This is a poem that I wrote one night, years ago. It is called "Fool's Paradise".
The winding way of wisdom and folly
In the holy spirit of the sacred void
With the crazy wisdom of holy chaos
Leads straight off a cliff
Into the fires of Hell
Or will we find sanctuary
In Heavenly Utopia
This path of wonder that we wander
Could it be
A fool's paradise?
Oh the Great Spirit
The Buddha and the Christ
Salvation of the world
Ending of the world
The epic saga of
Heaven and Earth
Of kingdom come and the warrior's bomb
In the holy and the hallowed
In the magic of Utopia
In fool's paradise
No doubt that it is real
This fool's gold that I steal
From the serpent's wheel
That through alchemy we heal
Biting hard
The snake's tail
Through the no man's land
Of the Great Circle
BOOM!
The passion of electric blood
Firing and fueling the machine
Drowning and drinking in the zen sea
Of love and agony
Mercury veins feeding the silicon dreams
Consuming bones and pyres lost in time's mirage
In spectral metal
Of love and fear
Water on Mars
Frosting the tears
A Poet's blood
And Devil's passion
Grinding the gears
Of sonic sun and silent eye
Of bloody days
Reaching the stars
Of fallen skies
Triggering the weapon
Of secret wonder
Magic skulls
And ghosts of faith
Still echo in the rain
Of a shimmering golden prison
A funeral pyre
Of lava and sun
Cradle the china glass soul
And shatter the spirit whole
Spider's web of life
Swallows the dew
Of prophesy and philosophy
And doom and life with you
Electric souls
Wander the empty shell
Of ghosts and Gods
And temples of fire and ice
Swallowing sacrifice
Of the virgin dragon
In the light
Of space and love
Falls to the knees of spirit
And stands tall
To take a bow
Curtailing another fool's dream
Another swig of ambrosia
In a fool's paradise...
Nobody even cares, so I might as well give myself a masturbatory series of claps.
:fap: :fap: :fap: :fap: :fap:
i didnt actually read past the second line cause i hhave no patience for poetry
but here! have a golf clap :golfclap:
Here's another weird poem or story I wrote years ago.
The wind is blowing,
Comes from nothing.
It tries to get inside this place,
For the house is full of magic
Where all the memories I carry within
Are like water in a camel's back.
I open up the door.
The wind comes in, my imagination goes out.
I look into the window.
My kingdom is inside.
Yes, I can hear this old house talking
Of the nails that bind it up.
They are its enemies, they are its lovers.
They are the swords that pierce with honor.
The past is my fence.
I climb over to the field.
A snake is in the grass,
Hissing.
Just keeping up his strength.
Seems he wants to be alone,
So I just wave goodbye.
A wave with the same hand that the gypsy read
When she said the lines seal my fate.
She told me about a karma
Like a sharp stick in the ass.
Then I come to the water.
It washes all my thoughts.
A fish comes swimming by.
He tells me it's a time to die.
I say, "Yes, I will die, but I don't fear.
This faith it is my crutch."
He say, "Yeah, well it's not just the way you look at it;
It's the eyes you use."
I say to him "That may be true, but we also have very different mouths."
With that he swallows my fishing hook--
Charity to my health.
The moon sets to the back of my head
The sun rises to my face.
It feels good to use my teeth
And put a mark inside my belly
To fill the empty space.
Just a mark upon the universe
Guess everyone has their place.
Listen.
I hate to criticize poetry, because it is a terrible thing to do. It really is. But you might consider repackaging those as prose, and looking into a thing called "meter". No, I am not saying that all poems have to be structured. But even as free verse, which can be quite excellent, those are not so much "poems" as prose with random line breaks. It offends my sensibilities a little that you are calling them poetry. What the hell. The occasional rhyme schemes just make the matter that much more...
Oh god. This is Discordian poetry, isn't it?
Fuck my life.
I'm not sure
what your
problem is,
Nigel.
Everyone knows that
ever
since "The Waste Lands",
that poetry need not
follow
any
rules
whatsoever.
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 07:54:32 PM
Oh god. This is Discordian poetry, isn't it?
Fnordku?
-toa,
no
thing
con
structive to
.........................
add
Quote from: LMNO on October 20, 2009, 07:56:31 PM
I'm not sure
what your
problem is,
Nigel.
Everyone knows that
ever
since "The Waste Lands",
that poetry need not
follow
any
rules
whatsoever.
LMNO, I am slightly devastated to have to tell you that reads rather nicely.
Blame it on my being a drummer,
I guess.
It's all in the
timing.
Quote from: Pope Benny on October 20, 2009, 09:16:13 AM
The moon sets to the back of my head
The sun rises to my face.
It feels good to use my teeth
And put a mark inside my belly
To fill the empty space.
Just a mark upon the universe
Guess everyone has their place.
This is a nice bit. There are definitely good parts to this. Could use some fiddling to catch the rhythm.
Read it out loud to yourself, and see how it works.
Quote from: LMNO on October 20, 2009, 08:47:29 PM
Blame it on my being a drummer,
I guess.
It's all in the
timing.
Oh, a DRUMMER.
I never have good luck with those, but I hear they're all insane, and fuck like maniacs.
It appears you have heard correctly.
All I ever get is guitarists. :(
:golfclap:
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:13:03 PM
:golfclap:
Are you saying you are a guitarist? Because I would hit that.
The title warned for all to see,
That this here be,
Bad
Poetry.
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 09:19:09 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:13:03 PM
:golfclap:
Are you saying you are a guitarist? Because I would hit that.
no i was just giving my traditional poetry thread golf clap :lulz:
what if i take up the ukulele? would you hit THAT?
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 09:07:00 PM
All I ever get is guitarists. :(
bunch of wankers, the lot of 'em.
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:25:26 PM
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 09:19:09 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:13:03 PM
:golfclap:
Are you saying you are a guitarist? Because I would hit that.
no i was just giving my traditional poetry thread golf clap :lulz:
what if i take up the ukulele? would you hit THAT?
Yup.
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:25:26 PM
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 09:19:09 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:13:03 PM
:golfclap:
Are you saying you are a guitarist? Because I would hit that.
no i was just giving my traditional poetry thread golf clap :lulz:
what if i take up the ukulele? would you hit THAT?
Damn straight.
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 10:04:49 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:25:26 PM
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 09:19:09 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:13:03 PM
:golfclap:
Are you saying you are a guitarist? Because I would hit that.
no i was just giving my traditional poetry thread golf clap :lulz:
what if i take up the ukulele? would you hit THAT?
Damn
straight.
Corrected for poetic justice.
Quote from: Pope Benny on October 20, 2009, 10:29:03 PM
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 10:04:49 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:25:26 PM
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 09:19:09 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:13:03 PM
:golfclap:
Are you saying you are a guitarist? Because I would hit that.
no i was just giving my traditional poetry thread golf clap :lulz:
what if i take up the ukulele? would you hit THAT?
Damn
straight.
Corrected for poetic justice.
But I'm not.
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 10:47:02 PM
Quote from: Pope Benny on October 20, 2009, 10:29:03 PM
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 10:04:49 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:25:26 PM
Quote from: Nigel on October 20, 2009, 09:19:09 PM
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 20, 2009, 09:13:03 PM
:golfclap:
Are you saying you are a guitarist? Because I would hit that.
no i was just giving my traditional poetry thread golf clap :lulz:
what if i take up the ukulele? would you hit THAT?
Damn
straight.
Corrected for poetic justice.
But
I'm
not.
Do you even have an artistic licence?
Here's a whiney little piece I wrote from my suicidal goth days, about ten years ago:
Empty as a Ghost
This emptiness is lucidity
A hallowed head is sharp as wind
Emptied out the heart
The well is dry that has no end
Empty spaces of the spirit
When the blood has lost its fire
Empty in the body
A garden plundered by vampire.
:emo:
Quote from: Fredamir Putin on October 23, 2009, 04:21:41 AM
:emo:
An emoticon?
Please repost as a haiku,
And have a nice day.
NT: Both my nephews have swine flu.
-toa,
which thread is this?