Post yer shitty poems or lyrics

[rustywire]

All Most of my posts are shitty poems or lyrics.

(I'd prefer not tipping my hand or burning actual words+music material; there will be a time and place for that and this aint it!)

[snipelfritz]

Today, during downtime a work, I made a grocery list. Later, I decided to see if I could write a poem using all the items on my list without leaving anything out. I'm pretty proud of the result:

Grocery List

Bell pepper beef butter
Juice rice cheese
Oatmeal chili powder
Raspberries
Salt pepper beans 'taters
Beer whisky
Tortillas chicken breast
Bread cel'ry

[IEatCats]

I wrote a rap. I found a local label that presses stuff like this, so I'm going to try to write an album of rap finally and see if I can get picked up, I guess.

SPOILER : show

In some ways
You taught me how to be a man
Said you'd always
Be right by my right hand
But damn
Sometimes thing just
Don't follow a plan
Shit that I said
Meant more to me
Than I can even stand
Like "I love you"
Or "honestly, I
Just wanna hold your hand"
And it hurts in a way
That I can barely comprehend
Wake up at night sometimes
Saying "I could be your man"
But I know it ain't true
Cause I am someone
You want nothing to do with

Can't help it if I'm not
Driving a new whip
Moneys been kinda tight
Sometimes I still feel like a kid
I mean
Alone in the bathroom
In the mirror playing pretend
Like one day IMA be famous
At 27 hit a young end a
Make my parents proud of me
Despite how little Ive accomplished
Show my sisters what its like
To pursue your dreams
And come out ahead

Tell you what
Fuck you
I'll always be the best you ever had
And I ain't even mad

It'll probably go on for a while and turn into an extended freestyle thing, I just happened to stop there for whatever reason.

[Achtane]

Drunk before 5, yo
Surfing BDSMstreak
Like ten tabs open

One tab needs muting
I think it involved ring gags
Youtube tab's playing

Alien Kids Rap
What has become of my life
Fuck it L O L

Haikus are the shit
Five-seven-five syllables
One two three four five

This is deep as shit
(That is what your mother said
When we did butt stuff)

[Sparrow]

you guys got some cool words!
some years back ..
i wrote these words. and put 'em to this.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlS8uTlZvns[/youtube]

His eyes in a daze
stab
like
stance

plaid wool cape
hat
a
hat

worn
not for show!
for Pride!

His timid face
encouraged those to look
“look at me ..”

lights!
kept on..
towing cars
nothing special

did he have shame?
he hid it well

shaded him
into a cartoon image

Love has
a silent soul

Music.
Emotion.
Stabbing the Sky

.. with false hit Implements.

[D.o.S.]

There once was a poster named sparrow
Who's penis was awfully narrow
But one day he did slip
dropped some lime on the tip
and now he can play the bolero!


(sorry sparrow I saw your username and it just came out)

[Sparrow]

and.. it's not that narrow

[kaeth]

Something about a bad trip.

SPOILER : show

Awaken, dreary, sprawled upon the shores of weary sleep, the tidal memories recede of dreams the deepest waters eat with greedy mouths of gnashing teeth, they always feed but seldom speak of visions lost by human beings upon departing psychic seas,

Not certain where I am, too weak to raise a hand to draw the curtain open, trapped in blackness, blind, confused, confined to soaking salty sheets secreting pungent undulating waves of humid heat like spoiled meat left boiling underneath the mid-day solar rays, a grating stench of dull decay pervades the sense like rusting blades cutting through a haze of densely grained malaise,

Minutes pass like years while I regenerate, afraid to move in fear the raw new skin could tear and peel from off my limp, aching limbs before they get a chance to heal around a thousand pins and needles I can't quite see but I can feel them all embedded, spreading unrelenting under membrane, mould encased, restrained, infirm, in spurned embrace,

The seismic spinning in my skull winds down to a slow, grinding halt, spilling mind through gaps in fault lines, stalling time while I lapse tacitly falling enthralled in stolid slack, lacking reason to rise I can no longer find, drifting aimless through clouds shrowding focused distraction, by absence of substance, I surrender all access to programs that govern somatic reaction,

Swiftly lifted on limping feet, the automation oddly proceeds to repeat, carried upstream in a struggle to redeem a fleeting feeling of normalcy, I recoil as disloyal glass exposes a seemingly surreal sight of squalid me, gauntly bristled cheeks, wincing, lips steal back revealing cracking coffee stained teeth, blackened eyes retreat burrowing beneath the sagging skin, a thinning head of spindly hair recedes from a furrowed face displayed dismal, in despair,

Sunken in torpor, the torture of sustained disorder demands I resort to invite the grandiose hands of mad distortion to help sort through portions of hoarded abhorrent notions and obscene obsessed devotions, to destroy duress with constant motion, throw myself into the ocean, coherence broken down in a current of psychotropic potion, drowning to the sound of pure emotion softly smashing open, lines blurred, absurdity serves its purpose, words unheard, or just utterly worthless, adrift in my wake, as I quake and shudder while I nervously wait to float to the surface,

Perhaps if I stay absolutely still for a while, I'll idly rise from within the vile depths of darkness, light emerged spills out like bile from a violent esophogeal purging riled up from all the pills I swallowed followed by the sour taste of illness urging me to quell the strain instilled within my weakling brain, deserving all the blame for playing wilful games, deserting shameful learned behaviour,

I scramble for a pen with all the concentration that involves, strangle it resolvedly, but not with anger, calling out for inspiration to reveal the road to revelation through the page, I bleed asemic line configurations, inky intricate mutations spreading infinitely in directionless formation, then precipitous cessation as I stare, I see a glaringly familiar terror leering back, and like a mirror all the paper clearly shows me is my own crippling misery and frustration sowing jaded seeds of sick stagnation,

I think I need to step out just to sooth my lungs with brooding, cool air, a fool, I need to spare myself of further solitary ensnarement in my own sinking disrepair, aware the world outside could prove more crude than I would care to handle, standing underneath the stars they start to flicker like dripping candles in a drafty room, laughing, manic, to the tune of their own frantic souls growing old enough to slip and let go, switch is flipped and no one seems to notice life and death are intertwined, and when it dies, the negative becomes implied, the shallow void it leaves behind engulfs the heavenly divide,

Return back into loathsome body, hurried through a wormhole, thoughtless plodding down a foreign street I travelled almost every single day this week, I don't remember where it leads, but in the shifting distance exists a house I'm nearly sure I've been to, in the window, passing, I pause to notice momentarily, ghosts of things I used to know, refusing to acknowledge a confused deluded host to hopeless fawning in the most pathetic expression of regret confessed although the thrawn of spectres would prefer to just forget,

It's evident I don't belong here, welcome overstayed, like a faded rumination, I'm gone to find a sheltered place to lay my heavy hemmhoraged head, but which way did I come from, again? The path before me splinters, but if I recall the intrinsic system, doesn't matter which I pick, the destination's always fixed,

There's seedy people creeping in the grass, I hear them whispering their twisting tidings, voiced too quiet in contrast to the wind that briskly whistles past, inciting me to join and take up space in this tangled terrain, retire for the remnants of the night, I listen intently to their harrowed plight, in vain I surrender to the constraint of my grave, pray the end to finally send it's winged agents down to save me,

Sure enough, the bed of worms attracts the swarming birds to ground themselves around me, covetous loving beaks surrounding, starting with the softest parts of meat, the eyes are sweetly eaten to obfuscate the sight of being slowly pulled apart, ears devoured dampens wicked cackling as the bowels are extracted with their grappling talons, keep their cravings satisfied for hours, drunk on blood, can't stop myself from choking since they stole my supple tongue,

I can feel the sweltering dawn arrive to beat it's warmth down upon my wilting shredded carcass as I slip down into emptyness, solemn pondering if I could enjoy myself this pleasant day, but perhaps I was never really meant to stay

Something about noise.

SPOILER : show

Deceptive algal words furtively bloom across the murky surface, subservient to their own tepid, resonant currents, sucking vital nutrients displaced from hazy plumes of perverse phoenetic waste, choking out the divulging light of earnest discourse, purposed simply to obscure the inky, sinking mirthless, worried miscreations that coalesce in churning clouds of milky cess and silt to simply feed the ravenous shrouding quilted weeds and never let them starve and wilt, for on the scarcely subtle surface spins the perfect dance of mesmerizing turbulence to entangle languid inattentive children in it's incandescent braids - the sordid, morbid beauty of a parasite, deranged,

and I can still hear my thoughts,

Abrasive tracers scrape warm, garnet brake-lights across my oscillating eyes, horizontally, with brazen honesty, they warn me of the horrid storm of stoic steel, fornicating, drowning in the rain around me, echoing lecherous horns scream loudly, eagerly, while squealing wheels seek to grip the toothy grin of carnivorous ground below, and I desperately weave to remain afloat amongst the heavy noise of nagging notes constantly groping, pulling at my periphery, still I'm holding close in hardly focused form, to only hope my mostly naked feeble frame exposed amidst the fray can simply stay the course to make it home,

and I can still hear my thoughts,
seeping through the screen of noise,

Dredging through disused detritus, roving, raking fingers fondly favouring the salty sting of open sores, invite infection as the spores of introspection incubate inside a swelling undersexed erection, nurturing abcessed objection, patient, bleeding drops of excess sentiment - just enough to vent the pulsing pressure of a hydrocephalic head, and delay the steady waves of cosmic dread from bursting through the glassy, fragile, firmament, though held at bay, I watch as cracking, silken webs calmly stretch away toward the edge, while never yet a pause grants a passing moment of blissful, listless rest,

and I can still hear my thoughts,
seeping through the screen of noise,
so I turn it up,

Bitterly admitting the elusive drift toward sleep keeps slipping out of reach, persitently, the flickering face of inner debasement tries to speak, preying on the whims of a weakened meager whelp only too eager to retreat, to hopelessly seek the precise sequence of frequencies needed to breach the solid wall of silence through sonically violent means - coiling cables strewn across an ungroomed floor complete a burning circuit of perfect machines from which pour the succulent stream of thunderous thrumming, beamed directly to my brain through electronic, conic strain, vitriolic voltage flows with kinetic incitation from the frantic picking plectrum ringing strings to singing invocation,

and I can still hear my thoughts,
seeping through the screen of noise,
so I turn it up,
and drown beneath the sound,

Calling out through vivid squalls of sheer volume, hunts a hundred thousand hounds of hollow solace dulled by ultimately unfulfilled promise, falling short within the bitter winds of symphonic sibilance tinged with twitching images of twisting tides in which I wish to find a proper place to hide, confined, to raggedly resign for the time, idling the mind to let the viral voices die without a wretched reproductive host to bind - inside, a false dichotomy focefully collides, the diverging helix of vines unwind and waver in rhythmic, rippling primordial slime that rapidly rushes into the vapid space behind my acid-moistened eyes - consequently, I'm consistently rended, suspended in the endless echo chamber of reflective shallow void.

Something about misanthropy.
(this one was sort of tongue-in-cheek. I was a doomsayer for Halloween.)

SPOILER : show

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” - the old excuse grows worn, war-torn, and spent - a moldy adage withers and wains, drained pitifully while it's strained crow fades toward a sickly, brittle end - six thousand years, we've bled away, excessively, replete reserves, but never learned to pay the rent - foresight senselessly obscured from dusty outset, plunging fast in dread descent, since a bitter tasting fruit was swallowed, so hungry for the hollow knowledge of impending, splendid death,

On hectic streets, a heretic's prayer brays from the maniac mouth of a pain-addled knave, despondent pleas travel in vain as little more than prattle to the common ilk of weaning cattle suckling poison mother's curdled milk, filtered through softened fibres of silken sheets excreted solely from a systemic culture of writhing worms held lowly under cloven feet, upon which the more we feed, the less we bleat 'til quietus ushers sleep,

Neither pharisaist prophecy nor equivocally cryptic concepts of prescience reveal a sating sight of latent expiration through vast, warped stained-glass windows tinted scarlet in our own sardonic condemnation – mere simple cogitation of perpetual atrocities chronicled across the countless hostile histories of human existence spins a miscreant yarn of ardent self-harm arduously warning great omega burns warm,

Long before the colossal pillars of a sick city's salt were all but washed away in searing sprays of acid rain to spoil what remained of once abundant plains of fruitful soil came a bloom of self-awareness coiling out beyond the edge of an age spared the anguish of the phagous ape – a stage in the hours before an improvised symphony is conceived to be played – a single spark radiates wavering potentiality through all of infinite space 'til its sublime beauty is swiftly erased, replaced, collapsed into darkened, stark fate – the blade of a knife with the grace of a grenade drags crudely across Earth's fickle face,

Despite feigned hope and pendulum broken, the decisive stroke has struck long ago, but we insist to pick and prod the open lesions caused, steadily dredging beds in nests of festering carrion to carry the next impending yield of congealing maggot young to term amongst the specious intentions infused by a collective metastatic mass, for the end is not nigh, it has already come to pass

[Eivind August]

Good stuff, kaeth

[lost in music]

irrelevant rap couplets come to me all the time:

I fight Invisible Children like midgets and elves
Gettin' high like the guy from KONY 2012

[Seance]

I wrote some lyrics about the dark nihilism of the Road Runner cartoons.

SPOILER : show

Sinister cartoon villain laughs — evilly, snickering gleefully
Wringing his hands over his dastardly plans
Heroine tied to the tracks — is she bound, is she bound to be saved?
Before this runaway speeding train rolls in?

It's no fun
Getting stuck
In this rerun.

Coyote slams into the bluff
‘Cause the construct was enough.

She finds bad habits hard to break — bound and chained
It's much easier to find a fix. shoot, shoot, shooting the works
Her situation's serious —gravity's just a joke
She falls for it every time in a ring of smoke

It's no fun
Getting stuck
In this rerun.

Coyote slams into the bluff
‘Cause the construct was enough.

Try to pave a path
Through this apathy
With a rocket pack
Made by ACME novelty.

Shooting up like a falling star
You're never quite as bright
As you think you are.

Every single day is the same — not much, not much to say
How can she be saved from this cliché?

It's no fun
Getting stuck
In this rerun.

Coyote slams into the bluff
‘Cause the construct was enough.

[Seance]

And I wrote some lyrics about being thirteen and peeling back the universe from the ragged edges.

SPOILER : show

Drifting around.
Four hours since we dropped.
Rising in a wave.
Suspended high above the trough.
Our minds are lit up like the clouds
When the sun is going down.
The sun is going down.

Searching in the dark.
Feeling for the spark.
Got our signals crossed on Telegraph.
Tearing up now we can only laugh.
We walk and we talk and we joke.
Shooting tracers through the smoke.
We slip into some sudden symphony
Where every thing and thought agree.

Telephone wires catching fire
Defined in lines our racing minds.
We can't follow what we've seen
Drifting through the clovered green.

Time is spinning out and we can't hold on too
Long before we found it before we knew to hold
On and on it carries us out, with it the
Tide is now receding, gently leaving us
Right where we belong.
Right where we were.
Right where we belong.
Right where we were.

Tangled in the crowd as we pass,
Reflected faces in the glass.
Casting ghostly trails across our path,
Just like fingerprints on photographs.
The moment's fading into the dark of night,
Thrown like shadows from a streetlight.
Like shadows in the night.

Like shadows in the night.
Shadows in the light.
Like shadows in the night.
Shadows in the light.