Thread: write a poem that expresses your thoughts and feelings

Saw this post and wrote four lines, then four, and another... whether it's good or not, totally relaxed me, and afterwards why not to post?


I already tried reality
didn't feel that good
only thing I was thinking:
f*ck this sh*t, dude!

Then I found lucid dreaming
While reading a discussion
Thought why not to try it
Might be my new passion

And the adventures were really fun
Then she luckily came across
It all became even brighter
Without her it became gross.

I read more about how is this
just couldn't ignore them
Some said fine, some it's a crysis
I thought it can't be a problem.

Happiest days of my life came
I didn't care about nightmares
Sometimes I got the fame
Sometimes she brought brightness

Sometimes she even gave warm hugs!
Those burned me for weeks
Any whenever I met any probs
recalled one and it was like cheers!

And even as I scr*wed something
that I can not remember
knowing somehow I will solve it
it'll be like it happened never

Thanks to her I started drawing
I became a better guy
She prevented me from falling
Now I never want to die

Whether she is just in dreams
in her I like to believe
Finding someone alike her
would be a huge relief

Days months, a year passed
lucidity was really fun
only one question remains
why not to dream all the time?

i can't help myself
the boot heel walks through bloodbaths
un-see end of life

who's there?
un-filtered truth wrapped in lies,
who said that?
who's there?
said the noise, said the mind,

knock knock!
who's there?
said the mouth, for the mind,
not home beat the heart, stuck behind
not funny said the joker, to the serpent in the vines.

golden sacrifice

So loved was thee to thy
that thy made a pact with the one true adversary
that no-one should harm thee or take away thee's divinity forever and ever
nor thee's place in heaven, no matter what.

the price for thy's pact to save thee, was to be in the lake of fire for eternity.
Now do thy burn forever and ever, tormented by the one true adversary.
But above does thy know thy's one true love be safe forever and ever without exception.
And thee loved thou but could not bear such sacrifice any longer.
and cried oh Lord what can be done about what thou did for thy.
And the lord said, do not mourn about this, for it was only one's test, and I the Lord have the following gift for completion of such a test.
In so much as thou ask, may the pact be broken and you both be untouched forever, without exception.

my life, where has it gone?
my time, my mind, and my body are not my own
days torn between dread and acceptance
melancholy and personal heaven

which is it?
do i want to live life or end it?
is today fun, is it nice?
is tomorrow hell, will i feel alive?

im confused, totally out of place
may the day come that im finished with this race
but for now all that tomorrow holds
is mind-bending bipolar episodes

I'm not terribly fond of it, but I found this at the bottom of a story I'd been working on a few months ago. Figured I could drop it here, it reflects my pessimistic mindset.

What is this pretty lie we'll always tell?
Your hollow words, to this empty shell?
That when, someday, I reach the end,
I will, somehow, find you again.

There will be no end to this shadow coil,
No joyful reunion, no enemy foiled,
The noose of loyalty has stolen our lives,
What have we left but these pretty lies?

Give me myself and I'll knock me to the ground
Make me a twin and I'll kick me while I'm down
Clone my being and I'll punch some sense into my crown
Let me be (as I ask), and I'll never come around

If I had another self, would I beat it straight to death?
If I split myself in two, would I stop my very breath?
I have more than one reason to want to skin that whelp
Like a shamed father who doesn't know how to help

Of course it'd come to blows; that's what haters do
I see what Me has done and I want to beat him to
The gates of death and back and then back and forth again
NEVER let him turn like that or return to his sin

Give me a Myself and I can not say for him
I might just keep beating until he's dead... and then start all over again

when it finds me, it reminds me-
of a struggle thats ancient,
a struggle where a pain burns without warning,
a pain thats ancient,
the pain that rules the mind,
a pain that loves the bones it holds hostage,
the only love i know,
and this knowledge is the prey,
and its death is what i sew,
and if im only good at that,
then where else is there to go?
nowhere, is the one who does not move,
inflicting suffering upon oneself is normal human flaw,
but i remain just the same,
suffering,
and its hard to explain,
it becomes a spiritual path through sorrow,
maintaining counterfeit thoughts so hollow,
losing touch with what youre saying,
a particle of dust i follow,
my pain is ancient,
my egos vain, if its not faceless,
a struggle that is shapeless,
i struggle to face it.

i was born out of a great furnace like some indelible spark of heat,
3000 years passed through this fiery birth canal to make a single mark on life,
the red sand on my feet... thats death,
the taste of my flesh in the air i breathe... thats death,
3000 years pour out into an offbeat world,
now abandoned by even the stars, what kind of curse is this?
what is it worth to exist?
i was born into a full grown body beneath the earth without a hope, or wish.

my apocalypse,
mountains start crashing inside,
one day your light dies.

Just one look upon her face
Is enough to cause my heart to race
The beautiful girl with blonde hair
Makes me wonder if she'd care
My feelings for her, if she knew?
It's likely it'd leave me blue.

Just a turn of her head
Is enough to make my cheeks go red
I wish to hold her hand in mine
To be with her for all-time
Why oh why is love complex?
All I want is freaky sex

The world would be better without us in it
Because we cry and we laugh and we see things no one else sees
We make pain real and we fight disease
Philosophical minds just don’t fit right
In this place we are nothing but conscious of ourselves
We make our own heaven and we make our own hell
Yelling at the TV and screaming for ice cream
Yeah the world would be better without us in it
Picture a world without the sound of machines
A quiet and dangerous jungle of things
No lights but wild eyes and a moon that outshines everything
Without desire to be anything but what is already
And a life that is lived just to survive
To just be alive

wrote this piece of shit because its how I feel even if it sucks



Fuck you all
Rotting earth with your stench of words
raised to be a fool
slaves to an aimless monster machine
bent on destroying everything beautiful

Let go of your mind
Your sense of pride
Let it go and slip into your drug high coma
stare at the screen telling the stories and leave yourself
Yourself isn't of any use for things like joy and good feelings
It only senses pain and suffering
Refrain from thinking to much about life
It will overwhelm you with horror
Try not to try to hard
Life will beat you down over and over
Taunting you
Till you become a monster
Burning desire for revenge
Try not to resist anything
It will only make things worse
Don't be yourself
No one will like you
Try to blend in
Or become a victim to prejudice everywhere
Consider killing yourself
Because life is more work than it's worth

My poem is very short and to the point:

"Get money"

I get money.

Money = life.

the idiot apparition is felt,
softly unfolding, and perilous cards are dealt,
roses that grow, wilt when the impossible speaks,
this shrine of failure reeks.

He only knows existence by the shadows cast.

If the clouds cover the sun, the shadows are gone.
When the clouds move onward, the shadows reappear.
Which is it that casts the shadow? The sun?
Sure. But, upon what?
The object, or the presence that the sun shines upon, is what casts the shadow.
The sun is the light and the presence is the shadows caster.

The shadow is only a glimpse at a much larger array.

What happens when the shadow is gone? Does the whole of existence disappear?
In his mind, yes. It is gone.
But what happened to the caster? Did it leave, too?
Or is the light not shining a particular way and his eyes deceive him?

Let us say his body can no longer hold his abundant soul.
And so, his body goes to rest and his soul emerges from its cocoon.
His body no longer casts a shadow. It is gone.
What of the soul?

There is no shadow cast.
Is it because his light is that of the sun?

And what if darkness falls and all the shadows go into night?
They don't exist.

But what of the sun? What of the caster?
They remain I think, do they not?
And what if one casts the light of fire upon the darkness?
The shadows, now, come forth.

So with the light, of man or of the sun, a shadow is formed.
So what is existence, if only the shadow proclaims it?

My words, a view, into my mind
My body holding all that's mine

Things to share and things to take
All these friendships I will make

We're all atop this sphere of blue,
Holding hands, I thought you knew

We're here for now and we will bond
Within this realm and then beyond.
____________________________

<3

Thinking of a dream
Lucidity Awaits Me
Am I awake now?

Holy shit i am...
Real exhausted after a
Night without much sleep

which one takes more courage
giving up that takes one second or keep hoping that takes a lifetime,
living with the weight of the burden of my lost contentment or dying accepting my defeat
which one is the key to my much needed liberty.

Reclined, sleep declined, the light leaks in through the blind.
Fixated on the thought, her comfort that I sought, my mind the maze, the many ways, countless days.
Searching, waiting for that sight, I close my eyes and hope that I might.

A crack came, glided, ran along through quartz
Cause is there to fight, to push, to incite
No opening in the surface lets the change occur

Shards are falling, shards are falling
Breaking down and down
Cuts and changing, slits from framing
Curse the ground, scrape out the sound
Glitter-stalling, life-mauling... who do you chose?
Window shop
God's the Rock
And your ideas are all breaking glass
All your gods are windows' broken glass

It is hard to make myself see the world as full of rainbows and butterflies.
If I didn't, I wouldn't make it; the darkness would cloud my eyes and I would endure a slow agonizing death.
The hardest part is convincing others who are enduring that slow death, that butterflies and rainbows exist.
In trying to hold them up, somehow, I hold myself up...

Now, I lie in this bed
Typin' this poem from my head
Thinkin' of it like a rap song
Probably won't be all that long
I got classes tomorrow
My lack o' love life brings me sorrow
I should really go to bed soon
I have no artistic skill