Poetry Thread

Finchinator

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(approved by vonFiedler)

Hey everyone. For those of you that don't know (which I'm assuming is about 99% of you), I often write poetry and it's a pretty big means of written expression for me. I am sure that at least some people in this community have either written or read poetry for enjoyment at some time or another, so this can be a place for general poetry discussion - sharing your own/others' poetry, giving your thoughts, etc.

I guess I'll share some of my own poetry to start.

“How’re you doing today?” she asked.
Fake a smile, say good, walk away.
Be polite, they say.
Be myself, I say.

“How’re you doing today?” he asked.
Shoot a glare, say awful, crawl away.
No legs to stand on.
No breaks to come upon.

“How’re you doing today?” she asked.
Stop, pause, freeze.
Burning sun peaking through layers of clouds.
Feel lost in thought among large crowds.
Emotion concealed into a bubble.
About to burst into rainy trouble.
But before I summon an umbrella.
Think about it for a second fella.
Dark times only stay dark if you don’t find light.
So don’t fake being all polite.
When you can make that true.
When you can make that you.

“How’re you doing today?” he asked.
“Good! How’re you?” I responded.


In a perfect world
The boy gets the girl
The worker gets the promotion
The player wins the game

But why does it matter what happens in a perfect world
When we all are surrounded by imperfections
Left, right
Up, down
Look all the fuck around
Imperfections.

I feel as if there's a quota for failure in the plans of the universe
There must be so many lonely
There must be so many poor
There must be so many losers

In an imperfect world
The boy doesn't always get the girl
The worker doesn't always get the promotion
The player doesn't always win the game

And yet among all these imperfections,
We all strive for the same goal
Happiness.

But in a world where not all is right
It is impossible for all to reach the goal of happiness.

And so we sit and sulk.
And so we bitch and moan.
And so we question and cry.

But what do we gain when we complain
And what do we gain from looking at the glass half empty
The world is still full of possibilities

And so we hope to get the girl
And so we hope to get the promotion
And so we hope to win the game

But there may be an imperfection in our life story
There may be rejection
There may be disappointment
There may be failure

But that is all part of the journey
And at the end of the day
As long as the last chapter reads happiness
The book is well written
And all is
Perfect.


I have plenty more, but these are just two of my most recent poems. I will share more if this thread goes anywhere. I guess I'll also throw this in because it is truly amazing.

 
I write poetry a lot, I've written poetry since I was a little kid. I guess it's kind of a secret passion for me in the sense that I feel incredibly vulnerable and exposed as a person when I talk about the dimensions of poetry as a medium. I used to do performance poetry a lot and basically I guess it was my whole thing, my whole identity and life. In the end I sort of hated what I was doing and wrote sparingly for a long time until the last few years, when I started writing more personal stuff. I kind of want to find a good balance between cryptic/maximal abstraction and blunt confessionalism but it's hard.

Anyway here's some of my shit because why not, today is a significant personal anniversary for me and I spent the last year writing poetry about it. I finished ~19 poems in the last year (which isn't a remark on quality or anything but rather a comment that I haven't been so artistically productive since childhood) and have a fairly substantial body of unfinished material I need to work on, I tend to work in bursts on things with similar ideas/themes. I take notes basically all the time, I have notes going back to 2013 that I still draw on.

I write for myself now and I find that extremely liberating as a method of emotional bloodletting and, I guess, more of an incentive to improve since it's something I do just to give myself release and joy. So a lot is just unadulterated emotional vomit sorry and it's constructed of semiotics that make sense to me primarily. Because of that I hesitated to post for awhile but whatever. I hope that other people will be encouraged to post their stuff too or even just their favourite poems, it's been awhile since we've had much poetry posted on Smogon.

she loves me as she sees me—
countless self-similar infinities,
invincible and given to joy;
she would build rivers for me—
rivers that twist through my veins.

she worships the flowers—like altars,
springing up amidst self-loathing—
laurels she wove into my hair.
she has made me, so i cease to be—
i unravel in her forgetting.

still she sees me unconquered,
an unapproachable singularity.
she wants my everything-but,
but now there is nothing-yet
i want to remember (any)more.


I love you because you smiled
and said good morning to me;
I am cringing, allergic to love,
seeking something synthetic
that inflames but is not swallowed.

I feel nothing about agency;
there is doing from asking,
or doing from making.
The distinction leaves me empty.
I wait for something to shape me.

I hate them when they speak
at room temperature, evenly
and tell me I cannot run from
having lost possession of myself
but ask me to surrender everything.

Sometimes I watch the sun
bruise the walls with shadows
and I am waiting for it to pass,
passively, waiting for asking,
a day closer to something.

I was brought here by paper cuts
bestowed by butterflies,
and given audience with scissors
poised to prise me open
to blister from exposure to air.

I can’t answer their questions,
because they will only believe it
when it comes to their own lips,
as if I need them to know the eclipse,
the discharge of the spirit.

I wait for the light to turn off,
ask permission to perform volition.
In this bright clean chamber
full of stained rotten thoughts
I wish to be clean, not rotten, for you.


you push the body graceful down the deep dark well
and you build a little ladder out of your ribcage
and you coax her gentle to climb into where it’s safe
and you possess her, whispering threats of the recessional.

you learn to appreciate the way tragedy tastes
of songs and salt and sacrifice, all laid to waste
in her wrists, her spine, a column of devotions and shrines
to the mind’s tug inexorably unto self-immolation.

and you love her best, tractable, unravelled only by death
and the secrets of her spirit, all precious higher mysteries,
surrender so sweetly when seized from her sepulchre by the sea,
sequestered in a suffocation insensate, soundless and subdued.

and you take yourself a priestess, a lenore lingering,
who waits for the light to reach the dark of the well
who hangs upon the echoes ebbing in the depths of the well
who prays in the quiet to the tides to become invisible.

and you make her submission into exorcism through the recital
of that poetry in paralysis on the periphery of necromancy.


when i was a schoolchild my mother
had a pair of potted plants growing
side by side near the kitchen window,
nourished with the best she could do for love,
spreading themselves up the walls,
slithering along the curtain rods,
snatching at each other, snatching:
tendrils crisscrossed melding together.

they grapple as they grow into one
they forget that they were two
they remember only a climb into another
and a possession of the mind, grasping:
reaching for each other and choking
the very breath from their own vines.

when i enquired about the vacancy my mother
told me that in nature all things struggle
to exist alongside another, and finally,
so inexorably smothered, they throttled
their shuddering single self: at last alive
forgetting to thrive, forgetting to thrive.


i remember your voice still
and the rhythm as you breathed
i remember the terror, too,
that tangled itself in my ribs
and bloomed into paralysis through me
like endless flowers, choking my lungs
i remember being suspended in immobility
confined to your whim and your want, still
you could not forbid me to remember.

i let you stare right through me
if only to catch a glimpse of you
i wanted a mirror held up to me
with fear in your eyes and your breath
shrinking back into your small, shrivelled self
sunken beneath my apologies
swallowed by your forgiveness
so i could see that you, too, remember.

i cried when you brought me bouquets,
watched you dress me in hyacinth and rue
i know that bruises are not kisses,
i closed my eyes to them once so that
my heart would remain open still
to you, all throbbing ravaged muscle tissue
rusted all over from too much misuse
together we made a map on my hands so
even as stars die, i will remember.

i want to carry all the tenderness
that i dreamed was the engine of your loathing
that drove me to a strange surrender
to martyr myself to the intensity of want
and i tremble for the pressure of so many
yes, endless flowers held against my lips
forcing my screams back into the darkness
that gathers like the shadows upon my veins
where the flesh continues to remember.

i dare to make excuses for you, sometimes
please, let me reconstruct you from those dreams
from imagined subtext and sheer force of belief
hate and love make war where my mind meets you
and i want to meet you, to pull you to me
i crave you in stockholm, by the baltic sea
spread across the archipelago you made of my memories
rove to advantage so that i may elevate you still
i want to ask you, sometimes, not to remember.


If anyone wants to read more they can always ask me for a link, people are kind of inane (rude) when I post on here sometimes so

My favourite poets are Pablo Neruda, Lisa Bellear, Sylvia Plath, Bertolt Brecht, and Lionel Fogarty. most of them are pretty famous but I'll try to get around linking individual pieces sometime

Finch I liked the emotional directness of your poetry and found it super relatable. I hope you will post more, is there any central location you post your writing?
 

Finchinator

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OU Leader
I think all of your poems are very well written, jumpluff - I really like the fashion in which they convey emotion and read in general, tbh. I'm not exactly the most knowledgeable person when it comes to reading and analyzing poetry (most of what I do is writing for my own personal enjoyment), but I enjoyed reading yours and like how you write.

I will probably post more tomorrow given that I see there's at least some interest in this thread, but I hope it branches out to even more people in the near future. Also, I don't exactly post my writing anywhere specific. I share it with an irl friend or two and that's about it, so there's no central location - guess that makes sense because it's more of a passionate hobby for me than anything else.
 

Bughouse

Like ships in the night, you're passing me by
is a Site Content Manageris a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a CAP Contributor Alumnusis a Tiering Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus
I'm actually a published poet in this Atlanta-area literary mag. If you manage to track down a copy, you can read my work ;)

In other news, I asked out my prom date who was the editor of my school's literary mag via a poem submission. It worked. Promposals are crazy, man...

I don't particularly feel like sharing any of my work because I find it either mediocre (or maybe I'm just very self-critical) or really personal, but I might share some of the work of my old high school friends which is often very good.
 

Finchinator

-OUTL
is a Tournament Directoris a Top Social Media Contributoris a Community Leaderis a Community Contributoris a Smogon Discord Contributoris a Top Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Top Smogon Media Contributoris a Top Dedicated Tournament Hostis a Senior Staff Member Alumnusis a Battle Simulator Moderator Alumnusis a Past WCoP Championis the defending OU Circuit Championis a Two-Time Former Old Generation Tournament Circuit Champion
OU Leader
Short one I wrote recently to keep things going - for the record, this doesn't exactly represent how I feel in life.

Depressing songs and late nights.
Restless tossing and turning.
No, I'm not tired, just bored.
Bored of what, you ask.
Bored of the continuous journey into nothingness and the search for an illusion most people label as happiness.

In this clouded world, a true ray of sun comes once in a blue moon.
And although it's dark outside when the clock strikes 3:30 AM, it's dark inside when the clock strikes 3:30 PM.

If I were to disappear now it would simply ease the burden I put on so many people.
There would be little to remember, let alone miss.
So why should the clock strike 3:31 AM in this wasted life.
 
I write poetry a lot, I've written poetry since I was a little kid. I guess it's kind of a secret passion for me in the sense that I feel incredibly vulnerable and exposed as a person when I talk about the dimensions of poetry as a medium. I used to do performance poetry a lot and basically I guess it was my whole thing, my whole identity and life. In the end I sort of hated what I was doing and wrote sparingly for a long time until the last few years, when I started writing more personal stuff. I kind of want to find a good balance between cryptic/maximal abstraction and blunt confessionalism but it's hard.

Anyway here's some of my shit because why not, today is a significant personal anniversary for me and I spent the last year writing poetry about it. I finished ~19 poems in the last year (which isn't a remark on quality or anything but rather a comment that I haven't been so artistically productive since childhood) and have a fairly substantial body of unfinished material I need to work on, I tend to work in bursts on things with similar ideas/themes. I take notes basically all the time, I have notes going back to 2013 that I still draw on.

I write for myself now and I find that extremely liberating as a method of emotional bloodletting and, I guess, more of an incentive to improve since it's something I do just to give myself release and joy. So a lot is just unadulterated emotional vomit sorry and it's constructed of semiotics that make sense to me primarily. Because of that I hesitated to post for awhile but whatever. I hope that other people will be encouraged to post their stuff too or even just their favourite poems, it's been awhile since we've had much poetry posted on Smogon.

she loves me as she sees me—
countless self-similar infinities,
invincible and given to joy;
she would build rivers for me—
rivers that twist through my veins.

she worships the flowers—like altars,
springing up amidst self-loathing—
laurels she wove into my hair.
she has made me, so i cease to be—
i unravel in her forgetting.

still she sees me unconquered,
an unapproachable singularity.
she wants my everything-but,
but now there is nothing-yet
i want to remember (any)more.


I love you because you smiled
and said good morning to me;
I am cringing, allergic to love,
seeking something synthetic
that inflames but is not swallowed.

I feel nothing about agency;
there is doing from asking,
or doing from making.
The distinction leaves me empty.
I wait for something to shape me.

I hate them when they speak
at room temperature, evenly
and tell me I cannot run from
having lost possession of myself
but ask me to surrender everything.

Sometimes I watch the sun
bruise the walls with shadows
and I am waiting for it to pass,
passively, waiting for asking,
a day closer to something.

I was brought here by paper cuts
bestowed by butterflies,
and given audience with scissors
poised to prise me open
to blister from exposure to air.

I can’t answer their questions,
because they will only believe it
when it comes to their own lips,
as if I need them to know the eclipse,
the discharge of the spirit.

I wait for the light to turn off,
ask permission to perform volition.
In this bright clean chamber
full of stained rotten thoughts
I wish to be clean, not rotten, for you.


you push the body graceful down the deep dark well
and you build a little ladder out of your ribcage
and you coax her gentle to climb into where it’s safe
and you possess her, whispering threats of the recessional.

you learn to appreciate the way tragedy tastes
of songs and salt and sacrifice, all laid to waste
in her wrists, her spine, a column of devotions and shrines
to the mind’s tug inexorably unto self-immolation.

and you love her best, tractable, unravelled only by death
and the secrets of her spirit, all precious higher mysteries,
surrender so sweetly when seized from her sepulchre by the sea,
sequestered in a suffocation insensate, soundless and subdued.

and you take yourself a priestess, a lenore lingering,
who waits for the light to reach the dark of the well
who hangs upon the echoes ebbing in the depths of the well
who prays in the quiet to the tides to become invisible.

and you make her submission into exorcism through the recital
of that poetry in paralysis on the periphery of necromancy.


when i was a schoolchild my mother
had a pair of potted plants growing
side by side near the kitchen window,
nourished with the best she could do for love,
spreading themselves up the walls,
slithering along the curtain rods,
snatching at each other, snatching:
tendrils crisscrossed melding together.

they grapple as they grow into one
they forget that they were two
they remember only a climb into another
and a possession of the mind, grasping:
reaching for each other and choking
the very breath from their own vines.

when i enquired about the vacancy my mother
told me that in nature all things struggle
to exist alongside another, and finally,
so inexorably smothered, they throttled
their shuddering single self: at last alive
forgetting to thrive, forgetting to thrive.


i remember your voice still
and the rhythm as you breathed
i remember the terror, too,
that tangled itself in my ribs
and bloomed into paralysis through me
like endless flowers, choking my lungs
i remember being suspended in immobility
confined to your whim and your want, still
you could not forbid me to remember.

i let you stare right through me
if only to catch a glimpse of you
i wanted a mirror held up to me
with fear in your eyes and your breath
shrinking back into your small, shrivelled self
sunken beneath my apologies
swallowed by your forgiveness
so i could see that you, too, remember.

i cried when you brought me bouquets,
watched you dress me in hyacinth and rue
i know that bruises are not kisses,
i closed my eyes to them once so that
my heart would remain open still
to you, all throbbing ravaged muscle tissue
rusted all over from too much misuse
together we made a map on my hands so
even as stars die, i will remember.

i want to carry all the tenderness
that i dreamed was the engine of your loathing
that drove me to a strange surrender
to martyr myself to the intensity of want
and i tremble for the pressure of so many
yes, endless flowers held against my lips
forcing my screams back into the darkness
that gathers like the shadows upon my veins
where the flesh continues to remember.

i dare to make excuses for you, sometimes
please, let me reconstruct you from those dreams
from imagined subtext and sheer force of belief
hate and love make war where my mind meets you
and i want to meet you, to pull you to me
i crave you in stockholm, by the baltic sea
spread across the archipelago you made of my memories
rove to advantage so that i may elevate you still
i want to ask you, sometimes, not to remember.


If anyone wants to read more they can always ask me for a link, people are kind of inane (rude) when I post on here sometimes so

My favourite poets are Pablo Neruda, Lisa Bellear, Sylvia Plath, Bertolt Brecht, and Lionel Fogarty. most of them are pretty famous but I'll try to get around linking individual pieces sometime

Finch I liked the emotional directness of your poetry and found it super relatable. I hope you will post more, is there any central location you post your writing?
I'm not going to say I'm an expert in poem analysis, but I have done some as part of my literature course through school, and this is amazing.

You said in the post you're trying to 'find a good balance between cryptic/maximal abstraction and blunt confessionalism', but I can assure you, it's there - you write with enough depth that I'd have to read them all a couple time to really pick up on everything you're doing, but at the same time, I get a sense of what you're trying to say immediately. That's definitely not always the case; one of the poets we studied at school was almost indecipherable without a preconceived notion of what she was trying to do, which we got from the teacher.

Your metre is also nice and even, which makes it really easy to follow along with. That's something I really admire because it's something I personally really struggle with - I tend to just write whichever words I'm thinking of, and if they don't fit together, fuck it.

In case it wasn't obvious already, I'd love a link to the rest of your stuff. Poems similar to this where what first got me into writing for myself, and I'd love to read more.


If (on the off chance) anyone is interested in my writing, there's a link to my 'Writing Archive' in my sig. I talk a bit about my own style and problems when writing on there, and I don't want to retype it out here as well.

Smogon definitely has writers, but it's really hard to find a lot of their work, so I'm trying to encourage people to put their stuff up in Smeargle's Studio. You're allowed to, and the best way to start getting more consistent feedback and interest is to have a better community feel rather than 1 big mega-thread.
 

Bughouse

Like ships in the night, you're passing me by
is a Site Content Manageris a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a CAP Contributor Alumnusis a Tiering Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus
Alright, as promised, I'm back with some poems that I love by friends of mine, some of which I helped edit.

I
Bitter cacao
With a bit of sugar.
Temper sweetly.

II
Tangy cherry, a dark burgundy.
From deep inside,
Dig out pit.

III
Saccharine syrup
Folded until you can
Fight no longer.

IV
Dip flesh in fondant;
Melted paste upon morello.
Careful for drips.

V
Bury in chocolate brown—
I pray
You obey—
Precision matters not
When ambrosia is at hand.

VI
There comes a time for waiting.
Two days, ticks the clock.

VII
Sink into glacé succulence,
Sinful antidote for all earthly ills.
Consume heaven in Hell.
The faucet in the downstairs bathroom leaks,
There are spiders and centipedes in the basement,
And I hope you like driving,
Because she's just far enough away from everything

But since you persist in your quest for my home,
I have but one thing to say to you:
Take care of her, please,
Because she meant the world to me,
And she'll be good to you, too
Clip-clip
Sharp steps on the
Grim battleground.
Once, a shy-green, flowering field.
Now, a stark pitch slab
That fosters only death.

Vmmmmph!
A Demon cackles past.
German, by looks,
But it doesn't matter:
They all shriek the same
In murderous delight.

Shwuuuuuhh...
Leaves dance in the chilling night wind.
It's late, and I'm ready.
Prance to the middle of that
Black Hell, and wait.

Flash!
Lights blare, and I hold their vicious gaze.
This one's Japanese, for sure.
I stand stalk still, my eyes gleaming
With blind vengeance.

Retribution
Neck stiff, body bold,
I face my metal nemesis;
And my antlers, poised with pride,
Point forever toward Infiniti.
Bite me, bitch
(You know you want to).
I'll be your addiction
(I'm like a nicotine hit).
Sink your teeth into my hard, pink skin
(My juice will dribble down your lip).
Know me and you'll know desire
(I'm an experience you won't soon forget).
Without me you will tremble
(I'll keep you coming back for more).
My knowledge is your craving
(And there is no patch for me).


In other news, my favorite poem is probably Blackberry Picking by Seamus Heaney.
 

antemortem

THE ORIGINAL DAVE
is a Community Leaderis a Community Contributoris a Site Content Manager Alumnusis a Battle Simulator Admin Alumnusis a Top Social Media Contributor Alumnusis a Smogon Discord Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnusis a Top Smogon Media Contributor Alumnusis an Administrator Alumnus
Socialization Head
I've been waiting for a thread like this! I've always written poetry in some form or fashion, scribing on literally anything I could get my hands on if something came to mind - little sticky notes, a dry erase whiteboard I used to have, and one time on a wall in one of my old bedrooms lol. I've owned three journals in the past couple of years in which I've compiled a bunch of my poetry/short (unfinished) stories, so I've got a few up my sleeve to say the least. I haven't shared any of them online before, but I don't mind doing so now, especially since I've been waiting for a Cong thread that I can actually contribute something substantial to. I only have one recent one that I'll share for now but I'll probably toss more in here later.

Morose tears erode canals into the fervent valley that is my skin,
etching complex patchworks of passageways and tunnels and corridors and hallways and tubes and caves,
a network that crosses so often that intersection is no longer an emphatic enough descriptor,
no longer far reaching enough to paint the volume at which these rivets and rivers are hewn

The saline waters rush through each crevasse
as a parade of bull's stampeding their reclaimed dusty streets
as melted honey pooling below the spout from which it rained hence
as a migratory flock careens and bows, punctuating their tireless journey at their homestead

The tracks of these heartfelt, liquidated memories blaze their signature over a pale spotted floor,
caressing gently the wall upon which the fingers of their assailant will glide to wipe them from existence,
but still there will remain a notable residue,
and never forgotten will be the morose tears
 

Finchinator

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is a Tournament Directoris a Top Social Media Contributoris a Community Leaderis a Community Contributoris a Smogon Discord Contributoris a Top Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Top Smogon Media Contributoris a Top Dedicated Tournament Hostis a Senior Staff Member Alumnusis a Battle Simulator Moderator Alumnusis a Past WCoP Championis the defending OU Circuit Championis a Two-Time Former Old Generation Tournament Circuit Champion
OU Leader
The charged wind oscillates through the air
Each and every gust, we must reluctantly bear

Empty shopping bags and used wrappers swirl with great vitality
Among the abandoned hodgepodge I find my passion enduring great brutality

I think to myself that this wind storm was a perfect representation
The problem was that the representation was that of imperfect connotation

An enormous gust sweeps on by
And my emotions all poor out on the fly

And this mass spill reveals
That Cupid is reckless and I'm tired of him using me for target practice

And this mass spill discloses
That words are harmful and I'm vulnerable to the oral armada heading my way each day

And this mass spill shows
That the past only translates to the future if you learn the language of the present and I'm tired of being lost in translation on each and every occasion

So the final gust blows
With nothing left for me to expose
My eyes empty out like a hose
For life has my hope to foreclose
 
Last edited:

Finchinator

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is a Tournament Directoris a Top Social Media Contributoris a Community Leaderis a Community Contributoris a Smogon Discord Contributoris a Top Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Top Smogon Media Contributoris a Top Dedicated Tournament Hostis a Senior Staff Member Alumnusis a Battle Simulator Moderator Alumnusis a Past WCoP Championis the defending OU Circuit Championis a Two-Time Former Old Generation Tournament Circuit Champion
OU Leader
Sometimes
You love someone so much
That their happiness
Becomes your happiness
And their sadness
Becomes your sadness

And when you're with them
Your eyes light up
And when you're apart
The world seems darker

Sometimes
That love controls you
And your emotions
And your everything
Like you are
A voodoo doll
 
Last edited:

DEG

The night belongs to you
is a Community Contributoris a Forum Moderator Alumnusis a Tiering Contributor Alumnusis a Smogon Media Contributor Alumnus
I've been writing poetry for the last years and I really enjoy doing it. It started as me being curious and wondering how does it feel writing poetry but it has grown me and became a kind of passion, something I do for fun. Poetry has allowed me to express my feelings easily. My themes are probably the same, morbid. I can't really write anything that express happiness even after countless tries. So here are some of my poems:

They left me between these walls,
Oppressed by the darkness surrounding,
Waiting for an angel falls,
Thought I could try some founding,
But it was impossible,
Suffocating in a world so hostile,
Between hell and heaven,
Trying to count to lucky seven.
They think giving me a stone,
Would ease the pain in my bones,
That’s what we all think,
Blood merging with ink,
Were blinded since were young,
Spiting no sense with our tongue.

People believe in dreaming,
The world that hides the screaming,
Yet I don’t believe in that other dimension,
It’s a useless invention,
I don’t dream,
Nor I hear screams,
I fade away with the darkness,
Who says it’s artless?
Between despair and hope,
Between the dark and the light,
I watch these two factions fight over the globe,
And I see darkness taking a bite,
Consuming little by little,
The innocent giggles.

On that stone, I sit,
Unable to sleep,
Should I quit?
Am I driving in despair to deep?
I pour in a glass some vodka,
To slip away from this insomnia.
They told me, I can find happiness in love,
They told me, it can grow wings,
The feeling of being free as a dove,
White feathers, winds and rings.
Little did they know,
The feeling of growing things,
Blood stains on the snow,
Oh my poor limbs.
To be set free,
Like a falling tree,
Pain must collapse with your body,
Turning you to nobody.
That’s what they never told me,
Love is a magical mutagen,
What will happen?
Maybe, it’s just a hallucinogen.
Cause if love really exists,
It doesn’t know how to feel,
All I see are my wrists,
Engraved by steel,
Words… That will never fade,
That pushed me into depression,
Happiness for failed love, It was a fair trade,
That left me with countless questions,
With answers in my heart,
Marked by heartaches,
And when they start,
They move by heartbeat,
While I cry myself to sleep,
Full of answers yet so empty.
Memories engraved deep,
Hide the story of pain.
I never wanted to fall in love,
Because falling doesn’t sound worth it,
Yet I was victim of the doves,
Trying to liberate my spirit.
They have left me now,
But I’m not alone, that’s a vow,
Loneliness keeps me company,
When I’m away of society.
With the sound of wind,
The wars inside my mind,
My own groans,
And the cracks in my bones,
It communicates to me,
And it never lies,
And what would I be,
Without the cries,
And the pain that cuts deep,
I’ll be lost like a black sheep,
In the other world they call heaven,
A world with no misfortune.
I’m not dead,
This hurt that cuts deeply
Reminds me that I’m alive.
I trust the sound of doors slamming,
The wind blowing softly,
And I keep on grabbing,
My loneliness strongly.
They told me, I can find happiness in love,
I told them, that’s not what loneliness taught me,
They told me, it can grow wings,
I told them it generates heartaches.
I have always repugned love,
Wrote about how it breaks the heart,
And said how I’m really tired of falling apart,
Talked about heartaches, stitches and doves,
Talked about how much loneliness is a friend,
That will never leave you even in the end,
I never felt anything deep inside,
And all I remember is how much I cried,
To the point that I needed to stain the floor with my blood,
To remember that I was alive and could feel,
I walked through dark hallways searching for the light so I could kneel,
In front of some sort of savior that could save me from that flood.
Insanity was taking over as I couldn’t find a shred of hope,
The pain was taking control over my body, I soon began to crawl,
Should I give up? Should I still hold tight on that rope?
Maybe I could find someday a way to break these walls.
Between life and death I wandered through this maze,
Until my eyes stumbled upon a sort person,
I could see again through this haze,
She was stainless, who washed away her sins?
I became attracted to that sweet scent of hers,
Guiding me slowly to paradise,
Setting me free from all my vices,
After all these years…
She smiled and talked to me,
Oh, that smile! Transformed my nightmares to dreams,
My mind was dazzled by her face, all I could see was she.
Is it love? Or it’s just her face’s gleam?
I couldn’t tell until her soft hand touched my skin,
Where I could feel myself being washed from my sins,
Black tears on my cheeks I surrendered to her love,
She hugged me tightly squeezed my heart,
Making it pump again with all its force, feeling like a new start,
Did I find truelove?
Fresh and new, I held her hands tightly passed through the walls,
Told her about my struggles and how she saved my life,
How I was manipulated by vice just like dolls,
How I wrestled every night that knife,
She put her hands on my mouth and smiled,
Pressed her lips against mine and kissed the pain away.
And through the wind that seemed mild,
You colored the grey,
And reminded me of colors,
Oh how much I love you,
You’re a star that shines brighter than others,
Planted that seed of love and took care of it until it grew,
And even if I put a thousand words together describing my love,
It will never be enough to pour all my feelings through this poem,
I guess I need to thank this time the love doves,
You sewed the heart that was once broken,
And it is my turn to protect you my dear,
I will let you know that my soul keeps on craving your voice,
And I’m going to be clear,
This is my choice.
I swear that my heart will never stop following your footsteps,
I will always be by your side like your shadow,
I will always be standing on your doorstep,
I’d die for you, that’s easy to say, though
I really will be your shield,
I am ready to betray my own friends for that, the storms and the darkness.
Because you are the person that healed,
My wounds and showed it the brightness.
Oh how much I love you! You are my savior,
And taught me how to not be a failure.
I learned that to be free,
You need to create the light in the darkness,
And not wait on your knees,
For the brightness.
I have always repugned love,
But you changed my perception,
And ended my deception,
Oh how I need your love,
Because my dear, I love you.


Any my most recent one:

I’m here to tell you the truth,
Not drown you in fake hopes,
I will be the voice of the youth,
Not sit silent and get tortured by your ropes,
I will be damned if I told you this world is pure,
And not infested with sinners and victims,
A world of despair, they told me to endure,
All the pain that tied me into a painful system,
Comes alive every now and then making me spit blood,
Give up? No! I remember he felt my pain; he paid for our sins,
But germs are hard to eliminate,
They grow and grow penetrate in our skins,
Is this humanity's fate?
To be stuck in this endless cycle of evil?
I refuse to believe we are numb to our enemies,
Can’t beat them so we join their side, upheaval!
Let my words light the dark streets and let’s find remedies.
Who started this curse?
Society did? But we are society!
Humanity dived too deep and used blank verses,
Nowadays teens, adults and even grandparents live in anxiety.
What’s the secret of such evil between us?
Is it because we try to find love in lust?
We are given a subject and we discuss,
But has anyone tried to create something from dust?
Girls posting half-naked pictures on instagram just to get hearts,
But little do they know the number of hearts doesn’t define beauty,
The real beauty is inside within your heart, love falls in pure arts,
And not in copy pasting, are you waiting for a mention to stop posting your booty?
From a bed to another, from a lie to another, from a crime to another,
Humans never ceases to show their wrath to themselves,
Even between two same entities that they call brothers,
War lies within; it controls us slowly and turns us against ourselves.
Humans hold pride in everything they have,
They talk and talk but yet their words are empty,
Their mouth opens and closes but never seems to calve,
Anything but lies, they can count to one hundred and twenty,
But always want more, tainted with envy.
This is the category of humans that are victim of the sin,
Be cautious they are contagious,
They replaced my pride with envy; they still separate the redskin,
I envy a better world, I don’t call myself a saint nor courageous,
But just a guy that doesn’t want to fall between the hands of evil,
Repent!
I don’t want to be pierced by needles,
I don’t want them to creep in and torment,
Or take control of my body.
I admit, I am a sinner, they are like scarlet,
I want to be healed, turn them to white as snow,
Not going to be one of the heartless,
Resisting letting everyone know,
That my heart is bruised by the lies,
I’m a slave to the truth,
This is just the start to moralize,
Invent a world where we ruth,
And not be happy about other’s misfortunes,
To start a change you got to be the change,
Let off that golden tooth,
Build this new world and arrange,
Everything wrong, about me and you.


They are taken of from my writing thread on Smeargle's studio and I encourage you posting your writings there too.
 
i've been writing poetry as a form of expression and it's not terribly good, but here's something i wrote

was it ever meaningful?
have i twisted up fate and reality?

it is as if we never spoke;
in fact, we haven’t;

you don’t know me,
but i know you;

i know your cunning grace,
glowing face,

foolish grin;
and i remind myself,

how much it hurts;
the longing for you.

standing alone in cold showers;
tears stream down my face;

am i going insane?
perhaps i’ve felt something,

you’ve not;
for you,

my love,
i would give the world;

for you,
my love,

i would give my soul
 
i write poetry in random classes at school because i'm bored mostly and i'm way better at it than prose
\
sometimes i have to but then it's really easy although some forced poetry assignments are some of my favorite ones
most of them i don't have a clue where they are because i write them on random sheets of paper/old notebooks i was using for school but i have a couple of them organized in the notebook i'm using for everything currently
sometimes i write about a "her" even though i don't have any clue what i'm talking about since the closest thing i've come to a relationship was being rejected in middle school by a crush

some of them:
I feel a hand searching through this darkness
I grope outside my blindness
Yet somehow I find that nothing matters in here
Within the darkness that is sleep
Light is a terror to behold here
And men can now see in dark
A perfect world above Earth
None visit it but for sleep or death
And I dream of happi - oh, light

Why
Tell me
Do you know
Perhaps
Truly
What is this
The world slain

Dusk breaks day
As the sun falls through clousd
Say the light disappears
But yet it rises again
What a sad little star
Stealing Earth from darkness
And the dawn breaks
We see the moon fall away
We wake to the birds
Singing as the light reappears
What a sad little sphere
Giving Earth some late light
And yet dawn and dusk break once yet more

Why does dusk break day
Shattering the sun to dark
A fall from beauty

But then why comes dawn
Bringing light out through the night
Loss of sleep and work

Help us understand
Why we should agree to die
When our time comes

And yet I see it
The light beyond a tunnel
Bring me back awake

And yet I yet live
For none can truly see it
Truth beyond the sleep

Something beckons everyone where they go
God, the brain, nature, fate, I don't know
Why should I care, why should I ask
Something tells me to go with the flow
And I don't mind for I have joy
And I need no more to live my life

Where shall I land when my path is complete
Why shall I cry when everything is good
When shall I ask what I shall do next
What can I be if there is nothing more
As I think
I cry
For I am done and don't know where to go from here
As I ask
I sleep
And my dreams give me cause to live once again

Crying, crawling, dying, bawling
Nothing happens; secret slithers
Life means nothing, work means nothing
Happiness is all that counts

How did this world come to be
Who cares
Why are things the way they are
Why do I need to know
As far as I know life could be meaningless
But I do know I like feeling good
So why should I strive for anything else

\
dawn
rising cry
dusk
sleep alone
awake yet again
night shall fall
none may steal the day
some will try to take it still
yet they shall all fail
none may ask why this now is
the day shall rule and the night shall dream
those who win are those who wake
sometimes i may ask why i don't dream
but then i see the sun reminding me that
ambition has rued its day enough
and those who rule shall escape from this world
no superstition shall make us fear anybody
for they have said we are soldiers of the day

i fall





















Goodbye













































:)

Pretty lights turning on
Mark the brand new shiny day
Bright lights turning off
We need now the sun
Why shouldn't we head where we will
We need success? Why?
We can live as we wish
Stop trying to stop us
Just turn the pretty lights on and off
And the big lights with the sun
And keep them away from us
That's all we need from you
Stop trying to tell us what we need to do for you
Let us do as we will
 

amyris

Banned deucer.
"The River"

The niel isn't just a river;
You're in denial, your excuses make me shiver
Can't say you were gonna win 'cause you had already lost
Hax saved your from being rekt by this boss
If I was in that position I'd have drew;
it's good sportsmanship, but we didn't, and that says a lot about you
It's as if in the World Series the umpire was being bribed by a player
They'd have to restart the series under protest, since it just isn't fair
It's a load of bull crap that you won, but all I can do is smile
Some people don't know that more than a river is the Niel
 

Finchinator

-OUTL
is a Tournament Directoris a Top Social Media Contributoris a Community Leaderis a Community Contributoris a Smogon Discord Contributoris a Top Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Top Smogon Media Contributoris a Top Dedicated Tournament Hostis a Senior Staff Member Alumnusis a Battle Simulator Moderator Alumnusis a Past WCoP Championis the defending OU Circuit Championis a Two-Time Former Old Generation Tournament Circuit Champion
OU Leader
using the first poem from this post for smth irl and will edit back in soon, mb -- second still here tho :D

Nobody’s innocent in this world.
Not a single feeling is backed by genuine intent
Not a single action is backed by genuine motive
Not a single mindset is backed by genuine thought

The “good guy” is actually just labeled as such because he does the least “bad”
We all cheat, steal, and lie
No, you may not believe me
But each and every day we find ourselves cheating ourselves
But each and every day we find ourselves stealing from ourselves
But each and every day we find ourselves lying to ourselves

Societal norms craft moral codes like Legos craft children’s buildings
Ironically, the latter renders more accurate results than the former
Don’t do this, don’t do that – they say
No reason needed, no justification necessary – nope
Just how we /should/ act
I don’t see instructions being given to the children with the Legos
Yet those children all seem happy

Happiness, at the end of the day, is the root of it all
What we all strive to attain
What we all wish to have at each and every moment
What we all wish upon our beloved
Yet the vision of happiness is clouded by restrictions beyond explanation
And we never elect to question or challenge this
Maybe the “good guy” should take a page from the rebel
Otherwise the whole book of life might as well cease to exist
Otherwise the only chapter might as well be “Societal Norms”
Otherwise the only word might as well be “bullshit”

So we sit here and avoid “trouble”
Yet we discard many of our true lively desires
For the sake of conforming to some moral code we don’t truly possess as individuals

So we throw away happiness
And still call ourselves the “good guy”
Despite blatantly cheating ourselves
Despite blatantly stealing from ourselves
Despite blatantly lying to ourselves
Everybody’s foolish in this world.
 
Last edited:

Finchinator

-OUTL
is a Tournament Directoris a Top Social Media Contributoris a Community Leaderis a Community Contributoris a Smogon Discord Contributoris a Top Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Top Smogon Media Contributoris a Top Dedicated Tournament Hostis a Senior Staff Member Alumnusis a Battle Simulator Moderator Alumnusis a Past WCoP Championis the defending OU Circuit Championis a Two-Time Former Old Generation Tournament Circuit Champion
OU Leader
Once upon a time
There was a spec
A spec of dirt

Useless spec of dirt
Nobody wants it
A spec of dirt

Spotted by someone
Water shot at it
A spec of dirt

Detected by her
Stomped on it
A spec of dirt

Located by him
Flicked at it
A spec of dirt

Once upon a time
There was a child
A child of hope

Slouched into a desk
Nobody wants it
A child of hope

Seat by the playground
Not in any games
A child of hope

Standing in the line
Shoved back away
A child of hope

Once upon a time
The child felt like
A spec of dirt.
 

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