Basically a thread to write poems and work on them…
Why a poetry thread…why not…
I probably have already made a similar thread…
But that thread is most likely garbage and cringe…so start fresh with a new thread so, anyways…
A thread to work on your poems…
Fyi i will be writing poems in the form of hip hop…
The epitome of the tragically ambitious. Coincidentally engage in feats of consequence.
Like Religious aristocracy that doesnt see without ambivalence. Almost trance like in a sense. Derived and deprived of license to crises. That further develops all the way through miosis. Bridging the gap of life to mind via osmosis.
An arithmatic interwined with time yields a fine wine. Brewing enigmatic signs that are like sunshine. Inclined to believe in all kind. Not unlike a penny to a dime. Nickel to a barriers crime. Such belief is a seed that grows with time. Its either a weed, or a buddha flower. That gives and illuminates beyond rebuke from corrupt power.
Second paragraph is starting to work… keep polishing
Off the top of my head…probably cringe…
But at least its not political cringe or some shitposts.
Bilingual anatomically superflicious
nuclear autonomy is superstitious
Silent wills castigation totally malicious
Twisting the tongue spewing atom bombs
Getting high off of rom coms
Making malarky spark at random
Hummin the sum of the pandemonium
Sanctimonious is must for those seeking fun
At the risk of them completely playing dumb
They run from the gun that shoots a lump sum
So they hide and glide so they can catch the sun
One at a time the bullet hits them one by one
A standoff at dusk until the result is no one…
The aftermath after a cataclysmic past
Thought it was war but its just a mask
Soldier for soldier the truth doesn last.
Rack and rake em, settle it fast
Thats what happens when you break the glass.
Anamoly of the metastolic metabolic currency
Insurancy of the fish in mercury anabolic cryptoholic.
Meaningless rhymes.
Hearts are forged in fire, courage must be breed for any kind of war. Wars of the mind, wars of the heart, and wars due to signs of the times.
Too narratey…and philosophical…doesnt invoke imagery or ellicit feelings…
As my heart fades into the dark. The moonlights sings to the breath of my soul. Hoping that the void doesnt encompass all like the warmth of a blanket so that the gift of genesis is brought to many dreams. That when we awake from our dreams the time we have flails like the sands in the desert wind. For our finite time we dream of so much of what can be or what we hope comes.
Created…we breath life. And the wild nature of our dreams will yield fruit to our angels and demons…for they are the same…they are us…and not us if we make it so. Like the waves of a desert ocean…with each grain of sand eroding both our dreams and our reality. Forging both man and fauna to be keepers of what is to come.
^ Shit prose, blah. This is random…Its basically crap shakespeare. Which is writing stuff in a way that it sounds poetic but it really says nothing and is about nothing.
The beholder of your fate has blind eyes to both heaven and hell…your purgatory is not knowing the consequence of your actions.
i’ve been interested in metal art, to create something like hansel cooking gretel over the ashes of k-mart, and the witch tries to get smart but the wolf arrives only to spit verbal darts like a dragon pissed off because he was number eleven on a ten seat chart. theological redundancy and philosophical fallacy couldn’t convince the wolf he was only a sheep barely balancing and the concept that all energy will eventually become useless to you and me was never enough for the wolf to realize that he IS me. trying to eat his way out of confinement, a cell plated with stomach lining and secret assignments to misalign the directness of where we go at the end of the line. it’s not my time, but have we really thought it through? slap some numbers on a divided pie graph to decipher which way the earth moves?
is it a prophecy or something we already knew? for the record i never asked for the last scene to be painless because i don’t have trouble deciphering who’s a hero and who’s just famous. and even for someone who’s been handed some rotten scripts in his time, i can’t say i’ve bought into the obsession of diguising my insecurities with a gold chain and empty claims of doing time because of shit i sold and exploits i had with my tech-nine. yeah i may not own a gun, but that doesn’t mean i haven’t shot one, that doesn’t mean i haven’t helped some people and hurt some, that doesn’t mean there’s no life beyond our sun, just because life’s a lot easier to contemplate when you’re only thinking about this one. an indefinite attack on our systems has made our breath lack a voice capable of travelling far distances, and in the instances that it does it’s thwarted by our tendency to be apathetically inconsistent, pulling the loop over ourselves in our substances until there are no remnants, simply the void. and the void is the only constant. a pull on our judgment. a flag for our governments. a rifle to spit on and a red pigment to spread, until our consciences are truant, and it becomes nothing more than dead.
look at it this way: i am trying to see things from the opposite perspective in that when i see people tripping and priests flipflopping and baby-dipping, i wonder where we all went wrong and when the seperation began, and we all sat by watching, thumb-assed and gawking at the gaping tear we made wondering if we may have had a hand in that, this phase we can’t seem to grow past. this circle shaped space ship will move too fast and the ones pressing the brakes are usually the ones who share a bed with the past. i hoped it wouldn’t last but history will repeat itself again and again and again and again and again until physical matter becomes a subject for critics to lambast. i won’t trash the process i’m already a part of, but to kickstart the fire a spark is required not unlike the essence of love. and if that was a plane i never quite learned how to land it, but i blame that on my inability to understand it. candid pictures and sorted tinctures to no end won’t keep from me from squandering the energy i’d already elected to spend, and a thorn in my side is like a potentiator for me to run my mouth, much like anyone who steps on a nail and doesn’t know how to get that fucker out.
but it’s ruining our two-step, and it’s not all that in depth compared to the emotions that unravel once we find out where all that negative energy was kept. we say it isn’t important but i say we’re just blind, where else are we going find a place where peace of mind is a possibility, not a pipe dream nor subject matter for theorists to analyze its validity. and in a day and age where our very nature is bridled with questions i think it’s time to sit the fuck down and figure out the answers to at least some of them. because before we made sick tricks, cracked whips, robbed the poor and fed the rich, and here we are still standing there, still buck naked holding our limp dicks. because little did YOU know but a race no longer required to breed might spawn questions such as, “What is the need? we had our place, fortraces built up, destroyed, we even explored space. perhaps this is a good time to take a break, to step back, view the stakes, and what of the future it will make.”
my peripheral vision tells me otherwise, a furrowed brow droops over my eyes unintentionally making it harder for my mind to be vandalized. “stop being a drone factory,” i scream, “isn’t this the opposite of our forthcomers’ dreams?” when i look into the center of a crowd all i see is legs carrying moldable clay heads around. men no longer need to beg, no longer need to think of creative ways to inseminate an egg. the idea of marriage comes in to question but there are those who think they still have the right to enforce one of nature’s suggestions, leaving freedom of choice to be the biggest fish in the barrel, and upon the rifle cock we discover that the virgin mary herself was feral.
a great lay. the best fuck in three states. a lie that snowballed and two millenia later stretched its arms to great lengths. now we question the relevance of morality, or if it’s always just been something to distract us from reality. can we drop the “hell” thing for a minute talk about something that carries a ring of truth in it? here we go, just another method to make money, extort others, control people, force brother to kill brother. i’m sorry! i’m sorry! please forgive me! go to church and always bless your dinner. ruthless against sinners while failing to notice the blackness of your own innards. flailing during worship, flaunting your knowledge of the trinity, your affinity for duality, but you’re devoid of a sense of infinity, speaking tongues, blowing out lungs, gung ho for god now let’s force them to be like us with our guns. if penance is sanctity then don’t bother coming to me because i’ll be giving sunday school lessons in the subject of blasphemy way before i see myself in a confessional letting my heart spill, only to hear “you are forgiven my son and NOW HERE’S THE MOTHERFUCKING BILL.”