poopscootsMcgee Posted May 10, 2012 Report Share Posted May 10, 2012 (edited) content removed. Edited July 28, 2015 by poopscootsMcgee Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Talentless Posted May 10, 2012 Report Share Posted May 10, 2012 That was a shining example of literary excellence. Did you write it? It's really good. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mom Posted May 10, 2012 Report Share Posted May 10, 2012 I would pay to get that printed out on canvas to hang on my wall Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted May 10, 2012 Author Report Share Posted May 10, 2012 (edited) i did and thank you. i encourage you all to post any poetry you find good and or like that you have written and or read Edited May 10, 2012 by Zoa Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SUMERIAN BLOOD GOD Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 Kissing and Horrid Strife I have been defeated and dragged down by painand worsted by the evil world-soul of today. But still I know that life is for delightand for blissas now when the tiny wavelets of the seatip the morning light on edge, and spill it with delightto show how inexhaustible it is: And life is for delight, and blisslike now when the white sun kisses the seaand plays with the wavelets like a panther playing with its cubscuffing them with soft paws,and blows that are caresses,kisses of the soft-balled paws, where the talons are. And life is for dread,for doom that darkens, and the Sunderersthat sunder us from each other,that strip us and destroy us and break us downas the tall foxgloves and the mulleins and mallowsare torn down by dismembering autumntill not a vestige is left, and black winter has no traceof any such flowers;and yet the roots below the blackness are intact:the Thunderers and the Sunderers have their term,their limit, their thus far and no further. Life is for kissing and for horrid strife.Life is for the angels and the Sunderers.Life is for the daimons and the demons,those that put honey on our lips, and those that put salt.But life is notfor the dead vanity of knowing better, nor the blankcold comfort of superiority, nor sillyconceit of being immune,nor puerility of contradictionslike saying snow is black, or desire is evil. Life is for kissing and for horrid strife,the angels and the Sunderers.And perhaps in unknown Death we perhaps shall knowOneness and poised immunity.But why then should we die while we can live ?And while we livethe kissing and communing cannot ceasenor yet the striving and the horrid strife. -D.H. Lawrence Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bakuhatsu Pengin Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 nob loves his limericksmuch more than he loves dicksalthough if you askabout his flesh masthed probably flash his fish stick - ee cummings Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mom Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 (edited) I take the shit to defeat my enemyhe stares into my crack with ever-waning confidencethe shit of the gods awaits his helpless crythe proverbial bunker buster to his porcelain skin I take the shit to defeat his moraleI take the shit to free mankindthe shit that will leave no stone unturnedthe shit to end all wars I take the shit to free me of my sinthe shit that will resolve life itselfmy inevitable trump cardto conquer all that stand before me I ready my cheeks and push with passionits mighty weight trembles the ground belowthe shit that left the earth in shamblesI took it and have plenty more Edited May 11, 2012 by Twisted Metal Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted May 11, 2012 Author Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 (edited) In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd ; Petals on a wet, black bough. — Ezra Pound interesting that it has no verbs hey tm i like your poem but it is very mysterious? also noob you fail at limerick. i dont think that one really rhymes. example: i once knew an old gash named joanin bed she would twist and moanuntil one dark nighti gave her a frightand had her fucked by a huge black samoan Edited May 11, 2012 by Zoa Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SUMERIAN BLOOD GOD Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 There once was a man from NantucketWhose dick was so long he could suck it.And he said with a grinAs he wiped off his chin,"If my ear were a cunt, I would fuck it." That is the only limerick I know. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Talentless Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 The only poetry I've ever enjoyed was my Father's poetry. I don't remember all of the verses from the two he wrote in sharpie on the basement walls, though, at the moment. I'll get back to you on that. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mom Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 Yes, very mysterious. It strikes the deepest recesses of your mind with immense power. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted May 11, 2012 Author Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 like a 'a thing' ricocheting around in'the space' i bet that guy had already tried fucking his own ear Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bakuhatsu Pengin Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 dont hate on ee cummings yo Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
YUNG MASTERLESS GLENCOUR Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 EE Cummings is someone I never totally understood. Admittedly I have that problem with a lot of poetry. I remember a girl I was dating gave me a card with a Cummings poem on it and I still do this day don't get what the poem meant. I just assumed it meant she wanted to bone me. All's well that ends well, I guess. I ready my cheeks and push with passion Pretty sure Frost couldn't hope to match the intensity of your prose Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mom Posted May 11, 2012 Report Share Posted May 11, 2012 I sit on my porcelain throne whenever I see fitI am JESUS, the king of ferocious shitI strike down my enemies with effortless dumpsWith the intense pressure of a hundred lumpsBow down before me or I'll strike you downAnd the last thing you'll see will be my squat and frown Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted May 12, 2012 Author Report Share Posted May 12, 2012 (edited) content removed. Edited July 28, 2015 by poopscootsMcgee Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted May 23, 2012 Author Report Share Posted May 23, 2012 (edited) content removed. Edited July 28, 2015 by poopscootsMcgee Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
KORTOKtheSTRONG Posted June 21, 2012 Report Share Posted June 21, 2012 The Shark Replace "replace" with SHARK SHARK "with" with SHARK SHARK "SHARK" SHARK SHARK Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hust1er Posted July 22, 2012 Report Share Posted July 22, 2012 (edited) A beauty never to be seenLike a sunrise with cloudsOr a night-time sky without starsLike a bird in the morningWithout a voiceA broken heartIs an endless choice....___Growing oldAnd living forThe moment yourSearching forsomething you cannot findThe truth insideThe reason we areAll living for.___Something strange in meI feel the same for youBut there is no differenceWe’re still aloneThere is no meIn cryingThere is no meIn dieingYou’ve stolen my heartAnd trapped my mindBut it makes no differenceI'm still alone.___Your eyesTell the storiesOf the day you wishYou couldRecall the momentsOr at leastRetract the footstepsThat brought us to this end... ___Yesterday yet forgottenburied in my thoughtsserved as a lesson taughtTomorrow it shall not Life is rememberedas taken is our last breathemy mind comes to settlethe balance to life...is death. Edited July 24, 2012 by Hust1er Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted October 3, 2012 Author Report Share Posted October 3, 2012 “I Had a Man”By Dorothea LaskyToday when I was walkingI had a man tell me as he passedThat I was a white bitch (he was white)And to not look at himOr he was going to ‘fuck me in my little butthole’I wandered awayWho is to sayI think I am a white bitchMy butt is bigBut I believe my butthole is littleThis violence that we put on womenI don’t think it’s crazySomeone I know said‘Oh, that man was crazy’I don’t think he was crazyMaybe he could tell I had a look in my eyeThat wasn’t crazy anymoreMaybe he could feel the wild cool blood in meAnd it frightened himAnd he lashed out in fearMaybe he knew I was the same as himBut had been born with this kind face and eyesDoughlike appurtenancesWhat about the day I leftWhat happened thenStill I’m glad he said that to meStill I’m glad he was so cruel to meWhat bitter eye knew I had a voiceTo say what men have done to meWhat unkind wind has blown thru my brainTo make me speak for the wretchedTo speak wretchedly about the uglyTo make my own face ugly and simpleTo contort this simple smile into a haunting song Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted March 16, 2013 Author Report Share Posted March 16, 2013 (edited) content removed. Edited July 28, 2015 by poopscootsMcgee Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Shirtless Crackhead Posted March 16, 2013 Report Share Posted March 16, 2013 Someone has been getting in touch with their feelings. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poopscootsMcgee Posted March 17, 2013 Author Report Share Posted March 17, 2013 (edited) i really like it raor. the simplicity and straitforwardness make it highly accessible, while the use of 'someone' implies a great depth of hidden meanings from the author. good job. and 90, im not sure i understand the meaning of this, but it seems the author is dealing with a large amount of computer-related confusion. the use of the asian boy implies a great deal of homosexuality and pedophelia, lending an incredibly dark shade and a bit of humour to an otherwise boring work. Edited March 17, 2013 by Zoa Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Shirtless Crackhead Posted March 17, 2013 Report Share Posted March 17, 2013 I really don't get poetry. Unless it comes on the walls in public latrines. http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3323/3276915748_81a18b3983_z.jpg Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
YUNG MASTERLESS GLENCOUR Posted March 18, 2013 Report Share Posted March 18, 2013 I like to read stuffI'm awful with poetrybut haiku is cool Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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