Written by Bad English on 15.04.2011 at 13:28

She is comming out of the mist
Restless girl whit a flower at her arms
She's falling appart in the morning light
From yesterday where she broke her heart

She's going beck in a night
Feelling fine and smoking cigarettes
She's dancing agan
Whit many friends what makes it hepen

Im wasting a dance
Hiding in a darknened corner
Im wasting this feeling
Sleeping long long long hours at day time

Im just wasting a fun
Falling on ground when see those faces
Im wasting a life
Wating things what never will come


One The Way

Im on the way now, I dont know where to go
I dont want turn beck and go home
I better linger in this cold place how please for help

Im on the way now, I dont know in what place and time I will stop
Im falling appaert now, it doesnt metter if I scream or cry
I can not satify you not even me

Im on the way now, Im running down a dream
Dream is over now, but I still can not wake up
Whit our whit out you , my dear friend

Im on the way now, Im start new life in wastlands
I bought you roses and ask for lats dance in this cold rain
But I remeber that smale, it brings beck to me a lot of forgotten pain

Im on the way now, Im aproching forgotten places into my soul
I appologies , but you still make me cry
Even deep inside I know it wasnt my faulth it hepened

Im on the way now, feels Im wasting my life
I sad to you something deep from my soul, but like a bird you fly away
If defending my own wrights are crime, hang me in gallowes for eternity






Sometimes I wish I never know why time exist
I wish I could be you, see it whit your eyes
In the day talking whit you near closest station
In the night time, wishing I could feel how warm n safe your home could be

Its monday to friday Im in love agan , you and me
Im (flying)hight agan enjoy it evever way how I can
Its weekend , Im alone agan , didnt mean to hurt you
I didnt mean waste this time, but neider did you

Its monday, Im flying agan , you and me ...and friday
What we feel agan , landing in seperate rooms
I wish I can stop a time, but it keeps spinning around

The first poem sounds like longing, but the inability to do anything about it. you speak from your life and your reality. this has the feel of urban poetry to it.

The second poem is pure emotion, and very beautiful. I love the phrase 'I'm running down a dream'. Such a beautiful picture and feeling comes to mind just with that one phrase.

The third poem is a bit confusing, but I love the concept of time and weekdays. Very interesting... I think you would spell much better if you slowed down your typing a bit. It seems like most of your mistakes are typos, and not a problem with the language barrier. Keep up the good work. You always have interesting things to say!

Written by Raging Dreamer on 21.07.2011 at 07:39

Written by whatsacow on 14.04.2011 at 03:15

The sound of silence fills your lungs
As you scream for someone to save you from your watery tomb.
You acknowledge you're own hopelessness
Yet you still pray.
Praying to a god you don't believe in.
Praying to the maker you denied.
God is dead.
Philosophy is dead.
Science is dead.
You proved our own worthlessness and plunged us into this abyss.
There is no hope.
Faithless, we drift as you drown.
Without aim, we self destruct.
Without our deities we immerse ourselves in anarchaic malevolence.
We preferred our beligerent bliss.
We preferred our lives when they made sense.
When they had a purpose.
So as you're lungs fill with water, I pull you out.
I lay you on the land.
As you lay dying, I want the last thing that you see
To be the world you destroyed.
What you took away from me.
From us.

This is a very sad, very bitter poem. Is it based on someone actually drowning? Great word usage save one word. You're means 'you are'. I believe you meant to say 'YOUR'. It's very common for English speakers to make this snafu, what with so many words that sound the same and are frequently misspelled by even the best of us! I didn't know the proper way to say open 'til midnight was actually spelled till, and was not a derivative of 'until' until I looked it up and discovered the British English origins of the word. I had always seen it written as 'til.
Aside from that minute issue, this is a near perfect poem. I always love the way you put things, and I love the pure hopelessness of the story. in a way it tells about human nature and humanity in what it has become. Excellent work as always! How did the publishing go, by the way?

Thankyou. The publishing is going alright. I sent them five poems, and they've published three thus far, but told me to keep sending them in, and they'll keep publishing. They rejected one because it was blatantly about suicide, the bastards. Oh well, political correctness will continue to rule over art for many years to come. Not that I'm conceited enough to think of my work as art

RD - 1th is how I felt beck time I wrote it and what ppl I see and 2 is about some girl, more I saw feeling what you have cominicating 1th time in day times it starts and it ends at some time at day and till enxt day si generaky its emotions , but secend also lil about live and other ppl around last one is weird its there I cantch last secends of insipration

Written by Raging Dreamer on 21.07.2011 at 07:18

Written by Guest on 10.04.2011 at 00:21

Ever since I went to a poetry rendezvous in September of last year, my desire to write poetry has been rekindled. Not only that, but I see poetry as a way to eloquently express an idea. Here is one I recently composed, my longest so far.

Kleptocracy

Deep inside their marble halls,
Built from the labor of workers unpaid,
The Lords of Wall Street submerge themselves
In green seas of fortune
Wrenched from the hands
Of the taxpayer.
One Lord did proclaim,
"Ponder not the consequences,
Fear not the fallout,
For we are too big to fail.
No matter the circumstance,
No matter how deep the hole,
No matter how terrible the disaster,
The government shall pull us out,
For they are indentured to us,
And they shall forever serve our will."
And so the Lords continued
To bathe themselves in stolen wealth,
But beyond the golden walls
Of obscene opulence,
The masses are huddled
In gloomy concrete shells,
Devoid of light or warmth.
On the icy floor,
A man lies motionless,
Gaunt and pale,
With tears in his eyes.
His hopes have been shattered.
His dreams have turned to dust.
As he falls asleep,
One thought dominates his mind:
Revolution.
He wishes for the day
When his neighbors shall rise
And stand as one
Against the wealth-mongers.
He wishes for the day
When Wall Street is engulfed in flames,
And those golden walls,
Which once towered
So menacingly above the masses,
Come tumbling down.
Only when that day finally arrives,
Only when the kleptocracy finally falls,
Will he smile once again.

This is absolute genius. Though almost a story rather than a poem, this is absolutely wonderful writing! And I learned a new word as a result! Great job! You made a very good point about the current crisis and things happening in the real world! How very true!

Most of the stuff I know about poetry I learned from the works of Walt Whitman. During a time when everyone adhered to strict rules, rhyming, and meter, he broke away from all of that. Although he repeats words and phrases to give the reader the sensation of a beat, his poetry, for the most part, have no rhyming or meter. His works essentially taught me that poetry doesn't have to rhyme, which is good for me because I can't rhyme for shit. Also, the man's writing was absolutely beautiful:

America
Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear'd, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair'd in the adamant of Time.

My first attempt to write a heroic/romantic poem. It's inspired by a Leonard Cohen song "The Traitor", more percisely the lines "The dreamers ride against the men of action. See the men of action falling back."

the legion

Our will shall be done -
the purposlessness, the last
reasonable act.
We carry no weapons
and we follow this only command.

And we BUILD our steeds
of scrap metal
into this one machine
and those plates, those helmets
are little too heavy, a little to big for us.
But our platoon need not look noble
for where we're heading
there is no need for that.

And now that the legion is ready
?To north!" the voice cries
and on our rusted machine will be rolling
against the people, the faith, the time

But you - there riding against us,
there to remember,
to keep this story alive -
on the last field, put up a plaque, please
no names, just: HERE THE LAST GOOD LOSERS LIE
AND THIS SIGN -
A REWARD FOR THEIR ONLY
DESPERATE ACT

("To north!" tries to be a reference to Caesar and his campaign, but I'm not sure it's very obvious, so I'll just point that out.)

Written by whatsacow on 14.04.2011 at 03:15

[...]
We preferred our lives when they made sense.
[...]

Very nice line. (I'm not much of a 'holist', I guess )

Diluted love

I feel this insecure feeling, diluted love
When I linger in this solitude, I see what broken hopes realy are
When I search for switch, this lift is falling down ....

I feel this sensible feeling, diluted love
When I kiss it feels like Ive drowning in this restless sea
Or climbing to the hilltop , but can not find a place where put final steps

I feel this polution, diluted love
When I see a daylight, and day starts at 10 am
In this 11th hour I can not open my eyes, my window also'r dark

I feel this poison, diluted love
Recahing hand what saves the day
But like a doomed one dead is always on my way



no title

There was a time when you to me like a falling rain
make me running down
I saved you rom the cold, but whisky burning like a gassoline
hey girl,. I told you once, you must slowing down


I wasnot that who let you down
I was not that who did not explain why
I didnt know you saw ''dying''
making ''coffin ships to sail away

There is no reaosn
Looking for my face in fancy nightclub
Hope to see me whit someone else

There is no reason
say goodby , left those things, left to die
start a new day whit saying good bye

You make me
Cry in the rain and see all what you left befindand
open new sunshine for me afer rain, no you're not comming beck

Kill Me

Im walking in the shadows , I give up higest hopes
give up love and my handgun to
You better kill me, 'cause I will keep on walking
1000 miles forvards to this highway of my destiny
A 1miljon miles is over, still I cant see crosroads of my life
You better kill me, 'cause i know I wasted all
Miles in nowhere, like a skycraper in a fog
No end, no sky , no way to see and feel
Just a thinkgs what never will be real

My Colors

Im black...I never will recah a stars
or enter in paradise , in promisland whit anger in my hands
Im white...I never will fall agan
Or enter to those fields of immortality
Im blue...reaching for the sky
Remebering Icarus...I wanna fly
Im red....bleeding out
In silant dreams, feels like Im not dreaming
Im yellow .... com on closer and like me
Iike a summer, touch me, 'cause I might get cold again
Im pink...my soul ''stinks''
I know a reaosn, but there no reason to explain
Im green...I dont want to lie
I want to go, go beck home agan
Im rainbow...Im all in one

I'm back after a really big break from writing. As usual my life fuels my writing, so here it is...

My mind's exile

Behind the wall of words nothing matters
For it all fades at the switch of a button
Behind this wall of imagery
Lies only misery

Can I comprehend with it all, survive the fall?
Plunge through the gates of misery once more
For me, forever an open door

Like a prisoner I've carved lines upon the wall of words
This longing feeling fills me up
As I try to reach your eyes with my memories

But there is no ease
This life, it cannot please
And so falls another piece
In this life that cannot please

Hours pass in my mind's exile
Still I, paint these empty walls in nothingness
So bleak, so colorless

It is my mind's exile, for I shall stay here for awhile
Until the tides of memories retreat
Under the struggling heart beat

So, after a long break, I've returned to poetry, with a poem that is a little different from usual. Hell, I even named this one Hoping to kickstart this thread again, as I miss reading all of your awesome poems. Even though I don't criticise other peoms, I do love reading them, so hurry up and Start posting!!!!

Seperate Ways

Humbled by your existence, I take my vow...
When misanthropy settles, I won't take your hand.
When the clouds start to part, and I stand in awe.
At a beauty no longer hidden.
When wisdom is all but exiled, you light the way.
No malevolent force to bind you now,
Open the door and run free.

Who am I to stand in your way?
Who am I to hold you back?
There is a world that stands before you...

Humbled by your embrace, as we say goodbye.
I'll watch from a greater distance, but it's you who leads the way.
Find your own path now, further yourself from here,
You've been caged for far too long, spread your wings, take flight
And leave me be.

A return to rhyming for me.

Ballad of Cecelia

The apparitions of the soulless keep watch,
as shadows pass from surface to surface.
The feel is haunting, yet serene,
beauty and anguish engulf this place.
The deadened trees, with their foliage long since departed,
their presence lingering forevermore;
unlike the being that hangs underneath.
A girl I used to adore.

Images of vibrancy fill the mind,
a past I once swore to forget.
Bitter tears escape me,
as my mind fills with regret,
over "I love you's" left unspoken,
over the bitter words we had shared
As I leave all have to remember her by,
is her cold, dead, blank stare.

If I Die

If I die old, only wind will remember my name
blowing true empty city streets in cold winter night
If I die now (young), only few will remember my name
in cold and lonely winter days, when candle stop sending its grace

If I die old, only rain will remember my name
falling down from sky, like bullets take down innocent
If I die now (young), only crimson will remember my name
crying in a sandy beach of poison sandy shore

If I die old, only few will remember my name
when they will create new life, without guilt
If I die now (young), ''beloved'' will remember my name
Trying answer questions about own misery

If I die old, only autumn leaves who's falling down, will remember my name
While air make them do wicked dance
If I die now(young), only storm will remember my name,
creating catastrophe of human disgrace

This one is kinda of an experiment, cut it in half and you'll see the rhyming is like mirrored.
Alongside forever

My own dark light buried inside
Far through our lost eyes
Lost to our mortal way

My drunken state, I cannot hide
Deeper down the path of lies
Forever is one, painted grey

No running away from this dark state we're under
Here our minds, graven in sadness
Filled by darkness
Sanity, oh, how much we want her

But she constantly runs away
Under everyday's begging cries
Smashing us against a wall like a merciless tide

So departed, so led astray
Our light fades, our last hour dies
Soon hand in hand, you and I, alongside

Written by Bad English on 22.09.2011 at 21:42

If I Die

If I die old only wind will remeber my name,
Blowing true emty city streets in cold winter night
If I die now(young) only fiew will remeber my name
In cold and lonely winter day, when candle stop sending its grace

If I die old, only rain will remember my name
Falling down from sky, like bullets take down innoncent
If I die now(young), only crimson will remeber my name
crying in a sandy beatch of poison sandy shore

If I die old, only fiew will remeber my name
when they will criate new life, whit out guilt
If I die now(young) , ''beloved'' will remeber my name
Trying ansver quastens about own missery

If I die old, only autumn leafves who's falling down, will remeber my name
Whyle air make them do vicked dance
If I die now(young), only storm will remeber my name,
criating catastrof of human disgrace

This is quite a powerful poem. Apart from the obvious spelling and grammatical errors this is amazing. Do you want me to fix up the errors and repost it? Because trying to work out some of the words killed the flow and feel a lot for me.

Written by whatsacow on 25.09.2011 at 13:18

This is quite a powerful poem. Apart from the obvious spelling and grammatical errors this is amazing. Do you want me to fix up the errors and repost it? Because trying to work out some of the words killed the flow and feel a lot for me.

Thank's and yes I do, feel free do it

Under the black wings of raven
Far above the frosted ground
The tortured soul begins its departure
To the sky,beyond the horizon

The Raven,a carrier of the dead
Steady on its route to heavens
Carried by the winds of bonfires
And of battles,and of shores in flames

You now take care of my brother
Not in blood,but in arms
Till he reach the land of the dead
The place in which I will arrive one day

Still not finished but its good stuff

Destroyer...
Abuser...
Hunter...
Molestor...
Her horns are twisted
and nails are sharp
Pale body with hundred eyes

Trickster...
Savier...
Hunter...
Defiler...
Her eyes are all red
and lips are black
Pale bride of death

Push of a button
Pull of a trigger
Deciding our fate
The weight of a finger

One minute we're here
Next moment we're not
With a blink of an eye
Our future is shot

Don't take it for granted
We could be gone in a snap
Gone forever
We take a permanent nap

I just spit out this one a bit ago, don't make much sense really, but I like it.

Tokyo Mars Warning

Lost in the blackest skies
Littered with one million eyes
The hand descends to Earth
Burned by the touch

He stands in the river
He waits to die
But he knows he can't deny
The beauty of eternity that shall fall

Underground they crawl up
Pierced the skin of the Mother
To watch the show
Why they come, they all know

Black turns to orange
The sky lights on fire
They stare to the Heavens
To view the beauty from deepest Hell

Written by Guest on 10.10.2011 at 02:36

I just spit out this one a bit ago, don't make much sense really, but I like it.

Tokyo Mars Warning

Lost in the blackest skies
Littered with one million eyes
The hand descends to Earth
Burned by the touch

He stands in the river
He waits to die
But he knows he can't deny
The beauty of eternity that shall fall

Underground they crawl up
Pierced the skin of the Mother
To watch the show
Why they come, they all know

Black turns to orange
The sky lights on fire
They stare to the Heavens
To view the beauty from deepest Hell

That's alright. Most modern poetry doesn't make much sense. Have you read the works of E.E. Cummings?

I've just completed two poems, at last.. Not feeling ready to share them in the open yet, but I will try to post them here in time..

Padded walls or a padded box
6 feet under or a jacket that locks
For an insane man
These are the choices he's got

Which will come first
That all depends
We can't see the future
Not sure where it ends

Written by therest on 28.07.2011 at 22:55

Written by whatsacow on 14.04.2011 at 03:15

[...]
We preferred our lives when they made sense.
[...]

Very nice line. (I'm not much of a 'holist', I guess )

Holist? Do you mean christian? Because I'm not either lol.

I dont know if there be more , but those 2 are not one, its 2 poems, I dont know if I will write something like this, so far only 2 poems, I might continue whyle Im in this melanholical thoughts about death period , I hope I will

1)
In those foggy fields close to wastelands, I wander
in solitude and sorrow, I glimmer.
I cannot live, I cannot die;
I cannot enter in afterlife, cannot go back to mortal life.
I cannot see, don't know anything;
questions and no answer.
There beginning but no end.
I stand near gravestone and ask to myself:
where I am going with this...


2)
In a churchyard, I open cemetery gates,
opening a window to my soul.
Searching for missing life, cleansing my soul.
I light a candle of doom and hope to die alone.
In never-ending pain and misery,
what's destroying my landscapes:
Unwanted memories haunting me again.
I remember river, and water that was still;
now depressive bloodstream, make my brain explode.
I cannot be loved in life this time...
I'm welcome to dying

PS Thank's WAO for spelling czeck

These earthly wounds

Suffocating into an ocean of heartbeats
This walk of loss ever so often repeats.
Into the mourning times we share
Through dying days full of despair.

As I, wonder, does this anguish end?
Or do we all become torn and bent,
Struggling above a sinking soil
Leading us to future times

Yet still, doom shows itself above the soil
Through an earthly wound of autumn coil.
The blanket of leaves beneath our feet,
Join nature and let us weep.

Every moment is a given death
For someone, their last breath.
So struggle for some peace of mind
Before time forgets you behind.

Ok here is the another one: i have trouble with first verse (its too long) but i think that this one is pretty good

Evolution set in motion
By blades of war
Near fire,strange creatures dance
They are yet to be called men

Eye for an eye
Revenge leads to extermination
Tooth for tooth
Confusing own blood for God's

In quest to get stronger
All means are exploited
With power that harness stars
The hell is unleashed

Left alone,hidden in dark
Deep in mother earth
The Caterpillar awaits
To morph into butterfly

Swimming In The Cold River

I'm swimming in the cold river
I want to swim away from this life
Drown and die into water, in these dark waves
I see a crimson siren calling my name deep down, deep down
She's calling my name, I will make my journey down

I'm swimming in the cold river
Floating away from this life, what is wasted anyway
I'm frozen now, but nobody is calling for me
To crimson wasteland, I want to go
Spirit is free, unalive body , the sea it flows
I'm drowning in the cold river



No title

There comes a light in a darkened land
under funeral winds of dying winter
where solitude is away for a while
In sunshine like a dead man I smile
Mournful melodies at cold night
When melting snow is the same as ashes
New flowers are to weak to feel warm summer wind
All will die again in another autumn day


Should I be remembered?

Should I be remembered?
Under dark sky's
Where crimson turns to gold
I fade away

Should I be remembered?
When heaven crying
In misty season
I fade away

Should I be remembered?
In a silent night
when ice turns to water
I fade away

Should I be remembered?
In a cold cell
When light shines into this tomb,
I fade away

Should I be remembered?
Under old dead tree
Where gallows once were
I fade away

Annual Despair


Family gathers with Christmas cheer,
with verbose discussions of the previous year.
It's been three seconds and my father already reeks of beer,
fulfilling all my previous fears.
You see they tell you Christmas is about family and mirth,
They forget to mention the corrosion of self worth
or the snarling, screaming, kicking birth
of despair and sustained periods of rough.
You know whatever present you get won't be good enough,
So give up!
And buy the bastards store credit.
At least then you won't regret it,
when you see them returning those costly, heartfelt presents.
Because you see Christmas is all about consumerism,
And causing family rifts and schisms,
forgetting any pleasant mannerisms,
Loathing others and yourself,
Drinking yourself into bad health,
Abusing anyone who dare try to help.
Financial and emotional fear,
an unstoppable, constant flow of tears
and as Christmas moves from present to rear
You thank god this only happens once a year.

Well, yesterday she broke up with me, so I needed to write down what I felt.

Destructive

I cannot hide from myself my weeping heart
And no grave in which I bury my grief is big enough
Why, why won't you leave me at peace?
My mind poisoned from you that I miss

Why does it feel heavier than gravity itself?
When you break your own for another heart
You create this vivid picture of a murderous art
From which you can't really depart

And it can't be explained why every action is irrational
So self-hurtful and destructive
The end decision so attractive
That you'd prefer something more fictional

With odds of suffering again
Bring yourself to carry this burden of grief
Fool yourself into belief
This heart stain can't bring more pain

Thieves

Stealing from life, looting the death
Took what we can, than run away
Leave no trace, disappear at will
Own what you want, keep what you've killed

Pray to no gods, bound to no man
With delight we raise hell
Raiding the lands, mocking the kings
For dead we have no tears

Without colors ,side by side
Under one banner we are gathered
My brother is one
Who sheds blood with me

Destroyers we are,vultures of men
And life here is always so cheap
But with lustful women filled
Its Full of battles and feasts

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 16.01.2012 at 00:09

Thieves

Stealing from life, looting the death
Took what we can, than run away
Leave no trace, disappear at will
Own what you want, keep what you've killed

Nice one. Btw, how long will it take you to finish up a single poem???