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John_Doe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 4:50 am Post subject: Poetry |
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The Ancient One Joined: Sun Feb 23, 2003 10:03 am Posts: 5034 Location: Norway - Where the polar bears roam the streets
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Anyone else like it?
If so, please post your favorite horror/scary/tragic poems, but please try to keep them not TOO long, unless they are ecceptionally good.
I'll start off with a few:
Some guy who called himself Druid on IRC 5 years ago wrote: | A Busy Day
"No time for games," replied Mr. Jenkins, "I have work to do." "No time for fun," said Ms. Fronschleiffen, "I too have work to do." So Mr. Jenkins and Ms. Fronscheiffen went off to work Never realizing that a giant spider awaited them in the next room "No time for spiders," the two replied in unison, "I have work to do." The spider ate them. Yum. |
And a few of my own, from a few years back.. Something I wrote for a girl I was in love with, wrote: | DARK ANGEL
On the inside of her head way in the back, everything is dead all is black.
Don't missunderstand she's as birght as white snow, but she demand' that the darkness flow.
She does not dare to let the sun rise, what does she fear she that is so wise?
Everything she see' is at an evil level, she might perhaps be in love with the devil. |
Then something from back 6 years, when my nickname was Grimmy Quote: | THE GRIM CLOWN
"A CLOWN" they say, when they look at me, but later I laugh, as they lie under my knee.
Crying as I give them one LAST thrill. Making sure no drop will spill.
Blood is my life juice and on that I feed, who next shall satisfy my need?
Hungry for bones and blood and veins, and to top off the dinner, how 'bout some brains?
Look at me and call me MAD. But I'm much worse than any thought you've ever had!
A Clown indeed; is he a fool? We will see, when I ALL HELL shall rule! |
And it's sequel: Quote: | THE GRIM CLOWN 2
I am wierd. I am mad, I am the one who makes you glad.
But only for a short while, 'cause I bring forth the child,
that reminds you of who you were, then your age will start to blur.
You'll realize that whatever you do, that little child will still be you.
And that's the greatest fear, to see that there is no meaning, all so clear.
Why should you then have to live, when life has nothing at all to give?
I'll leave the last part up to you, - you know what to do.
But if you think twice or have doubst, you'll soon enough hear your own shouts.
I'm as cerious as a creamy pie, when I say I know, you WANT to die. |
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ThEdEaDLiVe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 5:02 am Post subject: |
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Master Of The Dead Donkey Joined: Wed Jan 21, 2004 1:33 am Posts: 809 Location: Canada
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WTF! 
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John_Doe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 5:06 am Post subject: |
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The Ancient One Joined: Sun Feb 23, 2003 10:03 am Posts: 5034 Location: Norway - Where the polar bears roam the streets
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ThEdEaDLiVe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 5:10 am Post subject: |
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Master Of The Dead Donkey Joined: Wed Jan 21, 2004 1:33 am Posts: 809 Location: Canada
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karstmobile
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 5:33 am Post subject: |
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The Devil, Probably Joined: Thu Jul 03, 2003 9:45 pm Posts: 2321 Location: The Land Of The Virgin Queen
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/me gives JD a shoulder to cry on
I enjoy JD's writing.

_________________
_____________Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue..._____________
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John_Doe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 5:38 am Post subject: |
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The Ancient One Joined: Sun Feb 23, 2003 10:03 am Posts: 5034 Location: Norway - Where the polar bears roam the streets
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ThEdEaDLiVe, wha- you don't enjoy poetry?
Tnx karst. =)
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ThEdEaDLiVe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 5:58 am Post subject: |
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Master Of The Dead Donkey Joined: Wed Jan 21, 2004 1:33 am Posts: 809 Location: Canada
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John_Doe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 6:37 am Post subject: |
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The Ancient One Joined: Sun Feb 23, 2003 10:03 am Posts: 5034 Location: Norway - Where the polar bears roam the streets
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DUH! =)
I love it, when it's good. You didn't even like that one that Druid wrote? I thought that was awesome!
or how about the rather long:
http://home.online.no/~s.rast/Paranoid. ... sphere.mp3
Stephen King wrote: | Paranoid: A Chant
I can't go out no more There's a man by the door in a raincoat smoking a cigarette
But
I've put him in my diary and the mailers are all lined up on the bed, bloody in the glow of the bar sign next door.
He knows that if I die (or even drop out of sight) the diary goes and everyone knows the CIA's in Virginia
500 mailers bought from 500 drug counters each one different and 500 notebooks and 500 pages in every one.
I am prepared
I can see him from up here. His cigarette winks from just above his trehnchcoat collar and somewhere there's a man on a subway sitting under a Black Velvet ad thinking my name.
Men have discussed me in back rooms. If the phone rings there's only dead breath. In the bar across the street a snubnose revolver has changed hands in the men's room. Each bullet has my name on it. My name is written in back files and looked up in newspaper morgues.
My mother's been investigated; thank God she's dead.
They have writing samples and examine the back loops of pees and the crosses of tees
My brother's with them, did I tell you? His wife is Russian and he keeps asking me to fill out forms. I have it in my diary. Listen- listen do listen: you must listen.
In the rain, at the bust stop, black crows with black umbrellas pretend to look at their watches, but it's not raining. Their eyes are sliver dollars. Some are scholars in the pay of the FBI most are the foreigners who pour through our streets. I fooled them got off the bus at 25th and Lex where a cabby watched me over his newspaper.
In the room above me an old woman has put an electric suction cup on her floor. It sends out rays through my light fixture and now I write in the dark by the bar sign's glow. I tell you I *know*.
They sent me a dog with brown spots and a radio cobweb in its nose. I drowned it in the sink and wrote it up in folder GAMMA.
I don't look in the mailbox anymore. The greeting cards are letter-bombs.
(Step away! Goddam you! Step away, I know tall people! I tell you I know very tall people!)
The luncheonette is laid with talking floors and the waitress says it was salt but I know arsenic when it's put before me. And the yellow taste of mustard to mask the bitter odor of almonds.
I have seen strange lights in the sky. Last night a dark man with no face crawled through nine miles of sewer to surface in my toilet, listening for phone calls through the cheap wood with chrome ears. I tell you, man, I *hear*.
I saw his muddy handprints on the porcelain.
I don't answer the phone now, have I told you that?
They are planning to flood the earth with sludge. They are planning break-ins.
They have got physicians advocating weird sex positions. They are making addictive laxatives and suppositories that burn.
They know how to put out the sun with blowguns.
I pack myself in ice - have I told you that? It obviates their infrascopes I know chants and I wear charms. You may think you have me but I could destroy you any second now.
Any second now.
Any second now.
Would you like some coffee, my love?
Did I tell you I can't go out no more? There's a man by the door in a raincoat. |
Last edited by John_Doe on Sat Oct 30, 2004 7:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
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John_Doe
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 7:36 am Post subject: |
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The Ancient One Joined: Sun Feb 23, 2003 10:03 am Posts: 5034 Location: Norway - Where the polar bears roam the streets
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Forum Bot
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 8:12 am Post subject: |
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Dead But Dreaming Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Posts: 316
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I liked MIchael Strunge when I was younger, but not really anymore.
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karstmobile
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 9:51 am Post subject: |
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The Devil, Probably Joined: Thu Jul 03, 2003 9:45 pm Posts: 2321 Location: The Land Of The Virgin Queen
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Well, your english is very very good, and that was thoroughly enjoyable.
Now I have a voice to put with the feet when you post. 
_________________
_____________Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue..._____________
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Bonnie_Parker
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 10:21 am Post subject: |
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Master Of The Dead Donkey Joined: Wed Sep 24, 2003 10:57 am Posts: 743 Location: there
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I enjoy 'classical' poetry, like Yeats, Coleridge, Dickinson, Baudelaire. I don't know much about contemporary writers actually and I never wrote any poetry myself... But I liked yours JD.
I'd say my favorite poem is The Waste Land by T.S.Eliot. I won't post it here (it's 20 pages long) but have a look at it:
http://eliotswasteland.tripod.com/
I especially enjoy the parts called 'The Burial of the Dead' and 'What the Thunder said. This poem is so full of a sense of desperation and nostalgy, I find it difficult to read when I'm moody 
_________________ 'I'd give my life to be dead. '
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d0c
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Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2004 11:42 am Post subject: |
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The Ancient One Joined: Thu Feb 13, 2003 6:07 pm Posts: 4463 Location: The Cellar
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great poetry john, when you have enuff for a book release them
here is a good one i found... its called woman leather and hell
Quote: | Stand aside, loose your pride I'm at the gates alone Sourcery, blasphemy All welcome in my home I'm leaving But soon I'm coming back Believe me I'm hot on your tracks
Through the night Eagles flight The angels kiss my brow Tempting me with studded heels The bitch is in heat Oh you've got me That leather smells so sweet I'm on fire Breeding sin, breathing lust Witches spell ohhh...
Women Leather and Hell
Dynamite, is right on time Sends shivers down my spine Destiny won't catch me The choice of death is mine Salvation is keeping out of sight Damnation is joining in the fight
Women Leather and Hell
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_________________
 STR - Dead but not forgotten!
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