Writing Community Anthology Thread

[Guest Copycatalyst]

no more clatter and clang-gang bang boom blatter boost pitter patter platter hustle-bustle gustle of moving minds as rotation of repetitious writhes--they sleep calmly as they lie while truth beggars belief and goes awake while they weep willow odes of rest and calm tides--no more ravens to caw their thieve, no vultures cry blood on beaks--so gently plasma pours from erected halo angels amid the black asphalt road bestrode of quiet cobalts, among the white-though-gray cracked-walkway strides i but i is everything; startled i am the rabbit though tears almost to my eyes to run from prey, a car i am humming octane to the screech of silence to whistle purring echo resounding; as am i man holding polyethylene cup contain sweet sucrosed-sugar saccharine comfort, to though am i not reading fast as legs stride find kinesthesia dissasociates--am mind is as sound swallows to ears drowned breathe bliss burns on goodbye i i i is i as close eyes to be free; startled am i torn tattered torniquet-of cloth blown wind, i mouse in room to feel comfort am in though rest--i tree do bend as leaning tower to force, i lady run Dan's car to so fast as escape mediocrity malady , , , I car fly by, flutter image of angel flash gordon , , , imagine i hold arms you--never go let go let to smile may wear dress i insidious red eye reach go mouth louder burn eye come smoke vapor rise gone above--no moment murder here, she wrote, this is the end my beautiful friend the end is lost in a roman sea of trees in a wilderness of water dropping rain pain as shuttle to heal launch upon minds do say i with focus wavelength is i grass touched of soles of souls shall fall walking observation to us and is door here am i do clatter clang-gang bang boom calm for noon of lucid leaves fallout from few do shine suns amid twittering birdstars moon

[2010DigitalBoy]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]to [B]Clurr[/B]: tis' pretty cool. It's interesting seeing you doing an easier to grasp poem. As always, I adore your prose.

[B]M[/B]: much as I do love stream of conciousness, you'll have to wait till I'm insatiably bored before I'm wading through that.

anywho, random rebellious nonsense...

[CENTER][B]To Gods On High[/B]

Chained to the principality
Of imposed nationality,
Under the smile of God's creation,
Pinned to subjective elation
In the name of our great nation.

To gods on high; we becon thee,
If no one else then at least me.
From embryo to elongation,
Rapid fire asphyxiation
Under absolute salvation.[/CENTER][/COLOR]

[Aberinkula]

[COLOR=Navy]Your last poem DB, that one is my favorite out of ll of them here. Why? I don't really now. The words attracted me. they were big but I understood them. (i've been told I speak in complicated words)[/COLOR]

[COLOR=Navy][CENTER][U][I]Doomsday[/I][/U]

Doomsday breaks a new dawn.
Death brings forth new light.
Humanity's failed attempts,
to prove ts worth.
Rottig carcase filled with lies.
World terror cracks your tries.
Failing to win the seeminlgy neverending war,
you try to mask the sideffects.
Dead forevermore.

[I][U]Alas a Lie[/U][/I]

Powerful.
Deadly.
But alas, a lie.
Weak.
Lively.
But alas, a lie.

[U][I]Spitefulness[/I][/U]

Sheer force of spitefulness.
Derived from terror spasms.
Ghosts of peridition,
posess the heretic laughs.
Angels fall from heaven.
Demons rise from hell
Dark days of our lvies.
A forcast of blood filled clouds.[/CENTER][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Navy][I]And DB, if you critisize my pomes I'd like you to tell me if I've goten beter at writing poetry.[/I][/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

The greatest myth it was, and continues to be:
Greater than the Buddha, Zoroaster, Gilgamesh, and any and all of these--
This man Jesus Christ, who they all worship as God-in-the-flesh
When we're all God-in-the-flesh, could-be-united, though the myth makes us not see. . .

The last true Christian, if he even existed, died on the cross;
The death of millions for the death of one is just a statistic
But the death of one man, and the usurpation of his myth is a tragedy
While many other men have died, to only be statistics in the face of this man--

This myth, this yarn of hate, that has separated mankind moreso than should be
These myths--these lies--how much longer, my mankind, until you see?
Is this truly the last God for the last men, and shall it be the end of us?
It's no matter--just a flickering death in the blinking eye of time!

All we've sought and found and made and known, gone, and lost--goodbye!
But faith--irrational use of reason--that can't be given away, can it not?
Do you fear that you are bound to what you do here, and we do here?
So sad it is; our fear, and primordial lovings shall become our end!

Oh! But not on my watch, as I tick and tock while still alive,
And I hope not on yours, too--though many won't follow through.
We are Jesus Christ; we are our own myth, and it's time about we're real
It's enough of this blindness of ignorance, that like a thief, steals!

I love you all, and our love shall get us by; hate over a myth is genocide.
What more do I have to tell you, to let you be free? Jesus said the same, in decree.
The closest gospel to his own says, "Your body is your temple to God."
So shall we not unite our bodies, as one, to live on?

The doom is hanging ripe and ready to pluck away;
Extinction stammers, coming and coming, to have its say--
Evolution is the solution, to overcome this mythfulness--
Shall it happen, or shall we fight until we are dust?

The choice rests with you, and comes when our collective choices collect
As karma of us all, to choose what we shall be, and what we shall best--
I'm no anti-Christ; I'm simply pro-Truth--haven't you been lied to enough?
Won't you hear through the ignorance, and find your glory and grace at last?

Do this, I speak upon you, as I do to you:
Destroy the nihilism and primordiality, which starkens you with fear
Approach your emptiness with an emptiness of hate, and spit upon its crudeness.
Go beyond the hate, to find the love; empty yourself of emptiness,
My sanding sieve of a desert, this is what I hath done--
I only ask, that you eat of the body and blood of your empathy,
I only ask that you put aside this bigotry--and grasp at a moment so washed away.

Can't it just be real--without all this myth?
Please, I beg of you--brought down upon knee,
With no pride, and all heart, and sincerity,
As a beggar of truth, who has no home among this separation--
Could you not for once, be more than mere figmentations?

I grasp at dreams, that no one sees as real;
I touch at Truth, and in me deeply I feel--
I'm screaming out, because I can't stand this pain
That's not mine, that's all our own, that's used
To not gain any gain, but only separate us,
And make us spit upon our own flesh and kin.

I'm screaming out, and feel I could die from this:
If anyone loses at all, then the winner doesn't win--
We must gain and again, and never rescind:
Like roots we must come together, like water we must flow,
like boughs we must branch, but keep the same tree of our own;

And as our water does come, and go, and flow,
We must let it become in our roots,
and let the boughs make fruits of self-knowledge,
and make it our knowledge, as best as we can
Or else--it'll never last, it'll never begin,
It'll only end and loot, steal and rape,
Plunder and forsake, and away it'll take

Everything we ever were.

So if you're willing to just throw it all away
Not hear a single word I just had to say
Then come and kill me upon a cross
Like they may have done to this man,
whose message is so gone, and so lost.

For I shall not live in this world,
Unless it makes some change,
Unless we stop this global holocaust
In the name of hate--
For in the name of love--
I speak to you now, and I shall never, ever abate

These aren't fighting words;
These are words of desperation,
That makes me crawl with sadness,
Into the depths of all my life.

For I shall not last long in this world
Unless it makes some change,
And maybe I was never meant to be born
Maybe I'm too young in too much hate
Maybe I'll be dead tomorrow--then what?
This Earth goes on with its needless weight?

Oh! He was right, they know not what they do,
Nor what they say, nor what is true--
And the few who do,
Well it seems they might as well be dead
It seems as well that soon, I might be myself:
That's no pretend.

Open your eyes, my blind bats screeching sonar of hate
Open your eyes, my blind bats beating bloodcud of hate
Open your eyes--open your eyes--open your eyes!
It's about time the past stops being the now,
It's about time the future comes, as a gliding glow
To rest upon us all and bow!

Oh! He was right--he was right--
And he died, because he knew--
For all of you, but you live
Talking of him, when you don't know what's true.

You watch it--or soon we'll all be dead.
You watch it--you hear me now,
or you lay down in the bed.
Soon it'll be gone--if we're not careful,
Heed me now, or it shall come to you harsh.
This is it--the last--the end--my best spark.

[2010DigitalBoy]

Critique [M - L]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]Prem, dude, no more of these one line poems. i thought they were t3h shit back when I was writing them, trust me, but they are really quite fruitless. My lyricless younger brother could write that crap. As for everything else, I would suggest you go over to the MT forum and read the sticky called O R G A S M. I think it would help you a ton.

M, holy mother of fuckstick that is huge. I tried reading it, but honestly, I'm uninterested. All your works come across as rallying cries for deepening knowlege, and as a person already on that level, reading about how wrong myself and/or society is just has no effect on me. To some this may be ludacris or to some it may be a revelation, but to me it's just basic knowlege. [/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

[QUOTE=2007DigitalBoy]Critique [M - L]


M, holy mother of fuckstick that is huge. I tried reading it, but honestly, I'm uninterested. All your works come across as rallying cries for deepening knowlege, and as a person already on that level, reading about how wrong myself and/or society is just has no effect on me. To some this may be ludacris or to some it may be a revelation, [b]but to me it's just basic knowlege.[/b] [/COLOR][/QUOTE]


I'm glad about that.

I want a Chesire Cat pussy
None of this neurotic erotic sushi
These fish felines of their chemicals
Awashed in a flood of anger

I'll put her on the lab table
I'll dissect her labia and navel
I'll tell her she's good to go
Then we'll go--with a grin and saddle
To ride into the sunset of love

I'll put her on the lab table
I the Chemire Cat of this fable
It'll be a tea party of time
The chemicals a clock and a mime

She'll say me-ow me-ow you ow-me
And I'll say barks as loud as a tree's
Though she no cat and I no dog
Us just us as human beings

Well the molecules grin so far
That it's a density too much
That in the spark and flare of smiles
Our dreams call to us from infinite miles

Well her and I are just molecules
We'll just be among the reactions
We'll just swing a bit hither and thither
In the dance of chemicality
Her eyes' pupils' large as a bomb
Her legs open and willing and giving
In an erotic calm

Well I want a Chesire Cat pussy
Enough with this erotic neurotic sushi
I've a gall bladder and it's got no rag
I've been kicked in the jewels so I can't brag

But I want a baby pony of the stars
Who has no lust rust of mars
Who doesn't brittle like a moon

I've got a grin and a saddle
I'm ready to ride far into the sunset
Of love
I'm ready and waiting for a hedonistic homily
Of surrender with no chains nor rage
Of love too brave and bold as a chuckle
That won't cut and hold hands at the knuckle

Well I want a Chesire Cat pussy
Well I guess I'll keep eating my sushi
Even though it tastes of neurotic robotic
Even though I'd just like a smile and a kiss

[Aberinkula]

[COLOR=Navy][CENTER][U]The Thief[/U]

As I slept; my face on a book
I rose my head to take a look.
There I saw a darkly dressed crook.

A thief he was of 6 feet tall,
running dwn the moonlit hall.
With fright I ran... into a wall.

"Ow, my head!" I yelled real loud.
The thief he turned: not looking quite proud.
Soon from the doors of the hall out came a crowd.

It was my family, my mom my dad.
they were looking very mad.
Especially my brother Chad.

He had on him a most insidious grin,
as he punched the thief right on the chin.
Surely my bro would win!

But then the thief he charged away.
had my brother saved the day?
I looked down and shouted, "No way!"

On the ground was a tiny mouse.
he was't just any normal mouse,
because he scared that man out of our house.[/CENTER][/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

Chemistry is the truest religion, and its structure is apparent in geometeric underlying themes.
It's communication with what's real and what's meant to mean.
A cruton-o'-christ is no body of any thing, nor is wine ever blood.
Our communion rests with molecules, and atoms, and each others' love.
Transubstantiation is the invigoration of being alive,
We all metamorphose in each moment we decide to try
To be more than mere followers of the Red Sea tide.
To be more than mere rag dolls forced to dive.
It goes deep in depth and breadth of time,
Counting its moments, as its own, inside.
The heart of all is the heart of your own,
Beating, thudding, living, and rhythmic rhyme.
Forsake the chemistry, and you forsake yourself to lies.
You yourself, but a molecule, in the universe's eye.
Reacting in the synaptic cleft in which you decide.
Either abyss or shimmering bright light wide:
You burn as a sun, or you wallow as a moon,
Either way, you're going to die--
But one choice is the choice, where your future goes.
Within a sigh is the sage of the wise,
But yours, does have breath, that falls dead,
More dead, than you seem to be alive.
Do not fear; conquer yourself, become benign.
Doom mounts its horse as a wraith and dime,
You can't buy salvation, other than as your clock,
That tick-tocks and each thud makes a mark upon,
So shall you scar or shall you heal?
Shall you fear or shall you kneel,
To the pain, and master its vanity
To burst as bellowings of a moment,
That is all moments as one.
Shall you scare or shall you erase the scars,
That are those of time?
The choice is yours.
The choice isn't mine.
You choose, but I know where I drive,
and hit, and make my way.
I know where I sit, and wait,
and find my way.
You can join,
or you can stay,
and fade away.
But you're too beautiful
to just drift gone,
in a paradise lost
to never have this today.

[Wet Cement]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]To get away from the trend of really bad, overlong poetry, here's a really bad, overlong short story that I just wrote in ten minutes. CC would be nice, as I intent to write a second, improved draft.

[B][CENTER]The Lucid Last Stand at Bacon Hill [L-V][/CENTER][/B]

[B]?Why do you think they call it Bacon Hill, Sir??[/B] I say to the Sir, looking over at him where he lies, propped up on the lip of a glass crater carved into the shattered floor. He looks happy.

[B]?Hell do I know, lemur? Maybe they made bacon here.? [/B]He sounds angry, but I suspect he's happy on the inside.

[B]?Do you think they?ll give us any bacon, Sir??[/B] I look back into the rusty-red sky through the gape in the ceiling. The moon is big and pleasant looking, like a big silver gumball in the sky. I wonder what a silver gumball would taste like; probably sugar.

The Sir laughs a hacking, wheezing laugh and says, [B]?Ya! They?ll give us bacon, all right. All the bacon we can handle, simian. Be up to our knees in [I]bug[/I] bacon by sunup.?[/B] He stops laughing then, taking in a few ragged breaths around his cigar. I begin to think that maybe the Sir is going insane. I?ve always wanted to have a conservation with an insane man.

[B]?But Sir, why bug bacon? That doesn?t sound pleasant, not one bit.?[/B] I continue to gaze through the crack in the ceiling, almost like being inside a tiny room and looking out through a keyhole.

[B]?Shit, they?re making you monkeys dumber than ever, aren?t they?? [/B]The Sir spits out his cigar as he finishes this sentence. It falls into the bottom of the glassy crater and smoulders there. He continues, [B]?I swear, back when I first got into the smoke house, we had real men, flesh and blood and neurons and all that other good stuff, not tankheads like you. Programmed for efficiency my ass!...? [/B]

I drift off as he continues. It?s not that he?s being boring; I?ve always liked being reprimanded by the officers. Part of me even wants to listen. But in my mind I?m flying through that keyhole into the sky.

[B]?? bullshit, that?s what this is! I- Hey, ape, ya hear that??[/B] He laughs again. I distantly note the insanity this laugh holds and continue to soar.
[B]
?Yes, Sir.?[/B] I agree, nodding absently. Miles away.

[B]?No, you dumb shit, shut up and listen.?[/B] I comply. [B]?Hear it? Like a thousand ex-wives angrily gnashing their teeth at once? Bugs, knuckle-dragger, lots of em?. Missed us the first time around. Comin? back to finish the job! Hand me that gun. I always wanted to go down in a muzzle flash o? glory.?[/B] He wiggles himself further up the side of the crater, only to slide back down again once he stops to rest.

[B]?But Sir, you?ve got no arms.?[/B] I state this fact in the tone it deserves, but the Sir will have none of it. He just shakes his bloody stump at me and says, in a cracking voice:

[B]?God dammit, shut up! I?ll pull the damn trigger with my toes if I have too; just get me some firepower!?[/B] I decide not to tell the Sir he?s also missing his feet, and most of his legs to the hip. [B]?God dammit,?[/B] he mutters, almost inaudible over the sound of the swarm approaching. My finger tightens around the trigger of my combine. I wonder if our new guests will stay for bacon.

The Sir begins to cry than, small droplets of moisture paving a path down his grimy and blackened face. He voice rises in raggedy sobs and he cries out,[B] ?God damn this whole fucking planet, and this whole fucking outfit, and this whole fucking empire!?[/B] He accentuates this statement by craning his neck to the left as far as it goes and sinking his teeth into the patch on his shoulder. With a great rip the RSF?s patch ? a black-outlined red hand gripping a black-outlined red planet on a black field specked with red stars ? tears free from his uniform and he spits it down into the crater with his cigar. [B]?Sons a bitches knew the bugs were here, knew these new tankheads were a bunch of spazzies; sent us in anyway! Bunch of bureaucrats and technophiles can never get enough of their god-damned new toys!?[/B] I begin to deduce he?s no longer talking to me, and so I stop listening as he continues to ramble.

I sit up suddenly, and drew myself into a fighting position, on one knee with my combine resting on my shoulder. I look down the sight and realize that our friends will be here soon. [B]?Sir, what do you think this building was? I mean, before it became ruined and all its people became bacon farmers.?
[/B]
[B]?You don?t quit, eh??[/B] He laughs again; not the insane laugh of before, but a soft and pleasant one. I don't think I've ever heard it from him before. [B]?How?m I supposed to know, simian? Probably a church ? those damn farmers always gotta worship something. Judging by these circles with swords growin? out of em?, and all these stars, probably some Liberal god of peace and love. The kind of crap. Didn?t do them no good anyway. Goodbye, monkey boy.? [/B]He says this with a sort of finality that evokes a feeling of pressure at the base of my neck. I want to scratch it but can?t take my hands off my gun.

[B]?Goodbye sir. Until we meet again.?[/B] The swarm arrives than, pouring through cracks in the wall, the main, crashed doorway, and through the hole in the roof. I fire in five-shell bursts, robotically dispatching one target before moving onto another. For a time, I manage to keep them back ? they are large and clumsy beasts and have difficulty coordinating with each other, but there are a lot of them. Eventually my gun begins to make a clicking sound; I reach for a magazine at my hip but find nothing. The bugs swarm forward.

They get to the Sir before they get too me. I hear him scream. Out of the corner of my eye I see them converge on him, tearing at him and making his insides his outsides. He fights back, but his teeth are much smaller than the bugs?. Before long, he looks like a walking birthday partying decoration; well, perhaps not walking. I smile at this; I like birthday parties.

Than the bugs reach me.


Well, there it is. No, there's no hidden meaning to it, not really anyway. It is what it is; there's no real point to the story, I just wrote it because I wanted to finally put something into print after attempting and failing over and over to write more complex stories. I basically wrote it because I've always wanted to explore the perspective of a clone or a programmed human being. Anyway, that's that. [/COLOR]

[2010DigitalBoy]

[quote name='Wet Cement][COLOR=DarkOrange']To get away from the trend of really bad, overlong poetry, [/COLOR][/quote]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]I've been waiting for a 5th head to pop up and say something like this for a while XD I will read your story when I have a flurry of free time.

[CENTER][B]Flow [E][/B]

Over rocks and through cracks
The water always runs;
Ever flowing on toward the end,
Over the edge of the world
And falling away into the void
Just like life continues onward
Without pause or time to think,
Pulling thoughts and memories
Toward the final absolution
Off the surface of reason.[/CENTER]
[/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

Fine. If you want a short poem, you get a short poem to feed your ADHD face.

life lumbers loud
scraping aching proud
killing everyone around

listen love now
strong valiant how
kissing lying down
you will not frown





^this poem lacks substance and is completely what you all want, so consume it like you consume McDonald's.

My suggestion to you is to learn to eat like a tree, not like a fast food rape-ape.

[2010DigitalBoy]

[QUOTE=Copycatalyst]life lumbers loud
scraping aching proud
killing everyone around

listen love now
strong valiant how
kissing lying down
you will not frown[/QUOTE]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]Yeah, that poem is pretty much ass, straight up. the rhymes are forced and bland and the nonsensical lyrics feel thrown together. I should write this poem on a square of toilet paper and whipe my ass with it after I shit the big mac I ate this morning XD (is that what you wanted me to say?)[/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

[quote name='2007DigitalBoy][COLOR=DarkOrange']Yeah, that poem is pretty much ass, straight up. the rhymes are forced and bland and the nonsensical lyrics feel thrown together. I should write this poem on a square of toilet paper and whipe my ass with it after I shit the big mac I ate this morning XD (is that what you wanted me to say?)[/COLOR][/quote]

LOL

the holy trinity of drugs
the caffeine
the tobacco
the alcohol
for the apeslugs

an imagined God
for the apedog
a neon-lit circus
for the hedonslobs

well are you feeling tired?
take some caffeine
well are you feeling stressed?
have some nicotine
well are you depressed?
have some alcohol
to go to oblivion

well do you need hope?
go look at Big Brother Jesus
well do you need a rope, to above?
use your business tie to noose
or fight in the ring of love

this society is dying
this culture is fading
the shadow of light
casts a spotless white
onto the faces
of statuepeople
the living gargoyles
in this day night
called life

well the father, son,
and holy spirit
are on mortgage
the suicide rate
is going through the roof
as Jesuses become xerox faux
and God in a metal shell
washes red into this hell

every human being is disposable
when the waste is deplorable
assassinations happen before we're born
when we come, in years to go,
we're already dead and worn

well at least the Earth's still green
well at least the birds still sing
well beyond this industrial greed
the sky is still blue as the sea

well i'm going to die and be a tree
well i'm going to die and no one sees me
well we'd rather be apedogs than human beings
lizards with tails of cockyx and tongues slithering

the hedonistic concentration camp
with its religion of illusions
with its holy trinity of control
has the herd mentality
at a perfectly injust status quo
where no one can question
their role

well i'm going to fall in a rain of light
well i'm going to be a cricket, humming in night
well i'm a mockingbird that'll never die
another of your born will be my incarnate mime
till we're extinct dodo birds eaten by an eagle
called ourselves

[2010DigitalBoy]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]M, I almost feel sorry for you. While I agree with you on some of these points, it feels like you simply wallow in disdain toward humanity's awry walk. I mean, it's okay to be conscious and worried, but don't drown yourself in it. If you die whining you'll never make a difference. I think you need to see the movie [B]Mind Game [/B] >_>[/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

[quote name='2007DigitalBoy][COLOR=DarkOrange]M, I almost feel sorry for you. While I agree with you on some of these points, it feels like you simply wallow in disdain toward humanity's awry walk. I mean, it's okay to be conscious and worried, but don't drown yourself in it. If you die whining you'll never make a difference. I think you need to see the movie [B]Mind Game [/B'] >_>[/COLOR][/quote]

LOL

You think I want pity. That's cute. You also assume this is all I am. That's also cute. You also assume you know exactly what I am feeling or what I am saying in each line I've written. Cute deux. Well, you know, Lennon died for what he knew, as did Jesus, and so will I. No one will listen and the matrix keeps going, you see?

fast food rape-apes
feed your ADHD face
attention is a span of dreams
yours is empty as it seems

welcome to the almighty america
welcome to the pretty plasticine
want your face on the paper?
stamp your boots,
we're in cahoots
murder and loot
or be rich
you'll be celebrity

walking mcdonald's
and whiskey men
some vodka vixens
some nicotine feds
the queers and the jokers
the blacks and the elopers
we're a melting pot
of diverse hate
our crime is too soon too late

they'll never smile
because you fed them like a tree
with water, and light,
to make them grow, and grow,
and tower a sea

they'll never listen
to you, and me
so fuck them
they deserve to recede

their happiness
is the murder of us
they love to smile
when we're doing good
but when we're bad
they call us into jail

because they won't see
we are the reflecting gods
they won't see
this society of babylon

so let 'em feed the face
let 'em dance like rape
let 'em prance like tricksters
fool themselves with waste

i know that i
i am not with them
i know that i
i will love you forever
and again
i know that i
i'm not alone

[2010DigitalBoy]

[QUOTE=Copycatalyst]LOL

You think I want pity. That's cute. You also assume this is all I am. That's also cute. You also assume you know exactly what I am feeling or what I am saying in each line I've written. Cute deux. Well, you know, Lennon died for what he knew, as did Jesus, and so will I. No one will listen and the matrix keeps going, you see? [/QUOTE]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]Never said you wanted pity, I'm forcing it on you. As for if I assume this is all you are - yeah, I probably do. I know that when i was doing this it was all i was. You can say you're not me - but then aren't we all one mind? i'll let you decide. As for if I know what you're feeling - no, that I don't care about. i find it funny that for the kind of person who I would have thought put communication at the forefront of importance, you could be so poor at it.

BTW, I don't even know who Lennon is. don't assume i'm very educated - I am no thinker.

[CENTER][B]Below Ice and Wind[/B]

Somber and cold, I sank my head,
For winter?s never gunna end.
I saw the river of life freezing
As heaven turned to icy sand
And scattered all across the land.
The sensation wasn?t pleasing
But I know there?s time to mend
The gaps before we end up dead.[/CENTER][/COLOR]

[Aberinkula]

[COLOR=Navy]Lennon made the songs "Working Class Hero", and "Imagine." Btoh songs were redone by rock artists and were sung on Amreican Idol. [/COLOR]
[COLOR=Navy]Untitled [E]

Embrace that in which you hold.
Hope that you and I will never grow old.
I breath the breathe of 1000 cries.
I piece together 1000 lies.

We were all once aggresive.
We were all once obsessive.
but us two, we row tired of this harade.
While we see the failed bands of the dead parade.

We see life as 1not 2.
Well at least that's me, but, do you?
It doesn't matter anymore.
soon I'll close this ateful door.[/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

[QUOTE=2007DigitalBoy][COLOR=DarkOrange]Never said you wanted pity, I'm forcing it on you. As for if I assume this is all you are - yeah, I probably do. I know that when i was doing this it was all i was. You can say you're not me - but then aren't we all one mind? i'll let you decide. As for if I know what you're feeling - no, that I don't care about. i find it funny that for the kind of person who I would have thought put communication at the forefront of importance, you could be so poor at it.

BTW, I don't even know who Lennon is. don't assume i'm very educated - I am no thinker.
[/CENTER][/COLOR][/QUOTE]

Oh you know, John Lennon, he was a part of this band that no one knows about called The Beatles. He was killed by a gunman. As if you'd know. . .Like you said, you're no thinker, whereas I am. It's cute you assume this is all I am. It's interesting. I can become anything, and most importantly, a good message is always important; but it has to have shock value, or else it won't garner attention. Here, maybe this will make you reconsider your evaluations of me. If not, fair enough, it's interesting how easily you'll let me become an image of myself, a refraction of one of the recesses of myself, amidst many others. Isn't it neat when I am so loose in my mind that I can become any mind I choose or desire to become? It's like reaching into the collective consciousness and fashioning it into existence, with a bit of the casting of my soul, to make it become something new yet old in its senses. It's like what Schroedinger said; it's all about a different [i]perspective[/i] on those things everyone sees. You change the perspective, you change man's awareness. You change man's awareness and it becomes what it observes. This is man's function. To contact things, and then become them like a chameleon, but always never having the camouflage because ours is to be aware of our adaptation and evolution so as to become always, more than what we are.




The chemicals make us I. The will, or consciousness, makes us i. The I contains the i. You are a piece of peaces that synchronized. You are a piece of pieces that is whole as a shard. You are a shard, that is all shards. But an i for an i will never give an I for an i. I capitalize I because it's justified. I have no i to hide. The i's come together to become the I. Rather I should be writing Ii. This is the firstperson of me. A piece, that is also a whole. A peace, that is also a piece. An [i]E Pluribus Unum[/i] alive.



DNA
Wormhole
Relative spacetime continuum
Life
The criss-cross of subjective being
Crucified cruxes vector crescendoes healing
Hopscotch done in quantum time
The linear line that is bent by bees of the hive
Asymptote tote bags on your eyes
Deoxyribonucleic acid; polymerization, aganine, guanine,
Make the bonds, onto the line
Infinity in a linear unity, but there's more to find
Seashell of being,
Mollusk of coelacanth of algae seaing
The shores wash with the blood of our veins:
Red see--blind yourself Oedipus the octopus
With your mother's brooches, in shame;
in the ink of being the oil is obsidian
Gouge your eyes out with Earth and soil
My earthworms with skin like nails
Such pain, but such twisting never-everending
The trajectory of the X & Y graph is bending. . .
Posthumans are ascending
I love you all, let's dine
I'd eat your pain just for it be sublime
I'd break my wings to be a fallen clock of time
I'd be a cannibal of suffering
To know the feather's fluffering
That beatific angels fly

[2010DigitalBoy]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]If I (if your willing to let me call myself that) read the letter 'I' or 'i' one more time I *shoots self*

Anyway, your post is long and boring, and therefore had difficulty holding my attention. John Lennon, when I hear that name I do think of the beatles, though I am never sure >_> I never listened to the beatles. As a 21st century digital boy I prefer to leave the past in the past. Anyway, your psychological babble fills me with distraught. I wish not to partake in a talk of such proportions - think of me what you like, but these are things i prefer not to be concerned with. I am the type to mindlessly content myself with the terror of life and brush off the obvious plagues of my ways. Why? Because no matter how long I sit in a yoga position, I can't get my soul to float out of my body ;) probably cuz MTV got those songs stuck in my head ans distracted me :p In any event, thinking about it makes me cry, so i'll stay blissfully ingnorant till 2012 and laugh when we all die. :D

[CENTER][B]Erode[/B]

Time wearing away
Ever expanding crevice
Planet sifts and sinks[/CENTER][/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

[QUOTE=2007DigitalBoy][COLOR=DarkOrange]If I (if your willing to let me call myself that) read the letter 'I' or 'i' one more time I *shoots self*

Anyway, your post is long and boring, and therefore had difficulty holding my attention. John Lennon, when I hear that name I do think of the beatles, though I am never sure >_> I never listened to the beatles. As a 21st century digital boy I prefer to leave the past in the past. Anyway, your psychological babble fills me with distraught. I wish not to partake in a talk of such proportions - think of me what you like, but these are things i prefer not to be concerned with. I am the type to mindlessly content myself with the terror of life and brush off the obvious plagues of my ways. Why? Because no matter how long I sit in a yoga position, I can't get my soul to float out of my body ;) probably cuz MTV got those songs stuck in my head ans distracted me :p In any event, thinking about it makes me cry, so i'll stay blissfully ingnorant till 2012 and laugh when we all die. :D

[CENTER][B]Erode[/B]

Time wearing away
Ever expanding crevice
Planet sifts and sinks[/CENTER][/COLOR][/QUOTE]


lol. :)

Say a beggar of truth came by your door and asked you to buy,
but after handing him some money, he said it couldn't be bought
Would you turn him away, and not feel guilty, nor any dismay?
Or would you let him into your house, and ask him to say?

Say this man was no beggar of belief, nor any seller of a reef;
Nor any solicitor of anything, other than that you could know
Would you turn him away, and let him starve, with no dismay?
Or would you stop his starving and at last listen to a sage?

The food we eat does make us full, but it is a fool's full
The money we make does make us glad, but it is fool's glad
The faith we have does make us strong, but is a fool's faith
The wraiths of devils are clothed as angels of ignorance
The messiahs of lilim are clothed as wraiths of truth

This beggar of truth does stand at science's door, at religion's too
Like Martin Luther, he stands, with theses, nailed on all doors
He knocks and rapts, but is turned away often in deplore

Ignorance has always been the best knowledge to shelter
Fool's faith is a nice structure that is a bomb
Only truth, who walks long and cold, can cease the blast
It still yet walks, while others do not look, and go past
Not forever, though, can it live as it does, and last--

[2010DigitalBoy]

[COLOR=DarkOrange][CENTER][B]Abnormality (b****slap) [M - VLS][/B]

Every night I takin yall out to rock ya
Cuz ya know I?m here to stomp out ya weak shits
I step into the room with presence like king kong
And spit wrongs, I write songs
So I can get ta fuck ya
Take yo brain in to mine so I can melt ya,
Bring you into my place so I can take ya
Spittin shit that would spread legs and rape ya
When I breathe fire, I?m glad to elate ya

Comin through an abnormalty to reach up
Take it from the top drink the bottom of the cup
So I fill it up and still erupt enough to make ya scream
When it?s time to hit the sheet nothing is quite as it seems
Mothafuckas wanna see s'all about they wanna try
Dissectin my culture, now they siftin through my mind
What they find might be more than you quite thought to expect
And now you?re standing alone I got the knife to ya neck I say

BITCHSLAP ABNORMALITY
I ran this old mentality
So sip on your mundanity
I?m transgressing humanity to
Break through my mortality
And surpass all calamity
I come through unscathed
Cuz I?m UNEQUIVICALLY

Fightin off what I want to not do
Cuz I?m breakin barriers reaching out to you
Taken all that I need just to find the way through
Into outer barriers where infinice grew into
My intent will suffocate everything true
Into a prefixed mortality struggling to
Compensate for the loss of the god that I stole
When I broke through the roof headin straight over moons
Into time far away beyond space and you knowledge
Where the fallen are scared and we call for no college
To tame this last note the end of this verse
Puttin on the façade of a lackluster curse
Cuz I?m draggin you down to the ground with the sound
Of a unified voice screaming out to resound
Over universal integration beliefs
To revoke all the pain that is SUFFOCATING

BITCHSLAP ABNORMALITY
I ran this old mentality
So sip on your mundanity
I?m transgressing humanity to
Break through my mortality
And surpass all calamity
I come through unscathed
Cuz I?m UNEQUIVICALLY

I - I - I will remember not
To walk along the lines
I will remember not
To wait till given my time
I -I?ll remember not
To eat the plague that you?ve sewn
AND I?LL REMEMBER NOT
To become something you own!

BITCHSLAP ABNORMALITY
I ran this old mentality
So sip on your mundanity
I?m transgressing humanity to
Break through my mortality
And surpass all calamity
I come through unscathed
Cuz I?m UNEQUIVICALLY
WRONG!
WRONG!
WRONG!
WRONG![/CENTER][/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

They hide the truth by telling it as a lie
They lie about the truth by hiding it away
They want to smile and you to frown
They'll point fingers, and we'll chop them down.

They hide the truth by mass-producing lies
Their sockets are polystyrene with white eyes
They make us have fists, so we don't hold hands
They'll point fingers and we'll sever their ignorance.

The issue's not abortion, because we're already aborted
The issue's not social security, because we have no security
The issue's not racial superiority, because our colors are red
The issue's not God because that's already dead

The issue is that they never listen to what we've said.
The issue is that the lies have spread enough
So it's time to quarantine the epidemic of hate.

The issue's that we've bled enough pain
The issue's the human stain, and if it will be removed.
The issue's that war and violence do not solve a thing.
The issue's that we've had enough, and it's time to change.

They'll smile while they kill while we kill their smiles
They'll sell truth as a lie and everyone's buying
They'll cell the truth and say the bars aren't their own
The ribs of freedom are broken, and the hearse is near.

It's beyond racial superiority; this is pure authority superiority,
As the crusader goes off to burn another Bush and set it aflame
Like the napalm-lit Vietnamese man who died, to have it be the same.
It's a question of when the answers will not be phoenix ash,
It's a question of when you realize you're taxed for your freedom
In a land where they say freedom's no game.

So we'll wipe the smiles from their glittering white eyes,
We'll slam them into their own burning lies.
We'll enslave them with freedom, and stab them with kindness,
Burn them with glory, and destroy them as thieves.

We'll lie truth down on the table and give it a physical
We'll lie truth down in a cell of reavealed lies,
We'll sell truth as truth and then there will be no surprise;
We'll make slaves of meanness and pain
While they go on funding their 20-million-dollar-plus campaign.

[Darren]

Ohmigod!!! Guys, please cut it out... You're practically spamming this thread out of some stupid competition of wits... (Or at least that's what it seems like) You two have single-handedly taken a good thread and turned it into a spam fest/poetry contest where you can argue back and forth...
I came here to read up some people's poetry and maybe post some of my own, but at the rate these [I]things[/I] you call poems are being pumped out, no one else will even be albe to read my own work before you two have booted it to the next page.

However, since there were so many new poems (divieded between DB and Copy) there was no way I was going to read all of them, so I'll just give a brief review over this one:

[QUOTE=Copycatalyst]DNA
Wormhole
Relative spacetime continuum
Life
The criss-cross of subjective being
Crucified cruxes vector crescendoes healing
Hopscotch done in quantum time
The linear line that is bent by bees of the hive
Asymptote tote bags on your eyes
Deoxyribonucleic acid; polymerization, aganine, guanine,
Make the bonds, onto the line
Infinity in a linear unity, but there's more to find
Seashell of being,
Mollusk of coelacanth of algae seaing
The shores wash with the blood of our veins:
Red see--blind yourself Oedipus the octopus
With your mother's brooches, in shame;
in the ink of being the oil is obsidian
Gouge your eyes out with Earth and soil
My earthworms with skin like nails
Such pain, but such twisting never-everending
The trajectory of the X & Y graph is bending. . .
Posthumans are ascending
I love you all, let's dine
I'd eat your pain just for it be sublime
I'd break my wings to be a fallen clock of time
I'd be a cannibal of suffering
To know the feather's fluffering
That beatific angels fly[/QUOTE]
This is going to sound harsh, but try not to take opinions too personally. Maybe I'm just stupid. (However, I already expressed my feeling on getting into a battle of wits; not interested)

Two words: WORD VOMIT

I think I got the general idea of what your poem was about... Life & Death? Creating life? Life after Death? (Ah, well, three strikes you're out, I guess) Something to do with that...

However, just throwing big words like that doens't make it have meaning... In fact, it takes away. People get lost in the words and your intent goes without notice. To use some of these words in the fashion that you did, should be illegal. It's definately grammatically incorrect, but there should be a fine of some sort. I'll explain.

Lines 1-4: I believe I know what you were trying to say here. I think you meant to be comparing the small aspects of life to large aspects in the universe. (However, I like most, aren't familiar with the science bit you threw in there, dealing with "wormhole" and "relative space-time continuum" so I'm not exactly sure if my summation is correct)

Lines 5-8: Here's what it translated to in my head:
"The contradictions of one's mind,
Dead topics carry increased healing,
Jumping around in the [U]brain,[/U]
A line is curved by [bees of the hive]"

Okay, now do you see what I'm talking about??? When translated, it makes a little sense, but not completely. for example, after my mind percieves line 6 as dead topics carrying increased healing, it provides a contradicion... Dead topic=no healing... And even substituting your original words: "Crucified cruxes vector crescendoes healing" (Crucified crux= no vectoring crescendo healing) And the word crescendoes doesn't even fit there. (Not to mention that it's spelled "-dos") That's saying more than one increasing when the word healing is enough to lead someone to the conclusion of more than one...
I underlined "brain" simply because I wasn't sure what you were getting at with the word quantum time... I perceived it as though you were comparing life with the universe again... Saying that the brain is like quanum time. (Again, I don't know anything about "Quanum time," so if I'm way off here, you can only blame yourself for word coice)
And that last line is just awful. "A linear line"??? A straight line would have sufficed since you indicated that it was straight by the part where it's being bent! WORD VOMIT
Also, I kept the phrase "bees of the hive," because I understand that you were going for a deeper meaning... And even using your version, to me, that line means that good ideas are often distorted by the collective mind of idiots. (for lack of a better word)

I'm not going to cover every single line... I think that the first 8 are enough to prove my point. Your poem was riddled with bad spelling, (it's "Adenine," not "Aganine.") annoying sentence usage, (e.g. double prepositions) complex vocabulary, (trajectory, coelacanth, etc.) bad sentences, ("To know the feather's flutter") and confusing comparisons. (Such as the simile "My earthworms with skin like nails")

Not to mention that you jumped subjects. I get that you're comparing life to the universe, and even though it's okay, why in GOD'S name did you throw a literature metaphore in there??? Oedipus should have stayed out of it and you could have still found some other word to use that wouldn't be so ADHD-ish...

In conclusion, It's nice to have a large vocabulary, but it's better to know how to use it. Otherwise, it all just becomes WORD VOMIT no matter how much sense it actually makes. You're trying to make your readers feel something, not put them to sleep or give them a headache. Think about that.

I don't know if this is a recent poem or something you wrote a while back, but if it's new, I'll say you need to calm down and let the poetry come to you. Don't force it when you're in an online argument with DB. Arguments are stupid anyway... "Chillax"

~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, like I said, I would have posted some of my own stuff, but now I'm not so sure about this thread anymore. And since it's critique-worthy, I stayed within my bounds... I would have critiqued more, but it was spammed so much (Yes, I'm referring to the recent poems as spam just because they were so horrible) that I couldn't read all of them and I found that I had so much to say about one poem that it would take up too much effort to review all of them.

And before you go and flame me for my [B]OPINION[/B], remember that when you post your own stuff up on a forum to be critiqued, you're setting it up to every person that's a member here. So, if this isn't the kind of feed-back you want, deal with it or don't post anymore... (Or post better poetry)

Have a nice day! :D

[2010DigitalBoy]

[QUOTE=Darren]Ohmigod!!! Guys, please cut it out... You're practically spamming this thread out of some stupid competition of wits... (Or at least that's what it seems like) You two have single-handedly taken a good thread and turned it into a spam fest/poetry contest where you can argue back and forth...
I came here to read up some people's poetry and maybe post some of my own, but at the rate these [I]things[/I] you call poems are being pumped out, no one else will even be albe to read my own work before you two have booted it to the next page.

Anyway, like I said, I would have posted some of my own stuff, but now I'm not so sure about this thread anymore. And since it's critique-worthy, I stayed within my bounds... I would have critiqued more, but it was spammed so much (Yes, I'm referring to the recent poems as spam just because they were so horrible) that I couldn't read all of them and I found that I had so much to say about one poem that it would take up too much effort to review all of them.

And before you go and flame me for my [B]OPINION[/B], remember that when you post your own stuff up on a forum to be critiqued, you're setting it up to every person that's a member here. So, if this isn't the kind of feed-back you want, deal with it or don't post anymore... (Or post better poetry)

Have a nice day! :D[/QUOTE]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]We're having a battle? I've been agreeing with half of his opinions, right? And anyway, no matter what I did, Copy was bound to be every other post (just like the last poetry thread years ago :p) I was just critiquing him and throwing in some poems of my own along the way to stay on-topic. And anyway, i've only posted 4 or 5 poems in the last month, so I don't know where you're getting that I've been spamming it up, especially when 4 of them were short as hell (ne even a haiku >_>) only one was an abomination that I did as a parody of m here. I think your the one who needs to Chillax XD

Also, why are you ignoring poor Prem?[/COLOR]

[Guest Copycatalyst]

Yeah, we all know Darren is being facetious. If you want to stipulate that only one poem can be made per day, talk to the OP and have it arranged, and I'll follow the rules. Otherwise quit saying things that aren't true. We aren't arguing. The whole time for me it's just been a fun little exchange, and I never said you couldn't critique what I've written. And no, sorry to say, but my poetry is not spam.



Einstein was fined an atomic bomb explosion for what he found;
Achilles was killed because he decided to believe fate was true,
Crick was on lysergic acid diethylamide when he found DNA,
Freud was fond of using mass amounts of his love, cocaine;
Jung had a young death of life experience among the clouds,
Jesus loved his dimethyltryptamine, to whom his lord was bound,
Eve was a leaving fallout of an atom bomb,
Adam was a rib of a vine, not of their so-called "God"
The Buddha knew more of pain, so that pain was gone,
Kerouac had amphetamine dreams that he wrote on the page,
On the road, Robert M. Pirsig was Phaedrus, a sage
Paul Erdős used his methylphenidate to go on math dates,
Marilyn Manson had electricmechanical seizures on phenol barbituates
Neil Armstrong looked at the moon, and gazed in glory at her forsaken face,
E. E. Cummings wrote of electric smattering sun soliloquies of love,
Mickey Mouse had three fingers in his white glove,
Mario was a psilocybinaut who found a room of mush
Nietzsche had headaches from all your heads,
So God's dead, Nietzsche's dead,
how does that make us ache?
So Jesus is dead, DMT is dead,
how does that make us hate?
The Buddha's dead, pain is alive,
how does that make us late?
Achilles is dead, the Greeks are gone,
we make our own fate!


Flash Gordon, who is mankind, runs and runs on through
God is dead; morals are superlative to a human being and built-in;
God is dead; plants are banned, and can't be had, because it's too true;
God is dead; we kill it each moment, that we think it's true, but are lying
On a bed of history, not knowing beyond even that of mankind
Mankind's history's prehistoric,
To the history of what is, when once upon a dream
Once a mammilian took a plant's soul within,
Now there's pharm farms to sell them away,
Dead plant cells, greed green and for sale today,
Sell yourself; cell yourself, wring the bell of freedom to no-name,
In us all, darkness to nihilism, in a montage of rage,
While the piper is singing a pianokey of non-paper pulp wise wage,
The guitar plucked like plucking gently an angel's grass,
To touch thinly any and all and everything that will last. . .

Destroy the destruction, refind the instruction, the call, to be,
Of hope and wisdom and innocence of pain, that makes us more free,
Dance, laugh, and joy, though dark ages come hence,
Man is built like a dog into his own fence,
He will pay pence or he will see,
that doom is an Avogadro is 6.02 x 10^23
that we are but a quantity, and it is free,
that Holy Jesus Nietzschean Christ,
we are Jesus Christ, we are God
we make what we make and we are what we be.
There's nothing anti-christ about this, you see--

My atomos pieces, my shards of a beautiful sea.