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Offlinelsdank268
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14722404 - 07/05/11 08:22 PM (12 years, 6 months ago)

Posted these in another thread, wasn't getting any input, thought I would post it here instead.

I took a poetry class...here are some of mine:

This was my personal favorite, had to write a Haiku the first day for homework and recite it for the class so here it is:

Oh no, that was due?
I completely forgot it.
Oh wait, here it is. :wink:

Poem about a hustler on public transportation:


That’s What They Were There For by lsdank268

Maybe, since your something like me,
You would have knew the scam like the back of your hand,
The old man sits down on the bus and whips out cups and a tiny red ball,
Asking for players, he shows his game; the terminal attraction begins
When a women offers him her money, and doubles it by simply keeping her eye on the ball;
Another person raises the stakes, and triples his investment as the bus watches on,
The trap is set;
A young man throws his green currency onto the lap of the old man, and thinks he has this puzzle solved,
The man grabs the money, no intention of giving it back and begins his flirtation with crime,
Flipping his tools furiously moving them faster than before, the boy losing the fiery red dot in the fast flurry of action,
The old man is Judge, Jury, and Executioner; King of this castle,
Beating him in his land would be insubordination, breaking his laws,
Maneuvering his red secrets cup to cup, stopping on the dime putting pressure on the boy to guess right;
The young man points surely at the middle cup to find it filled with nothing but regret;
The boy, green in mind and complexion, watches out the window as the old man exit’s the bus,
cups in one hand, money in the other,
And he looks on as the previous two winners accept a share of cash from the con artist,
Gleefully high-fiving at another successful day, another successful hustle.

Just a randomness poem:

Keep Calm

“Keep Calm”
The odd smell of cotton candy keeps me awake at night.
Extra-Sharp Cheddar and English Pale Ale go well with this soup while
watching Touch of Evil for the first time in HD, not paying much attention,
still pondering where the robins nest on your ledge went.
Playing moon themed songs during a Werewolf themed party planned months
ago. Living life day-to-day, planning only the spontaneous. Timothy Leary
waiting at a bus stop, handing out gifts to people passing by. One hundred trillion
neutrinos passing through every inch of your body, every single second.
“Try not to scream”
Trust fund husbands, each showing off their trophy wives, each one
more plastic than the last but who’s to say who the real trophy is?
Like a left-handed catcher, blue lobsters are rare. The greatest rodeo clown
in fact wasn’t a clown, but a small spider monkey, howling its lullabies
to the bull, calming it’s rage. Like the jungle to a house cat,
this world is unfamiliar, but strangely comfortable.

And one more...have a lot of short stories also if anyone is interested.

The Warning

I came to myself in the middle of the night, before my end and after I saw it begin.
My eyes blinked, my body stirred. Nothing was in the room but me, and me again.
I asked myself what I was doing,  why I was here. After all, I'm not used to that.
The answer I received was a warning-- to me or the world I still don't know.
I never called it an apocalypse, but I made it pretty clear what I had to do.
Or had to not do. It was all a simple mistake, but isn't it always?
I tell myself “Don’t answer the phone on August 25th, 2022. And don’t you dare cook that catfish.”
My words reverberate around my head like an interminable animal bleat.
I’m not the one currently speaking, and that means I'm not aloud to ask questions. And I have so many questions.
I tell myself I must listen carefully, because the world’s future depends on me.
I burn the date into my head, a scar across the brain, a mark upon my life.
Again and again. August 25th, 2022. August 25th, 2022.
Then I was gone, and then I was back. This time, I was a little different though.
I ask myself about why I returned-- I don't expect an answer to that either.
I tell myself that coming back just created a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Knowing the date did nothing for the world, not one bit.
In fact, the world still changed at my hands, on that same day, but without the phone or catfish.
Without the date etched across my head.
I'm not one for taking risks. I look at myself as I pull the knife
from out of my back pocket. “What are you doing?”
I ask myself. I look as scared as I do determined. Our face is inhuman at this point.
I feel the knife pierce the flesh of my abdomen, and I slowly began to
disappear, for if I die today, I do not live tomorrow.
What can I say, I'd been warned. I had a world to save, after all.


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


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Registered: 04/21/10
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: lsdank268]
    #14724924 - 07/06/11 09:58 AM (12 years, 6 months ago)

la di da
way out in the distence
prince of persial way to far
bite like lesson one was a jam jar
a brief explenation why its an abrieviation
if this meant crops where laced in by tracktors
are we at the raptor velocity to crap this?

the don to mack this just smiled at fat chicks
clap clap know the budget buddy, catch hatricks
knomes are magic like phones are tradgic
if rome rose back would we be spastic?

glowing like a firefly
im not at that stat fact is im the guy to dine
finger foods due too bloom, fry mine
i pile in the rice like crime


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14725009 - 07/06/11 10:27 AM (12 years, 6 months ago)

what a shuffled deck of dracs to sheeth this
keep grief untill peek free steaple leaks
drenched from harrys problematic adict drooled fragile
grade four got on well with the mournda stile
awe, thats the jaw dropping doll id like to dile

nothing terrible ever happens to bag this
glad wrap over the stag dragon kids
lagging from the fibre option
locked wheel knot the crash shat jocked pigs

tired of the agro shop lift a crab sigs
snap the ribs and spit on aiding
fading adam, coz haze is gathering
chelsea simian lucy roots mee

spoon mans in a crew of computer cooties


Edited by Crumpet (07/06/11 10:30 AM)


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. *DELETED* [Re: Crumpet]
    #14725737 - 07/06/11 12:49 PM (12 years, 6 months ago)

Post deleted by Crumpet

Reason for deletion: .



--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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Invisiblewondercat
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Registered: 07/25/10
Posts: 476
Loc: Flag
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14729695 - 07/07/11 02:44 AM (12 years, 6 months ago)

swimming in a masquerade
we're too preoccupied to see
the possibilities
and journeys unexpected
from seemingly reckless
to officially unplanned
perhaps our guard
is keeping us surround-
ed by twists and turns
until we begin to recognize
the imaginary boundaries
which we are so accustomed
to perceive
before our eyes
get a demure shot
at a liquid state of mind
which is in no way confined
when you take into account
the chaos that is about
to organize itself


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


it truly is an illusion- your senses are just perceiving the varying vibrations in different ways- its holography; a representation.

"Nothing" is easy - Mooji


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Offlinebrasattva
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Registered: 07/07/11
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Cloudwatching [Re: wondercat]
    #14735614 - 07/08/11 10:38 AM (12 years, 6 months ago)

A storm is coming.
But I shall sit beneath the culminating clouds,
though I know my fate is cold, and water-logged
A storm is coming.
But I will bask for a moment longer in the warmth of the sun
that is slowly disappearing behind nimbus clouds
A storm is coming.
But I can't seem to stir from the comfort of the grass
even if its touch will leave an everlasting mark on my skin
A storm is coming.
But I know that my eyes will not leave the picture painted across the sky
of white, slowly transforming into something more
A storm is coming.
But I am afraid that the beauty of the moment will be forgotten
for I am the only one who has witnessed it.

A storm is coming.

And as I sit upon the curvature of umbrellas
I tilt my head back and open my lips


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


I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar.


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InvisibleEarth Child


Registered: 12/16/10
Posts: 3,473
Re: Cloudwatching [Re: brasattva]
    #14753510 - 07/11/11 08:41 PM (12 years, 6 months ago)



--------------------
Life is too short for this sorrow. You may be here today and gone tomorrow.


My Poetry · Stay Informed · Recipes · Nature Wants Us to Trip


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Offlinecircastes
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Re: Cloudwatching [Re: Earth Child]
    #14760200 - 07/12/11 11:29 PM (12 years, 6 months ago)



--------------------
My solitude...
My shield...
My armour...

TESTED
WITH
FULL
FORCE


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InvisibleEarth Child


Registered: 12/16/10
Posts: 3,473
Re: Cloudwatching [Re: circastes]
    #14762795 - 07/13/11 02:05 PM (12 years, 6 months ago)

Hey, thanks alot for reading it. There's more to come :smile:


--------------------
Life is too short for this sorrow. You may be here today and gone tomorrow.


My Poetry · Stay Informed · Recipes · Nature Wants Us to Trip


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Re: Cloudwatching [Re: Earth Child]
    #14769928 - 07/14/11 09:29 PM (12 years, 6 months ago)

wise men three
all above board
naught to the broad sword thing
mingling with a chief
id claw the ruaght of shelled sightings
yet so sid jet row know kid
kill kill kill
die die die
i wasn't having it up to procreate this blasphamy
ask why why why
elaberate as this
your highness in the line of fire
sickle these three
now ask me
where in hells the driver
who pulled the plug
stewart presure cooker high diver

the truth i seek not long forgotten
chicken wire
check the tire
hole punch abrieviation
grieve you malice men
i'll stick it up your challice then

die die die
coz pros that rose fall
why why why


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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Offlinecircastes
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Re: Cloudwatching [Re: Crumpet]
    #14791081 - 07/19/11 07:32 AM (12 years, 6 months ago)

http://noise-distillery.deviantart.com/#/d3n9ii5
Psky
by ~noise-distillery

Off we go and we are pacing... across the room, back and forth in front of the fire, and my legs aren't warm. Why aren't they warm? I can't seem to warm them, it seems impossible, it IS impossible! My legs are frozen to the bone, frozen in a throne. I seat myself here, in the parable of heights – call my name, it merely welcomes a vacant stare. I am busy reciting within: here goes nothing, here goes nothing. Over and over, it speaks me sober, until at last the day breaks and I collapse into the newly lit pillow and stumble into dreams forgotten already, but destined to break through. Wind and waft, here they come the silly little mice, three times thrice, all in all a grey matter expansion across my floor as if brains had become pestilence. Never did the night shine brightly, and in my bed my pillow grips tightly, but in this mess I watch my mind undress, and she covers her breast – and gasps with not undue zest! I am not permitted to seek deeper, only I must stay at the gate, she will meet me here one day. So I wait. Eons pass, and still broken feet at my glass, winter trees whisper frozen diligence against the weather which has ripped my soul to tether, so at the gate I wait. The hinges spit rage, the snow greets slowly, a pathetically raised hand. Hello there! Thoughts are no longer thawed out, instead they simmer. The perch of my mistress mind seated above so high, the great eagle awatch over the psyche sky. All is white, and the fragile fractals slithering down the air tunnels all around call for beastly malcontent. I cannot stay here longer, my eyes sting, my fingertips, merely able to burn the sun raw. When will she shriek, when will it come, when will I nestle back by the fire and recite my hideous words inside again, oh, the agony, the beautiful sweet agony, how it contrasts so wonderfully with my snow-sown gate, the gate, at which I wait.

Yonder the never call back the sweet high cliff mane, as if sound were just a parable all at my feet so neat, I come to flux the irradiated never clean fray, suited day by day, and here I rest, here I clay, never will the wisp my day. Shining bright never the might, and how did it come to be that I am so clean in this machine? It rots my apple stalks my grapple and I cannot see the night so bright, so high and mighty and alone out there, out there. Force the withering cake to the parcel bench and we will see who is best to be me as it is not clear what is driving the fear, and so I merely clench my teeth and rot the parcel with my evening snack – a heart attack. Coming back, I want to see what is within me and source out the real three men who run this bend and teach them what it means to lie to oneself and be unfulfilled; just on the shelf. Where is the deepest sector, the uninfected wound where bacteria me will slip in unbeknownst to other biological inhabitants and take the plunge into the self? The self is on the shelf and does not wish to come out and play, but I greet him day by day and say, it is time we met, Mr. Undressed Wound. Come to me and let's see who is the real McCoy waiting for the horrible gates to fix themselves open.


--------------------
My solitude...
My shield...
My armour...

TESTED
WITH
FULL
FORCE


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Offlinexxxjuicexxx
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: aghorrorag]
    #14820677 - 07/25/11 03:06 AM (12 years, 6 months ago)

We sit here alone,
and you just can't put down your phone.

Being ignored heightens your fears,
and your whole world turns to tears.

I gently caress your arm,
to protect you from all the harm.

I tell you everything will be alright,
but the pain continues to take a chilling bite.

The night air shivering cold,
when all you want is someone to hold.

You then reach for my hand,
confusing me with your silver ring band.

Half reluctantly I return the favor,
knowing that it is all part of your drunken behavior.

Mixed emotions want to fix your heartache,
when all along I know its a mistake.

Holding you makes me reminisce,
about the last time being with you put me in bliss.

Finally relieved from your figurative sand trap,
you gently rest your head upon my lap.

I softly tuck your hair behind your ear,
your always someone I'll hold dear.

Peacefully you drift off into slumber,
nothing making sense like an irrational number.

The night fades away like a bad vision,
but loving you is such an easy decision.


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Offlinetimelapses
Life in free form
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Registered: 01/26/11
Posts: 4,600
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: xxxjuicexxx]
    #14820730 - 07/25/11 03:30 AM (12 years, 6 months ago)

Witching hour, 3 a.m.
waiting for women, nothing to do again.
Time crawls.
Life is a paradox, so small yet still important
seeing a movie, tree of life, feel so impotent
perspedtive, a grain of sand on the beach
Feel like a parasite, a tempory leach.
Time grinds slow.
A woman to make my day, to make the blues go away,
will she love me and will she stay?
Still will be in bed wondering what may,
what may make a brighter day.
Stupid and insignificant in the greater scheme of things
don't care what i see, feel, or what the future brings.
happiness is temporary and a life barel lived
always afraid, no matter what I give.
Dead but awake
bad dreams the last three nights
awakening to forms of nightmares and frights
No one can take this away, my chances withered and nothing to say.
My love will come and I will enjoy
the trivial pursuit of one devoid of joy.
Still I will love.


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


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Offlinetimelapses
Life in free form
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: timelapses]
    #14846463 - 07/29/11 11:01 PM (12 years, 5 months ago)

A bit about women,
the soul of a woman was created below (I wrote that myself lol, inside joke from a movie),
lol, still waiting in tow,
second fiddle, fuck the riddle.
I don't need the model though I once had them
age catches up and the women around having ten
One post here read and a journey into lonliness
seems so small but but what a gladness
to write, to feel that loving vibe,
nothing right now compares to it but I love to imbibe
Women, so easy to burn bridges


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


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Registered: 04/21/10
Posts: 1,082
Loc: Australia Flag
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: timelapses]
    #14850539 - 07/31/11 06:50 AM (12 years, 5 months ago)

loot by my key board
at every turn another cellar to be assured
another phrase too change afraid my name'll fade beneath these fingers
lingering in rogain style raised by finger licking ninjas
cinder circituous engulfed by prion prised by pigions
rimmer swimmer minions isnt it is isnt it itish
a brush up by the collar sounding more n more astounding
and they've raised em in a pound they say
raised em with a pounding


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Registered: 04/21/10
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14850710 - 07/31/11 08:44 AM (12 years, 5 months ago)

everything insideous
every odious spit an omen
pitch tone over toking
over an obsolete throne open
notion over notion over no shin kicking nose in
everything in sinking quick
the word i wrote in this poem dont fit with coaxed kin
a bong gong belongs to me. son soverignty
an ode too serenade this made enough chicks in to rip it's meaning
meaning your a bulli, im bison, re generate the generation
but all when i was wired by a stollen occupation


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Registered: 04/21/10
Posts: 1,082
Loc: Australia Flag
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14850752 - 07/31/11 08:59 AM (12 years, 5 months ago)

im oh so pissed at poetry
who wrote an oposing foe or three
an open slot to throw the po at me now it's po i see
i see
i noticed po's posing like bros
i warned ya, now tigger n winnie the poos a no go
somthing sus with thomas postman pat and the fat controller
fireman sams source of assertion pola?
who throws the worst fit when it's over
me my son or the baby blue boys who rise from coals to tackle bipola


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Registered: 04/21/10
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Loc: Australia Flag
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14850808 - 07/31/11 09:19 AM (12 years, 5 months ago)

yo yo i pissed my pants mr over standing vocational sprooker of the lower
i loaned a goefer attitude to overthrow a poker
twist inside out n back da frontal lobe provoking boaster
yo yo a sting of tea cha cha ventriloquist chokers go for the throught ha!
id write it higher but i cant beat  ha!
it write it with a ball point texta
better yet id try to type training wheels on trikes
bite the brighter mike reciter
we've all been hoaxed by roped quotes only i can decipher
i've written almost everthing in english litterate since flicked off the lighter
with twisted sticks n fingertips i blush before a diner


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


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Invisibledrjustice
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Registered: 09/23/10
Posts: 195
Loc: NH Flag
Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Crumpet]
    #14853309 - 07/31/11 07:36 PM (12 years, 5 months ago)

Your voice is cancer to my ear
I'll follow anyway you vear

I need your guidance for my health
I cannot think for myself

Would you just please direct me?
Show me how to find some glory
Different faces same old story
Control


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InvisibleCrumpet
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Registered: 04/21/10
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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: drjustice]
    #14853889 - 07/31/11 09:32 PM (12 years, 5 months ago)

wot up doc?
ya just another hinderence
im in the gents lucuna now
where joy'll find my fingerprints
im a timmid piece of work upon a wall of injured idiots
lappidery plaige plaque, carnivool dividends
will in graph grapple.

pp


--------------------
Ronda Nina...


Edited by Crumpet (07/31/11 11:16 PM)


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