At 4/14/05 07:12 PM, AlbinoBlackMage wrote: Keep it cleaner? Oh come on, poetry needs its comedy.

ya, your are right actualy.

Snatched her away, thats what he did
Took her from me, I feel like a kid
Maybe I am

She was so sexy, ever so quiet
And after he took her, it cuased a riot
An angry mob

Now he blinds her with his evil grin
She will never come back to me
Please come back

This is just a lil' something I wrote. Dunni, you guys tell me what you think of it. Btw, it's untiteld

At 4/14/05 07:16 AM, ZeroAsALimit wrote: How do you get your work published anyway ?

Well I started out at Poetry.com but i had to pay for the book that my poem was in (its was pretty expensive) but what you want to do. Is try to find local poetry mags or even larger poetry mags and send them your stuff and you should get some of them published.

At 4/14/05 07:12 PM, AlbinoBlackMage wrote: Keep it cleaner? Oh come on, poetry needs its comedy.

There are funnier things than testicles...

Furious Granny

Once apon a time there was a man named jed,
poor mountaineer but he kept his family feed.
Then one day he was shooting at some food,
and out of the bushes came a lady in the nude.
Next thing you know jeds in his truck,
pulling down his pants and ready for a fuck.
Out comes Granny with a 303 (machine gun),
and blew his balls out of beverly.

At 4/14/05 07:34 PM, AlbinoBlackMage wrote: Furious Granny

You lost it at the end...

Ha ha, thats funny, you could write and adult poetry book.

At 4/14/05 07:53 PM, MisfitBlob wrote: Ha ha, thats funny, you could write and adult poetry book.

I dunno if it'd be an "adult" cause i mean that means its for an adult, and i dont think many adults think losing balls is funny....

At 4/14/05 07:55 PM, LamboFactor wrote:

At 4/14/05 07:53 PM, MisfitBlob wrote: Ha ha, thats funny, you could write and adult poetry book.

I dunno if it'd be an "adult" cause i mean that means its for an adult, and i dont think many adults think losing balls is funny....

You're really pissing me off with your attitude, I don't give a shit if you don't think it is funny, I enjoy writing peoms about people loosing their balls, hey, maybe i will make a flash animation out of them.

At 4/14/05 07:55 PM, LamboFactor wrote:

At 4/14/05 07:53 PM, MisfitBlob wrote: Ha ha, thats funny, you could write and adult poetry book.

I dunno if it'd be an "adult" cause i mean that means its for an adult, and i dont think many adults think losing balls is funny....

yah, why are you so uptight about poems that arent "Clean"

I dont really wana go into it, i do have reasons, but this will just end up in a bigger fight...

At 4/16/05 04:37 PM, satanman1 wrote: Here's a (short) ballad I wrote for my English class...

Devil's Pass

That was a great ballad... Well done!

At 4/16/05 04:37 PM, satanman1 wrote: Here's a (short) ballad I wrote for my English class...

Devil's Pass

very nice job ^_^

At 4/16/05 04:37 PM, satanman1 wrote: Here's a (short) ballad I wrote for my English class...

Devil's Pass

I loved it, very well written, good job.

At 4/3/05 04:41 PM, Ketski wrote: 1. Do not criticize anybody's work

Sissys.

Yes, I spelt it with a "y". I like it better that way.

yo i dont reley wanna join i just wanna show u guys mine and my gfs powem we made togather is that ok

At 4/18/05 09:21 PM, wolfman1289 wrote: yo i dont reley wanna join i just wanna show u guys mine and my gfs powem we made togather is that ok

Yeah thats fine...

its called true love

I love this girl she may live far but close in my hart when you touch or hug each other we fall deeply in love as I hold u in my arms I have no care for the outside world the man I love I will keep deeply inside my heart as we hold each other time seems to stop and noting but me and her matter me and him are deeply in love one thing I got to say you cant brake true love so that to us is true love to love and be loved by each other and noting will stop us form loving each other

Not bad but it lacks punctuality and correct spelling, fix it up and it might just be half decent.

At 4/21/05 07:34 AM, Shoort wrote: Not bad but it lacks punctuality and correct spelling, fix it up and it might just be half decent.

lol ya i bet thats my part becouse we both put it togher

Heres part of a poem i wrote about this girl i like...

She is one of the nicest people i know
We talk about everything, nothing is uncomforatable
Even though we are friends she tries to stun me with her looks
She comes to me in times of need, sometimes crying in my arms
Giving me hugs, blowing me kissed
She makes me feel loved
She cares about me, worries about me
Makes me know that somebody cares

Thats the second half to a poem I wrote... I'm not gonna tell the rest of the poem till i smooth it out so i like it...

I'll be adding my songs every now and then with full lyrics. I have the lyrics but I don't have the music.

Blood Will Tell

- I’ll give anything to find my identity.
Looking constantly is taking me an infinity.
I wish for death, I’m not reaching a trinity.
I’m a vagabond, I can’t find serenity.
I wear my emotions to the point they’re too snug.
Walking and sinking into a hole I dug.
I simply wish that I could give up.
Yet I can’t. It’s in my blood.
Chorus- Blood will tell. Blood will tell.
Should you give up or try to excel.
If you give up, I bid you farewell.
Should you excel, I’ll say you did well.
Blood will tell. Blood will tell.
Try to succeed instead of fail.
This is life. These emotions often form a jail.
It’s up to you to make your own bail.
- I work hard, I try to succeed.
I also try to help others when they are in need.
I don’t do this to rack up good deeds.
I do this because I have two feet.
That’s why I don’t have a reason not to do these things.
No more debt, no more bad feelings.
I’m not a doctor but I’m capable of healing.
Altruism doesn’t come out when I’m bleeding.
Chorus- Blood will tell. Blood will tell.
Should you give up or try to excel.
If you give up, I bid you farewell.
Should you excel, I’ll say you did well.
Blood will tell. Blood will tell.
Try to succeed instead of fail.
This is life. These emotions often form a jail.
It’s up to you to make your own bail.
- I bring in emotions only at face.
That means I read faces at a quick haste.
Though often the expression is fake.
I’ll be honest, the people who are usually fake I do hate.
It’s one emotion that can’t be replaced.
It’s just a feeling that I can’t shake.
Please be honest, just for your sake.
Yet, often these words come to late.
Common sense, it’s in the part my blood plays.
Chorus- Blood will tell. Blood will tell.
Should you give up or try to excel.
If you give up, I bid you farewell.
Should you excel, I’ll say you did well.
Blood will tell. Blood will tell.
Try to succeed instead of fail.
This is life. These emotions often form a jail.
It’s up to you to make your own bail.

I hope that you all enjoyed it.

Those were good!

Here's one of my poems, it's kind of like a song to me.. It's my second poem ever :-) Won't be my last though.. Anyways, enjoy :-)

Zombie

In my dome,
I'm all alone,
born to be,
and grew to be,
an outcast;
A lifeless zombie.

I don't have a purpose,
I know no fear,
I roam the streets,
not knowing a thing,
why I came here,
or what it may bring.
All I know is,
I was born to be,
and grew to be,
an outcast;
A mindless zombie.

Im often used,
without a clue,
why they did it,
or what I should do.
All I know is,
I was born to be,
and grew to be,
an outcast;
A worthless zombie.

I seldom laugh,
I seldom cry,
I can never choose or decide,
and I can never die,
because I was born to be,
and grew to be,
an outcast;
An emotionless zombie.

I am the creator of the Writer's Guild and i ntoice someone say that it is totally different, well it isn't. We are a guild of both poetryand prose. In fact, we supply more poetry than prose overall.

Anyway, i don't mind so much if there was another, similar club. I would like it if people could post some of their poetry in the Writer's Guild also if you wish for positive criticism and an actual review. You can't improve without it.

Anyway, here is a few of my favourites:

Portrait
An Italian Sonnet
By, K. Myst Williams

Look upon her beautiful face
Her dawn bright smile; contagious and warming
Her grasping presence and aura calming
Her deep lake eyes and capturing embrace
Her gorgeous curves, body, and flowing grace
Her song-like voice so gentle and soothing
Her light touch soft, but heavy and moving
Any one moment, still; enjoy her taste
An impression: kind, capturing and bold
Tightening chest, feeling of unrest, I-too
A focus: hazy, motionless, but told
A rising heat, a diving leap, I-flew
The meaning: heartfelt, loving, and controlled
An open mouth, but yet a sound, I-you

Painting Love… everyday.

He, At Her Bed
By, K. Myst Williams

I kneel alone aside your grace-
Hands pressed tight, none I opt to see;
A gentle pass upon your face;
A heart of mine, a look on thee;
As life itself pass upon its leave.
Through gentle rising, the slight touch;
I join you high, soul join with me,
Whilst my heart seizes all as such.

100-Lined Personal Prayer
Free Verse
By, K. Myst Williams

To those above in strength or numbers,
I make a personal plea;
I ask that you lean patient,
For I am long-winded you will see.
Once upon a dire need –
Or simple pleasure in curiosity –
What is, and what was, was created;
Clean soul-ed, but blind, yet, in harmony.
Forgive me, for I have sinned;
As has my companions in life, spirit and kin.
I wish – nay – pray that the worst of life was not upon being free,
Though, that is only the beginning of what I, your servant, kneels upon thee.

Keep up! For my tongue is quick, I must say –
This prayer is as important to me, as to you; you’ll see.
For every happy there is equal hurt.
Sadly, the latter, is where the heart lies last;
It, too, takes granted is comfort,
But don’t feel bad; at times, it lies in the past;
As has all life which you have cast.
The worst of it has yet to come, I know.
However, it can only be greater, if we don’t bargain – somehow –
We must change, we must conquer;
What love is, and what is not.
Whilst life continues; and I, in the spiral, am caught.

Fear not! I have more then plea,
But leave and fall, not autumn, you see.
I swell and think of those with hurt
And seek but just, but all equalities.
Be free, give will, you say;
I say you’re dolt.
For non suffice that greater good;
And none can display, or even would.
I grasp that you are certain
And stick confident to what is yours,
Maybe even not personal, but pride;
I only ask that we continue and grasp what is yours as compromise.

Think large, think long;
For what I have is a barren too strong.
If I could, I would
Be that soul to sacrifice love for hate,
But you – as stubborn as you are –
Seem to like to puppeteer one’s fate.
Hence I contradict myself once more;
Yet another flaw of faith;
Thus, I spin in the game of hate
As a pawn in one’s forever chess-game-case.

The basis is idol;
The purpose is free;
The language is foreign;
The bargain is tea – and crumpets galore,
For we shall talk until the end is no more.
The top of the floors of the building so high
One sits observing, yet, only with a sigh
As one defies – the basis, the purpose, the language
And the bargain; that so soon has yet to fail;
With each detail, but another fall and rushing, not water, but sail.
To the everlasting utopia that is such a far reach away;
We stay, we pray; guess what: we’re in dismay.
As for end: it’s tall, it’s bark, and not canine you see
But nature, not mother, is as bold as that tree.
The furthest, that mountain, that 20-size key –
Again make at home; take the tea, it’s truly free –
I’m sure with the time you’ve discouraged my tame
Agnostic, religious, it’s all but the same.
This could be considered a conversion, I know,
But don’t get an ego as white as the snow.
For the purpose is everything but outright –
But to be and to go – but to broaden my sights.

Hark! The time so dear is nigh;
I ask that you sustain your tears and not cry.
For though most don’t reach upon your love;
Even I, I swear, recognize that there must be some.
Answer; some call; however, we all see the end;
Humanity is scarred, now injured and not willing to mend.
Stop fooling with our eyes, thoughts and emotions;
Delirious minds are oblivious to your notions,
But dedicated to your claimed words
That is too kind to enlighten of the disturbed.
Think of the hurt; think of the disease;
Know where you’re wrong; know what you’re unwilling to seize.
Change; to wrong; however, if there is a good,
There must be a bad;
Are you sure you want to be that man?
Or a symbol, or spirit – but have a soul to make a stand!

You made life with what you said;
Now all that I ask is - for us - you defend.
Children starve and die
Due to will you gave their predecessors.
Now they pray, but nothing; so cry.
Now of life they are suck with the lesser
Forever and ever it seems.
Your long-term goal would seem unfair,
Because the balance of history doesn’t entail
What is fair or the horrific details.

I will begin to conclude my plea;
This obviously neglects the free –
Unless you can find it in me,
Or another, to carry out your personal deeds –
Does good always triumph? It seems hard to believe,
But then again maybe we all have been deceived.

Ah, I was waiting for this one day. I write poetry all the time, and especially when I feel agitated emotionally about a certain event. Can I join? I'm still editing much of my poetry, but when I finish I will post some here. Here is one that I wrote not to long ago:

Shadow-like Dragon
Shattered windows
Knocked-down doors
Wasted talents and futures
In an unconceived awe.

While we stay out of reach
Breaching for every passage,
how a shadow-like dragon
can build up into mass.

For every step that is taken,
forward to back for best
It is only reached the,
oblivion amongest us all.

May the structures collide
and in all cases,
will destroy what is inside
as an invisible, obscure face.

Its not my best, but I will post more later.

Heres a few more in my boredome. Please comment.

When Asked of Who You Are
Free Verse
By, K. Myst Williams

You look at me;
I look at you.
A smile so infectious;
I soon smile too.
Deep down inside;
Emotions arise;
My furthest desire
Burns deep in me -
My inner fire
Burns deep in me.

You approach me;
I approach you.
You ask with a pause,
‘What is it you think of me too?’
My heart flutters hard;
My emotions rising high;
My body drowned in heat;
I look into your eyes -
With yet the words to speak
I look into your eyes.

I then finally speak,
‘A jury of men, both bachelor and non,
Sat patiently upon their stand,
And then with a call
You approached them,
And stood before in silent demand.
When asked to ponder a verdict -
When asked,
“What is it you think of the external her?”
They would claim, quite simply, “Beautiful.”’

I continue to speak,
‘If that jury had the honor,
And the pleasure to have the chance,
To get to know of whom you are –
In fact, if they were so lucky
To spend hours of their time with you,
And then were asked to ponder a verdict –
When asked,
“What is it you think of the internal her?”
They would claim, quite simply, “Beautiful.”’

I continue to speak once more,
‘And if that jury,
After knowing you both in and out,
And with my jealous pain now settled,
Were asked to ponder once more,
And were asked,
“For whom she is –
Her being as a whole –
And her entire existence,
What is it you think of her?”’

I pause and look upon you;
A gentle calm within my eyes;
We look into each other,
And with a breath I start untied,
‘They would claim, quite simply, “Perfect.”’
And perfect is who you are,
And perfect is who I see,
And perfect is what is claimed,
And perfect you’ll forever be.
I wish I was so lucky to hold perfection in my arms…
… when asked of who you are.

He, Observing the Wing-Eater
Free Verse
By, K. Myst Williams

Those satire eyes defeated and rendered
That wandering mind completed with splendor
For he looks upon his victims without vision
And senses the shadows in prominent decision
A sudden pause jolts the bumps of your skin
While a quiet nod comforts your flush fallen sin
Shoulders strong and a den’s mouth broad
Garments of status and hair stricken blonde
A powerful pose as he lifts his soft face
A striking resemblance, in your dream, of one place
The kindness so subtle, but the anger so thick
The purpose of reason, not but his tick
Adrenaline filled lungs you hold as his lips part
The words seemingly righteous as his bold voice soon starts
‘I am the joy of your dreams, but the breaker of heart
I am the will of your leisure, but the serpent’s soul part
The destroyer of free, the commons only chance,
The reason’s true light, the barren’s last stance;
I both look like an angel, but feel like the beast;
I am the wing-eater, and I have come here to feast.’
Every word vibrates a scratchy dark song
Then he closes his mouth and stares at the ground
His jacket unbuttons one at a time
His hair shields his face as the church bells do chime
The pews are all formal, hand carved like an art
The altar undressed; bare as your will soon departs
The church ceiling powerfully high, the windows elegantly long,
The emotions punctually off, the spirit undoubtedly strong
Your rosary weaves through your fingers with grace
You can’t help but feel your place in this space
You look in his eyes and stand in demand
You capture his grin and claim, ‘I don’t understand.’
He steps towards you as his coat falls like drapes
He leans in so close that you want to run and escape
He whispers so gently, almost comforting and kind,
‘You never will,’ and your fears you do find
A moment of realization of good, evil and purpose
Satan’s allegory has now finally surfaced
A darkness fog falls and layers the church
As you sense all your wrongs and opportunities you search
He slowly steps back and your chill disappears
You witness a miracle but what returns are your fears
Wanting to find that moment or lapse
You are too caught up imagining the wing-eater’s flap
The motive no longer to discover what is true
But to burn up all motives and exploit God’s ridden truth
The burst of the truth is the philosopher’s sire
As wind travels higher and your vocation sets afire
You look upon him piece by piece
Images flash, the souls of the deceased
The purest white creeps, with grace, over his shoulders
The room soon settles and the candles grow colder
A shadow bursts over you in a motion of spring
Like tender roses growing, it is the most beautiful thing
But in that blinding gust of aero force
The candles blow out and the room shutters from the source
They spread even further; an image of God
But then the darkness spreads over like black wings of fog
With one subtle move he lifts into the air
And peers over those dear with a deep scowled stare
Yet another man enters with astonish and shock
For the sights one can see with never size up
The man named father, but without a son of his own
Kneels down at the angel oblivious to disown
Obscure as this is, the angel’s eyes seem so pure
But his actions seem dark without sight of the cure
The angel of darkness, not Satan himself
But a blonde man once said to rarely use his mouth
He seems to spare the priest but floats towards you
You stand strong like a soldier in both ignorance and true
You wish you flew too like he as he strides
He nears and raises his arm as if to confide
He touches your heart and you suddenly feel weak
He leans over your shoulder; some kind of sick freak!
You try to back up, but you are solid in your spot
His wings wrap around you, you feel very distraught
Encased in his beauty, his wings wash with snow
The pure white fades back and you feel a new calm that flows
A heat builds up around your pumping heart from his palm
His words, to your soul, a silent soft feed
He whispers in your ears,
‘Forever shall be the life that you lead.’

OMG! One more! So many posts by me... i love poetry!

Alenio
Surreality Verse
By, K. Myst Williams

Swallowed dark unto itself,
The book of gold leads fall the shelf.
Mix and fade while Tic leads Toc;
Open closed, conscious yet to knock.
Pace afar, card or not;
Fold alone, dagger meets the sign of the cross.

Stream of red, drip and drop;
Wrong beneath, tide lifts center’s top.
Through forward, time ponders stop-
Un-lifted past, all ponders change-
Pumping right left off the stage.
Soon the end as we began,
Where light has done all it can.

Rise and toy, religious void;
Cup an aero, not yet deployed.
For being, time and hand, is will destroyed.
Stare tear, no fast that can avoid;
Tense before grab, tension in the modern sound;
No option, what’s left is what surrounds.

Witness; kind cunning, but crowd-
Perfect wrong, not behind, but loud.
Under stone; feel the heart not yet but found.

The club is reborn. Here is another one of my songs.
Corridors

- Walls come bearing down on all souls.
You can’t turn back, your mind is cold.
Are you bold? Don’t break down to what you’re told.
Will you fold? Look ahead and put things on hold.
It’s not hard to get out of here.
Just, clear you mind of this atmosphere.
Is your end near? Please look down upon your fear.
Does this hurt dear? Your problem could freeze beer.
Chorus- Your mind is a hallway. Where do you go?
There are many doors here, but are they for show?
Too much tension as I can sense your woe.
My legs are fast, nut my mind is slow.
I can’t make up mind, there’s too much to explore.
I realize this feeling, I’ve been here before.
This is a feeling that no one can ignore.
Decisions become less difficult as I tread these corridors.
- This situation is funny as it is quaint.
Trust me, this isn’t the time or place to faint.
Will you take your mind’s bait and unleash your hate?
Is it too late? It’s up to you. Just choose your fate.
You’re approaching the end of the last corner.
Were almost there, our patience isn’t getting any older.
It’s almost over. Show courage like a soldier.
Drag your boulder, you may have reached your corridor.
Chorus- Your mind is a hallway. Where do you go?
There are many doors here, but are they for show?
Too much tension as I can sense your woe.
My legs are fast, nut my mind is slow.
I can’t make up mind, there’s too much to explore.
I realize this feeling, I’ve been here before.
This is a feeling that no one can ignore.
Decisions become less difficult as I tread these corridors.
- This is what they call a “good” state of mind.
Which is quite easy to leave behind.
What you heard was about fear and emotions.
Human traits aren’t as steady as an ocean.
Conquer your fears, and deal with your issues.
Sometimes you have to things just for you.
Well, I’m finished, and what I had to say is done.
Yet there will be many more messages to come.
Chorus- Your mind is a hallway. Where do you go?
There are many doors here, but are they for show?
Too much tension as I can sense your woe.
My legs are fast, nut my mind is slow.
I can’t make up mind, there’s too much to explore.
I realize this feeling, I’ve been here before.
This is a feeling that no one can ignore.
Decisions become less difficult as I tread these corridors.

Here's another

24 Questions

- If I was poor would you even listen to me?
Would you like me, if I was fat and lazy?
If I was dumb would you assume I was dropped on my head as a baby?
If I was wild, would you think I was crazy?
If I was gay would you give me the time of the day?
Would you hate me if I was cool with gays?
If I was blind would help me across a freeway?
If I changed would you think it was a faze?
Chorus- We were brought into this world inquisitive.
We ask to avoid any incentives.
This is why we have consequences.
There’s no use to run or jump fences.
With any problems we usually have none.
If there is, there’s more than one.
I don’t speak of this to make fun.
It’s our job to ask questions.
- Would you hate me if I liked to get high?
Would you miss me if I committed suicide?
Would you kiss me if you knew my future was bright?
Would you detest me if I was always right?
If I disappeared would you look for me?
If I was depressed would you try to make me happy?
If I was dead would I only be a memory?
If I broke my leg would you massage my feet?
Chorus- We were brought into this world inquisitive.
We ask to avoid any incentives.
This is why we have consequences.
There’s no use to run or jump fences.
With any problems we usually have none.
If there is, there’s more than one.
I don’t speak of this to make fun.
It’s our job to ask questions.
- Would you hate me if I used my brain instead of force?
Would you be scared of me if I killed with no remorse?
Would women like me if I resembled their mother?
Would it hurt people if I was just me and no one other?
If you were my teacher, would you fix my mistakes?
If someone killed my friends would I succumb to hate?
If I became unpopular would someone take my place?
If I disappeared would anyone remember my face?
Chorus- We were brought into this world inquisitive.
We ask to avoid any incentives.
This is why we have consequences.
There’s no use to run or jump fences.
With any problems we usually have none.
If there is, there’s more than one.
I don’t speak of this to make fun.
It’s our job to ask questions.

The Sky
Im sitting on earth
and im looking up to the sky
since my birth
ive been down here to cry
I wanna fly
but i cant, i have no wings
but when i smoke
i feel like i do
i float and pull down again
and I am in contact with the sky
I fly, I fly, I fly away
but it always ends and im here
Why, I ask the divine
and they answer me wise
If you fly to high you burn ur wings on the sun
but if you crawl on earth you will cool
therefore we walk and dont fly