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Post Info TOPIC: POEMS THREAD!


High Mookish Shaman

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RE: poetry moments:


laughing.gif

How did My Immortal find its way on here?!

Shit just got real.

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Mookish Deity Most High

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My Immortal will find it's way anywhere.

Duh.

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Life Is A Mystery x Death Is Not = Angels and Eyeliner going to Hell hand in hand...

Mooky's Resident Cardinal of Awesomeness

 Don't make me take the shades off...



High Mookish Shaman

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Mooks, you're criminals.
Illegal to laugh this much
It should be. Yoda.

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I am a socialite, an artist, a poet.

Lady Moustache of Mooky


Professor Mook (mod)

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Plunged into the depths of darkness
Oblivion, hell and fire,
We fall, slowly suffocated by our own screams
Perpetuality, wringing our swanlike necks,
We are unable to find our lost spirits...


I CAN'T CARRY ON IT IS TOO PAINFUL so I am going to move this to creativity...

-- Edited by candiclaus on Wednesday 19th of January 2011 08:31:33 PM

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Lush Guru

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Candy please make it stop :(

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Worse things happen at sea


High Mookish Shaman

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mikimetchi wrote:

Mooks, you're criminals.
Illegal to laugh this much
It should be. Yoda.



Yoda Haiku?

 



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High Mookish Shaman

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Date:

I couldn't find a way to make it fit, so I decided to go all Yoda on yo asses.

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I am a socialite, an artist, a poet.

Lady Moustache of Mooky


Regular Crew

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Laughter is one way to happiness.


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so many sad things focus on everything else....


Mookish Deity Most High

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strangelylouise wrote:

I feel this is relevant. The worst fan fiction ever. B3autifuL Po3Try!!!




It never gets old...does it? =D



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[delighted bat noises]
 


High Mookish Shaman

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Posts: 596
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I think Anime
Writes from an anguished soul
Prosaic teen

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A tumblr...

Resident Lord of the Cranberries



Professor Mook (mod)

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Sorry Alka, I just hadn't even looked at this thread. I will merge it into another poetry thread in a moment.

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Stalk me on my blog, I guess? xxx



High Mookish Shaman

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Posts: 862
Date:

Now I've finished laughing, there is only one thing I can say.

YES.

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I am a socialite, an artist, a poet.

Lady Moustache of Mooky


Mookish Deity Most High

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I'm mildly annoyed
For I am not an angle
Please spell my name right

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Life Is A Mystery x Death Is Not = Angels and Eyeliner going to Hell hand in hand...

Mooky's Resident Cardinal of Awesomeness

 Don't make me take the shades off...



Mookish Deity Most High

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anime_13 wrote:

Laughter is one way to happiness.




 Agreed.

Overly sweet green tea
I shan't go without
Unbirthday it tis



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Coffee, the finest organic suspension ever devised. ~Star Trek: Voyager

 



Mookish Deity Most High

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Date:
RE: POEMS THREAD!


wee bit a necropost, but whatever...


What end is to a sparrow

when night falls

upon the wonderland of the mind

what is life

what is life

indeed to the folly of love

that so enraptures the heart and emotion

of human kind

and when insanity kicks in

no one is immune to the plague

of the light.

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[delighted bat noises]
 

SPAM is destroyed. SPAMMERS are banned. Talk of truth and beauty instead.



High Mookish Shaman

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Posts: 699
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Once I happened upon a rather fat cat,
Fancy that, thought I, he looks like a bat,
At home we fed him some milk and some pies,
But to our great and stammering suprise,
He was a dragon, just in disguise.

I'm a poetic genius >=D


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Baby Mook

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here's my poem :)


[untitled]
Do you remember, dear?

I used to tell you how I was drawn to your freckles.

I would trace them, barely touching

for fear of frightening you away.

You used to love my scars.

Youd hold my hands,look into my eyes

and stroking the thin lines, tell me;

Things will never be this way again

For in that moment I loved you.


I remember your calloused fingers,

Ghosting across my hips,

Youd love me then, until dawn broke,

and hold me in the dark,

as I trembled with love for you.

You called me a little deer,

Frail and frightened and fragile.

I thought it a beautiful metaphor,

Until you showed me that protection

and affection,

do not equate the love that novels are written about.


Say goodbye, and forget, love.

But I shall remember.

When the cool breeze bathes my skin,

I will feel your breath, the same as the first night.

When the gentle pressure of another lover pins me,

I shall think of how you felt against me.

And I shall remember, dear.

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ah, hello, you're reading this for a reason yes?

better give you a reason, I suppose.

- peruse my tumblr.

- follow the blue bird.

- interrogate me, darling.

- read all about it.

- my book of face.

happy now? >.<




Seasoned Mookster

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Posts: 86
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Opening night

For the bird at the window.

(This is not a finished poem and will never be. There is no finish)
Opening night,
Its like opening up your soul to let someone in,
Im exhibiting to the strangers my parents told you not to talk to.
Tonight my clothes and even my skin are transparent.
Ive been vomiting up these mixed up colours from my spirit
since the teary days
of wearing sunglasses in the rain,
in hope to shade my pain.
But even that I appreciated
that what made me feel sane.
Humane.
The clothes and faces Ive been clad myself in give the impression
that Im one of my own a shady wee sketches.
A sketch that needs rubbed out and re-studied.
The sky has been like a millimetre
in contrast to the energies I have felt.
And Ive stayed physically conscious,
fuelled with litres of tea and miles of anger,
until I heard the bird song and I fell asleep to it,
knowing he was somewhere whistling too.
And so, I hang up,
a constellation of colours that reflect something to me.
Finished it will never be,
like his soul thats flirting fleeting free.


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Mookish Deity Most High

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doggerel, about the dog.

i'm just a little ginger dog and my brain is not very big.
i snuffle like a truffle hound and look like a tamworth pig.
my mum says i'll never ammount to much and my dad, he sadly agrees,
i'm apparently half a mastiff, but i don't even come up to your knees.

i've got a friend, who is a dog but, she's not much like me,
she's got her set of jedi skills, half a collie dog, you see.
i've got 4 cats that live with me that are, most times, nice,
but playing with them and their spikey paws...
(i've slowly learnt to think twice!)

i've learnt how to run and to swim and to climb,
and i've (mostly) learnt what is and is not mine.
apparently soft furnishings are not toys,
and ballons are not to be trusted (because of the noise.)

i don't have much idea of personal space,
and will give you kisses all over your face.
i don't see why i shouldn't sleep on your lap,
and i'm sorry i can't effectivley wear a festive hat.


i am a little status dog, my life, it could have been grim,
but i've landed on all my 4 little paws and this life?

...it's a win!

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Honoured Mook

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Date:

I'm not ashamed of this one. Especially not since English is not my first language.





Crack


after you
have boarded the train
(destination: gone)
and vanished like a breath of smoke
in thinnest morning air

after a world of brick
falls back into place around me
piece by piece while I stand in numbness

and after aimless walk on crooked
streets through infinity and back
has soothed the first shock of amputation
...

I make my way back home
("home"! - a now deserted place,
a bivouac from last year,
an empty shell, a desiccated spring)
where I
wash our dishes clean floor and bathroom make beds empty ashtrays
swallow the last half-glass of wine we left
- placebo medicine for you are gone -
erase the traces of our lives entwined

and then
I take my tender heart and all its tendrils
wrap it in cloth and all the souvenirs,
the time we lived, we spent, we
breathed in and out and in
love
all I feel
all of this I

lock in a wooden chest
(to keep it safe)
and then I go about my daily business
unburdened yet
ever so slightly cold
(and loneliness
a raging sea ignored under ice)

every now and then I shake the chest
listening in fear, my ear pressed to its side
- are you still alive in there?


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You don't know me.
Never will never will

I'm outside your picture frame ...
... and the glass is breaking. 



Seasoned Mookster

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Date:

You shouldn't be ashamed of this, it's really good. I should post some of the poems that I wrote in the seventh grade. Now those are poems to be properly ashamed of.



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"My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be corrected but, uh, I have no other way to fulfill my needs."--American Psycho


Honoured Mook

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Date:

In my opinion, a poem is never a thing one should be ashamed of. No matter how "bad".

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You don't know me.
Never will never will

I'm outside your picture frame ...
... and the glass is breaking. 



Honoured Mook

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Posts: 218
Date:

Now I am currently 13, so these kind of poems might bring back some cringey memories for the older Mooks. They do for me and they're only a few weeks old! I like this thread :)

John

The fear, the madness,

The disillusion and dread

Thank you for it all.

 

A Short List of Things I Hate

I detest my looks.
I am perfectly aware of my appearance
And maybe, one day, it won't matter to anyone,
But until that time I shall ignore it
And refuse to obey orders and put make-up on.

It frustrates me that I can't express myself.
You assume that I am not serious
When I say that your words are offensive and leave a scar,
On my heart, my skin, my mind, my soul
But you will never know - I hide them well, in my bell jar.

I hate how being excluded affects me.
I am not included in our group of friends
But still I am expected to give and not to receive,
My problems go unheard and unsolved
So I uphold my smile in order to deceive.

There are a lot of things I despise,
But you, my friend, aren't one.



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Seasoned Mookster

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Posts: 86
Date:


Ketamina Kurwa, Ketamindfuck.

I was told that love was like a red, red rose.
Some say love is it a river
or even some mad bastards said its like oxygen
Love is like ketamine.

He had an upside down ace for a face.
Like a slender heart
that began at his eminant cheekbones,
beneath a wide forehead that went slightly forward,
and tapered down.

He was dressed as Charlie
clean-cut and fine.
I kissed his neck,
inhaled his scent just like a line.
He went quickly to my head,
but quicker
reached my tampered ticker.
I took in every last spec
before woozing and losing straight sight.
A wreck...
I let myself fall
in daunting darkness, deeper down,
this k-hole
and I cant climb out,
because the walls
are gooey and slippy,
and I just cant catch a grip.
In daunting darkness, deeper down
this k-hole
I roll.
Warping feelings poles apart.
Tunnel vision...
and in daunting darkness
deeper down I drip drop.
Caught up in distortion.
Now to begin the abortion of his presence as
pissed off I piss him out my system.
He's just a ketamind fuck.


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Mookish Deity Most High

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Posts: 2179
Date:

In a world where burglary is treated like rape...

Outside the court, the accused cried:
Oh, this charade cannot go on,
For I am guilty and I lied.
They holidayed, were safely gone,
And I must not be acquitted,
I even tried on his wifes dress,
But just to see if it fitted.
I am guilty, not innocent!
Every penny of his, I spent!

His lawyer crafty smiled so wide.
Giggled a little, for she could.
And looked at him with beady eyes
And gave him news that was so good.
For we have a perfect defense;
This should never have come to court.
You might have robbed your best friends house
This is the best case I have fought!
Before she could tell the surprise,
They entered, heard the call: All rise.

First witness, called the old tired judge.
Hed tried cases like this before.
Pointless: the victim would not budge
And howled for justice at the door.
Now sir, you say you saw this man
Enter through the victims window.
Tell us everything if you can?
The witness paused to think so slow:
As clear as day, for so it was:
Frankly I couldnt give a toss.

A window! The old judge declared.
Well case dismissed! he roared at once.
They ought to have been more prepared.
A fucking window? What a ponce!
You were just asking to be robbed!
This poor man all but had no choice!
Frankly Im surprised you werent mobbed!
He shouted with his squeaking voice.
What kind of world do we live in,
People tempting this kind of sin!

And so the robber walked away:
Was a free man despite his guilt.
The lawyer had now won the day,
A fearsome practice she had built.
The judge then quit, so bored was he
Of cases caused by victims fault.
A threat to civil liberty
Those just not living in a vault.
And if you laughed at this poem,
Youll know not to blame the victim.

Cases of theft and cases of rape:
It is not what victims offer,
It is just what criminals take.
Dont blame the victim: its not her.
If you think she must be to blame
Imagine if your house was robbed.
It still would be an awful shame,
Implied consent, your lawyer sobbed.
Brick up your windows: hypocrites.
Dont cry when your life is in bits.



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Life Is A Mystery x Death Is Not = Angels and Eyeliner going to Hell hand in hand...

Mooky's Resident Cardinal of Awesomeness

 Don't make me take the shades off...



Seasoned Mookster

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Posts: 69
Date:

I saw this, and I thought I'd post one of my old poems... I was looking through my word documents, and the first one I opened was a poem I wrote about my ex when we were together and I was really happy... It made me laugh, because I'm in the 6th form refectory at school and it's empty except for me and me ex, sitting opposite each other on different tables...

Here it is...

Find it hard to believe
Sometimes
That Im happy
Not used to the feeling
When people see me
But now
Im happiest here
On my own
With you

Too good
To be true
Too perfect
To be real
So I dream

Meld our world
Into fantasy
But nothing I can dream
Will ever be
As real
As you
Next to me

Aaah naivety... He dumped a month after I wrote this. I'm glad I never told/showed it to him.

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Bee doo bee dooo
I just really love...

Boobs.

Personal:
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Other joint accounts with friendy-poo with whom I vlog/blog:
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Regular Crew

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Posts: 40
Date:

I can't believe i missed this thread! heres some shiz anyway, hope you guys like/ notice it haha! and it is from 2008 lol when i was...young i guess....

 

Enough?

 

Nothing much, a grade or two,

Nothing much that mattered to you,

A stolen heart, released myself,

No longer was I on the shelf,

The apple of the peering eye,

Forgive me now for being shy,

Interested, curious, they think you seem,

Mocking sinister is what youve been.

Of course remember to bring your shell,

As you stand before my fame,

Remember to cover yourself completely,

In order to mask the shame,

The consideration I longed to grasp as mine,

As appealing as it seemed,

Acceptance is something, hard to do,

When your conscience has been cleaned.

Wanted one, the others in the past,

Now its joined the hard-hearted class,

No longer do I long for concern,

Its something I dont want to earn,

The female seems distant, although she cares,

The symptoms we carry, is what we share,

Youll never fit in,

All you can do is try,

The passion we share,

Is what gets us high.

Forever longing to be the best,

Ill let you know youre like the rest,

Economic love is for wealthy care,

You tried so hard but your not there,

Its repetitive, straining, and Im bizarrely concerned,

My love as a parent YOU have not earned.



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Mookish Deity Most High

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Posts: 1556
Date:

 






-- Edited by Indigo Empress on Monday 2nd of September 2013 12:38:00 AM

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"You're a tough cookie, but all cookies are crumbly sometimes, that however, makes them no less of a cookie, and they're just as good as any other cookie." ~Indiana Jones

 

 

 



Regular Crew

Status: Offline
Posts: 48
Date:

I adore the malice in me;
The thrill of waiting for the chaos to be revealed.

My heart beats.

It fires my smile of absolute indignation.

Shall I back down?

Better I die.

Rather, I fuel this demon by encouraging the fight,

Prodding the beast from its slumber.

Awaken, my anger, awake.

I cannot breathe for wanting to shout.

I cannot write for the shaking in my hands.

The adrenaline is pure.

Absolute.

It is a wildfire.

A raging tsunami.

It flows.

It searches.

It burns.

I adore it.

 

[Apologies, edited cause I needed the poem for something else and couldn't figure out how to delete so thought I'll just replace it]



-- Edited by talieho on Wednesday 1st of May 2013 07:56:06 AM

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Honoured Mook

Status: Offline
Posts: 319
Date:

Wrote this for my mom last week when I realized Mother's Day U.S. was fast approaching and I had no money for flowers.

I can see an emerging pattern in my life
a thousand miles away
you're still taking care of me.
In every scrape you bandaged,
every wrong you corrected
every potential you saw in me
and worked hard to fulfill
every kindness and every denial you made
All of these things make me who I am
As much as I am your child in nature,
I am your grown son in nuture.
I hope, I pray,
that I make you proud
as I am always proud of you.



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