poetry

[Journer]

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Journer
ok..ill try these crazy nonsensical american poems :

Lactose intolerance
_______________________________

my good chef man
think about what you wish to do
you work with such pride on that spicy stew
knowing all the while that in the restroom it will end up as a creamy fondue

hamburger budget
_____________________
slaving in the kitchen
listening to your bitchen
all you want is steak
but alas, this one is fake
your poor college funds
cant even buy buns
so i lie,
maybe next week you can afford a fry
but for now you'll have to settle
for meal worth less medal
hey, at least it isnt ramen!

 

[oiprocs]

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
It's hard to trust a woman you lust,
when all you want is to bust a nut,
It sucks to just fuck and not stay,
to touch which must be the connection you lust.

then that one soul comes along
beautiful thoughts and euqally beautiful thighs
you long to be yourself and want to take her to bed
yet, ringing loudly, deafly even, is the desire not to, within your head

this affliction of conscience collision
this truly inebriated decision
what is one to do
to long to fvk and yet
to long far greater to coo

Within a coo comes the word "true",
spoken by those who answered "I do",
true to the one you chose to be with,
and not to the whore you fell in lust with,
a coo is but a tale that has no end,
a repeating genre that tends to suck and bend,
so if you choose to coo and not woo,
careful with yourself - be true, do not lose.

 

[Journer]

ramen
_______________

oodles of noodles
looks like my mom's poodles
piping hot broth
burns my mouth
so overwhelmingly filling
not worth stealing
this is how we survive
on a buck fifty five

 

[OOBradm]

I love it.
Goose I commend you on your random poetry skillz.

 

[oiprocs]

Constant commotion, envelope motion, unspoken notion,
A reasonable moment, a potion exploding, the chemist not knowin',
The chemical potent, the lyrics that's flowin', a symbol or token,
A gesture that's holdin', the safeguard expulsion, for dopin' and smokin'.

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
It's hard to trust a woman you lust,
when all you want is to bust a nut,
It sucks to just fuck and not stay,
to touch which must be the connection you lust.

then that one soul comes along
beautiful thoughts and euqally beautiful thighs
you long to be yourself and want to take her to bed
yet, ringing loudly, deafly even, is the desire not to, within your head

this affliction of conscience collision
this truly inebriated decision
what is one to do
to long to fvk and yet
to long far greater to coo

Within a coo comes the word "true",
spoken by those who answered "I do",
true to the one you chose to be with,
and not to the whore you fell in lust with,
a coo is but a tale that has no end,
a repeating genre that tends to suck and bend,
so if you choose to coo and not woo,
careful with yourself - be true, do not lose.

reverent tone does this man take
playing the part of a god with mortals on some figurative game plate

professing that such truth is simply a fallacy in the absence the verbal "I do"
as if lust, love, eternal union, were defined by language and rationality,
and not by some sort of inexplicable and irrational, soul-aimed coup

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: OOBradm
I love it.
Goose I commend you on your random poetry skillz.

It's as if Def is standing there muted at stage left
and it wants to say something that serves no master

one feels responsible for speaking for the silent
expressing in rhythm, what the entire audience knows to be true

 

[Journer]

the meeting
____

all day long ive thought about you
your pearly white skin
your beautiful roundness
you dont give me any hassle
when i cover your mouth, dont let you speak
i just sit, ponder, read
you're never to needy
you don't ask for much
just one touch
the whoas of my day are gone
in one hole, out the other
oh wait...something is wrong?!
you begin to gurgle
my hear is pounding
will you go down?
is this the last straw?
i try to act fast
to cover my ass
but there is no more hope
you've gone and choked...
the future isn't hard to see
the janitor must hate me...

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
Constant commotion, envelope motion, unspoken notion,
A reasonable moment, a potion exploding, the chemist not knowin',
The chemical potent, the lyrics that's flowin', a symbol or token,
A gesture that's holdin', the safeguard expulsion, for dopin' and smokin'.

melancholy sets it
shunning all that violent thunder
sending everyone into a state of chillin'
'relaxing all cool outside of the school'
the vibes from the pot brimming

silence now fills the once catalytic beaker of commotion
yet, all around, the song and dance drown out the silence
everyone chillin'
catalysts reacted
molecular equilibrium
valences filled
reversal forbidden

 

[oiprocs]

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
It's hard to trust a woman you lust,
when all you want is to bust a nut,
It sucks to just fuck and not stay,
to touch which must be the connection you lust.

then that one soul comes along
beautiful thoughts and euqally beautiful thighs
you long to be yourself and want to take her to bed
yet, ringing loudly, deafly even, is the desire not to, within your head

this affliction of conscience collision
this truly inebriated decision
what is one to do
to long to fvk and yet
to long far greater to coo

Within a coo comes the word "true",
spoken by those who answered "I do",
true to the one you chose to be with,
and not to the whore you fell in lust with,
a coo is but a tale that has no end,
a repeating genre that tends to suck and bend,
so if you choose to coo and not woo,
careful with yourself - be true, do not lose.

reverent tone does this man take
playing the part of a god with mortals on some figurative game plate

professing that such truth is simply a fallacy in the absence the verbal "I do"
as if lust, love, eternal union, were defined by language and rationality,
and not by some sort of inexplicable and irrational, soul-aimed coup

And yet this man is not alone, accompanying his path is another full grown,
His tone is that of a prophet so solemn,
His words they pierce with such a small volume,
Can it be that the former has met a catch,
One who plays with fire but needs no match?
And yet he walks still, his path lit with his will,
For the men will come and go, verbal stones they will throw,
But his path shall not slow, and his message, it shall grow.

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: Journer
the meeting
____

all day long ive thought about you
your pearly white skin
your beautiful roundness
you dont give me any hassle
when i cover your mouth, dont let you speak
i just sit, ponder, read
you're never to needy
you don't ask for much
just one touch
the whoas of my day are gone
in one hole, out the other
oh wait...something is wrong?!
you begin to gurgle
my hear is pounding
will you go down?
is this the last straw?
i try to act fast
to cover my ass
but there is no more hope
you've gone and choked...
the future isn't hard to see
the janitor must hate me...

what that poor fellow must deal with daily
is the subject of much talk and speculation
but for the offender
the truth remains unspoken, a silent revelation

such a shitty job can one have
never any resolution
never a reason or perhaps an apology
just cleaning endlessly
everyday
for some lousy $5/hr fee

 

[oiprocs]

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: OOBradm
I love it.
Goose I commend you on your random poetry skillz.

It's as if Def is standing there muted at stage left
and it wants to say something that serves no master

one feels responsible for speaking for the silent
expressing in rhythm, what the entire audience knows to be true

He stands with no voice, it was a simple choice,
Before his great audience, no need to speak monstrous,
Engulfed in their applause, no limits of their awe,
A sad truth is gleamed, no crowd to be seen.

 

[oiprocs]

I'm hungry.

Goosemaster, I shall return without a shadow of a doubt, to clout your words with the trash that I serve.

This thread delivers. If you don't think so, you suck.

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
It's hard to trust a woman you lust,
when all you want is to bust a nut,
It sucks to just fuck and not stay,
to touch which must be the connection you lust.

then that one soul comes along
beautiful thoughts and euqally beautiful thighs
you long to be yourself and want to take her to bed
yet, ringing loudly, deafly even, is the desire not to, within your head

this affliction of conscience collision
this truly inebriated decision
what is one to do
to long to fvk and yet
to long far greater to coo

Within a coo comes the word "true",
spoken by those who answered "I do",
true to the one you chose to be with,
and not to the whore you fell in lust with,
a coo is but a tale that has no end,
a repeating genre that tends to suck and bend,
so if you choose to coo and not woo,
careful with yourself - be true, do not lose.

reverent tone does this man take
playing the part of a god with mortals on some figurative game plate

professing that such truth is simply a fallacy in the absence the verbal "I do"
as if lust, love, eternal union, were defined by language and rationality,
and not by some sort of inexplicable and irrational, soul-aimed coup

And yet this man is not alone, accompanying his path is another full grown,
His tone is that of a prophet so solemn,
His words they pierce with such a small volume,
Can it be that the former has met a catch,
One who plays with fire but needs no match?
And yet he walks still, his path lit with his will,
For the men will come and go, verbal stones they will throw,
But his path shall not slow, and his message, it shall grow.

grow indeed it might
as the man that wields the fire might attest to on some bitter winter night

yet soft-spokenness and truth are not synonymous in every game
his message might indeed be heard by all
but be rejected because it limits itself to socially-defined boundaries
and might, but others,
be seen as lame

for the language of the woo or the coo, in the end, is a language of the irrational
to speak of wisdom on the subject,
of the man, of the woman,
as if one knows all,
may simply result in an eloquent work of fiction

 

[compnovice]

Originally posted by: Rip the Jacker
ATOTers stay on teh computar neffing all day
Meh.. they aren't as bad as the Chinese guy who died in an internet cafe
Hit the reply button and your e-penis grows longer and longer
Taejin is lame, just found out about Kanye's "Stronger"
People with posts higher than 40k need to go outside
Actually we should just stop using the internet worldwide
Nevermind, what am I thinking what will I be without pron
I think I'll stop posting, get in bed, let my thing out and get it on

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: OOBradm
I love it.
Goose I commend you on your random poetry skillz.

It's as if Def is standing there muted at stage left
and it wants to say something that serves no master

one feels responsible for speaking for the silent
expressing in rhythm, what the entire audience knows to be true

He stands with no voice, it was a simple choice,
Before his great audience, no need to speak monstrous,
Engulfed in their applause, no limits of their awe,
A sad truth is gleamed, no crowd to be seen.

delusions of many kinds exist
at stage left though,
odds are the crowd is waiting,
waiting for allusions of that which in reality, cemented, exist

these titans at the gate
so ferocious, eyes gleaming of hate
will not dare to let you in,
far less onto stage left,
if silence is all your bring

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
I'm hungry.

Goosemaster, I shall return without a shadow of a doubt, to clout your words with the trash that I serve.

This thread delivers. If you don't think so, you suck.

I have a crush on the most beautiful women I have ever seen
which is why I need to hit the sack
to be aware
to be myself
ironically
during this
one of many days
so that she can see me
not for some epic mating dance that I might conjure up
but to see me truly
to see m simply
for me

 

[Fineghal]

Several. One is more of a prose piece.

Beginning, The or "Who Moved the Mover"
Syn.
dawn
birth
inception
rise
fount

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was God and the Word was with God...
John 1:1

The Opening:
Bismillahir rahmanir rahim...

Genesis:
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
Now the earth was unformed and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters.

Hidden Words:
O Son of Man! I loved thy creation, hence I created thee. Wherefore, do thou
love Me, that I may name thy name and fill thy soul with the spirit of life.


In a moment you are creation, sprightly fount and highest station.

*******************

The Conjurer
I walk the circle
running counter
as it is the past and present
I am calling
humming a sabbath prayer
even though that is not precisely
canon
I sit and center
facing east, and loving symbols
adding some needless flare
of copper raiments and copper chains
summoning selves
it wasn't freudian
we were legion
in civil strife
dealing death within sight of
some occulted binding
of an unknown mind
to concious will

***********
Grand-mère

can't move much
tingling in your arms you said
and that new walker
black, sleek somehow, seems fitting
funny how it has brakes it's the ferrari of walkers!
i never got it until now
the brakes that is
you were both so happy
you sat with one of us on either side
holding our hands
content
and then you had to stop
your arms were tingling again
all i could do
not to let tears fall
like your arms
helplessly
like now

 

[oiprocs]

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
It's hard to trust a woman you lust,
when all you want is to bust a nut,
It sucks to just fuck and not stay,
to touch which must be the connection you lust.

then that one soul comes along
beautiful thoughts and euqally beautiful thighs
you long to be yourself and want to take her to bed
yet, ringing loudly, deafly even, is the desire not to, within your head

this affliction of conscience collision
this truly inebriated decision
what is one to do
to long to fvk and yet
to long far greater to coo

Within a coo comes the word "true",
spoken by those who answered "I do",
true to the one you chose to be with,
and not to the whore you fell in lust with,
a coo is but a tale that has no end,
a repeating genre that tends to suck and bend,
so if you choose to coo and not woo,
careful with yourself - be true, do not lose.

reverent tone does this man take
playing the part of a god with mortals on some figurative game plate

professing that such truth is simply a fallacy in the absence the verbal "I do"
as if lust, love, eternal union, were defined by language and rationality,
and not by some sort of inexplicable and irrational, soul-aimed coup

And yet this man is not alone, accompanying his path is another full grown,
His tone is that of a prophet so solemn,
His words they pierce with such a small volume,
Can it be that the former has met a catch,
One who plays with fire but needs no match?
And yet he walks still, his path lit with his will,
For the men will come and go, verbal stones they will throw,
But his path shall not slow, and his message, it shall grow.

grow indeed it might
as the man that wields the fire might attest to on some bitter winter night

yet soft-spokenness and truth are not synonymous in every game
his message might indeed be heard by all
but be rejected because it limits itself to socially-defined boundaries
and might, but others,
be seen as lame

for the language of the woo or the coo, in the end, is a language of the irrational
to speak of wisdom on the subject,
of the man, of the woman,
as if one knows all,
may simply result in an eloquent work of fiction

Hah, what scorn the fellow man brings,
attack a man's words with the verbs that sting,
What say thee of a social boundary,
can this mind be so confounded by society's unsoundly,
Thought that limits the existence of dreams,
And thrusts upon those who dream, a scheme,
A plan so grand to destroy their ideals,
and keep them within the fence of jealous zeal.

 

[Goosemaster]

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
It's hard to trust a woman you lust,
when all you want is to bust a nut,
It sucks to just fuck and not stay,
to touch which must be the connection you lust.

then that one soul comes along
beautiful thoughts and euqally beautiful thighs
you long to be yourself and want to take her to bed
yet, ringing loudly, deafly even, is the desire not to, within your head

this affliction of conscience collision
this truly inebriated decision
what is one to do
to long to fvk and yet
to long far greater to coo

Within a coo comes the word "true",
spoken by those who answered "I do",
true to the one you chose to be with,
and not to the whore you fell in lust with,
a coo is but a tale that has no end,
a repeating genre that tends to suck and bend,
so if you choose to coo and not woo,
careful with yourself - be true, do not lose.

reverent tone does this man take
playing the part of a god with mortals on some figurative game plate

professing that such truth is simply a fallacy in the absence the verbal "I do"
as if lust, love, eternal union, were defined by language and rationality,
and not by some sort of inexplicable and irrational, soul-aimed coup

And yet this man is not alone, accompanying his path is another full grown,
His tone is that of a prophet so solemn,
His words they pierce with such a small volume,
Can it be that the former has met a catch,
One who plays with fire but needs no match?
And yet he walks still, his path lit with his will,
For the men will come and go, verbal stones they will throw,
But his path shall not slow, and his message, it shall grow.

grow indeed it might
as the man that wields the fire might attest to on some bitter winter night

yet soft-spokenness and truth are not synonymous in every game
his message might indeed be heard by all
but be rejected because it limits itself to socially-defined boundaries
and might, but others,
be seen as lame

for the language of the woo or the coo, in the end, is a language of the irrational
to speak of wisdom on the subject,
of the man, of the woman,
as if one knows all,
may simply result in an eloquent work of fiction

Hah, what scorn the fellow man brings,
attack a man's words with the verbs that sting,
What say thee of a social boundary,
can this mind be so confounded by society's unsoundly,
Thought that limits the existence of dreams,
And thrusts upon those who dream, a scheme,
A plan so grand to destroy their ideals,
and keep them within the fence of jealous zeal.

At that devious scheme
the one that rules all man, all creature, all thing unseen

we see the work of fiction that is indeed in play
forcing all to participate, forcing all to comply with the rules and regulations of the way

yet we would be disingenuous in denying its inherent existence
as a member society, we have all succumb to its power, it's promise, its kisses

this figure does not mean to attack, but is simply observing what "is"
watching, analyzing,
simply sitting back

a jealous plan in a zealous fashion indeed it may be,
but alas, may we hold on the shoulders the great one,
who ignores all this
sees man and woman alike with unclouded visors
because all
alone
we
must
protect
we must protect the wiser

 

[oiprocs]

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs

Originally posted by: Goosemaster

Originally posted by: Oiprocs
It's hard to trust a woman you lust,
when all you want is to bust a nut,
It sucks to just fuck and not stay,
to touch which must be the connection you lust.

then that one soul comes along
beautiful thoughts and euqally beautiful thighs
you long to be yourself and want to take her to bed
yet, ringing loudly, deafly even, is the desire not to, within your head

this affliction of conscience collision
this truly inebriated decision
what is one to do
to long to fvk and yet
to long far greater to coo

Within a coo comes the word "true",
spoken by those who answered "I do",
true to the one you chose to be with,
and not to the whore you fell in lust with,
a coo is but a tale that has no end,
a repeating genre that tends to suck and bend,
so if you choose to coo and not woo,
careful with yourself - be true, do not lose.

reverent tone does this man take
playing the part of a god with mortals on some figurative game plate

professing that such truth is simply a fallacy in the absence the verbal "I do"
as if lust, love, eternal union, were defined by language and rationality,
and not by some sort of inexplicable and irrational, soul-aimed coup

And yet this man is not alone, accompanying his path is another full grown,
His tone is that of a prophet so solemn,
His words they pierce with such a small volume,
Can it be that the former has met a catch,
One who plays with fire but needs no match?
And yet he walks still, his path lit with his will,
For the men will come and go, verbal stones they will throw,
But his path shall not slow, and his message, it shall grow.

grow indeed it might
as the man that wields the fire might attest to on some bitter winter night

yet soft-spokenness and truth are not synonymous in every game
his message might indeed be heard by all
but be rejected because it limits itself to socially-defined boundaries
and might, but others,
be seen as lame

for the language of the woo or the coo, in the end, is a language of the irrational
to speak of wisdom on the subject,
of the man, of the woman,
as if one knows all,
may simply result in an eloquent work of fiction

Hah, what scorn the fellow man brings,
attack a man's words with the verbs that sting,
What say thee of a social boundary,
can this mind be so confounded by society's unsoundly,
Thought that limits the existence of dreams,
And thrusts upon those who dream, a scheme,
A plan so grand to destroy their ideals,
and keep them within the fence of jealous zeal.

At that devious scheme
the one that rules all man, all creature, all thing unseen

we see the work of fiction that is indeed in play
forcing all to participate, forcing all to comply with the rules and regulations of the way

yet we would be disingenuous in denying its inherent existence
as a member society, we have all succumb to its power, it's promise, its kisses

this figure does not mean to attack, but is simply observing what "is"
watching, analyzing,
simply sitting back

a jealous plan in a zealous fashion indeed it may be,
but alas, may we hold on the shoulders the great one,
who ignores all this
sees man and woman alike with unclouded visors
because all
alone
we
must
protect
we must protect the wiser

Henceforth this man now looks at this figure,
No longer does he see a prose threatening trigger,
Words come into play and throw away all his fear,
An unexpected response calms his nerves through his ears,
His stance has changed and his outlook now shook,
His ideals hold still but his methods are crook,
Wrong path as it seems he has traveled too far,
Unaware of the jungle that makes living so hard,
The foliage stood out not as he made his way in,
Society was watching, made sure he fit in,
Any glimpse of dissident actions, quickly struck down,
'Round here there's one law they follow in town,
But now the same man, having heard the grand figure,
Sees a reason behind the madness, holds back his rigor,
Smarter he may feel, wiser possibly true,
For sure he hopes not, to see those words affect few.

 

[Mikey]

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You better watch out muthafu**er!
Cuz I'm gonna pop you!

 

[PepePeru]

Peppered beef, salted pork, chicken meat!
I have never tried to watch what I eat.
If it even resembled food, I'd try it.
Now some quack says that I need a diet.
His prognosis: 'fatally overweight.
A chest clenching death will be my fate.'

Peppered beef, salted pork, chicken meat!
Life is sweet when you cant see your feet.
I dont care that I'm short of breath.
Pile it on! So I may savor my death!
Why do I wake up sweating at night?
Why does my chest feel so very very tight?

So Long, Albert.

 

[pontifex]

I wrote these over the last few days. My first 3 poems ever. They are in order of creation.
I know one thing I have to work on is the flow of the poem.


I have traveled many a land and many a world
Yet I have never left the comforts of my home
Like the sails of a ship, my mind unfurled
My imagination is left to wander and roam

I?ve sailed the seas
And stalked great plains
I?ve slept among tall old trees
And explored wondrous cities and their dark remains

Through burning deserts I have trekked
And rode the wind upon winged beasts
Innumerable peoples do I recollect
With whom I?ve joined in battles and feasts

Though my body has not traveled far
My mind does not stay long in one place
For I have lived among the stars
In that great void called outer space

If my imagination were to ever leave me
I should wither and die
What better place to ever want to be
Than that place in my mind?s eye?






As the sun sets and darkness falls
Shadows dance upon the walls
On the wind a spirit calls
Through these empty castle halls

Abandoned it is, though we don?t know why
Perhaps the land became quite dry
Perchance a plague caused them to die
Shall we never know what this vacancy may imply?

Who was the man that would be king
Whose crest is that of eagle with outspread wing?
Of this man, do the bards still sing?
We may never know this thing

Though man is gone, others seek shelter here
A spider spins her web upon the chandelier
A mouse builds his nest without much fear
And a pigeon roosts upon a long doused brazier

As life moves on we must not forget
Those who have come before and those not yet
For their stories are of blood, tears, and sweat
To inspire us, though we have not met

Though many things may be construed
About this place where life was hewed
In the end we can?t conclude
What has happened in this castle of solitude






It's time for All Hallow's Eve
At my front door I find a cowboy, an alien, a vampire
A ghost, a princess, an angel with halo, held up by wire
And finally, a mummy, oddly named Steve

"Trick or Treat!" they say
"Without candy, we won't go away!"
So I gave them all that I had, not wanting to cause a caper
For I believe that angel had a few eggs and some toilet paper!

 

[Nik]

Once upon a time I charmed
A woman but that fucking whore spent all my money on shoes and fucked some other guy so forget her I hope she dies.


Sorry, I'm not very good at these things.