The Poets' Society. Death Not Required.
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Red Star:
    Tenderly fingering monochrome albums,
    The starlet of yesteryears lives in her mansion
    With no friends to keep her but cobwebbed illusions
    Those rusted gray film reels of centuries gone.

    Gone is the laughter and all the applause that
    Remains as mere echoes resounding in silence.
    No more wild parties and lighthearted dancing,
    Just yellowing dance cards and creaky old bones.

    She looks to those liars, the photos of youth,
    With her and Clark Gable on somebody's yacht.
    Back then, she hated those flashing eye vultures
    But, O, how those shining stars glimmered at night!

    (We also accept song lyrics)
  • naneynaney
    The only thing that can save the mortally wounded cat is a sip of gasoline
    Where dips the rocky highland
    Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
    There lies a leafy island
    Where flapping herons wake
    The drowsy water rats;
    There we've hid our faery vats,
    Full of berrys
    And of reddest stolen cherries.
    Come away, O human child!
    To the waters and the wild
    With a faery, hand in hand.
    For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.



    Where the wave of moonlight glosses
    The dim gray sands with light,
    Far off by furthest Rosses
    We foot it all the night,
    Weaving olden dances
    Mingling hands and mingling glances
    Till the moon has taken flight;
    To and fro we leap
    And chase the frothy bubbles,
    While the world is full of troubles
    And anxious in its sleep.
    Come away, O human child!
    To the waters and the wild
    With a faery, hand in hand,
    For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.



    Where the wandering water gushes
    From the hills above Glen-Car,
    In pools among the rushes
    That scarce could bathe a star,
    We seek for slumbering trout
    And whispering in their ears
    Give them unquiet dreams;
    Leaning softly out
    From ferns that drop their tears
    Over the young streams.
    Come away, O human child!
    To the waters and the wild
    With a faery, hand in hand,
    For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.



    Away with us he's going,
    The solemn-eyed -
    He'll hear no more the lowing
    Of the calves on the warm hillside
    Or the kettle on the hob
    Sing peace into his breast,
    Or see the brown mice bob
    Round and round the oatmeal chest
    For he comes the human child
    To the waters and the wild
    With a faery, hand in hand
    From a world more full of weeping than he can understand

    Yeats FTW.

  • SpaceySpacey
    i wish to come up with a song lyric for this signature, but no song lyrics are coming to mind
    The tree the tempest with a crash of wood
    Throws down in front of us is not bar
    Our passage to our journey's end for good,
    But just to ask us who we think we are

    Insisting always on our own way so.
    She likes to halt us in our runner tracks,
    And make us get down in a foot of snow
    Debating what to do without an ax.

    And yet she knows obstruction is in vain:
    We will not be put off the final goal
    We have it hidden in us to attain,
    Not though we have to seize earth by the pole

    And, tired of aimless circling in one place,
    Steer straight off after something into space.
  • The user and all related content has been deleted.
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Time (Imipolex G):

    Spinster
    In her tower of
    Sand inside glass,
    Listening to the ticking
    Of the hearts of her
    Windup toy mortals.

    Soft, what human mortal
    Breaks through the window glass
    Upon his valiant 6-string steed,
    Belting out the mighty chords
    Dmin-Gmin-Dmin-Amaj?

    Sweeping the eternal
    Spinster off her feet. (Bb! Bb!)
    Bosom heaving as she
    Strikes him back. (Dmin! Dmin!)
    A mere windup man, she sneers.
    Watch that I don’t break your key. (Bb! Bb!)
    Yet he and she share the inevitable.
    Neither of them will cease (A! A!)

    D minor, D minor.
    The chord rings out as
    It is finished.

  • HavenHaven
    "I’m almost sure that there’s no card that says : {T} Haven wins game. Board resembles kitten cuddles”
    anyone lived in a pretty how town
    (with up so floating many bells down)
    spring summer autumn winter
    he sang his didn't he danced his did

    Women and men(both little and small)
    cared for anyone not at all
    they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
    sun moon stars rain

    children guessed(but only a few
    and down they forgot as up they grew
    autumn winter spring summer)
    that noone loved him more by more

    when by now and tree by leaf
    she laughed his joy she cried his grief
    bird by snow and stir by still
    anyone's any was all to her

    someones married their everyones
    laughed their cryings and did their dance
    (sleep wake hope and then)they
    said their nevers they slept their dream

    stars rain sun moon
    (and only the snow can begin to explain
    how children are apt to forget to remember
    with up so floating many bells down)

    one day anyone died i guess
    (and noone stooped to kiss his face)
    busy folk buried them side by side
    little by little and was by was

    all by all and deep by deep
    and more by more they dream their sleep
    noone and anyone earth by april
    wish by spirit and if by yes.

    Women and men(both dong and ding)
    summer autumn winter spring
    reaped their sowing and went their came
    sun moon stars rain
  • I personify contradiction
    But I don't
    Late Cretaceous triang relations
    Spitting Reptar, jeering rock stars with no hearing
    Artificial Anwar dreadlock toupees atop my head
    Adminium, more erect than 60's cavemen
    Black omega fishbones used to make crack
    Jasper trying to lengthen his height
    I'm having sex with five or seven of his women
    Scribble sin, consuming cinnamon
    Sid speaks of men's relations with a woman
    (Enough, Sid), my analyst can talk with you
    His ears are rapt for all your troubles
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    ^^


    And if I gave out Yarrun Points, you would have just gotten 20 of them.
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Squiddle's Anthem:

    Ave Machina!
    Glory to the gears and
    Sprockets that propel us
    Screaming, confused,
    To a glorious new age

    Behold!
    My left leg is of
    Weak human sentiment,
    Of flesh and blood.
    My right leg pulses with
    The strength of something stronger,
    The crackling of Prometheus's flame.
    Should we not strive to become
    Steel and thunder in a human corpse?
    Said the doctor to the patient,
    Trapped in his prison

    Deny your face, you creature,
    Deny your birth, deny the things
    That seem so familiar.
    I will show you what lies
    Behind the veil of eyelids.
    I shall show you power.

  • The user and all related content has been deleted.
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    ^ So I did.

    Acolyte (Haven and Haven's Apprentice):

    I put on the suit.
    The flames begin to ignite as
    I put on the suit.
    The puns fill my head to
    The point of cranial puncture as
    I put on the suit.
    The blaze within me
    Matches the blaze without and
    The sirens blare as
    I put on the suit.
    The cycle waits outside,
    Card in the spokes,
    Flames in the paintjob,
    Waiting patiently as
    I put on the suit.

    We ride,
    Listening to the lame-ination
    Of the card flipping in the spokes,
    Ignoring the sirens of
    The police cars that
    Always follow us.

    The city remains cold.
    The world remains cold.
    And she,
    Well,
    The night is still young.

  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Five Alone (Chef & Waiterman):
    Burning.
    There is no smoke,
    Yet the smell is coming,
    Shuffling, embarrassed,
    From the kitchen.
    The waiter looks sideway
    Towards the kitchen
    As he asks me for my order,
    Mumbling, confusing.

    As you approach the door,
    You sense that
    Realtisy stopes at the door.
    To cross the thresholed,
    You must throew your fears aside
    And enter into madness.

    Itis their world,
    A kitchen, a chef, a waiter,
    And proablems.
    And the loneliness
    Betwaeen two freaks
    Who need each other.

  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    The Lizard’s Fiery Soul (Aliroz):
    When one walks by the bookshelves,
    Vast walls of human thought,
    You can see a lizard strutting,
    Proudly, deliberately,
    Atop the great walls.
    It has a hat.

    Where does it get its hat?
    It makes it from its own soul,
    The strength that brought it to such heights

    It looks down on the world
    From the lofty shelves,
    Through its gleaming eyes.
    When it comes down, it argues
    For the sake of its anger.
    It’s mad at the boys who cut down words
    The girls who dress without shame,
    The children who live in the present
    And ignore the past.
    It fights out of this anger
    To keep its soul alive.

    Where does it get its soul?
    It was thrust upon it, while it was young.
    Why aren’t we so lucky?

  • In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
    A stately pleasure-dome decree:
    Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
    Through caverns measureless to man
    Down to a sunless sea.

    So twice five miles of fertile ground
    With walls and towers were girdled round:
    And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
    Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
    And here were forests ancient as the hills,
    Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

    But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
    Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
    A savage place! as holy and enchanted
    As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
    By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
    And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
    As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
    A mighty fountain momently was forced:
    Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
    Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
    Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
    And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
    It flung up momently the sacred river.
    Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
    Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
    Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
    And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
    And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
    Ancestral voices prophesying war!

    The shadow of the dome of pleasure
    Floated midway on the waves;
    Where was heard the mingled measure
    From the fountain and the caves.
    It was a miracle of rare device,
    A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

    A damsel with a dulcimer
    In a vision once I saw:
    It was an Abyssinian maid,
    And on her dulcimer she played,
    Singing of Mount Abora.
    Could I revive within me
    Her symphony and song,
    To such a deep delight 'twould win me
    That with music loud and long
    I would build that dome in air,
    That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
    And all who heard should see them there,
    And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
    His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
    Weave a circle round him thrice,
    And close your eyes with holy dread,
    For he on honey-dew hath fed
    And drunk the milk of Paradise.
  • Manly McMachoManly McMacho
    ~*tasteless*~
    大學的年同性戀毛皮

    aaaaa
    Broken
    Filthy
    Writhing nakedly on the floor, vulnerable
    "I'm okay"
    Dying in a pool of vomit and self-pity
    Words not spoken, visions not really seen
    Sweet words from wicked lips
    Grabbed by monstrous claws
    Violated
    A light and a sing-song hiss
    A chorus of fuck you bitch cunt die die die
    Translation: Hello unholy savior
    I fucking hate you, never leave me
    In those twisted arms
    She almost feels safe




    </emo>
  • PlutoniumFistPlutoniumFist
    Living tissue over endoskeleton.
    Shot in the head
    Clinically dead
    What will happen to me?
    My body is property of OCP.

    They turn me into
    Cybernetic organism
    Flesh and bone
    Within a metal prison

    Programmed to be
    Quick on the draw
    My prime directive
    Uphold the law

    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    You're coming with me

    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    You're coming with me

    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    You're coming with me

    Who was I?
    Before I lost my life?
    Did I live alone?
    Did I have a wife?

    Within my hard drive
    I hear a scream
    Computer malfunction?
    Or was it a dream?

    A colleague passes
    She sees straight through
    Whispers in my receptors
    "Murphy, it's you!"

    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    You're coming with me

    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    You're coming with me

    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    Dead or alive
    You're coming with me

    Murphy, it's you!

    OCP runs the cops! You're a cop!


    I am a cop.

    You're dead! We killed you!

    I had to kill Bob Morton because he made a mistake. Now it's time to erase that mistake.


    You're dead! We killed you!

    Murphy, it's you!

    I'm not alive
    I don't have breath
    But as long as I'm here
    I'll avenge my death

    They hunt me down
    To the old steel mill
    I'm not arresting you anymore
    I'm coming to kill

    I killed my maker
    And those who murdered me
    I'm not a machine anymore!
    MY NAME IS MURPHY!

    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!

    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!

    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!

    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!
    DEAD OR ALIVE!

    Your move, creep.
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
  • VianiViani
    卐 STILL, IT'S A DECENT CANCER THAT'S KEEPING ME ALIVE† AND IT'S A DECENT CANCER THAT'S EATING ME ALIVE ⚢
    Past the dirty cobwebs and beyond the dust
    I search through the catacombs to satisfy my lust
    Past the velvet drapes and creaky wooden floors
    I search through the graves in search of willing whores
    Past the rusty chains and iron maidens around
    I await a broken soul ready to be forever bound
    Past the maggot scum and the molden limestone
    I search for a dismal being to listen to me moan
    Past the pointed stars and blood red altars
    I await the shadowy being to bind me with a halter
    Past the fantasies of what I truly wish dwelled within
    I rest my imaginations, delaying my sins.
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    ^ I quite like this one.

    Ribbons:
    We trail paths
    Across the mountain ranges,
    The stalwart walls of the earth,
    Across the waters,
    Moats for lesser times.
    We tie ourselves together
    With strings and ribbons
    Strung across every nation.
    We're afraid of losing each other.

    Ribbons of concrete,
    Crisscrossing maps
    Like cracks in a painting.

    Strings of electricity,
    Shocking nations,
    Charging the youth.

  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Applying Love:
    Love is Patient
    Love is Kind
    Love = 0 (Tennis Postulate)
    Sin(love) = 0
    Love doesn’t boast
    elove = 1
    f has a minimum at x=love and x=love+15
    g(x) =ʃxlove f(t) dt
    Love is quantifiable.
    Love is nothing combined with itself.
    Love multiplies everything into love
    Love is not quantifiable.
    Ln|love| does not exist
    Neither does (x/love)
    The answer to life is love
    The true goal of many is love
    The most leftward location of a point of
    Concavity for g(x) is x=    
    Love
    Love, love, Love, love, Love
    Ln|15((sin(love)cos(love)tan(love))/sec(love))|= love
    Love is long-suffering.
    Love goes into love eternally ((a/a)= 8 sideways)
    Hope, faith and love remain
    But the greatest of these is love
    (Therefore, Hope+Faith<0)
    Finally, absolute |love| is nothing compared to real numbers.
    Proven, applied, sent to the MAA

  • beyond the mojavebeyond the mojave
    APSJ DPWD HPIJSVIIDP FOJQE, API HOUME OD CH?

    well

    I guess it's not so much poetry as it is flowing, see

    but the motions breeze by like newly oiled old machines,

    I guess, the caterpillar ate the butterfly up again

    because with another guy trying to hear you (come again?) I'm much less likely to run again as the sounds of the drums come down again

    so how's it then? When the spikes of the old order reprise the sounds again when the boom bap bible remains unquestioned.

    Is it really all right to impede natural selection

    when the clear choice can hear noise?

    The old dear boys breaking out they old Royce and driving again?

    I call it silence again, 

    but if a river has no fish than what is its purpose?

    If a flow has no life does its owner deserve it?

    If a law is not natural can it even be perverted?

    Is there a murder?

    And if there is, who's the victim?

    Other than the thousands of syllables that never escaped the kids' lips,

    so impose if you must, but when you are flushed?

    Down the drain? Be a man and take the plunge.

    The last thing this game needs is walking corpses,

    and this is not Red Dead Redemption so hold your horses.

    See, the only language the boy speaks is Gun,

    but you'll find he's quite eloquent in his native tongue,

    so if you choose to provoke him, you must run.

    And if you trip and fall your days are done.

    And we are that gun-toting toddler, but we can walk now, and we can talk now.

    So if you choose to rise against your new insect overlords you will be knocked down.

    This is for the summer's war survivors, the comets and the atoms in the Hadron Collider.

    This is for the water striders

    and the fish that eat them, this is for admitting you need a long weekend.

    Is this madness and is this evil?

    Is this the preacher's son or is this a demon?

    Is this Aesop Rock or A$AP Rocky? 

    Either way, don't lay back cocky.

    Because the Blue Oni can only wait so long

    before he seeks out and devours all but the strong.

    So we need a new song. A song of genesis,

    a thesis so strong it can serve as a nemesis.

    Because artificial chains have been placed on the natural order

    and this is not a restaurant, this is Sparta. 

    But what if the hierophant returned even stronger?

    What if the darkness was cast longer?

    What if we could no longer hear?

    What if those aren't contacts, and his eyes are just dilated in fear?

    Can we the people enter the church steeple and murder the church's evil? 

    Can we really build steam from a grain of salt after all?

    Can this really be the last casting call?

    Will the world end? Will we be impaled on the hands of Big Ben?

    Is this odd future our own, or just a reflection?

    Should we embrace it or should we reject it?

    If the punks and the artisans courted, what then? 

    *ahem*

    Is an esoteric blueprint a bad thing or a good one?

    Can we fire salvos into the sun?

    Are we done here? Or will we just run here? Will we die here or fly here?

    I need some damn answers and I ain't gettin' any,

    so like I think you should I think it's time for me to get ready.

    Beginnings beget beginnings and this one is mine,

    a galaxy made of iron and a steel bar sign.

    There are no crackheads, just stacked ends,

    back again for the end of the milennium.

    Two-triple-zero has long since past us,

    but I feel like we haven't catched up.

    Still mad? Fuck, we're the maddest of the mad ones.

    The sad ones.

    The flack guns.

    The ones they fire in our direction.

    Cannons of lightning and mad introspection.

    I am the man who lives inside the snare drum and makes the sound when you bang one.

    I am the Doctor.

    Time traveler. Rhyme raveler.

    Unwinder with the sundial.

    One trial.

    One chance, one left, one hand.

    What man? You don't understand?

    Lynchian interlockings with mad patterns and stitches like stockings

    but when the man on the door comes knocking I'll be reclining on the couch with a shotgun to pop one.

    Right in his dome

    to send him back home.

    Fuck a throwback, the sole skullboy is so picture perfect he's fucking Kodak.

  • beyond the mojavebeyond the mojave
    APSJ DPWD HPIJSVIIDP FOJQE, API HOUME OD CH?

    this is the return of the snake men who shake playpens.

    Cuz kiddies, this is not the kind of day that you want to stay in.

    I get it snappin' like crayfish.

    But you and yourself?

    You are Kanye West. Gay Fish.

    Insane shit. Stained Glass Painting.

    But it's not really raining.

    At least not yet.

    It's more of a drizzle

    and I'm here to drop acid raindrops to make your skin sizzle

    when I get you wet.

    I mean to burn off, cuz I'm turned off by your derp drops.

    You burn soft.

    You're lukewarm,

    I'm hotter than Helios. God of the Sun.

    I'm a ghostwriter with no real writer to ghost for,

    you're a writer in desperate need of a ghost to make your normal paranorm.

    But when you hear the thunderstorm you'll wish for a parasol,

    cuz my liquid ichor spittin will leave you with a scattered soul.

    The sole skullboy turns on, boy are you fucked.

    I will run you down with eight separate forces like two trucks.

    The insect overlord, the skull god. So odd that I'm Illmatic like Nas.

    You're just a bad fad and a lost cause. So get gone.


    So when you decide to bite the food that you're hallucinating

    I suggest getting down to the line and stop procrastinating.

    If you're going to paraphrase a letter that was never written

    you should really stop spittin' and keep it together like a rivet. 

    Simply? It's this shit. 

  • TachyonTachyon
    imageNever jam today.
    On the Internet
    Jasper attacks bad poems.
    Outside, the lark sings.

    Does anyone know of good creative writing forums/resources you'd recommend?  I want to make my poetry not shit but I don't know how.

    (This would not be so bad if I wasn't an English literature and creative writing student.)

  • VianiViani
    卐 STILL, IT'S A DECENT CANCER THAT'S KEEPING ME ALIVE† AND IT'S A DECENT CANCER THAT'S EATING ME ALIVE ⚢
    Also interested in such a forum
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Insomniacs Anonymous:
    We are the living dead,
    The stalkers of the night,
    Go and rest your head,

    Knowing the sun has fled,
    And we have not its light.
    We are the living dead,

    Knowing we cannot bend
    To the bed’s siren might –
    Go and rest your head

     Knowing time will not mend
    The scars caused by the night,
    We are the living dead

    Knowing our eyes grow red
    By artificial light,
    Go and rest your head

    Still, our hearts have dread
    For the morning’s brilliant might.
    We are the living dead
    Go and rest your head

  • Corporal ForsytheCorporal Forsythe
    Doctor Who reference in Pokemon B2W2? Headcanon accepted.

    there once was a racist old bigot

    who was cursed to the form of a spigot

    he was then gifted to hippies

    who found the whole matter quite trippy

    who said "it's not ironic, but okay, I can dig it"


  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream

    Psychedelic Squid:

    3 – Poke of Gods

    It’s silver and exact, with no limitations
    Whatever it swallows, it spits out decisively
    Exploding sharp and precise. Messiness
    Is found in the newfound, flailing tentacles

    7-Leanne Leaving

    Footsteps creeping, like mice
    Knowing the cat is awake. Am I
    So frightening? The beak is rough
    On her bosom, that heavenly chest, but
    Am I so frightening? Is my bleeding stare
    So rough on her? The needle holes on
    The tentacles make me hideous, I know.
    But I love her. Go, take the taxi,
    Return to your mother and date a lawyer.
    I’ll still be here in my castle. I’ll still be
    The last of my kind.

    1-What Was Once

    Listen to the
    The
    Streets
    . The boy with the carapace for skin,
    Formed from the father’s guiding hand.
    …Listen. The boy with the tired eye,
    Hiding from home in the alleyways,
    Passing his father’s inheritance to anyone
    Looking for trouble. Please, for his sake,
    Listen.


    4-Beauty

    Beauty is
        Her breasts
        Her
    Her breasts, of course, and then
    Her gargling laugh in my cove,
    My deep lair, where visitors
    Are not common. “You’re hilarious
    When you’re high, mate,” as you
    Look her eye to giant eye,
    Nuzzling her with a tentacle.
    “Nice beak. Name’s Leanne.
    Call me when you’re good for another
    corkscrew,” as I twirl into solitude.

    She digs the beak.

    2-Escaping (Drastic Measures)

    Something that can pierce armor
    Is loosely what was needed. A bullet
    Through the skin of his existence.
    The tried and true way out of being
    Substandard, low-life, nobody.
    You can’t be nobody if you’re someone
    Else, the man behind the eyes when
    The chemicals start boiling.
    Ah, the ancient method!
    May it hold true even now.


    5-Punch

    First off, the guy had freaking
    Red( patchy pactchy) patches on
    His ginger face, like globs of blood
    Creeping across his nose. Second,
    (dude’s hair kind of looked like twigs
    Like a bird dude. Caw caw) He was
    In this ugly blue outfit and hat,
    No style. Hendrix would be freaking
    Flipping him off in his grave, and that
    Shiny…
    …shiny thing on his chest was giving me
    A headache. So, I laid him out!
    And now I’m stuck here with no E
    What a freaking world.

    10-Ascencion

    They spoke of the ultimate high
    The peak of the diamond in the sky
    I wanted to see it once, before I died.
    So I went to go see it, packed up
    All the pills and needles and loaded up,
    Started climbing, all day, all night,
    And by the time I got there—
    My corpse was waiting for me!

    8-Wandering

    Squids can travel anywhere, you know.
    Stronger, more resilient than you bipeds,
    Only need a sip of water now and then.
    The bus takes us anywhere we want,
    And the nuns always give us extra fish.
    So, fine, send me away.
    I’ll be fine.

    6-Court Transcript

    Why do I feel bad for Psychedelic Squid? Because he is a broken shell of a man, sustained only by an intake of ungodly amounts of psychotropic drugs? ...nah. Does he do anything but smoke drugs? And so it was that in the year 1981 of Our Lord (praise Glenn Magus Harvey) Psychedelic Squid did roam the outer spheres of the cosmos and return with a rich bounty of wisdom and dubious substances which did bring forth from the deep slumber of 10,000 years the forgotten work of the ancients. Psychedelic Squid sez you should try LSD. What is the truth? He's high? He's you? He's not real? He's my real father? Or take part of the Elizabethan era and have it intrude into the Warring States period of China. Or have the post-Apocalyptic 22nd century start to intermingle with the late Middle Ages. You dig? Groovy. Giant axon. He's an aging hippie who lives in somebody's basement, doing lots of drugs, listening to 60s rock and imagining he's a squid that can warp time. Time is in for a rude awakening. IT'S GROOOOOOOVY, MAN. 1969 NEVER ENDED. Yeah, I think Psychedelic Squid was having a bad trip. Or maybe he is the bad trip. Psychedelic Squid knows his drugs. What's that you say, Tiger? You wanna be WARPED INTO THE MINUS WORLD???


    9-Contemplation

    I have lived a full life,
    Even though I remember little of it.

  • The user and all related content has been deleted.
  • That is the best thing. I especially like how the sections are out of order just because. I shall save it to my hard drive where it shall be preserved.

    What's that you say, Tiger? You wanna be WARPED INTO THE MINUS WORLD???

    This quote seems endlessly funny to me although I don't know why.

    Also

    Beauty is
        Her breasts
        Her
    Her breasts, of course,

    I took the name Leanne from Leanne Crow, a very well-endowed porn star type person, so this is appropriate I guess.

    SQUIDS CAN TRAVEL ANYWHERE
  • this is long but it is worth it to read


    gregory corso - "marriage"


    Should I get married? Should I be good?
    Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood?
    Don't take her to movies but to cemeteries
    tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets
    then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries
    and she going just so far and I understanding why
    not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel!
    Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone
    and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky-

    When she introduces me to her parents
    back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie,
    should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa
    and not ask Where's the bathroom?
    How else to feel other than I am,
    often thinking Flash Gordon soap-
    O how terrible it must be for a young man
    seated before a family and the family thinking
    We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou!
    After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?

    Should I tell them? Would they like me then?
    Say All right get married, we're losing a daughter
    but we're gaining a son-
    And should I then ask Where's the bathroom?

    O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends
    and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded
    just wait to get at the drinks and food-
    And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated
    asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife?
    And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue!
    I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back
    She's all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha!
    And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on-
    Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes
    Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates!
    All streaming into cozy hotels
    All going to do the same thing tonight
    The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen
    The lobby zombies they knowing what
    The whistling elevator man he knowing
    Everybody knowing! I'd almost be inclined not to do anything!
    Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye!
    Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon!
    running rampant into those almost climactic suites
    yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel!
    O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls
    I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner
    devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy
    a saint of divorce-

    But I should get married I should be good
    How nice it'd be to come home to her
    and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen
    aproned young and lovely wanting my baby
    and so happy about me she burns the roast beef
    and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair
    saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf!
    God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married!
    So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night
    and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books
    Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower
    like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence
    like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest
    grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
    And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him
    When are you going to stop people killing whales!
    And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle
    Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust-

    Yes if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow
    and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn,
    up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me,
    finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man
    knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup-
    O what would that be like!
    Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus
    For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records
    Tack Della Francesca all over its crib
    Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib
    And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon

    No, I doubt I'd be that kind of father
    Not rural not snow no quiet window
    but hot smelly tight New York City
    seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls
    a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job!
    And five nose running brats in love with Batman
    And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired
    like those hag masses of the 18th century
    all wanting to come in and watch TV
    The landlord wants his rent
    Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus
    impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking-
    No! I should not get married! I should never get married!
    But-imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman
    tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves
    holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other
    and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window
    from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days
    No, can't imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream-

    O but what about love? I forget love
    not that I am incapable of love
    It's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes-
    I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother
    And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible
    And there's maybe a girl now but she's already married
    And I don't like men and-
    But there's got to be somebody!
    Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married,
    all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear
    and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!

    Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible
    then marriage would be possible-
    Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover
    so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.

  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    -claps-
  • beyond the mojavebeyond the mojave
    APSJ DPWD HPIJSVIIDP FOJQE, API HOUME OD CH?

    I didn't even bother spacing this one out, most of the rhymes are so slant they're impossible to see.

    --------------------------

    this one is for Minnie, simply cuz she's the quickest to ever get me, let it be--The Beatles--cuz she's a cheater and a schemer, more importantly psychopathic with a ratchet or more like a knife so you'd better watch it, 

    look, they would've welcomed you to the NHK anyway but conspiracies are for freaks and pussies so for one last time lock your looks, please. Stop talking and start walking take a stick around the outline and start chalking. Turned out to be the girl of my dreams about dying, felt like I was flying, but she was just lying. Conniving, trying to stab the butterfly's wing, so if you see a two foot tall stick sickly bitch with thick black hair I'd suggest running rather than stopping to stare, the girl's not what she looks like especially not when she pulls out a big knife. So think twice. I recommend booking a long flight before you end up sleeping a long night. 

    so when you're lookin to turn the conniver crooked while she's trying to write a book on what she's doing with her hooks in your lips, well....that's your prerogative.

  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Dresden, Besides That:

    You can’t change the present ~
    Bombs falling softly, like snow,
    Like ~ airplanes, merchants of death
    With one lucky human ~
    Weeping in light of existence bereft
    Of purpose, that magic fingers will not
    Mend ~ The past is set in stone ~
    What were they like, the all-knowing
    Plungers, the specimens who know
    They are trapped in amber? ~ And how
    Was it, seeing the gem of Germany
    Cleansed with fire? ~ The future
    Cannot be changed

  • Lord of the GameLord of the Game
    Don't wait to see whites of their eyes.
    It is always snowing
    in my deepest being,
    a snow of sleep, a snow unending.

    When I see the blur of snow
    falling over distant pines,
    I feel a subtle peace, a reassurance.

    When I watch it blowing
    over the stubble, over the stalks,
    a kind of serenity fills me.

    My friends have warned:
    the death wish is symbolized by snow.
    I know. I know.

    —Joseph Payne Brennan
  • RaymanRayman
    imagewhite man came across the sea, he had no games for PS3
    Rightful Owner of The Pants| mad schoolin', straight foolin'
    Fifteen years in a broken city
    Torn apart by its citizens' pity
    They wallowed in their sorrows and fear
    Until the fireworks went off that year

    It never really occurred to me
    How lowly I'd found this place to be
    I thought I'd leave and never come back
    But the revolution took me off that track

    Someone always said it would happen someday
    They'd take the "grey" out of Greyson Bay
    But what they didn't realize
    Was that it was in them the whole time

    Suddenly everyone was happy again
    The writers took to their paper and pen
    Inspiration flowed, inside and out
    Without a limit and without a doubt
    There was no reason to keep on feeling
    Lowly and down, I'd rather be peeling
    The shell from the person I used to act
    And so I made myself a pact
    That I would try to open myself
    to
    the
    world
  • beyond the mojavebeyond the mojave
    APSJ DPWD HPIJSVIIDP FOJQE, API HOUME OD CH?

    I woke up with this in my head today, don't really know what it means:

    we spoke one last time
    sniveled last goodbyes
    before the blinding flash
    that infernal light
    set us all afire
    we lived long
    we lived well
    we had no regrets
    except maybe one
    that we never found
    a way to survive
    being razed by the morning sun

  • beyond the mojavebeyond the mojave
    APSJ DPWD HPIJSVIIDP FOJQE, API HOUME OD CH?

    "Myth Over Miami"

    This one's for the children who tell secret stories every day
    of a God who fled screaming and exiled angels in the Everglades
    of a Devil who resembles a silver-gold snake
    but turns demonic burgundy when touched to a lake
    this is for the children who really believe in demons
    swear by their very souls that they've actually seen 'em
    this is for the kids who tremble in fear of Mary Bloody
    whose eyes drip the black ichor of the underworld or something
    and these kids will tell you that the Mary from which they run
    is the very same Mary who once bore God's son
    then violently murdered him and was cursed to become
    a demonic horror story that doesn't wither in the Florida Sun

    through it all these children have exactly one ally
    one single soul who is always on their side
    a woman in a blue cloak with blue skin
    who physically cannot even help them
    and yet the children love her like a mother
    spurning the advances of any would-be corruptors

    --

    and right there is where I stopped writing

    yay

  • WindbladeWindblade
    Man is a most complex simple creature: see what he weaves, and how base his reasons for doing so.
    I heard that story. It's quite terrible. But fascinating.

    So anyway, here's my current obsession, 'Travelogue of Exiles', by Karl Shapiro.
    ----
    Look and remember. Look upon this sky;
    Look deep and deep into the sea-clean air,
    The unconfined, the terminus of prayer.
    Speak now and speak into the hallowed dome.
    What do you hear? What does the sky reply?
    The heavens are taken: this is not your home.

    Look and remember. Look upon this sea;
    Look down and down into the tireless tide.
    What of a life below, a life inside,
    A tomb, a cradle in the curly foam?
    The waves arise; sea-wind and sea agree
    The waters are taken: this is not your home.

    Look and remember. Look upon this land;
    Far, far across the factories and the grass.
    Surely, there, surely they will let you pass.
    Speak then and ask the forest and the loam.
    What do you hear? What does the land command?
    The earth is taken: this is not your home.
  • TachyonTachyon
    imageNever jam today.
    In an Artist's Studio

    One face looks out from all his canvases,
    One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
    We found her hidden just behind those screens,
    That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
    A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
    A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,
    A saint, an angel — every canvas means
    The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
    He feeds upon her face by day and night,
    And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
    Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
    Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
    Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
    Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

    Christina Rossetti

  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Who are you?
    Heck if I know
    Why are you here?
    Nothing better to do
  • Corporal ForsytheCorporal Forsythe
    Doctor Who reference in Pokemon B2W2? Headcanon accepted.
    There once was a colonel who bristled
    as he wrote up a sergeant's dismissal,
    "the lieutenant thus griped
    that he should lose a stripe
    for a whistle during the chaplain's epistle"
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    The world is at her beck and call
    She walks in another world, alone,
    Though it’s like she’s in arm’s reach,
    Close enough to—touch, even,
    Her steps are out of sync with yours,
    Her trail tells a different story,
    And she has learned to struggle,
    On her own, and fight and live.
    There is nothing you can give her

    You want to be the hero, the
    White knight on the horse, smiting
    Anything standing between her and
    Happiness. How romantic. And foolish.
    She will not accept a savior
    She will not allow herself to be victimized
    She is herself, she needs no man
    To be the wind beneath her wings.

  • beyond the mojavebeyond the mojave
    APSJ DPWD HPIJSVIIDP FOJQE, API HOUME OD CH?

    I don't really know what this means, but I wrote it so...I don't know. I get weird when I'm sad.

    ----------------------------------------------------

    to the lady we have lost tonight
    who I have seen by the river
    I hope by day your soul has thawed
    and come from shivering winter

    on to heart, on to heart
    never be my love
    on to heart, on to heart
    a kiss, from above

    we the sung ones now do see
    the way the ones forgotten 'nee
    to soul, to stab, to live, too long
    for one more day, thine angel's song

    for yet another than the light in the city
    my lady has come and gone 
    for yet another 
    come too long

    by day, by night, by one moon's light
    by night, by day, thy passed away
    left alone one night....
    please come home....

  • naneynaney
    The only thing that can save the mortally wounded cat is a sip of gasoline
    Do you fear the force of the wind,
    The slash of the rain?

    Go face them and fight them,
    Be savage again.

    Go hungry and cold like the wolf,
    Go wade like the crane:

    The palms of your hands will thicken,
    The skin of your cheek will tan,

    You'll grow ragged and weary and swarthy,

    But you'll walk like a man!

  • Yeats - The Collar-Bone of a Hare



    Would I could cast a sail on the water  
    Where many a king has gone
    And many a king’s daughter,
    And alight at the comely trees and the lawn,
    The playing upon pipes and the dancing,  
    And learn that the best thing is
    To change my loves while dancing
    And pay but a kiss for a kiss.

    I would find by the edge of that water
    The collar-bone of a hare  
    Worn thin by the lapping of water,
    And pierce it through with a gimlet and stare
    At the old bitter world where they marry in churches,
    And laugh over the untroubled water
    At all who marry in churches,  
    Through the white thin bone of a hare.

  • Eleanor Wilner - High Noon at Los Alamos


    To turn a stone
    with its white squirming
    underneath, to pry the disc
    from the sun’s eclipse—white heat
    coiling in the blinded eye: to these malign
    necessities we come
    from the dim time of dinosaurs
    who crawled like breathing lava
    from the earth’s cracked crust, and swung
    their tiny heads above the lumbering tons
    of flesh, brains no bigger than a fist
    clenched to resist the white flash
    in the sky the day the sun-flares
    pared them down to relics for museums,
    turned glaciers back, seared Sinai’s
    meadows black—the ferns withered, the swamps
    were melted down to molten mud, the cells
    uncoupled, recombined, and madly
    multiplied, huge trees toppled to the ground,
    the slow life there abandoned hope,
    a caterpillar stiffened in the grass.
    Two apes, caught in the act of coupling,
    made a mutant child
    who woke to sunlight wondering, his mother
    torn by the huge new head
    that forced the narrow birth canal.

    As if compelled to repetition
    and to unearth again
    white fire at the heart of matter—fire
    we sought and fire we spoke,
    our thoughts, however elegant, were fire
    from first to last—like sentries set to watch
    at Argos for the signal fire
    passed peak to peak from Troy
    to Nagasaki, triumphant echo of the burning
    city walls and prologue to the murders
    yet to come—we scan the sky
    for that bright flash,
    our eyes stared white from watching
    for the signal fire that ends
    the epic—a cursed line
    with its caesura, a pause
    to signal peace, or a rehearsal
    for the silence.

  • Lord of the GameLord of the Game
    Don't wait to see whites of their eyes.
    Here's a thing I wrote.

    It's part of the longer piece I'm working on, but it stands well enough on its own. There are prose-like sections, but it's more a poem (or a free verse soliloquy) than anything else.

    The title is "The Demon's Song"; that's basically what it is.
  • Skellett SkelletariatSkellett Skelletariat
    The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream
    Rewritten Squid Poem

    Psychedelic Squid:

    3
    It’s silver and exact, with no limitations
    Whatever it swallows, it spits out decisively,
    Exploding sharp and precise. Plunging into
    The armflesh, it tastes the filthy blood.
    The madness begins. Messiness is found
    In the newfound, flailing tentacles

    7
    Footsteps creeping, like mice
    Knowing the cat is awake. Am I
    So frightening to her? The beak is rough
    On her bosom, that heavenly chest, but
    Am I so frightening? Is my bleeding stare
    So rough on her? The needle holes on
    The tentacles make me hideous, I know.
    But I love her. Go, Leanne, take the taxi,
    Return to your mother and date a lawyer.
    I’ll still be here in my castle. I’ll still be
    The last of my kind.

    1
    Listen to the streets.
    The boy with the carapace for skin,
    Formed from the father’s guiding hand,
    Has long since overturned the desk,
    Flung the books into the drink.
    Look for him. The boy with the haggard face,
    Walking the streets, always hearing
    That drunken drawl, his breath,
    The calluses of the guiding hand
    Against his face. There he waits,
    Passing his father’s inheritance to anyone
    Looking for trouble. Please, for his sake,
    Listen.

    4
    Beauty is
        Leanne
        Her breasts
        Her—
    Her breasts, of course, and then
    Everything else about her.
    Who else could dive into
    My secret lair, buried under the haze
    Where I’ve secluded myself,
    This, my glowing, colorful fantasy.
    She nests within my tentacles,
    The pearl of this shadowed basement,
    Where I tripped and fell forever.
    She talks, but all I hear is
    Beauty is, beauty is

    2
    Something that can pierce armor
    Is loosely what was needed. A bullet
    Through the skin of his existence.
    The tried and true way out of being
    Substandard, low-life, nobody.
    You can’t be nobody if you’re someone
    Else, the man who erupts behind the eyes
    When the chemicals are catalyzed.
    Yes, the ancient method.
    May it hold true even now.

    5
    The world is red and blue,
    Flooding out the other colors.
    Even the darkness seems to flee,
    And I open my eyes and the ugliest,
    Foul-tempered beast ever to walk
    Around with a badge, seven-horned
    And spitting fire eyed me with a grin.
    What was I supposed to do? Run?
    How was I supposed to know that
    I was punching a man under that visage?

    10
    They spoke of the ultimate high
    The peak of the diamond in the sky
    I wanted to see it once, before I died.
    So I went to go see it, packed up
    All the pills and needles and loaded up,
    Started climbing, all day, all night,
    And by the time I got there—
    My corpse was waiting for me!

    8
    Squids can travel anywhere, you know.
    Stronger, more resilient than you bipeds,
    Only need a sip of water now and then.
    The bus takes us anywhere we want,
    And the nuns always give us extra fish.
    So, fine, send me away.
    I’ll be fine.

    6
    Court Transcript:

    Why do I feel bad for Psychedelic Squid? Because he is a broken shell of a man, sustained only by an intake of ungodly amounts of psychotropic drugs? Does he do anything but smoke drugs? And so it was that in the year 1981 of Our Lord, Psychedelic Squid did roam the outer spheres of the cosmos and return with a rich bounty of wisdom and dubious substances which did bring forth from the deep slumber of 10,000 years the forgotten work of the ancients. Psychedelic Squid sez you should try LSD. What is the truth? He's high? He's you? He's not real? He's my real father? Or take part of the Elizabethan era and have it intrude into the Warring States period of China. Or have the post-Apocalyptic 22nd century start to intermingle with the late Middle Ages. You dig? Groovy. Giant axon. He's an aging hippie who lives in somebody's basement, doing lots of drugs, listening to 60s rock and imagining he's a squid that can warp time. IT'S GROOOOOOOVY, MAN. 1969 NEVER ENDED. Time is in for a rude awakening. Yeah, I think Psychedelic Squid is having a bad trip. Or maybe he is the bad trip. Psychedelic Squid knows his drugs. What's that you say, Tiger? You wanna be WARPED INTO THE MINUS WORLD???

    9
    I have lived a full life,
    Even though I remember little of it.

  • The user and all related content has been deleted.