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randomcore
I started a new writing community. Go to.
randomcorePoem - First Draft
I wrote this when I first got up around 08:30. It's not quite right but a good start, I think. Any suggestions on improvement, you armchair editors out there?
( Relationships are like ShoppingCollapse )
( Relationships are like ShoppingCollapse )
Proper Use of the English Word FUCK
(no subject)
The old man sits and waits
For a bus that never comes
A secret smile on his face
A kind of wise and knowing one
And I walk this street each day
So I know something's out of place
Either I'm not here
Or you're not there
And there are people everywhere
That are not going anywhere
I cannot help but notice now
How the sun is standing still
But still the dust is drifting down
And I am drowning without will
And each day I see is now
In this frozen lifeless town
Either I'm not here
Or you're not there
And there are people everywhere
That are not going anywhere.
For a bus that never comes
A secret smile on his face
A kind of wise and knowing one
And I walk this street each day
So I know something's out of place
Either I'm not here
Or you're not there
And there are people everywhere
That are not going anywhere
I cannot help but notice now
How the sun is standing still
But still the dust is drifting down
And I am drowning without will
And each day I see is now
In this frozen lifeless town
Either I'm not here
Or you're not there
And there are people everywhere
That are not going anywhere.
Another Poem
blue velvet nightshade
softened by spreading watercolors
archipelagoes of clouds
beckon like skipping stones
shake off the sleeping cape
and stride on to meet the moment
how could the iris not embrace this?
wider, though care makes lids weary
orange and vanilla horizon:
initiate the ritual
and don't spare the horse
i am ready.
softened by spreading watercolors
archipelagoes of clouds
beckon like skipping stones
shake off the sleeping cape
and stride on to meet the moment
how could the iris not embrace this?
wider, though care makes lids weary
orange and vanilla horizon:
initiate the ritual
and don't spare the horse
i am ready.
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-
content
-
The Poem What I Wrote
This being the first poem I have written in over 10 years, please be kind, but critical.
I really wanted to write a poem
but
I couldn't find a topic
much less a rhyme
for topic.
So I started on this journey
and found myself
and realized I wasn't even lost
so what was the point
of looking?
It's always in the last place you look.
People annoy me
and are stupid
and I can say that
because I'm not People.
What was the point
I was trying to make?
Oh yeah
it rhymes with myopic
which is how I see the world
now that I'm writing this poem.
Dang, this sh*t is meaningful.
edited because of this stupid Parental Controls thingy on my parents' computer
I really wanted to write a poem
but
I couldn't find a topic
much less a rhyme
for topic.
So I started on this journey
and found myself
and realized I wasn't even lost
so what was the point
of looking?
It's always in the last place you look.
People annoy me
and are stupid
and I can say that
because I'm not People.
What was the point
I was trying to make?
Oh yeah
it rhymes with myopic
which is how I see the world
now that I'm writing this poem.
Dang, this sh*t is meaningful.
edited because of this stupid Parental Controls thingy on my parents' computer
-
-
blah
-
Stuff
Slightly edited version of 
fishfude's latest poem (because I think I am a better editor of his work than he is):
My hands are covered
In burns I got from you.
Every acidic tear of yours I caught
Palm up
Before it hit the ground
The scars up to the elbow aren't from you.
They're for you.
Every last one.
I have them because
I always want to remind myself
What it's like to bleed on the inside.
I never want to forget
The pain beyond exquisite
Which can only come
From mind ravaged
More than your broken, battered body.
The scars remind me
That you were real.
- the reality that made me
What I am.
I do not wish you death.
Live.
Live in my mind forever.
One day
When my bloody tears
Have stained your hands
The way your salty tears
Have stained mine,
Then I will take your hands in mine,
And scar to scar
We will walk in waves
And cleanse each other.
BTW, I'll be doing that story challenge this week.
fishfude's latest poem (because I think I am a better editor of his work than he is):My hands are covered
In burns I got from you.
Every acidic tear of yours I caught
Palm up
Before it hit the ground
The scars up to the elbow aren't from you.
They're for you.
Every last one.
I have them because
I always want to remind myself
What it's like to bleed on the inside.
I never want to forget
The pain beyond exquisite
Which can only come
From mind ravaged
More than your broken, battered body.
The scars remind me
That you were real.
- the reality that made me
What I am.
I do not wish you death.
Live.
Live in my mind forever.
One day
When my bloody tears
Have stained your hands
The way your salty tears
Have stained mine,
Then I will take your hands in mine,
And scar to scar
We will walk in waves
And cleanse each other.
BTW, I'll be doing that story challenge this week.
An Invitation
This is an invitation and a request. Please give me a writing assignment. You could assign me to write an article or essay on something you would like to know more about. You could have me write a poem or a dirty limmerick ;). You could give me a storyline, or even just some characters. Give me some perameters, and I will do my best to fulfill them.
(no subject)
Been reading Zach's LJ again, and plucking stuff out of it. This time it was just a regular journal entry, but I still want to mess with it.
That's not my concern.
Deal with it.
The girl that I love exists metaphorically in my arms.
I live it on credit.
She expects from me everything.
I breathe in.
I breathe out.
I do it all over again.
(What the hell?! She's better than this! )
...and watch the world drift a w a y from me...
That's not my concern.
The girl that I love exists metaphorically in my arms.
I breathe in.
I breathe out.
I do it all over again.
(
...and watch the world drift a w a y from me...
(no subject)
This is the part of you that I want to love. The part of you I want to make me scream. This is the part of you that makes me stutter, and catch my breath. Makes me into a wild animal, makes me want defeat. This part of you frightens me, and makes me want. I feel it take control of me, desire like a death grip, crushing all other thoughts out of me. This is the you that brings out the part of me that I'm scared of. This is the part of you that wants to fuck me, the part I want to take inside of me and burn with. This is the part of you that could hurt me. This is the part of you that I want to love.