Written by Bad English on 02.08.2013 at 14:22

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 01.08.2013 at 01:07

The days ago i crossed paths with my ex gf.She even didnt want to say hi (even out of polite ways)..I was about to smash her head on asphalt (america's history x style)there but i stopped.the result was this thing..written in about 2 minutes ... i dont want to brush it up...

the vine in your veins
has turned into venom
the hate from your soul
has turned into demon
inside of your heart
is turning winter cold
and your mind split
like the water into fog
no time for classy standoff
time to die like a dog
inside of you boils
guts are filling with anger
imagining the ways of death
fate violates like stranger
fear stops the breath
thousand years pass in seconds
before you die
seek for truth,its out there
inside my green eyes
but beware of old desire
what you see is not mine
they reflect your mind
before you get reborn
its time again to play

This is awsome, dude you need see your ex more, LOL to write awesome poems

thanks man.... i dont think that is a good idea.... next time it might not turn into poems

Written by Sophist on 20.06.2013 at 20:17

Insomnia
Chirps are louder than cars and thoughts,
Sunrise

That's actually a good one. Poetry isn't about stuffing line after line with dramatic phrases and metaphors. It's about finding that perfect expression to convey whatever it is it conveys, and making the most out of every word you use. That second line is evocative and clever.

(Also: I hate poetry that rhymes, unless it follows some historical metre for a purpose.)

No Respect for Suicides

I can't believe the progress that you made
Your body was a temple
Now it's a grave
What was once so perfect is now
So gone
I can't believe you would do that to everyone

Pity your sense of self-loss
Now an ode to tragedy and woe
Made by, not you, but others
And now whatever tragedies you had
Will be all but forgotten and relinquished
To be replaced with positive aspects
Of what was once your life

Now, dream of the end
Dream on
Dream of God
Dream of Hell
When your dreams become nightmares
A lack of comfort awaits your solace
There are no plans on waking you up
No one comes to dig you out of your coffin
Or catch your ashes in the wind
Or create plans on a making a bargain
A soul for a soul

No power beyond the grave
No forgiveness and no forgetting
No more control of your life
No more learning to live
No more living to learn
No more dying to live
No more crying wolf
No respect for suicides
No, none at all

Written by IronAngel on 04.08.2013 at 18:43

Written by Sophist on 20.06.2013 at 20:17

Insomnia
Chirps are louder than cars and thoughts,
Sunrise

That's actually a good one. Poetry isn't about stuffing line after line with dramatic phrases and metaphors. It's about finding that perfect expression to convey whatever it is it conveys, and making the most out of every word you use. That second line is evocative and clever.

(Also: I hate poetry that rhymes, unless it follows some historical metre for a purpose.)

I'm trying to achieve that but it doesn't always work out I find it extremely hard at times to find the right word or expression, but I guess practice makes perfect, or at least better.

Written by Sophist on 04.08.2013 at 22:11

Written by IronAngel on 04.08.2013 at 18:43

Written by Sophist on 20.06.2013 at 20:17

Insomnia
Chirps are louder than cars and thoughts,
Sunrise

That's actually a good one. Poetry isn't about stuffing line after line with dramatic phrases and metaphors. It's about finding that perfect expression to convey whatever it is it conveys, and making the most out of every word you use. That second line is evocative and clever.

(Also: I hate poetry that rhymes, unless it follows some historical metre for a purpose.)

I'm trying to achieve that but it doesn't always work out I find it extremely hard at times to find the right word or expression, but I guess practice makes perfect, or at least better.

come on what the hell is hard in writing 9 words in total

So that when you read them it blows you away, like a single verse from Borges that leaves you completely stunned.

What is hard in writing a hundred pages in total? Writing something is easy. Writing the right things is hard. One of the first things you'll learn in any writing class is that less is more, that your text is good enough not when there's nothing left to add, but when there's nothing left to take away. You must "kill all your darlings". There's always that gray area of personal taste, granted, but it's a good rule of thumb.

I don't mean to trash the other work in these last few pages, but the haiku I quoted was by far the most interesting piece of writing, showed the most original realization and had the greatest impact on me out of the stuff I read. It wasn't a recycled platitude. It wasn't overly dramatic, and the imagery was connected to the mood it was trying to convey. Chirps are louder than cars and thoughts. How fucking good is that?

Written by Sophist on 04.08.2013 at 23:31

So that when you read them it blows you away, like a single verse from Borges that leaves you completely stunned.

man nothing blows me away expecially words ... no ..not these days

Written by IronAngel on 04.08.2013 at 23:46

What is hard in writing a hundred pages in total? Writing something is easy. Writing the right things is hard. One of the first things you'll learn in any writing class is that less is more, that your text is good enough not when there's nothing left to add, but when there's nothing left to take away. You must "kill all your darlings". There's always that gray area of personal taste, granted, but it's a good rule of thumb.

I don't mean to trash the other work in these last few pages, but the haiku I quoted was by far the most interesting piece of writing, showed the most original realization and had the greatest impact on me out of the stuff I read. It wasn't a recycled platitude. It wasn't overly dramatic, and the imagery was connected to the mood it was trying to convey. Chirps are louder than cars and thoughts. How fucking good is that?

relax i was just joking with my friend ...

Joke inspired or not he gave good advice Thanks Iron Angel

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 04.08.2013 at 23:27

Written by Sophist on 04.08.2013 at 22:11

Written by IronAngel on 04.08.2013 at 18:43

Written by Sophist on 20.06.2013 at 20:17

Insomnia
Chirps are louder than cars and thoughts,
Sunrise

That's actually a good one. Poetry isn't about stuffing line after line with dramatic phrases and metaphors. It's about finding that perfect expression to convey whatever it is it conveys, and making the most out of every word you use. That second line is evocative and clever.

(Also: I hate poetry that rhymes, unless it follows some historical metre for a purpose.)

I'm trying to achieve that but it doesn't always work out I find it extremely hard at times to find the right word or expression, but I guess practice makes perfect, or at least better.

come on what the hell is hard in writing 9 words in total

I guess thinking and putting up every word in structure. I am with Sophist here. It's pretty hard sometimes to put up everything in structure and make it conveyable.

Written by Guest on 04.08.2013 at 19:07

No Respect for Suicides

hey this is so appealing to put some music on it ,thumbs up

Written by Cynic Metalhead on 05.08.2013 at 10:12

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 04.08.2013 at 23:27

come on what the hell is hard in writing 9 words in total

I guess thinking and putting up every word in structure. I am with Sophist here. It's pretty hard sometimes to put up everything in structure and make it conveyable.

nope ..still not convinced

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 05.08.2013 at 22:48

nope ..still not convinced

...And you call yourself a poet.

Written by Guest on 06.08.2013 at 05:07

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 05.08.2013 at 22:48

nope ..still not convinced

...And you call yourself a poet.

never called myself that way ...check my posts if you dont believe me ... poets are lame ,i use term "tamer of thoughts and words"
seriously never called myself a poet nor do i read any poetry at all

Written by Guest on 04.08.2013 at 19:07

No Respect for Suicides

I can't believe the progress that you made
Your body was a temple
Now it's a grave
What was once so perfect is now
So gone
I can't believe you would do that to everyone

Pity your sense of self-loss
Now an ode to tragedy and woe
Made by, not you, but others
And now whatever tragedies you had
Will be all but forgotten and relinquished
To be replaced with positive aspects
Of what was once your life

Now, dream of the end
Dream on
Dream of God
Dream of Hell
When your dreams become nightmares
A lack of comfort awaits your solace
There are no plans on waking you up
No one comes to dig you out of your coffin
Or catch your ashes in the wind
Or create plans on a making a bargain
A soul for a soul

No power beyond the grave
No forgiveness and no forgetting
No more control of your life
No more learning to live
No more living to learn
No more dying to live
No more crying wolf
No respect for suicides
No, none at all

This's... quite nice man.
Not my place to ask, but is this out of a personal experience or something?

Written by Guest on 06.08.2013 at 21:20

This's... quite nice man.
Not my place to ask, but is this out of a personal experience or something?

Sort of. My cousin Kara died of an overdose of antidepressants a couple of years ago, but I don't think it was ever figured out if it was suicide or not.
It stems from personal belief, however: Suicide is utterly disrespectful to yourself and everyone you love.

The River

The river, where I am sailing, is poison whit thoughts
and evil imaginations who makes you dream
in sleep, I lost course and don't care
how cold, deep and dark is water
I don't care if I drown or see a shore again
I just roar my both far away north from here
and search for the place, where evil men no live
where mortals will leave me alone
where nobody ask me to change

The river, soon it will freeze
destroy my wooden both
I dont know if nature take me now
or make me freeze longer
thin ice , can it hold me?
or let me drow, 'cause
its not my fault I am here
because I never asked to be born
and i never will ask for longer lifetime
I will vanish into wild river
just like we all will do one day
since we all roar the in the same river

And now I remember
How I missed my life line
and what I left behind, let to drown
I remember places where I have stop by
I remember faces whit what I have talked once
But its too late now , too late to go back
up to stream, back to lost life
I can only try to slow down
and take a piss at this damn river
what we call life

Im fucking sick of living in village in middle of nowhere ...

vacant life- depression rises
empty streets and dead memories
screaming winds and raven sings
into the vacuum of black sins

one more grave to dig one less to see
alcohol will wash away sad dreams
emptiness is one who victims seek
dumb kids under elders skin

beautiful destruction- flowers of decay
make yourself numb it eases pain
finished second in race against death
slowed down by lights and artificial rain

walking down the wretched fields
when full moon rises upon dreams
your hollow heart will know when time come
when cold wind blows-when you are alone

I don't know what to call this one, but it's based off a Batman villain I'm a huge fan of.

Jane Doe
Silences her lips until she'll only utter another voice
Blinds her eyes so she can see out new ones
Grins with teeth not her own
Tears her hair until the scalp bleeds and regrows
Rips the skins and wears it again
In the mirror she stares and glares empty
Driving down the feelings until devoid
Until she is no longer what she once was
But is all she'll ever be again

As 10 000 stars fades away
Above the crimson skies
And goblins are no more rise
Are there any hopes left?

Wideners gathering
Under ancient moon
Midgets are marching
Trough unknown gates of forgotten pagan lands

Questions about time
Can we break the time line?
Can we live whit out love?
And disturbances of germs?

Depressed melancholy
Under black mark
Under 1000 comets
What were hidden from us

Now mythological creatures are gathering
Marching in rebellion
Against human domination and lies
Is this end or new beginning?

Written by Bad English on 24.08.2013 at 15:10

As 10 000 stars fades away
Above the crimson skies
And goblins are no more rise
Are there any hopes left?

Wideners gathering
Under ancient moon
Midgets are marching
Trough unknown gates of forgotten pagan lands

Questions about time
Can we break the time line?
Can we live whit out love?
And disturbances of germs?

Depressed melancholy
Under black mark
Under 1000 comets
What were hidden from us

Now mythological creatures are gathering
Marching in rebellion
Against human domination and lies
Is this end or new beginning?

it somehow reminds me of Darkthrone man ...dont know why though.

Written by ANGEL REAPER on 24.08.2013 at 21:03

it somehow reminds me of Darkthrone man ...dont know why though.

LOL realy, why

If I'm silent with dreaming eyes
Don't break the silence
Human words destroy this delicate state
Where whatever in my cup becomes sweet Nectar
and everything is witnessed again for the first time.

If I fall asleep don't wake me
Even if I don't dream let me rest
But never let me chase sleep with a bottle or pill
Let Hypnos visit me when he wishes, just like Thanatos will.

If I die cremate me and scatter the ashes
Atop the hill I where never witnessed the sun being born
If not bury me far away from the graveyards
Don't mark the grave, don't put a tombstone
Whatever is put there won't be my remains
Because you'll take them with you.

Never Die, Forever Damned

Into dreams, where I overdose
And see some overact acts
And emotions makes me lost will to live
And coffin never shuts
Grave is full whit rain water
And I wander around silently
Feels like I am sleepwalking
Moonlight shadows and endless nights
'cause I know I am between 2 parallels
I will never die, I am forever damned
Just like moon what cannot kiss the sun
Just like wind what cannot blow through stone wall
Just like water what cannot drawn
Just like you, what cannot save me
I will never die, forever damned
Never die, forever damned
Never die, forever damned
That's what I am

Written by Bad English on 31.08.2013 at 02:43

Never Die, Forever Damned

Into dreams, where I overdose
And see some overact acts
And emotions makes me lost will to live
And coffin never shuts
Grave is full whit rain water
And I wander around silently
Feels like I am sleepwalking
Moonlight shadows and endless nights
'cause I know I am between 2 parallels
I will never die, I am forever damned
Just like moon what cannot kiss the sun
Just like wind what cannot blow through stone wall
Just like water what cannot drawn
Just like you, what cannot save me
I will never die, forever damned
Never die, forever damned
Never die, forever damned
That's what I am

love = live
I change error to live , thats what I ment origialy

I have given this some kind of nickname but I don't know if there are songs by that name so yeah. This is my first lyrics actually written and I did it just today! Not too long ago either. Also, does this sound original to you? What should I improve on? (Note: I haven't taken creative writing classes at all.) The song is in Italics. What band would write these kinds of lyrics? What genre does this match? And blame ANGEL REAPER if he send me to post to wrong thread. I went for some sort of Horrror/Conspiracy themed thing.

Thrown into prison
While trying to fight
Against the forces he discovered
Hidden in the labyrinth of grim town
Plotting the triumpanth reveal
Of secrets in the jungle of buildings

Insanity growing hatred unleashed
Growing mad at powers opposing him!

Found and chained blamed to be mad
Crazy with power the governing forces
Stole his freedom Thrown into halls of forgotten
To be lost from the memory of mankind

Insanity growing hatred unleashed
Screaming mad at chains holding him!
Can't find a way out
The beast is at it again!
The beast it at it again!

Insanity growing hatred unleashed
Screaming mad at chains holding him!
Can't find a way out
The beast is at it again!
The beast is at it again!

I am a passenger in foreigner town
Where they speak in foreigner tong
I witness how empire falls
Before new kingdom rise
Chaos and frustration
Unites those who survive
And eats each other flesh
Till???..
There no more women left to look at
There no more men left to fight whit
There no more children left to play whit
There no more nukes left to launch on another country
There no more hopes left to but wake up
From this nightmare
Where we are live in

I made my choise
even I need to die
blow my brains, cut my veins
I can make a stand in name of justice
what never will be wright
never bring out old truth
never will make others understand
old blame (I) always will be alive
Because in the end its my fault
'cause I blow my brains, cut my veins
Its my fault
'cause I did not die, I stayed alive
I made my choice, show no mercy
show no fear in eyes of dead
Kill the bastards, or die trying
Kill myself and let bastards live
I made my choice, and time is running out


eddit:

Since there is no wind, you will roar
like a slave in this ship of fools
I will stay in the windless sea
'because places, spaces and time doesnt existit for me
But you, you will roar like a slave
because there are no stars to guid no dryland to reach
in this sea, since you use map made by fools
And its made by gods some will not fear to find a destiny
rest will be swallowed by Cyclops
But what does it means
If you cant read a map made by wise men?



EDDIT2:

In that cold autumn night was
the day when you left
in dark cold water, swum to other land
and unknown swallowed you, deeper down, deeper down
in front of my eyes
Moon, the stars was so bright
But you decide danc in darkest spot
I still remember your last quote
and I whispered silently
There will be no more love after you
Till I am gone

I don't even know what the hell to call this. Just something I've been working on impulse with the last couple of months. It's a big one!

Total, Total Holocaust (Life after Years without War and Peace)

Many, many years ago
A land once loved was lost to complete and absolute devastation
The God I believed in,
Continue to believe in,
Never lost my faith in?
The one that guides my hand and the arrow that flieth by day
The light that shy away the terrors of night
Brought down heaven's angry wrath and turned Earth to hell
And back again

No, not hell
Hell could never be so cold and blind
So impartial to judgment
Perhaps Purgatory
Where black and white become gray
Where good and evil are mere opinions

He beckons me, I call thy name with helpless hope
I scream to the sky "My Father!"
No answer
I beg my blackened soul be purged mine own vessel by the light of lights
No answer
As I weep and torment myself
There's never an answer
He only comes with the burning epiphanies
The drugs that rush through my veins like poison that is afraid to kill
But not afraid to consume thee

Alone I thought,
Oh woe is me as I weep, sob and curl against
The unholy forces of this barren land
Scared and forsaken
I die alone
Forgotten
Only another skull bleached by the sun
My hands claw at my eyes and beg the tears to flee
Footsteps,
I silently beg the creature to be swift and painless in his feasting
Fear,
As whatever intends to do as thou wilt with me looms over adjacent
Faith
A hand is held out?

Such was then a dark and bleak and hopeless time in mine own history
One I care not telling
Consider thyself lucky

My friends holds my hands and theirs
And watch my back as we skip merrily through this desolate wasteland
Like innocent school girls with nary a care to behold in this ruthless time and waste
Hell's deranged and disturbed little brother
Where skeletons of man, machine, building and tree haunt like a cursed graveyard
Where the mirages want blood for blood, eyes for eyes and teeth for teeth
Where the sands call our names and take pity of thee and thine madness
They seek to bury our war torn bodies when they are given the chance
Do not give them that chance!

The screams, oh glorious and chilling screams, that are carried by the winds
Animals far beyond their evolutionary capabilities fight and die
For pack, for food, for thrill
Screams from me, my friends
"Fight! Fight! Stand and Fight!"
"I slay thee, heathen!"
"Die, motherfucker!"
For those you do not kill, get back up and kill

A scream to the east where the sun sets on this dreadful and dreary day
A city, a fortress and stronghold that lights hope in the cruel sands
Intentionally, but for no irony, named Dis
That meets us after a long walk and an hour of stiff muscles
Frantic muttering, cursing and screaming greet us to insult us at the gates
A man who sacrificed his very sanity for damning lucidity
He calls his master to smite us, calls him to invite us to the deepest circles
"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!"
Madness, nonsense! Fear becomes me that I fear to show outside but not within
"Down! Be silent, thou cursed wolf! Consume thyself in thine own rage!"
I hear my friend retaliate like a scorned animal, bearing her teeth
Bravest and boldest of my girlfriends, my loves
She fights with the ferocity of a cornered animal,
to them in hate and with me in love

Enter the gates, misfortune awaits
Nearly we who were attacked and assaulted by pirates, thieves and mercenaries
The city's respected royal and loyal guard
"Stand down!" My other friend pleads, always so quick to talk and ever the kind-hearted
"What anger comes of thee that you must be so quick to strike like an angry serpent?
Do you think us rapists and pillagers of little taste and modesty?
Do you think we have any bounty to gain from this city?
We are only led here by an wail of distress, so we beg you and appeal to your honor,
Let us pass."
So beautiful with words that is paramount to her soul and body that the pirates
Stand aside and treat us as the ladies we are
We do not hate, blame or condemn them
They are but concerned guardians to this unlucky city
Gentlefolk at arms and worthy of respect
Lead us to the wail

The bodies lined up as warnings to a grim fate
Malevolent terror from beyond the gate
Dishonorably died, skinned alive, crucified
Left to rot in the sun and it's hate
No pity for cowards
Traitors
Heretics
Us
We are not of any beliefs or thought
But only those who follow the influence of
The Good Samaritan

Like a giant woken from its slumber
A mighty storm of sand, dire and fearsome
A hurricane of hate looms over the adjacent hills
That tears through skin like paper, to strip the flesh and assault the wounds
The animals they flee for their lives
We follow shortly
No shelter from this murder
Mother Nature approaches, her fury livid and hate unrestricting
She has come to take back her lands?

Of all the terror and the wind tunnel of sound and fury outside
I clutch against her, a smarter friend of who brains is a preferable alternative
And brawn is strictly a necessity to overcome and adverse these wretched coils

Sleep draws forth unto me as I lie against the elements
And my dreams are plagued by insipid nightmares of heinous carnage
Wrought upon my pure soul and torn like skin through the storm
Sinful creatures crawl up from the dirt, lusting after my throat to tear
My limbs to disembowel and my eyes to lick like a sugarcube
I run, I cower, I scream, I beg, I plead, I cry, I fear
I may be done
O, wicked fates what hast I become to thee?
A cruel toy for the dogs of war to chew? For the hounds of hell to bear their teeth into?
What vehement vex of vile emotion and agony become me?
I will put my pain
My sorrow
And all of my hate into their souls
I grab life by the throat and crush, I break their necks like dry twigs underfoot
I tear at fate's throat with my teeth, now the bitch I was once afraid of
Now longer human enough to feel and fear
I am now unholy, impure, worthless spawn of accursed darkness

Fear? comes back, sweat and breath hard from my mouth
I feel alone, my eyes shut to deny confirmation
A hand is held out?
And another? and another? and another?
Until all my friends lift me to rise from the cold dirt
My worst fear is recognized but forgotten
Alone in my world I may be, but in this world I am with friends like these?
Never truly alone?