poetry thread

SushiFeelings wrote

A Sushi Feeling
Mangled
Strangled

Torn away from our kind
As if we wouldn't mind
Used as fodder for the masses
Born right into our caskets

Discriminated
Intimidated

They ignored our internal screams
Molded us into awful things
Pull us straight from our sea
Even if we beg and plea

Merciless
Ruthless

Even after these acts of hatred
I can't hold a grudge
They just focus on the differences
So we are simply misunderstood

Prosperity
Tranquility

I shall hold this Sushi Feeling up high
Show the world our plight
Hoping they will see the light
Realize we aren't so different,

You and I.

so touching many movings have been made
:joy: :ok_hand:

I used to write when I was emo, but after I got over that phase, I lost all of my creativity LOL. If I had something that was not depressing as all fuck, I would post it. Oh well. Anyways, I really like Anemone.

I wrote something new after a while

Recovery
We were two of one
The sun and the moon
Until you dropped me
I broke like a light bulb
Now I'm burning down
Violently,  furiously
The chaos has broken in

I hate you with an ember passion
The tears you've caused me
The screaming,  the pain
Was it only for your sick obsession?
I was like paper in the wind to you
Nothing more, nothing less

My heart pulsates with furious rage
The wrath of mine will one day descend upon you
May the devil rest your soul

wrote something while listening to

Day 88: White Joker
It was a Sunday afternoon
Stroking the strings of a guitar
The sun was bright
The music was mellow
People told stories of one to another

The hills rolled
The seas churned
The smile on your face shone like a star
Into the night we went
Long went the trembling roar

Flashing colors didn't mean a thing
As long as there was a sound it could make a meaning
You knew this and you preached your word
But no one heard you
Not a word

We knocked on doors
It was but a simple sport
The sport of laughter in our halls of ways
Like a sunflower you rose at the break of dawn
To find Your Lover surely gone

You cried that night
You played the like nothing ever mattered more
Tears fell on your guitar like morning dew
They glistened in the midnight like glass
Never seen so sad, never so sad to begin with
Do not go off that steep cliff

The night was dark as it was past twelve o’ nine
The rain fell
The winds chimed
All was still as the air became cold and moist
But it ended that night with a one, two and a life most loved, lost

another poem

Behind the Cards
Laying on the ground the black ooze seeks its mark
Trickling along the walls of sand that i’ve made
They protect me from the people outside
Each of these people call out to me
Though they hold a dagger behind their back with a grin

The human heart is a fickle thing
I’ve seen it crash and burn so many times
And in this statement I speak to a mirror
Fate is not eternal but eternity is not fate

I look all around me and find sneering faces
Twenty to one, what odd chances
When will we as a whole be twenty-one?
Divided and ashamed i stand
Laying on the cold floor with toes in the sand

A scream is such a wonderful thing
It shows such… emotion
The rebounding silence never does return the feeling, though
Into the darkness we go

The suffering i feel in my heart is unbearable
The need to scream is eminent
Those dreaded tears drop from one’s eyes
The candle goes out with a whisp
That horrifying little hiss

a month later

Thread is dead but I got a doosey

I am dry, you say. I have no color. I do not feel. My mind is as vacuous and dull as an empty cosmos to a blind man without a telescope... After all, what difference is an emotion if it goes unexpressed?
 
If only I could show you. If only I could take you to the freezing, plague-infested landscape of my heart: the cold, sterile mortuary where part of me is suspended—perpetually, cruelly—between life and death...

The door shuts behind you with but a clack from the latch.
‘Who built this place?’ You ask, stepping into a room with no heating. ‘What deranged, tortured person conceived of such a sickening purgatory?’

…I did. I am the coroner and the cadaver, the architect and the mason... But ah—all of it was under duress! It was this place, this world, that made me this way; I, full of disease and in constant pain, I, freezing to death, under informed consent, in this very room, put a part of me to sleep, forever.

‘But what part, doctor? What part?’
And you... You really think it was the heart.
‘Oh, surely, it must, must be! For you are not sad! Who else but a man without a heart would not be sad in such a place as this?’
No, it was not the heart.
‘Then it was your brain! For you do not love or create!’
NO, fool, it was not the brain. No, no, no.

Let me show you. See, see for yourself, in the top row, the last storage unit on the left. Climb the ladder and open the cooler’s hatch. Climb, and be uncomfortable. Be afraid. Be only just ever so slightly afraid, that I, in all of my bitter, blue hatred and quiet rage, might kick it out from under you. Open my soul’s blue lips, and see...

It was my voice.

Yes, the cold seeps mercilessly, deep into my flesh and gnaws painfully on my bones. Yes, the isolation, the terror and loneliness, have made me want to weep horribly. Yes, the never-ending torment has taken hold of my mind and broken my spirit. And oh, how I need to cry out! How I long to tell you of my pain and my love! And oh, how I yearn, yearn to tell the world that my color is not blue!

...But now, alas, without my voice, I can do none of these things.

So I beg of you, look deep into my silent eyes and see—no, feel! Feel the agony I am in and have been in for so, so long!

Now, take his freezing soul, and thrust it upon the ground; I have long awaited its sweet shatter.

i kinda keep my poems around in the discord because it feels like dark poems are a little too much for the forum

I hear that. In a minute I'll be ripped to shreds by a horde of people waiting to call me edgy.

a month later

About a month late but I consider rap poetry: because it is.

Here's verse 3 of Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst by Kendrick lamar.

"Sometimes I look in a mirror and ask myself:
Am I really scared of passing away? If it's today, I hope I hear a
Cry out from heaven so loud it can water down a demon
With the holy ghost 'til it drown in the blood of Jesus
I wrote some raps that make sure that my lifeline
Reeking the scent of a reaper, ensuring that my allegiance
With the other side may come soon, and if I'm doomed
May the womb help my mother be blessed for many moons
I suffer a lot, and every day the glass mirror
Get tougher to watch; I tie my stomach in knots
And I'm not sure why I'm infatuated with death
My imagination is surely an aggravation of threats
That can come about, ’cause the tongue is mighty powerful
And I can name a list of your favorites that probably vouch
Maybe cause I'm a dreamer and sleep is the cousin of death
Really stuck in the schema of wonderin' when I'mma rest
And you're right, your brother was a brother to me
And your sister's situation was the one that pulled me
In a direction to speak of something that's realer than the TV screen
By any means, wasn't trying to offend or come between
Her personal life, I was like "It need to be told"
Cursing the life of twenty generations after her soul
Exactly what'd happen if I ain't continued rappin'
Or steady being distracted by money drugs and four-
Fives, I count lives all on these songs
Look at the weak and cry, pray one day, you'll be strong
Fighting for your rights even when you're wrong
And hope that at least one of you sing about me when I'm gone
Am I worth it?
Did I put enough work in?"

Even if you don't like rap, I think you should listen to a few songs that have deep, intellectual and sometimes emotional lyrics. There are songs where you'll find garbage, and others where you'll find pure poetry.

19 days later

Untrue Truths

My beat heart beats
Like a ticking time bomb
Ready to deplete
Ready to compete
With all the other
lonely hearts club bands
To try to withstand
All the pressurized unintelligent formal
Untrue truths that measure my informal being among this simplicit surface I stand upon
The pitter patter of my irregular heart
Sounds like taps when death finally does us part

I tried my best:

oc beneath no stealing
You sit, sat, seated.
Sitting on a pillow and not the ground be you, but why and what of it?

If it is uncomfortable I won't do it.
I was sat on a pillow, but what of it?

You eat, ate, eating.
Eating but leaving the spice thee were, but why and what of it?

If it is unenjoyable I won't have it.
I left out the spice, but what of it?

You think, thought, thinking.
But you slip
and the focus changes.
You roll the noises on your tongue,
But you choke
and the focus changes.
And you think.
And you think you will stretch further

but it is uncomfortable.

And you think.
And you think you will work harder

but it is unenjoyable.

And you think
You think too much
Then not enough.
You contradict yourself,
But never the monotony of your ways.
The dead-set repetition repetition of the words
And the uncertain form of your gray elegy
Unbudging.

See now:
I vary bland nomenclature,
Capitulate to fresh natures.
Incorporate rhythm to keep time,
As I test ability with rhyme;
No matter how and how many times you repeat the words,
Nothing will change until you do.