Poetry and Creative Writing thread

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Postby buzz » Sat Apr 01, 2006 8:09 am

tylerm wrote: Brian, I like your short story, a bit depressing, I am glad my life isn't like that :D


Thanks dude. I am also glad it is just a reflection on others lives (although i have been known to purchase goods from ikea right enough :oops: :D )
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Postby GenTDuke » Sun Apr 09, 2006 3:39 pm

...
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Postby GenTDuke » Sun Apr 09, 2006 4:18 pm

...
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Trilogy of Poems

Postby vegchassy » Sun Apr 09, 2006 7:49 pm

These were written when I was 17 almost 18 and in my most depressed periods...

Loaded

I have all of the questions
Loaded in my head.
If I find the answers
Would I be better off dead.
The answers may be full
Of things I wish not to see
Or maybe they will
Portray my fantasy.
Why should I worry?
Why should I care?
If the questions are loaded
And the trigger is pulled
To where all the answers come
Will I truly want to know
What the situation will become
Or whether I
Shall still need air?

Cocked

The questions have been loaded.
The trigger has been cocked.
Will the next move be fatal?
Will the next move heal?
If the barrel is emptied
Will I run
will I feel?
The trigger is cocked
Shall it be undone?
Will I be brave
Or will I turn and run?
I believe that the answers
That I do seek
Shall be found
Once the trigger is pulled.

Pulled

All of the questions
That run rampant in my head
Need to be answered
And that may not happen
Until I am dead.
The trigger has been pulled
But I did not find happiness.
All that I find
Is heartache and lonliness.
In my confused state
I pulled the trigger yet again,
Emptying the chamber into my very being.
I do not find the answers
To the questions that I have
And I doubt that I shall
Which is just as well
For the answers that I seek
Would be fitting of a soul
Beseeching only the most dire
Depths of torment. The epitany of Hell.
Animals share with us the privilege of having a soul
--Pythagoras
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Postby GenTDuke » Mon Apr 10, 2006 4:24 pm

...
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Postby buzz » Sat Apr 22, 2006 9:49 am

GenTDuke - i like the last few poems better than your first ones. Nice stuff. Keep it going man.

Here's one of mine;



I Am A Man



I am still a man. I am more of a man than I was. I am no longer free in the sense that I am now physically confined; yet I feel freer than I have for years. It is far easier to bear the burden of guilt than it is to carry the heavy load of a life which is not a life. A life which is merely going through motions and existing in a personal repression is not freedom and it is not life, or living. My crime was an occurrence. I accept responsibility but live with neither regret nor remorse, only a retrospective niggling in my head, like when you leave the house and think you’ve left the oven on. I am still a man, an I still exist. I touch nobody’s life, and no one touches mine. I read a lot. And I write sometimes too, but not to anyone. I have two photos on the wall of my cell – one of a sunrise in a north Edinburgh council estate, and one of the sun going down taken on the north west coast of Scotland. I don’t know what they symbolize, or if the depict anything other than aesthetically pleasing pictures, but I like them. My son exists only in my head. He is a part of me continuing in the world, and walking new paths. My family still write to me but I do not read their letters. My blood is that of humanity. I do not lean on them. They should feel no responsibility over my actions and accept no repercussions. My wife is a constant memory, whom I can now accept as an inevitable part of my life, and when I reached that fork in the road I can remember her smile and her warmth that made me go to her. And caused me to love her. For a while. I do not hate her. I do not blame her. I feel no bitterness or anger. I do not feel. It is better that way, for a while at least. I have shelter and a bed, and food. I have books, and paper, and pens. I am a man.

Death exists for me only in a far off but unavoidable way, although it is getting closer. I do not remember being young anymore. I only know that I was. When I get out I will most likely be in my mid fifties. I will not try to rebuild anything. I will lie low. To say that only today exists sounds clichéd but it is a sense of time known only by inmates who get through their sentence slowly but surely. Others are fuelled by far off unfulfillable hopes and dreams. I escape in the nighttime when I dream of people out of my life a long time ago but still somewhere consciously inaccessible in my head. I will not ever travel the world. I will never see the African desert, or the Himalayas. I seek not to journey nor accomplish. I only wish to be. That is enough. That is more than enough. If I wake in the morning then I have won. If my hair grows then I am still alive. If I inhale and the air goes into my lungs it feels good. I have suffered much less than some. I will suffer more but it is insignificant compared to the gift of birth and of life. At times I am happy. At others I am filled with a sense of content. They are feelings which are invaluable. They are feelings I have not felt for a long, long time.
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Postby GenTDuke » Sat Apr 22, 2006 11:50 am

Nice! im taking five from writting anything. I am just gonna play computer games for creative outlet for a while :lol:
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Postby GenTDuke » Sun Apr 23, 2006 3:17 pm

This is more of a philisophical rant than a poem, I was having a bad day yesterday:


DELETED: EMO and shit
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Postby GenTDuke » Mon May 01, 2006 1:13 pm

Im kool now BTW :lol: no need for concern lol. I write my best stuff in a funny mood.

DELETED: EMO
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2 haikus

Postby Dagda_Samildanc » Mon May 01, 2006 1:35 pm

I wrote these ages ago for a Japanese class... they're more "joke" haikus than anything. Our subject was cherry blossoms and how they symbolize spring and samurai

trade long pants for shorts!
legs white as cherry blossoms
let's go to the beach

&

cherry blossoms fall
just like dying samurai
but they do not rot
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Postby GenTDuke » Tue May 02, 2006 12:02 am

I did some japanese poetry for GCSE like 7 years ago, Its realy querky! I love it.

I have about 6 other ubber dark poems I am gonna keep to my self, I think they are my best; but ive decided to keep the shit in my head.

Peace-out, no more from me.
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Postby natty » Mon May 29, 2006 8:49 am

well, i made this one up shortly, keeping iself up in my lonely days missing my better half inna jamaica...i use to sing it whereever i stand when i'm just down down down...

i love you i sense
i sense of living
as i love if insence
insence keep burning
it's a rasta fyah
it always haffi bun
it's a humble fyah
still it cyaan't ever go dung

i trod here in egypt
all alone in confusion
coz as a rasta yuh haffi fight
everyday for your right
well this is the moment
i rize up i head
this is the time
i remember what i king said
dawta dawta
don't yuh ever forget
love is the key
we don't get upset
and don't blame them romans
fe dem nah know what they've done
we turn the other cheek
when dem come up with dem gun
me love and respect yuh
fe how pure and clean you are
stay far from trouble
stay far from war
matthew 5 and psalm 72
yuh cyaan't do wrong
if you know how to do
so dawta dawta
don't you ever forget
love is the key
we don't get upset
...

don't get confused by the jamaican writing...like to train my patois :wink:
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Postby GenTDuke » Wed May 31, 2006 11:01 pm

Thats quite kool, I iz from London so I can follow the lingo. I wrote a poem called Cultural deprivation using street slang, Its alot more interesting to write stuff without feeling the need to stick to convention.

Thanks for posting.
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Postby natty » Thu Jun 01, 2006 5:27 am

oh yes, i do agree with you!! i enjoy languages in general, and the different shapes and slangs within one languages is the topatop for me. focusing the west indies i also feel it like a big part of culture, kinda first step of independence - away from colonialism and imperial powers. sometimes i feel language is a weapon but it's also a fundamental in humans evolution--it's a gift to be able to express oneself...jah guide!
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Postby GenTDuke » Thu Jun 01, 2006 7:49 pm

...
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