My heart is like a raisin
shriveled by your love.
Oh wait, that wasn't love;
that was just you
pretending to be the sun.
I am not the kind
of woman
men fall in love with
madly: No
I am the kind they
slip in and out of
reasonably. And look:
we can still
be friends.
See this car?
50% of it is mine
Where is the chainsaw?
:lulz:
When I found you in my bed
hungering up and down my spine
lost were threads of things I said
and rejection disappeared in wine;
so take me back now to your home
feed me platitudes soft as butter
I remain with you to be alone;
in solitude I shake and stutter.
And when you come to join me here
I hope you find me welcoming
because the truth is hard to bear
love and you still tend to cling
I've tried to shed you off, of course,
but cruelty isn't in my nature
and hurting you has hurt me worse
you are such a vindictive creature.
So while I stay here in your grip
I hope you grant me a smallish favor
don't let your guilty tongue slip
just let me rest in silence to savor
the moment before I pass you up,
go back to my chilly bed without you
reclaim my spine and my empty cup.
These are intense, Nigel.
Although the second one made me do that bitter laugh thing. :sad:
:mittens:
Needs moar rage though
Haiku
I need to tell you
I cheated, it was with her.
You stupid fuck. *bang*
Not exactly divorce, but close. :wink:
:lulz: I like that.
I may be able to come up with some more rage. My obstacle is, in order to write effectively bitter poetry, I have to get drunk as fuck, and since my goal is to be a HOT bitter divorced single mother, I am currently not drinking in order to expedite the diminishment of my gut.
Maybe I will just have to start drinking selectively.
Quote from: Nigel on June 23, 2008, 07:51:16 AMmy goal is to be a HOT bitter divorced single mother, I am currently not drinking in order to expedite the diminishment of my gut.
:mittens:
being a healthy + HOT bitter divorced single mother >>> being an alcoholic medium-HOT bitter divorced single mother with liver problems that however can write awesome poems
they
are awesome poems btw. they make me all sad and reflecting your bitterness. which makes them good poems in the sense of capturing the emotions, but bad in the sense that they make me a sad zipple :sad:
Quote from: Nigel on June 22, 2008, 05:25:33 PM
My heart is like a raisin
shriveled by your love.
Oh wait, that wasn't love;
that was just you
pretending to be the sun.
LMFAO
Quote from: Nigel on June 23, 2008, 07:51:16 AM
:lulz: I like that.
I may be able to come up with some more rage. My obstacle is, in order to write effectively bitter poetry, I have to get drunk as fuck, and since my goal is to be a HOT bitter divorced single mother, I am currently not drinking in order to expedite the diminishment of my gut.
Maybe I will just have to start drinking selectively.
HOT!
feel the rage Nigel, feel it. :D Perhaps you could do shots of things, so you consume less, rather than have full blown cocktails, or a beer?
Quote from: Dysnomia on June 23, 2008, 03:12:20 PM
Quote from: Nigel on June 23, 2008, 07:51:16 AM
:lulz: I like that.
I may be able to come up with some more rage. My obstacle is, in order to write effectively bitter poetry, I have to get drunk as fuck, and since my goal is to be a HOT bitter divorced single mother, I am currently not drinking in order to expedite the diminishment of my gut.
Maybe I will just have to start drinking selectively.
HOT!
feel the rage Nigel, feel it. :D Perhaps you could do shots of things, so you consume less, rather than have full blown cocktails, or a beer?
I go for the shot choice, or the red wine.
Because a little bit of red wine is good for you.
Also, I agree with the Dutchbag re: the capturing of the emotions.
I saw the gardener yesterday
with rose cuttings all around.
And I thought hard on what to say
of the roses on the ground.
For their beauty seemed the same
as that which he let remain.
The gardener, hearing my deep sighs,
continued pruning for awhile,
"Cut not and the beauty dies."
He spoke with a quiet smile,
"For, I bring just little pains,
to make stronger what remains."
I walked on in a thoughtful pose
and then came upon your form.
Like the clipped and fallen rose.
Your heart seemed cut by his scorn.
But a cut, which clears the way
For blooms in a future day.
To all the poets of this thread: :mittens:
Wow, Rat, that was beautiful!
I blue and quake in this rhythm
of sorrow, and lose loneliness
with you, my verse-vowed one.
The things our voices promised
from hearts of earnest, hearts
of wishful thinking, tremble
apart and from the regretful
remembrances of things we
should not have done and said
come the ends of us.
Azure promises like rainbow
riches begin to elude us both,
those sentiments of permanence
born on unstable ground, unstable
upbringings; becoming sallow
as goat liver, as acrid as our
vows when we promised to each
other we would cleave always.
When you were in love with me
you lied to both of our romances.
When you came to me with old
doubt on your tongue you told
the truth of these experiments.
We two have failed our search
for reassurance, our growings-
up with each other. My kidney
devastated from poisons of
kind misleadings is finally
giving out in the truth of you.
Perhaps I need a painful switch,
a transplant into knowing our
realities of lonesomeness.
Without the passions and bile
held tight within the sphere
of heartfulness in your life,
this parasitic vine of mine
has no garden to grow long in.
I shall let it wither and grow
instead tangy red tomatoes,
sisters of nightshade,
apples of romance,
poisonous fruit.
Nigel's a girl on a forum
Her husband lacked proper decorum
She's pouring her rage onto a poetry page
And asking her lawyer to gore 'im.
Quote from: Mangrove on June 23, 2008, 08:19:44 PM
Nigel's a girl on a forum
Her husband lacked proper decorum
She's pouring her rage onto a poetry page
And asking her lawyer to gore 'im.
:lulz:
From my capture
came no reward.
As lonely now
as you were before,
you want to throw
me away like a
thing you thought
you wanted.
This is your mistake
and my regret.
I gave myself to you
and you took willingly,
so it's too late,
too late, too late
to take it all back.
From my capture
came no reward.
The first time you came
you barely touched me -
just enough to start the ache
and when you finally slowly
wormed your way inside
I died infested
I died.
Quote from: Darth Cupcake on June 23, 2008, 03:18:47 PM
Quote from: Dysnomia on June 23, 2008, 03:12:20 PM
Quote from: Nigel on June 23, 2008, 07:51:16 AM
:lulz: I like that.
I may be able to come up with some more rage. My obstacle is, in order to write effectively bitter poetry, I have to get drunk as fuck, and since my goal is to be a HOT bitter divorced single mother, I am currently not drinking in order to expedite the diminishment of my gut.
Maybe I will just have to start drinking selectively.
HOT!
feel the rage Nigel, feel it. :D Perhaps you could do shots of things, so you consume less, rather than have full blown cocktails, or a beer?
I go for the shot choice, or the red wine.
Because a little bit of red wine is good for you.
Also, I agree with the Dutchbag re: the capturing of the emotions.
In order to incorporate the advice in this thread into my life I have had a glass of wine.
I am working up to full-blown rage.
However, I am listening to Spokane, which, although excellent breakup music, tends to promote lassitude rather than rage.
aw those poems are so sad Nigel. :cry:
FEEL THE RAGE
Quote from: Nigel on June 24, 2008, 05:21:57 AM
Quote from: Mangrove on June 23, 2008, 08:19:44 PM
Nigel's a girl on a forum
Her husband lacked proper decorum
She's pouring her rage onto a poetry page
And asking her lawyer to gore 'im.
:lulz:
:thanks:
A divorce Haiku:
Die you fucker die
We're getting divorced today
Die you fucker die.
:lulz: That totally hit the spot!
Quote from: Mangrove on June 24, 2008, 07:17:57 PM
A divorce Haiku:
Die you fucker die
We're getting divorced today
Die you fucker die.
:lulz:
Quote from: Nigel on June 25, 2008, 02:15:26 AM
:lulz: That totally hit the spot!
Glad I could help. :D
bringing the RAGE haikus:
hog tied on the floor
now you swear you love me
doused in kerosene
you cheated on me
"tick, tick, tick" goes the timer
won't happen again
my knuckles are raw
my steel-toed boots are bloody
then he quit moving
...these seem to come too easy to me. I think i may need more therapy.
Quote from: Rev. Voodoo on July 01, 2008, 04:39:09 AM
bringing the RAGE haikus:
hog tied on the floor
now you swear you love me
doused in kerosene
you cheated on me
"tick, tick, tick" goes the timer
won't happen again
my knuckles are raw
my steel-toed boots are bloody
then he quit moving
...these seem to come too easy to me. I think i may need more therapy.
:mittens:
MAN it must be tough
Having all that money. Here--
I'll take half for you.
:lulz:
:mittens: :mittens: :mittens:
Fuckanel these are all great! :mittens: guys!