russian Empire brought ¡¥communism¡¦ to country in 1917. I hear you say ¡§if communism has never existed, how come there was the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics and the assorted other People¡¦s Republics?¡¨ Why? Because those countries practised the worst system of government ever devised. Stalinism. Stalinism is the monstrous system that most people mistake communism for. It was started by the most wicked man ever to grace the Earth, Josef Stalin, the moustached ruler of the USSR from 1926 till his death in 1953. During his rule, he began massive purges of the army, the government and the people, because he was terrified of being overthrown. His secret police, Cheka, rooted out and either killed or exiled anyone who was suspected of badmouthing Josef. Those exiled face a grim time ¡¥counting trees¡¦, as the Russians put it, in Siberia. The gulag system, that is, the labour camps for dissidents, was in full working order until the late 1980s! Josef had only one redeeming quality: his iron will kept the Soviet Union together during WWII. But otherwise he created the most evil governmental system ever to be put into practise. Millions dead because of old Joe¡¦s paranoia. The Warsaw Pact was nothing but a Stalinist bully tactic. Keep the population stupid, keep your satellite nations in the palm of your hand. The following countries have been touched by the evils of Stalinism (old names used where appropriate):
East Germany
Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics
China
North Korea
Romania
Bulgaria
Yugoslavia
Albania
Hungary
Poland
Czechoslovakia
Vietnam
Laos

http://www.history.uiuc.edu/steinb/219images/Stalin-Lenin.jpg
Stalin (right) with Lenin. Before he died, Lenin, father of the Russian Revolution, acknowledged that Stalin was dangerous and strongly advised against him ever getting any position of power in the USSR. Unfortunately, his advice was not heeded. This photo is a forgery made during Stalin's reign to make it seem as if the two got on well together.

Well...I've written an article. It wouldn't be good for a socialist paper; everyone who reads those is not going to need to know that communism is not evil. What should I do with it? Print it and post it around town?

[Purple]

my heart starts to cry
everytime you say goodbye
tears running down your face
i know what you're feeling
cause i can see it in your eyes
everytime you start to weep
everytime i cause you harm
i feel like falling to the ground
like punching myself till i bleed
and cause open wounds
and cut my eyes out to lock out the pain

[mentalbunny]

Shayla...I'm stunned. Wow. Can I print those out and put them on my wall? I'm in awe...

[Sasafrás]

Quote: from mentalbunny on 3:57 pm on June 10, 2003
Shayla...I'm stunned. Wow. Can I print those out and put them on my wall? I'm in awe...Awww, thanks... Sure! :)

[Corvus Corax]

Afeard that bravery will fall
Unable to tell time from the sun
The only tales that are told are tall
Living only for the age of fun

Walking but unable to run
Like talking but unable to love
Is like a spiders web spun
Around to encase the dove

If all is fair, then what is all?
I want to meet it
Perhaps we could play metaphorical ball
And why life tells fairness to beat it

Perhaps on the sea of blood
Where all hearts are forged from ore
Whether of gold, steel or of mud
The outlook is murky, but fills us with awe

The anxiety for lifes lost goal
The suspence of the purpose
The mortality of a newborn foal.
Echos in its surplus

A trickle of sea escapes the forge
Cold down the side of a face
Like an avalanche down a vertical gorge
Death tumbles to chase

When words that are mouthed fit
All is lost
Lost is a trivial bit
Slipery like morning frost

Whats lost can be found
Then all is found
But all is fair
So don’t dispair

The change of rhythm
Is back to beat
The drum of rhythm
Is by your feet

From rhythm the trickle of sea remains
Still cold running down mortals’ head
And all coldness burns in jealous flames
Only to be rekindled before the dead

[scott thesocialist]

Platonic Love
The Best Love There Ever Is
The Love That Doesn't Exist.

[Pete]

A bit old. From my second "generation" of poems. I am on my fourth/fifth now. There is a noticable difference between each. The Fifth is my epic, the fourth are just the normal lengthed things that I do from time to time

Red Drips

I am trapped
Drowning on the poisoned oxygen
It is tainted by the filth around me
Chocking for breath
Those suitably corrupted scream
“Get back to work slime”
I raise my fist in defiance
The other workers all around
Begin to frown from the ground
Where they lay in the toxins
Eating them, becoming them

Against a wall
In the future
In the past
It has happened once
It will again
Before the gangrene
Settles in
The open wounds from the whips
Thorn whips of injustice
Are infected in the filth
I fight for consciousness
As the fever rises
I collapse on the ground
Darkness all around

In a valley under the trees
Gently flowing light welcomes me
The sound of many birds
Are barely heard
As the stream to my side
Passes quickly by
People from hovels
Run out to greet me
My people, I realize
We are communal
The new human
Red seeps from beneath my eyelids

Vision fades
Hopes destroyed
A bullet in the head
Ruins dreams before they end.

[Pete]

Excuse the grammar I'm too lazy to fix it tonight.

A silent air fills the void-
Forcing and pushing in a shattering noise-
Light reaches deep into the wind
And is devoured before its curse can begin.

The dawn rises now so awake;
Make this a story for others to make.
A building tension is in the air.
Forces crawling up the stairs.

Hide and live forever,
Or stand and die tonight.
Choices fly as the darkness falls,
Decisions ferment in the mind.

The bright death grazes my eyes,
Slowly I slip down the slide.
Falling endlessly and then I'm there,
Sitting upon a throne in the air.

Sheperds hail with a dark whisper:
"Run now or you will become dinner!"
Laughing I am frozen in place,
And a tiger leaps from inside the lake.

Its vicious claws go for my throat.
I bleed endlessly across the grass.
Sickly laughing to my self
I murmur: "At last."

[Felicia]

pete, it looks like you've been getting visits from the thought bubble fairy!


hehehe

[anti machine]

here goes. I wrote this one after reading Poe very heavily. the style is rather archaic...but i like it:

A GLANCE INTO THE ROOM OF YOUTH

In some dim hallway of my mind
An open door before me stands
Inside, a sight so frightening
I cannot cease my trembling hands.

A ghastly specter, like a face,
Etched so crudely in the wall.
It seems that I've been here before
To watch these cracks before me crawl.

The features are unknown to me
This dim reflection like a shroud
Set in a state of anguished fear
A lonely voice amidst a crowd.

Its eyes, if one could call them that,
Stare icy red from out the stone.
Like demons they torment my soul.
I realize they are my own.

The mouth, in wretched, twisted rage
Sneers and shows a bloody tongue
It licks its lips, as if to taste
A passion which compels the young.

Then the beleaguered creature speaks
The words I uttered long ago
It screams, "to whom will this cry reach?
To whom should I my angst bestow?"

The echo lingers, disappears
The thing contorts its face in pain
And with a final gasp of breath
Whispers chillingly my name.

I dare not linger here, for I,
A man so weathered by the years
Will only sit and gaze 'til death
Upon this ghost born from my tears.

[ÑóẊîöʼn]

Not enough stories people!

Here's my attempt at fiction:

RED FLAG OVER BRITAIN

Carl Connor thought back to those crazy days of the Early Revolution, the years in which both King William and Prime Minister Emily Chadwick had been assassinated, when BNP posses roamed the streets looking for ethnics and communists to hang and the police cowered in their armoured vehicles afraid of the massed anger of working people.
Nowadays the fighting was running battles with religious fundamentalists and firefights with the occasional fascist sect.
But work was far from over. After the fundies and fascists had been swept away, the country's infrastructure would need to be repaired, power stations started up again, factories oiled and ready to make things again, and for the population in general to calm down.
"Fascist attack!" came the rallying cry, breaking Carl from his reverie. There were no orders or commands issued here though; once the warning was given everybody was an individual.
Grabbing an AutoRifle given to him by an older comrade, Carl risked a glance out the 2nd floor window. He could clearly see the fascists, advancing amateurishly down the street in a haphazard military fashion.
Drawing a bead on a fascist crouching behind a steel drum, Carl squeezed the trigger and was rewarded a with a whip-like crack from his AutoRifle and the sight of the fascist being hurled backwards from the impact.
That was the sign for everyone else to start shooting, and bursts of fire from assault rifles, SMGs and Uzis filled the air.
Focusing on another target, Carl selected a Luger-armed fascist lying behind some clinkers, but before he could pull off a shot the windowframe next to him erupted in a shower of plaster dust and noise.
Ducking below the sill, Carl hastily checked his ammunition. 15 rounds. Enough for this battle, and he might be able to scavenge ammo off the fascists when they were defeated.
All of a sudden there was a dull thump and a whoosh.
That sounded like a grenade, thought Carl, but was it theirs or ours?.
Cocking his weapon, Carl got up and peered out the window; there weren't many fascists left; they had obviously been counting on the element of surprise over numbers. Oh well, the never learn, thought Carl.
Looking down his scope, he saw the last fascist legging it down the street. 'You have two hopes, and one of them plays golf.' said Carl aloud. 'Bob Hope,' He steadied his aim. 'and no hope' he finished, squeezing the trigger. The target's head erupted in a spray of blood.

--------------------

I might consider continuing this if you guys like it.

[suffianr]

Make it into Anime, it sounds something like the intro to Ghost in the Shell.

[commieboy]

Written with a broken heart, sniffle sniffle

oh what i'd give for that one single person who could read my mind,know what i love and what i hate. someone who will appreciate everything im good at and everyting i do, i wish i had someone, someone like you. you're beautiful smart and everything i need, you care when i cry and listen when im in need, you tell me if my hair looks good or bad. you have no fear what of me getting mad, cause i know its you, just being who, you are. that girl that i love, my one unweavering star. i love you, if only you knew who, this was to.

[Purple]

that was moving:)....

[commieboy]

thanks dude...see getting dumped has its upsides! when you write a poem the other chicks eat it all up!
and boredom is a positive factor in the creative process

fuck off!
Get the fuck out of my face,
Get the fuck in your place
Dont say a fucking word
I've never fucking heard
Someone say that fucking word
So many fucking times
Reading so many fucking lines
Of that word that causes so much fucking pain
so much fucking strain
For a fucking seven letter word
That drives you fucking insane

[joanofarch]

THE BEST POEM EVER!

(preface: This is the First and Only poem i've ever written. I think poetry is gay.)

The Fox and Tha Toad.

The noble toad
Has a noble home
Carved of cobble stone,
Bounded by bone
And this is home
To the noble toad
His sanctuary; his abode

But the fearless fox
Knows not this
For he is ignorant
And ignorance is bliss
So he takes his stroll
As is always done
Oblivious to what carnage is soon to come

For on that stroll
amid the pompous plain
The fox lost control
he became insane:

[Inadvertently,
With seldom certainty;
The fox began to rile
His grin grew grim
His pupils slewed dim
And he destroyed the Toad’s domicile.]

The toad
Although stripped of his pride
Stripped of his livelihood
With no where else to reside
Decides but to even the score
Motivated by madness;
Goaded by gore

So he grasped a rock
Not pausing to mull
And without that sliver of dither
He smashed and bashed the Fox skull

Red was the blood
The blood that was shed
Dead is the fox
The fox is now dead

No glory, only gore
Goes this story of spite
The moral:
Two wrongs don’t make a right.













(Edited by joanofarch at 9:41 am on July 26, 2003)

[Pete]

Poetry is not &#39;gay&#39; for two reasons. 1) your use of gay is clearing meant to be derogitory and offensive and 2) it is not limited to the homosexual community...


Anyways, this is one of the poems I wrote while away. I am also experimenting in &#39;british&#39; humour.

Bamboo Whisperings

Emblazoned hours wait
For a time to end
Again since they tend
To begin
Yet are forced to end

Sleeping, wrapped in warmth
As the patient watches
Stricken with worry for
Her observer.
In this silence
Breathes are not taken,
But exchanged.

No wiper can clean
This sorrow away
Because the sun already has.


Now guess what that was about....

[dirtyd6969]

[FONT=Arial]
WHAT DOES AMERICA STAND FOR?
Assimilation
terrorisM
grEed
bRutality
lIes
hypoCrisy
hAte

[Purple]

bleeding the feelin
fearin the darin
excecuting
the matter of evolvement
no way to slip away
no point in average days
we need a revoltuion
no time for excecution
bleed for some compassion

no matter the satisfaction

wheres the feeling of compassion
say that racism doesnt matter
keeping love just in the family
is wrong for you, and your children
hang around for pity is stupidity
keep emotions strong
but dont offer negativity
feel the love of the earth
and the hatred of the races will soon be in another phases

[Crypticchronoclasm]

New to this forum but here is my poetry




Rise
Think of the children whose bodies litter the ground.
Their mothers lie over them, while our government supply the rounds.
Their cries of sorrow and grief fill the air.
While our leaders stand by and divide their share

The new world order defends its cause.
Their leaders speak to rounds of applause.
The war on terror, all in its name.
Our loss of freedom its all the same.

We give up our freedoms our rights our lives.
We ignore the truth and accept the lies.
What will we do when our rights are gone?
Divided, no future, no hope no one.

Stand up and be counted say not in my name.
Together we can stop those who are to blame.


and from My DAD

Requiem

The clock ticks away all the hours.
The photos are ragged and brown.
Is that really me looking young feeling free?
And marching my hopes into town.

The times they were for changing.
The day of destruction was near.
The older ones told us
And we sang songs that we longed to hear

We danced in the cool water fountain.
We danced with the blind and the lame.
We thought we were making a difference.
We did not dream things would stay the same.

So where did the beautiful people
Put all their beautiful things
The visions they carried on banners & signs
And the songs they all used to sing

And now you come knocking on my door.
Telling me its Jesus who saves.
But for two thousand years there’s been nothing but tears.
And white crosses to plant on the graves.


[email protected]