This time I have done it!
I have done it,
this time!
If practice does make perfect
then a perfectionist,
am I!
There's a moth that's lost its way
around the wick, and I
know why!
Within my fingers cupped
hides not your average
firefly!
My throat hurts;
Daniel P. tastes like kitty medicine
Soft and fluffy.
Brittany and Kyle
Pick at each other while listening
To Alex Hendly and the Round Table.
Everyone has AIDS.
At first I thought it was just that she was better,
and she didn't have time.
She said she hated it when I rhymed.
The rhythmic tick-tock of the clock chimed unending,
and I used it to align my logic.
One-two, one-two, a clockwork mechanism
of understanding the way rainbows come from prisms,
the innocuous glass expanding into brilliant shards of light -
a bright shock of pure energy, stuck in fetters,
the light's visual scream piercing the night,
and slicing through it irregardless.
The fact it slices is harmless:
The fact it's leaving is charmless.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Pick up your telephone
And call me back
Ask me why I am not asleep
My roommates say
Their nights are bottomless
I just say, our night is deep
I knocked on your door
With a guitar on my hand
I was not there to sing you a song
But I was there to illustrate to you
That we are a band
I was about to throw rocks
On your window but I figured
You would say that I'm not original enough
But I still threw rocks on your window
Who cares if it's not artistic?
Oh well! Love is old stuff
Everytime I think about you,
My thoughts become brand new
Because you are familiar to me
But I have never seen
Anyone more beautiful than you
That's why when I sleep,
You are the only one I see
I called your home late
And got nothing but a dial tone
I did what I had to do
But can't clean the kiss marks off
Your telephone
I need to quit this habit
I keep doing when I am sleepless
In my living room,
Picturing how pleasant
This place would be
If you were here beside me,
Sleeping until noon
I would be awake all day,
Stroking your hair gently
While I wonder what it's like
To live in your solemn dreams
Your eyes would be closed
But you would see
That the love that's close is more
That what it seems
Lollipops! Lollipops!
Gum drops and sugar plums!
Krispy Krispy's, and crackly crackly's,
razor blades and bubblegum!
Oh boy, oh boy, I just can't wait,
to fill my heart with joyful sprit.
The laughter of children, filling their palms with treats,
I just can't wait to hear it.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Official Moderator of The [Gutter]
Think the MtgStaff is just swell? Join today! You too can be involved in an 8 year grudge and delete nearly 9000 of kpaca's posts!
Half man half machine,
You'd think I was the one who invented silence.
On the edge of sleep,
Static slides across the television,
Reminds me of your wind chime voice.
Dire dreams, of my life...
Or lack there of.
Obscuring sense of self.
Is it sentient?
Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are dead.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
it's a fools race to run if all is lost to be won..
Submissions for PRC Round 131 are now over. Make sure to vote and join us for PRC Round 132!
[PhYReXiA]'s submission will be withheld for failure to vote in Round 129. Please make up for the vote in this round of the contest and your submission will be entered next round.
Where is he?
The bastard in his red shirt
He hides among all the people
He doesn't care who gets hurt
He lives inside a life of tug and pull
His stupid ****ing dog is always alone
The dog looks the same
And is never given a bone
His hair is never tame
His girlfriend is always happy to help
Even when she is hiding too
He is always hiding behind kelp
He doesn't care about you or me.
So where is he?
Is he in that room?
Does he hide behind a broom?
Is this some joke by the author?
Where's Waldo?
[spoiler]
Edited from the original version that I entered (then revoked) last week.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Originally Posted by Arcadic View Post
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
Invoking
Ire from the English
Isles where old men devoid of
Inspiration
Institute slavery of
Irishmen for the sake of
Irresponsible landlords.
Ireland.
Instigators
Invoke the divine right to
Irrigate land,
Immediately giving rise to
Individual rights, freedoms and
Illegal actions towards
Ignorant Brits.
Ireland.
Indicative of
Ideologies born in
Italy spreading, replacing
Indigenous religion,
Ironic considering they
Invented
Independance by resisting
Invasion from the English, who needed more
Islands to
Illicitly spread Opium and
Interbreed with a stronger people, from the emerald
Isles.
Ireland.
Invincible, still resisting
Immense force from the not-so-United Kingdoms and
Invertebrate politicians who spend
Ill gotten gains on
Impure churches.
Ireland.
Immortal, the
Ideal of
Independance for
Individuals to pursue the
Impossible.
The first thing one sees when they talk in the Queen's English
is just how disconnected one thought is from another -
my mind beckons my bed to itself unending,
and the thoughts burrow into my consciousness like waterfowl
and bad metaphors-
I tried to avoid using the word 'I' in this poem, but I failed.
There were sounds I thought I was making,
or perhaps just a single fury,
some type of loud gutteral noise that vaguely referenced long-dead poets I couldn't hope to match,
armies fighting on vast plains, confused, at night,
signifying nothing.
I am not here -
I am waiting to be elsewhere,
I am holding on to my consciousness with dear life itself until it is forcefully taken from me, and every day
I die and am born anew.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
For the Next PRC
I should write only about meter and stanzas
These are the only things that matters.
It's true when talking about poetry
Everyone try to hit the climax
Do their best (some do their worst)
Invent things that shouldn't cohexist
Here I am trying to win with something new, uninvented.
Uninvited.
But because of some witty puns and clever writing
(and occasional glamour)
The final result is this **** you can see with your very eyes
Read me and prove I'm wrong.
Rambunctious.
It's a word within a word as I ram into buns.
With a certain rambunctious giddiness to my movements.
Anna-Lee.
She's a girl within a girl as I wish she were really two girls.
Exactly why I plan to split her in two. Maybe thrice.
A sneer for a smile.
My lips curl within a curl of a some short hairs that I secretly wish weren't there.
I'll be glad I did this later though.
Turducken.
It's literally a bird within a bird within a bird.
And who doesn't like a thing inside of another thing inside of another thing. Especially when moisture is involved.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Official Moderator of The [Gutter]
Think the MtgStaff is just swell? Join today! You too can be involved in an 8 year grudge and delete nearly 9000 of kpaca's posts!
All men sought a villain!
All yearned for an answer!
They found a Patriot!
They found a Victim!
You scapegoat-
You prophesied son-
They FORETOLD his death!
How then
are you to blame?
They FORETOLD your betrayal!
How then
can you be damned?
They FORETOLD all this!
How then
can this be true?
In case you couldn't tell, the poem is about Judas Iscariot, one of the disciples of Jesus. One of the things that caused me to part from Christianity, was the unfair depiction of Judas in the Bible: in which he is depicted as a traitor, despite evidence to the contrary, found in several gospels, including the Gospel of Judas; which was rejected as Cannon. Why? Maybe the Priesthood fears truth.
If Only I Had Known
If only I had known
The conversation him and I had alone
I would have not let him be
He was never free
Trapped by his own selfindulgence
"As a kid I only had a few cents"
"I could buy enough for lee and me"
"You kids have all this expensive ****"
"And you, Isaac, only care about getting lit"
That's all I thought of as I drove away
"How was I so led astray?"
"No, he'll be fine" I thought
and he died the next day.
If only I had known how much he cared
If only I had known he was right
If only I had stayed with him that night.
If only I had known.
If only.
This is an event I'm still fighting with inside myself. This passage is about my grandfather's alcohol problem and the irony when he yelled at me for smoking weed.
.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Originally Posted by Arcadic View Post
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
I was writing a story about nothing about nothing,
like Seinfeld is a comedy about nothing,
but then I stopped.
There's nothing to do in a story for nothing but look at the things that are in there
and remark on them (like airplane food)
so it must be fate that the guy developed a superman complex,
how funny was he that people watched that show for umpteen years
and had fun watching people be themselves! and how EMBARRASSING
it is to see people actually act as themselves, how funny is it to watch people live life! and how deserving of scorn we all are!
The Bible is a scary book, but at least it says "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone";
and throwing stones is a lot of fun but maybe (but maybe!)
having a little bit of sin
means that you shouldn't throw quite so many stones.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Gazing me with that dumbfounded look
I know you are stunned
By the experienced mirror of reality
It shows your inner self in all your misery
Girl
You and me were born of the same bone;
Of flesh and bone you are done;
And for all your sins you must atone
Girl, I know
It's comfortable to sit in the couch and watch some movie
And call friends to share some gossip
And attend parties looking for money
I'm not condescending
I'm just a poet
And I try to win every one by the heart
I don't force others to come along with me.
You and me - I carved trenches in the past
This poet's poems are pure virtue
By tying your wrists together
With these laces of innocent love
I shall forever be bound to your soul
And even if we paint the roads with yellow and green
We can jump into the sky and follow the path into the deep, deep water
The blue river with sharp rocks in its bed
To the ones who sought perfection, the color is red.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
This time I have done it!
I have done it,
this time!
If practice does make perfect
then a perfectionist,
am I!
There's a moth that's lost its way
around the wick, and I
know why!
Within my fingers cupped
hides not your average
firefly!
Daniel P. tastes like kitty medicine
Soft and fluffy.
Brittany and Kyle
Pick at each other while listening
To Alex Hendly and the Round Table.
Everyone has AIDS.
At first I thought it was just that she was better,
and she didn't have time.
She said she hated it when I rhymed.
The rhythmic tick-tock of the clock chimed unending,
and I used it to align my logic.
One-two, one-two, a clockwork mechanism
of understanding the way rainbows come from prisms,
the innocuous glass expanding into brilliant shards of light -
a bright shock of pure energy, stuck in fetters,
the light's visual scream piercing the night,
and slicing through it irregardless.
The fact it slices is harmless:
The fact it's leaving is charmless.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Pick up your telephone
And call me back
Ask me why I am not asleep
My roommates say
Their nights are bottomless
I just say, our night is deep
I knocked on your door
With a guitar on my hand
I was not there to sing you a song
But I was there to illustrate to you
That we are a band
I was about to throw rocks
On your window but I figured
You would say that I'm not original enough
But I still threw rocks on your window
Who cares if it's not artistic?
Oh well! Love is old stuff
Everytime I think about you,
My thoughts become brand new
Because you are familiar to me
But I have never seen
Anyone more beautiful than you
That's why when I sleep,
You are the only one I see
I called your home late
And got nothing but a dial tone
I did what I had to do
But can't clean the kiss marks off
Your telephone
I need to quit this habit
I keep doing when I am sleepless
In my living room,
Picturing how pleasant
This place would be
If you were here beside me,
Sleeping until noon
I would be awake all day,
Stroking your hair gently
While I wonder what it's like
To live in your solemn dreams
Your eyes would be closed
But you would see
That the love that's close is more
That what it seems
Lay a plan
Choose the sword-
Break a pen.
Then we'll depart-
At dawn!
And we'll die-
At dusk!
We'll go
together,
You and I,
Into the night!
We fled this land-
We broke this sword-
We snapped this truth-
We've forsaken this earth!
A rise, a calm-
A fall, a storm-
What cruel fate,
wrought by cruel god's hand?
I swear thee, then!
I'll lay-
a worse-
plan.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
100 Proof
Mind hazy
Sleeping on the roof
Everything looks like Paisley
Tripping
Slipping
Falling
Laying down
passed out drunk on the ground.
Original Entry "Where's Waldo" revoked
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
Lollipops! Lollipops!
Gum drops and sugar plums!
Krispy Krispy's, and crackly crackly's,
razor blades and bubblegum!
Oh boy, oh boy, I just can't wait,
to fill my heart with joyful sprit.
The laughter of children, filling their palms with treats,
I just can't wait to hear it.
A distance so far, too far;
too much to take any longer.
A need so vast, such desperate need;
a burden that despite my strength
I cannot bear much further.
I'm too weak to stand beneath the weight
nor can my armor stop the spread
of cracks that creep across me.
You'd think I was the one who invented silence.
On the edge of sleep,
Static slides across the television,
Reminds me of your wind chime voice.
Dire dreams, of my life...
Or lack there of.
Obscuring sense of self.
Is it sentient?
Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are dead.
[PhYReXiA]'s submission will be withheld for failure to vote in Round 129. Please make up for the vote in this round of the contest and your submission will be entered next round.
The bastard in his red shirt
He hides among all the people
He doesn't care who gets hurt
He lives inside a life of tug and pull
His stupid ****ing dog is always alone
The dog looks the same
And is never given a bone
His hair is never tame
His girlfriend is always happy to help
Even when she is hiding too
He is always hiding behind kelp
He doesn't care about you or me.
So where is he?
Is he in that room?
Does he hide behind a broom?
Is this some joke by the author?
Where's Waldo?
[spoiler]
Edited from the original version that I entered (then revoked) last week.
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
Isn't it beautiful to see
this crimson shade?
Can you see this day dying -
And the stars scattering over the distance
in the scarlet pattern horizon?
Here where I am
I feel my head is going wrong,
There are a lot of things that may go wrong.
I press my luck into the unknown
And I ask the horizon
"Is there a chance things will work as planned?"
I feel my heart, it says to the soul
"There are some things you might not understand
Without me you surely will wither!"
"Listen to my voice,
It can't lead you to a dead end, it'll go through.
This maze of thorns' reward is good enough"
Here where I am I watch the lights fading away.
The deep blue sky of the night
Wait 'till dawn promises.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
A moment
exists in areas of shade
A moment
sitting idly by on Tuesdays
And it lingers
with the horizon
a purple moon
a hazelnut sun
Then dances
in the flames of night
caresses your fingers
pushes on your sense of right
Then it is gone
like instant coffee and lightning
tattering on the lips of life
falling off the edge with the wind.
Invoking
Ire from the English
Isles where old men devoid of
Inspiration
Institute slavery of
Irishmen for the sake of
Irresponsible landlords.
Ireland.
Instigators
Invoke the divine right to
Irrigate land,
Immediately giving rise to
Individual rights, freedoms and
Illegal actions towards
Ignorant Brits.
Ireland.
Indicative of
Ideologies born in
Italy spreading, replacing
Indigenous religion,
Ironic considering they
Invented
Independance by resisting
Invasion from the English, who needed more
Islands to
Illicitly spread Opium and
Interbreed with a stronger people, from the emerald
Isles.
Ireland.
Invincible, still resisting
Immense force from the not-so-United Kingdoms and
Invertebrate politicians who spend
Ill gotten gains on
Impure churches.
Ireland.
Immortal, the
Ideal of
Independance for
Individuals to pursue the
Impossible.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
The first thing one sees when they talk in the Queen's English
is just how disconnected one thought is from another -
my mind beckons my bed to itself unending,
and the thoughts burrow into my consciousness like waterfowl
and bad metaphors-
I tried to avoid using the word 'I' in this poem, but I failed.
There were sounds I thought I was making,
or perhaps just a single fury,
some type of loud gutteral noise that vaguely referenced long-dead poets I couldn't hope to match,
armies fighting on vast plains, confused, at night,
signifying nothing.
I am not here -
I am waiting to be elsewhere,
I am holding on to my consciousness with dear life itself until it is forcefully taken from me, and every day
I die and am born anew.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Nothing to do on a Sunday
Standing on the corner by myself,
Patting my tattered sneakers against the tarmac
pat, tap, pat, tap.
Puffing out my cheeks,
staring with animosity,
At the other kids with soccer balls
filled with jealousy,
At the new jerseys on their back.
My Mafia Stats - My Helpdesk
G Omnath, Locus of Mana U Arcum Dagsson BUG The Mimeoplasm GW Gaddock Teeg X Karn, Silver Golem
I should write only about meter and stanzas
These are the only things that matters.
It's true when talking about poetry
Everyone try to hit the climax
Do their best (some do their worst)
Invent things that shouldn't cohexist
Here I am trying to win with something new, uninvented.
Uninvited.
But because of some witty puns and clever writing
(and occasional glamour)
The final result is this **** you can see with your very eyes
Read me and prove I'm wrong.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Rambunctious.
It's a word within a word as I ram into buns.
With a certain rambunctious giddiness to my movements.
Anna-Lee.
She's a girl within a girl as I wish she were really two girls.
Exactly why I plan to split her in two. Maybe thrice.
A sneer for a smile.
My lips curl within a curl of a some short hairs that I secretly wish weren't there.
I'll be glad I did this later though.
Turducken.
It's literally a bird within a bird within a bird.
And who doesn't like a thing inside of another thing inside of another thing. Especially when moisture is involved.
a man
who kills himself?
All men sought a villain!
All yearned for an answer!
They found a Patriot!
They found a Victim!
You scapegoat-
You prophesied son-
They FORETOLD his death!
How then
are you to blame?
They FORETOLD your betrayal!
How then
can you be damned?
They FORETOLD all this!
How then
can this be true?
In case you couldn't tell, the poem is about Judas Iscariot, one of the disciples of Jesus. One of the things that caused me to part from Christianity, was the unfair depiction of Judas in the Bible: in which he is depicted as a traitor, despite evidence to the contrary, found in several gospels, including the Gospel of Judas; which was rejected as Cannon. Why? Maybe the Priesthood fears truth.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
.
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
I was writing a story about nothing about nothing,
like Seinfeld is a comedy about nothing,
but then I stopped.
There's nothing to do in a story for nothing but look at the things that are in there
and remark on them (like airplane food)
so it must be fate that the guy developed a superman complex,
how funny was he that people watched that show for umpteen years
and had fun watching people be themselves! and how EMBARRASSING
it is to see people actually act as themselves, how funny is it to watch people live life! and how deserving of scorn we all are!
The Bible is a scary book, but at least it says "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone";
and throwing stones is a lot of fun but maybe (but maybe!)
having a little bit of sin
means that you shouldn't throw quite so many stones.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Gazing me with that dumbfounded look
I know you are stunned
By the experienced mirror of reality
It shows your inner self in all your misery
Girl
You and me were born of the same bone;
Of flesh and bone you are done;
And for all your sins you must atone
Girl, I know
It's comfortable to sit in the couch and watch some movie
And call friends to share some gossip
And attend parties looking for money
I'm not condescending
I'm just a poet
And I try to win every one by the heart
I don't force others to come along with me.
You and me - I carved trenches in the past
This poet's poems are pure virtue
By tying your wrists together
With these laces of innocent love
I shall forever be bound to your soul
And even if we paint the roads with yellow and green
We can jump into the sky and follow the path into the deep, deep water
The blue river with sharp rocks in its bed
To the ones who sought perfection, the color is red.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?