Topic: A poem.
started by: damien_s_lucifer
flows richly
from my nose.
How i wonder how you dig
Is it with your rotten nails
or do you get help from snails?
it's fleece was black as charcol,
and everytime it jumped the fence,
you could see it's dirty ar - you can imagine the rest
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I Like Your Old Stuff Better Than Your New Stuff...
Go watch your porn.
You sit on the bed-o;
No cloths to be worn.
And where is the lotion,
So smooth and so sweet?
It's in his right hand
Beating his meat
Off the top of my head everybody... that's right... yah... 
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<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >
*claps*
oh, 'twas a blistering shame -
to a shitty day, the ironic cap
a downright disgrace to my name
sitting in math class, my pants filled with crap.
at lunch time I had a cheerful little grin
and a side of chili fries
now panic had set in:
the stink began to rise
a bead of sweat collected on my head
did they know? could they smell?
“why the hell did I wear shorts,” I said
as a moist little nugget fell
I know - a handful of dump
paints quite a foul scenario
still, I swept up from thigh to rump
and wiped it all over miss mary jo.
This message has been edited by whiskey@throttle on January 11, 2001 at 10:58 PM
men
walking to the moon
as birds watch
but cannot feel their essence.
and with it the dirge for
a parade
of coffins.
another trip or ten around
the sun over,
marked off by one teary-eyed soldier
in an tireless cadence.
the passing of
years
is the passing of
coffins.
and the weathered old gravestones
topple over unnoticed
as the parade of faces
fades away.
while those coffins
lay rotting
and the dead are forgotten
through the turning of the years.
------------------
kuru
'dancing is the vertical expression of horizontal desire.'
-robert frost
This message has been edited by kuru on January 12, 2001 at 03:06 AM
I spy with my little eye
The sun shining brightly
The clouds rolling by
The last days of winter
Now seem so far away
And everything looks green
When it used to be grey
And I've watched the change
Like the changing in my mind
And I chased the leaves
Like the words I never find
Like the people I knew
Who I sometimes see today
Some still bright like fire
And some faded away
I turn on the radio
And someone's playing a song
I turn on the news
Hear what's going on
I turn on my back
When I'm full of beer
And I turn off the news
When I don't want to hear
And I've seen a girl who looks so very sad
Nothing left but a memory of all the times she's had
And I've seen a man who looks so sad inside
Nothing left but the memories from which he cannot hide
So I learned to fight
With a Weapon Called The Word
And I learned to raise my voice
So that I'd be heard
And I learned to fight W
ith a weapon called the word
And I learned to raise my voice
But I've never been heard
------------------
-- incubus
As I chase the leaves like the words I never find ...
you feel the tightening but you don't know it yet
skyhigh with a heartache of stone,
you'll never see me 'cauz i'm always alone"
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<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >
) anyone work out who my lyrics are by? ------------------
-- incubus
As I chase the leaves like the words I never find ...
code:
The Mind's Voice
----------------
I write these words with my mind.
But what I say and what I do is my bind.
You call me evil, sadistic, brainiac.
But all you do is make yourself look like a maniac.
I've been locked away in what seemed like forever,
to let my mind run and come to it's own indevers.
I've watched, listened, felt, tasted, and smelt your fear.
Fear of Death, Life, and what's coming near.
I've noticed few understand me and my ways,
so now I write for days and days.
I remember when I was like you.
Doing all my work, doing all that I had to do.
Then I heard a word I'll never forget.
The word of myself and the people I've yet to met.
I saw that I made my life happend and what would be done.
I decided what to do an dwhen to shot the gun.
Now I hear complaints about school shootings and how our country is curupt.
If you're going to complain, fight the politics and don't give up.
Shut up with how video games, music, and TV mess with my head.
It's all your crap and how you won't respect the dead.
I've watched children die on TV, and you take it to the edge.
And I now know your society is on the ledge.
The ledge of where things end, and where you die.
For now, all I can do is sit back and cry.
------------------
Spydir Web - spydirweb@techie.com
Core Arctic - < http://welcome.to/CoreArctic/ >
quote:
Originally posted by incubus:
Ah, but hyper, I know that's "Hero" by Ministry
close, close...NWO by Ministry . no idea who wrote the lyrics you posted. hmm. *ponders* was it dylan?
------------------
It's not peer pressure, its just your turn.
well, okay, if you insist - some pre-Paxil poetry by yours truly :
Patient’s statement 06-18-2000 :
"oozing on the floor on the border between Oregon and California the days get longer sometimes and shorter still others and sometimes the sun sunburns and the clouds chill the flowers who blossom and fade away in the same old eternal circle which I now accept as an illusion. I resisted with sound and fury that sparkled into the void and had no effect whatsoever. error dissipates rapidly in a distributed system and truth be told there is no blue pill there is no red pill there is no rabbit hole there is no wonderland just black hole singularities :
the dreamer types shine brightly to feed us illusions and false hope to gather us and thieve our sweat and blood to rise above the proletariat. you elitist motherfuckers WE WILL BURY YOU."
(Doctor’s notes. Evidence of schizophrenia. Haldol 5mg injection)
hush child. don’t rock the boat.
we need you to be calm, okay?
united we stand
divided we fall
there are no fragments
there are no partitions
there is no wall
hush now and let us bury you
i need sugar
i need a little watersugar
i get thoughts about you
and the night it wants me
like a little lost child
locked in a safe place
lookin out the window
the dark move fast past
the window
the dark on the otherside of
the locked door
click...
my thumb's on a tetris keyring
moving in brilliant timing
you pick up the phone
and i'm imagining
click...
tiny wires in her ears
(slide into the city)
tiny wires in her ears
(slide into the city
click...
- expected early in the mornin'
rising in the morning stopped to you (beneath the feet of the city)
click
you disconnect from me
click
when you're gone you take your century
telephone breath between us
the whole world is between us
only these wires
dust between the wires
and the green grass
in the distance
i am your tourist
- expected early in the mornin'
moving in brilliant timing...
i need sugar...
click..."
------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >
#include teachercomments.lib
"hi" we say
and exchange idle words --
we pass each other by.
is there something there,
a reason to live and love?
hurting.
i want
pain to pleasure, //comment: "this part gets a litle confusing"
fear to joy.
in a moment of heaven,
will my wish come true?
"hi" we say,
exchange idle pleasantries--
and pass each other by...
again.
Why do I try?
/* come to think of it, "confusing" appears on many of those assignments... */
edit: poor typing skills
------------------
Necesse est multos timeat quem multi timent.
This message has been edited by Prometheus on January 13, 2001 at 04:11 PM
quote:
Originally posted by Cyclone:
Hmmm...suprisingly good
On that note, my snot has turned from green to yellow.
Keep on posting...
This message has been edited by damien_s_lucifer on January 15, 2001 at 03:43 PM
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<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >
I don't write poetry. It scares me and annoys others.
syllables in a line and
then seven and five
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"All is number" - Pythagoras
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-Sometimes a dagger in the dark is more effective than a hundred swords at dawn. -Officio Assassinorium