Okay, instead of starting new threads for each one, I'll just post them all here.
Last night, I wrote one that I consider to be pretty good- I wrote it to the tune of "Face Down" by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Good band, I must say, but anyway here's the poem.
I won't be like this forever, you know,
I won't miss my chance to fly.
I will not stay here, be your fool
I will not let life pass me by.
This tower will one day fall,
This lie will tie itself into a knot;
This clock will soon strike midnight
This time, I'll leave you there to rot.
And you will take your final bow
And yet no audience will cheer,
And, defeated, you will leave the stage,
And I'll be long-gone from here.
Because, I have seen through you
Because I have need of you no more
Because in the end, I am stronger,
Because I have shut the door,
There will be no second chances,
There will be no chance of fate,
There won't be any opera,
There will be no clean slate.
...At least, not for you.
Me, I'll start again.
Me, I'll be alright; I'll be okay.
Me, I will not linger;
Me, I will welcome the coming day,
Embrace it with these open arms,
Embrace those I've kept and love
Embrace the Father, the Spirit,
Embrace the Son above.
Laugh when I hear the thunder,
Laugh when I do hear the rain.
Laugh when I remember you,
Laugh with forgotten pain.
Oh, do you hear those little bluebirds?
Oh, hear them beckoning my name,
Oh, watch them as they flit about the trees.
Oh, no, this is not the same,
As the way I used to live
As I lived only with and for you,
As I, the victor, triumphant,
As I forget you, too.
....At least, at long last: I've forgotten you.
snap snap snap snap snap. That was perty good. Im not much of a poet.
Eh, here's another untitled one.
She's staring at us now
From her throne upon the wall
Her blue eyes, how they glitter
Her dark words, they enthrall
And If I can't tell the difference
Between me and the projection
Of the girl you came to love
And this thing, this Jezebell's reflection
Then maybe we should walk away
Burn the wound before it bleeds
Scatter the ashes in the wind
Forget the Dearly Departed wicked deeds.
And maybe we should forget this place
Forsake the every word that we have learned
Because in the end, its all in ruin
In the end, its all been burned.
But, can you hear me?
Won't you stay near me?
And, if you won't believe me,
All I ask
Is that you please don't decieve me.
Poems don't have to rhyme!
You should write lyrics for Evanescence!
Eh, my songs suck. They are an abominal (did I spell that right??) mockery of what a song should be. So I don't post my songs. :)
Art is art, categorizing it and defining it to a specific medium makes the entirety of the concept shallow.
See? Here's a song I wrote last week. I'm working on some chords for it; as you can see, my poems are better.
I won't face this world
All alone, no
And I won't wake up without you
I won't be left here
**
Take her by the hand
Keep her in the dark
Take your pain and bleed it into me
I won't stay here jaded
I'm no martyr
I won't die for you
I'm not yours to hold
**
Why do
You lead me on
And then leave me?
Why do
I follow you and
Lose you in the dark?
I can't
Keep living like this
If this is
What you call living
Don't make me live it without you
**
Take her by the hand
Keep her in the dark
Take your pain and bleed it into me
I won't stay here jaded
I'm no martyr
I won't die for you
I'm not yours to hold
** (Repeat chorus)
No, I won't
Be here without you
And if you will
Continue to lie, then
Maybe I'll just decide
To lie to you.
[QUOTE=S
I'm pretty anal about people limiting the concept of art to their personal definitions. IE: Roger Ebert.
in that case, I took the most artistic looking dump an hour ago. I think I'm going to call it "Sonata in D Toilet". I wonder if I can get some grants or something.
If someone is moved by it, maybe you can catch some doe for it.
hah, "moved" nice one!
Doe?
A deer?
It's all not too bad -- just your font color burns my eyes [I mean seriously..] and I'm too lazy sometimes to highlight it.
Yeah, this thread is starting to get a wee bit off-topic... What the hell, here's another poem.
This can not be the way
That it was meant to turn out;
You know that I’m here
And I know that you pray
For someone to fix the broken shards
Clutched tightly in your hands
Yet, now that I have showed up
You have changed your plans.
Something has to give
Whether it is me or whether it is you
One of us will put down our guard
And force the other to learn to live;
And I don’t really care if you don‘t want it
But you will let me help you
And you will lay down your guns or
You’ll have to shoot me and forget
The thought of ever having a second chance.
I am your second chance, I am
The one who’ll take you by the hand
And lead you on the floor and teach you how to dance;
I’ll protect you or I’ll die trying
And if I fail, I know you won’t forgive me
And if I fail, I know that deep inside
You’ll call me a deceiver, you’ll say that I was lying.
So I won’t let them cause you to hurt or bleed,
I won’t turn my back on you, I won’t leave
But why won’t you believe me?
Believe me this, my friend; you are now my life, my love, my creed.
Here's a couple more... Thread necromancy, ftw!
I requested of them, “Please -
Excuse me for this day.”
I asked them all to leave me;
But I forgot to say
That I didn’t mean you.
I locked the doors, and snuffed
The candles for the night;
I shunned away their company
And blocked out the light.
But I didn’t mean you.
I left friends to their banter,
And retreated to myself;
I took their adoration, placed it with
Other knick-knacks on the shelf,
While I didn’t mean you.
I held my breath,
And waited for the sound
Of your footsteps drawing near;
You were not heard or found,
When I didn't mean you.
Why didn't you knock harder?
I would have let you through the door;
But you went to another
And now you knock for me no more,
Though I didn't mean you.
When I wrote on me "Forbidden"
And bade them all to go,
You followed the crowd, you left
All because you didn't know
That I didn't mean you.
* * *
Today, he died -
He was my best friend
Who never did imagine
That this would be the end.
His eyes still glittered as I stabbed
Into his heart, a pounding drum
And fell into a comatose
As Aurora pricked her thumb -
A spell beneath an evil Queen
Which kisses cannot heal;
No blood to be forgiven,
For love should never kneel.
There was no anger, malice, rage,
Nor secret bathing on the roof;
I held his hand in mine,
And he, my heart, as proof
That beauty can be found in pain -
Perhaps, the other way around,
Though in the end it leaves
My dearest bleeding on the ground.
Murder is survival,
Or so I've heard it said,
But what good is the jolly roger
If piracy is dead?
Without a kill,
There still can be a chase,
And hitmen give the luxury
Of not seeing the dying face
Of one who dies for your own good,
Or for comfort, pleasure, sure -
That he died, and I had witnessed,
The memory shall endure.
:bounce:
i have a poem ahem
there once was a woman from china
with a cock in her vagina.
I believe we call those limericks.
:bounce: