aa516e No.44
Hey there /pen/,/pol/,and whoever else is here,let's get a poetry thread going.
we'll take it whether you wrote it yourself or if it's a personal favorite of yours.
It's an amazement to me
How those who claim prejudice
Are oft those who are most prejudiced
Forcing their views upon society
Persecution their creed;
Stealing our livelyhoods
Attempting to crush our beliefs
To crush our rights
And yet they wonder why we despise them
Slowly but surely those that support;
Whom aid and uplift them.
Turn against them
One day soon they will look,
The They will plead and beg
Yet no aid will come.
They will sit and wait for help
For a reply that will never come
While their empire of hate collapses
____________________________
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aa516e No.45
>One day soon they will look,
>They will plead and beg
>Yet no aid will come.
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aa516e No.50
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aa516e No.59
>Tried to make it political and coherent, probably pretty terrible.
They tell us kind words
Of equality and justice
Yet they remain only words
Never put into practice
Their solutions are simple
In a simple sense
To unload the burden
Onto somebody else
And fear what is uncertain
For simply it may be different
Requiring toil for any spoils
Incredibly Brilliant and Efficient
Perhaps possibly even sufficient
To truly increase the well-being of men
Willing to work, again
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aa516e No.62
>>59It's actually pretty decent.ive seen worse believe me.
But keep at it you'll eventually find your own style,and preferred structure.
And remember not every poem you write will be finished,there's nothing worse than forcing a poem to be finished
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aa516e No.102
heres another one one of my first pieces so it might not be that good
Each day I am roused
And sent to prison
To serve my time
To finish my sentence
More and more they say,
Until I am crushed neath its weight
Lively freedom holds no allure
For the prison follows me
Many sleepless nights spent;
To merely sate its hunger
And should you escape
You are brought back in chains
For there is no escape
None at all
For even when all is said and done
Even when you have earned its useless prize
When you believe freedom is yet yours
Another looms before you
It's gaping jaw hungry for more,
As you are dragged into its maw.
For there is no escape
None at all
-Hermes
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aa516e No.107
>>102That's grim.
Here's mine:
I live; I stare at my wrathful antagonist
forever entrenched in his lust and sin,
his focus rests on such alien lies.
He, mired in these; unable to forgive.
I bear pain; I shrink from the assault of my tyrant.
Born deep from Inferno, the darkest shade of night.
In fright, he slices my soul deep and low.
A fatal unseen blow, I will not rise to my betters again.
I desire; my thief kindles what base embers I have calmed into monstrous fires,
from me he wrestles control away;
no longer do I see the light of day:
Each breath he draws me further to the helm of that frozen guard
at the gate of Pompeii;
A man forgotten; a tool to an empire.
This coil; these shackles set upon me,
I must foil, I must be free!
The fury of God has set upon thee
and by divine decree so it must be!
Through man himself runs the river of destiny!
I breathe; fate's might is guided alone by the hand of he
who would break his mortal cage and only see.
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aa516e No.109
>>107That was beautiful OP,it describes your inner turmoil between your base desires and sins and your higher thoughts and sense of morality.
I especially like that last couplet,it's rather inspiring
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aa516e No.123
>>107nigga u an artist
blooz myoozo here. i had a dream about going to a soc alt meeting and being asked what i was doing there. in the dream i answered "i'm just here to be the strawman." i lel'd and wrote this when i woke up
instrument fags: it goes F# A7 D7 E7 (x3) F# D7 E7 Bm7 (x1)
i'll be your fool for a lifetime
the psiren’s curse is too intense
iron willed, i spin the wheel for better deals
i pray that roaches – don’t offend
lay in carpet close to king beds
claim the sun don’t ever shine
dining queens, quizzically in misery
while their best friends all starve to death outside
lock me in
your barn tonight,
i’ll meditate
on our past lives
i got nothing left to lose, i’m already crucified
ill be your straw man, build me wise
scaring the flocks, I’ve already familiarised
ill be your straw man, dress me nice
hang your head now, shame is aways implied
if the tools more useful than the trade its applied
when your ghosts start talking back you’ll finally realise
its too late to stop the happening, we’re damned to demonise
i’ll play the fool, you’ll even let me do it twice
ill be your straw man, warm and kind
kindred to the blind, i can still see through your lies
ill be your straw man, borne in light
never tread the beaten path,
but you’ve left your footprints all over my heart
now i can see, the pharisees for what they are
here’s your straw man, come and fight
label banal, being anal’s what you are
heres the straw man, close up tight
metaphors for rape and violence won’t suffice,
just let the straw man show you why.
- havayishu
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aa516e No.125
>>123That's an interesting twist at the end OP,certainly wasn't expecting that
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aa516e No.136
>>125Glad you like, I'm trying to come up with more catchy red pill/third way shit, but the musical Jew gets me down sometimes. Knowing people appreciate it is good motivation bruh
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aa516e No.138
>>136Yeah it is,it's also probably a good way to redpill,they can't really call us on it because we can just say they misinterpreted it or it means something else.it also sounds like a good way to troll
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aa516e No.143
>>123Here's another, inspired by all the confusion over where the Jews stand over on /pol/.
protip: read it out loud to hear the hidden lels
i have a friend who’s jewish and he’s not such a bad guy
his love for is-ra-el would leave you blushing in reprieve
but though my roots are also deep he’s not seeing what is mine
it’s no big deal, i’m sure he’ll re-assess in time
i don’t know what’s the bother, our brotherhood is set in stone
i coveted his sister, he didn’t mind when she said no
and though the pics of our soiree still circle on his phone
he’ll be discrete, despite his lack of self control
he’ll hold me when i’m bleeding and tell me every things okay
"the fillings I’m removing help to take the pain away
"and the medicine i’m giving has no mercury at all
"don’t be depressed, just get undressed, it’ll take no time at all!"
he’s a kike — but he’s not such a bad guy!
donates to his nation and always pays his temple tithes
for though folks took his foreskin; he always worships family ties
i’m not surprised he feels victimised, poor friendly kike
- havayishu
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aa516e No.149
Shall I compare thee to a senile man?
Thou art as stupefied and dull.
You rattle off your story once again
(your children ponder mercy, shattered skulls)
“The Greatest Goddamn Place that Ever Was
we could buy anything, in any store
low price guaranteed!” (Unanimous applause
reflecting off the soul’s linoleum floor)
“Father? It’s your daughter. We really need to talk
we went through all your paperwork this week-”
“Your will,” your eldest son butts in, “is lost!”
You wheeze, wipe drool, and then you speak
“You wish to know the sum of your inheritance?
A void!” (You laugh) “Debt is my sole heritage!”
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aa516e No.155
I will write one on the spot. It goes:
Chirp of running water, rustle of tiny leaves
Balanced stones
Broken sticks
Footprints in the stream bank's shallow mud.
A thousand paces in any direction leads to nowhere
Nowhere humans live anyway
A thousand paces upwards leads to heaven.
Is there debasement without an audience?
Is blood part of nature?
Then why does it look so foreign on these white forest pebbles?
It shines with an otherworldly majesty.
The sun is here to eat.
The earth is here to eat.
I am here to feed them.
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aa516e No.156
I've never done this before… not sure how poetry works.
Kingly exalted, he spoke so mightily
And thou didst speak for all to know
That thy words could shape this world
I do not proclaim to speak as he did
Though innervated e'er after were we
Those that beheld the fire of the soul
Who march on, yoke toss'd and uplifted
As his words ring through eternity
P.S. It's about Papa Hitler
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aa516e No.158
If you're going to do this then most certainly you have to avoid antiquated language
>>156 as it comes off as pretentious. Since you are all anonymous it would also do you well to avoid incorporating the first person into your writing, as you are nothing and nobody cares what you have to say. You have to produce a thing that stands alone in and of itself, without being tied to any subject. It must thus be words that tell something, rather than you telling something.
Finally, a poem must be inspirational and instructive, but it cannot and should not be overtly political or social commentary. You must tell a story with excellent language. You cannot however appear to be trying to use excellent language. Your language must appear to be naturally excellent and effortlessly so.
Just some tips.
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aa516e No.159
>>158Fuck off my poem is the shit you cocknigger.
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aa516e No.169
>>159I totally read it with Blind Guardian blaring in my head, that was tits. You into power metal at all?
Also, oc faggotry:
the devil is a lie
whispers in your ear to tell you every things alright
will confess its you who well and truly strives
but of all the shamans fables made to shackle and enslave you
the only premise that will fail is that — the devil is a lie
words are more than sounds to fill the gaps between your whines,
never mind who’s names embedded on the spine
but of all the woes inflicted by the scholars of the printed
the only fiction worth dismissing is that – the devil is a lie
conditioned to find unholy any critic to your science
high upon the superstitions they’ve revived
but of all the rationale thats dreamt to torture and ensnarl
the only myth worth tossing out is that — the devil is a lie
simplicity's a virtue when comprehensions hard to find
even socrates agrees that there’s a line
but beware of how you speak, your idioms will cut you deep
the reddest tip on razors edge is that – the devil is a lie
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aa516e No.172
This is a short one. When some lefty on /pol/ asked me why I care for my country.
Into this world we're thrown
Surrounded by the rules of days goneby and unknown
Wiping our tears, dust in our eyes
Marching ever onwards inbetween their lies
Those of us who wish a new world
A world of roaring hills with land under water
I and many others would never ask another
For this is why we say "I will be your friend if you are my friend"
For the very security of this war torn land.
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aa516e No.180
I am afraid of running out
of sight of what guides me;
with an open ear,
I listen to the Saints.
Without regret or any notion
of malice or nihlistic tendencies,
I expose sincerity;
I practice this devoutly.
It is my religion,
my only categorical imperative;
I spit on the facetious
and wipe them on my ass.
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aa516e No.181
In the latest hour,
and even in the fog,
perhaps without execuation,
I begin to see it all;
it starts with a frustration,
an alchemic withdraw,
from a constant occupation
that withers me to fall;
I would not want to digress,
I would rather keep walking,
into a bleak horizon,
that may reveal a sun-set;
tell your mothers I am famished,
tell your fathers I am blind,
tell your doctors I am meak,
and tell your preachers I am mad.
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aa516e No.183
>>158 A on I'm going to disagree with you here,poetry and writing are expressions of your soul,sometimes the language of antiquity is all we can use to describe it.it is our greatest joys and our greatest sorrows great victories and tremendous defeats.
To tell a writer what he can and cannot write is like telling the sun that is can no longer rise and set.
And for you to say that poetry cannot be used for political or social commentary or change,you must be unfamiliar with the history of literature and poetry
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aa516e No.190
>>158Please don't suggest a formulaic approach to writing. Some of your criticism is spot on though.
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aa516e No.194
Hey pen a friend of mine is in a confederate group and wrote this poem if you have any critique let me know and I'll tell him
I am your Confederate ancestor. Remember me?
When our country needed me, I answered the call.
Do not forget me!
I was willing and did give up everything… sacrificed all, for country and you.
I faced deprivation, starvation… faced the winter in tattered uniforms, and
marched for miles with no shoes.
In Northern POW camps, ill treatment was the norm…
medical treatment intentionally withheld , festering wounds,
allowed to freeze in the winter, and forced to endure sickness,
with hopes we would die.
I proudly fought under our flag, for the constitutional republic we desired.
I rallied and faced an army that most of the time
outnumbered us and was better equipped.
I gave my all and did my best. No sacrifice was too great.
No duty too small.
It was for you I did this, without expecting any reward.
I suffered horrible wounds, and watched the angle of death
cut vast lines of men down.
I bled for you, soaking the earth. I died for you.
Our families heeded the call They suffered under the boot of the Union army,
sacrificing farms, homes, possessions. Years of hardships we endured.
Will our self-sacrifices and heroic deeds
be forgotten and perish from your memory?
My blood consecrated the ground of our country.
I gave my life for our people and its land.
I died a heroic death for our independence
on the battlefields of Shiloh, Chickamauga, Gettysburg.
Behold our bodies laid out in long lines,
buried like garbage in mass trenches.
Our faces changed, death reflected in our eyes,
we breathe not, forevermore.
Behold, our mothers, wives, family,
heads bowed down, silently grieving we who will never return.
Some buried forever in Yankee soil. Our friends choked with tears.
The burden of losing us, having to bury us, to entomb us.
We did not betray you!
Our muskets still by our side, ammo pouches empty,
we fought till the last man.
Just as our blood spilled out step by step,
We did all we could
Here's a petition he also made for allowing the southern states to secede from the union:
https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/allow-southern-states-secede-peacefully/Yg5pyJf7 Disclaimer: this post and the subject matter and contents thereof - text, media, or otherwise - do not necessarily reflect the views of the 8kun administration.
aa516e No.200
>>190>>183I'm not suggesting something formulaic, I'm suggesting how poetry ought to be given the medium and circumstance in which it's being written. The nature of our anonymity strongly gives preference towards avoiding the 1st person. We aren't some noble aristocrat whose opinions have authority. We must humbly construct something with consciousness of our anonymity.
I'm not saying that poetry should not be used for political or social commentary, nor am I saying this was not done historically. I'm saying that when it was done, it was not done overtly. Allegory and symbolism are key. Overt ranting against Jews and leftists for example sounds like a parody.
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aa516e No.201
Notable cobble lane
I shuffled along
Going about my way
Gone to see a play
Everywhere I saw
Racial vibrance
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aa516e No.202
>>201this one made me smirk
you can me a little heavier handed with it, you know.
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aa516e No.215
To earth I know I will return
this life I know will trouble me no more
dark again are the stars
still again is the shore.
My brothers—
playing on the distant grass of half-forgotten days
—I’ll see them soon!
and we’ll speak of all the ways
to chase the foxes in the fields
to sleep beneath the changeless summer sky
to race the doe unto the dark until she yields—
but all is lost
the world has passed me by.
From where I go, I’ve come,
the river runs two ways.
Away, away from the sun!
unto the end of days.
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aa516e No.216
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aa516e No.219
julia child is misunderstood
there is a manly man dancing with a beer in his hand
what is life without strife
a single action shotgun wife
a deliberation
succesful
butts and i can not lie
no other brothas can deny
when
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aa516e No.224
I find myself awoken to
the sunlight slowly spilling through
my open window, feeling the due
sprinkle onto my face, oh how sweet!
As a slow breeze enwraps my feet,
I squeeze my body underneath the sheet
I close my eyes, too tired, to soon
and let my mind fall back to sleep.
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aa516e No.225
>>224dew* thats embarrassing. Sorry I just woke up like 5 minutes ago.
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aa516e No.226
>>200Hey man, I agree with you. The greats were greats because they were SO GREAT. It'd be a good idea to take a look at them. If you want strictly political writing, take a look at Paine or Franklin and his ilk, they were known for political essay writing. If you're trying to write poetry about politics, take a look at how shakespeare did it. Its all syombolism allegories and metaphors, it's done Subtle.
Also why you gotta write poetry to be political? Write some poetry about other things too. The world is a beautiful place, theres more to it than just hating jews. Theres poetry :3
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aa516e No.236
>>216Full rhymes in English usually sounds forced and bad IMO
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aa516e No.237
>>219tha phatness is real on this one
new bread. i wrote it for my spergy genius niece who lives amongst a hive of baboons. it's called:
>sarah, sit the fuck downsarah, do you see that you’re much smarter than the others,
your brothers let their minds rot down to the core
but to nobodies surprise when their fate catastrophizes
you’ll be the one they’ll all come running toward
i’ll spare you the gruesome warnings of going hungry in the morning
and needing guns secured to you at all times
you can see with your own eyes that ignorance is their demise
so sit the fuck down – we’ve got an apocalypse to plan for
make no mistake about it, i doubt your families thought it through
you know contingency is never quite how it goes
so throw away the safety, every things about to get crazy
and just maybe you’ll still be kicking about to feel the final throes
if throwing out the baby down the drain is worth complaining about
then lady you should be wailing right about now
you’re bout to hear the thrashing setting off the chain reaction
so kiddo, sit the fuck down – we’ve got an apocalypse to plan for
thanks for reading based anon. now go plan your apocalypse
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aa516e No.310
Twilight of empire
Gates open; red moon rises
Pendulum swings back
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aa516e No.312
>>44Is it the roar of the obese,
the thunderous clap of fat on vocal chords,
that sparks such a beautiful "glop" to echo about my mind?
Or perhaps the oppressed victims of my father's world,
damning the hand that feeds them to forever waltz in Caina,
or, more likely, somewhere less biblical and Eurocentric?
Those toeless, echo chamber assured armchair patriots -
'armless too in their critique of us able tyrants,
give rise to the tears in my eyes,
and this "earthly beauty",
she astounds me.
Farce is more fitting for these shitters sitting
All alone in their ivory towers
Just capture the scent,
Respiration prevent,
And witness the death of the flowers.
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aa516e No.366
The Second Coming by W.B. Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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aa516e No.380
Dover Beach
BY MATTHEW ARNOLD
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
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aa516e No.384
I wrote an imagist poem riffing off an Ezra Pound one I really like.
In a Station of the Metro (2013)
Only one clear face
In all the dark
People all around
Only one of mine
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aa516e No.429
With all the bravado I might muster
I repel the beast,
and so disgust her
My principal cause befouls her nature,
lays waste to her den,
in this, I hate her
The indignation runs red hot
despite all her efforts,
she forgets me not
After all I've done to light her day
she paints it black,
to scurry away;
rejects me but knows not what I offer,
such is the pleasure
of a scornful daughter.
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aa516e No.431
Oh when I saw you standing there
Wild flowers dying in your hair
Child of harvest time, coughing up must
Black flowers' dull perfume trailing in dust
Hoisting dull pennants to the spike of that hill
Your smile started bleeding and then the mill
Shearing and sharing your love and your rage
Whilst hawk's head descending spewed out a new age
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aa516e No.435
Prison Love
Deb the Dank was the rankest of skanks in the houscow,
She stabbed and she stole, she lied and she told,
few in the lockup liked her.
Pinky the slink (a dyke we think) dwelt in the clink with Debbie. One day white power sent her to the shower with a message for Deb the dank. They scrubbed and they rubbed (which Pinky quite loved) but in the end out came the shank.
Poor little Pinky had to lick out Deb's skinky, foul taste of a turd surprised the jailbird and left poor Pinky in tears. Deb had more planned, made a fist of her hand and confirmed all of Pinky's worst fears. Much more than salad would be tossed.
Then Deb the coward, she slipped in the shower – now who would be bossed?
Deb the dank would die as she lived, by the end of her shiv – with no one but Pinky to thank.
– Result of a 5 minute poetry exercise based around trying to conjure a Dr. Seuss feel. Random words I drew were Shank/Shiv and theme 'Love'.
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