Bk-o's Literature [G - PG13; Original] (New - Poem)

Fan-fiction, short stories, screenplays, poems -- anything text-based really belongs here.

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Postby Bk-o » Sun Jan 20, 2008 10:57 pm

I feel jittery... *starts typing*

(I think it sounds better if you read it fast-paced, I dunno, it might just be me)

Exasperation
Next is felt in such subtle sound
Please tell me that I'm wrong
That all this tension wasn't wound
Just some strange sounding song
Killed ourselves in violent rage
Not even caring how
Yet always ask for war to wage
In simply solemn vow
Don't say it's lies or treason still
Can't operate myself
Hell, if I'm dead then where's my will
Left it on the top shelf
So seeing why and caring not
How did the time go by
Such faces cry and heated hot
Sorrows melt and rise up high
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Re: Bk-o's Literature [G - PG13; Original] (Probably emo)

Postby Bk-o » Thu Jan 31, 2008 7:18 pm

Hmm... here's the sonnet I wrote for school and will hand in tomorrow. Today we peer edited in class and this is my final copy.

Vagrant Philosophy
Are you aware of where we are today
Inside this starry scene that marks the sky
This old and barren place that lets decay
Has brought a cold that makes us quake and cry
If Life did not allow our lives to be
Then all this time was wasted all along
And much of what was just pure apathy
Was truly our emotions slow but strong
From what I know and understand will play
Our kind will always ask and wonder why
This world could willingly just be that way
And wander aimlessly within a lie
So don’t go jumping out of your own mind
Without a hope is jumping out so blind
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Postby Tuor » Thu Jan 31, 2008 7:53 pm

What rhyme scheme?
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Postby Bk-o » Thu Jan 31, 2008 7:56 pm

Umm... I think I deviated from the English one...

ababcdcdababee
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Postby Tuor » Thu Jan 31, 2008 8:16 pm

Ya, you didn't follow any pattern that exists, you made your own :P
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Postby Bk-o » Thu Jan 31, 2008 10:43 pm

Hey, so did you! :P
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Postby Tuor » Thu Jan 31, 2008 11:15 pm

No, I didn't.
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Postby Bk-o » Fri Feb 01, 2008 5:09 pm

What do you mean?
Yours is abababab cdcdcd. I've never seen one like that before...


Alright, I just looked it up. Looks like yours is a... Sicilian type rhyme scheme. Now you know my class' program doesn't teach all of the subject at hand. -_-
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Postby Tuor » Fri Feb 01, 2008 6:12 pm

Hehe, yup!
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Bk-o's Literature [G - PG13; Original] (New - Sonnet)

Postby Leon FlameBurst » Fri Feb 15, 2008 3:39 pm

You have really talent to writing sonnets! ^_^
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Postby Bk-o » Sat Feb 23, 2008 5:57 pm

Night Now
If life would weaken only weary souls
Then I could cringe in corners feeling cold
Then they would force us into hellish holes
Where few survive and die if they're so bold
Do not forget
Remain so wise
The sun shall set
Let darkness rise
And horror, horror feel the streets
Creepy crows caw and feast
As a bitter heart boldly beats
Can not contain the beast
And all will suffer
All will die
There is no buffer
Just a lie
And the crying corpses' last sight will be
A simple yet psychotic view
The one who caused this crazed calamity
Why of course, they see it was you
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Re: Bk-o's Literature [G - PG13; Original] (New - Sonnet)

Postby Leon FlameBurst » Sat Feb 23, 2008 6:00 pm

So you chose the other patterns of poetry.
You did a nice job! I like it!
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Postby Tuor » Sun Feb 24, 2008 1:30 am

Nice job, bk
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Postby Bk-o » Sun Feb 24, 2008 1:14 pm

Thanks guys.
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Postby Davidka » Fri Feb 29, 2008 9:07 pm

These are all great! I hope everyone isn't as good as you are! My poetry pales im comparison to these works of greatness. I really liked Kill! and Exasperation. Those seemed, to me, to be the best.
Final Fantasy Forever!!!
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Scarlet Spider: I grew up watching porn.
Stricken: Everyone wants my cock.
Xagan: Do-it-yourself sodomy kits are not good ideas. Don't let your friends talk you into it.

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Postby Bk-o » Thu Mar 13, 2008 11:40 pm

Thanks.

My Own Shining Light!
The sparkles of
Such finite love
Are doomed to die
So should I try?
Is it such a waste
Or is it just a light
To guide my blinded body
As I fear this night?
For if I were to cry
Then all my hopes be dead
These moral eyes are dry
Free from tears of dread
Grasp what joy may come
For none may come my way
Confinement from this endless dawn
Will drive my sun away
So let that bright light come
Steal from me my sorrow
For if my heart can feel so numb
I'll finally feel tomorrow!
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Postby Bk-o » Sat Mar 22, 2008 10:36 pm

The Bruised Bluejay
Catch a creature caged and cried
Confound by cold and quickly tried
By nature are not reasoned things
If clipped indeed are its flying wings
So let it go and watch it see
What its like to be fearfully free
Such life can not be bound by binds
So let it fly until it finds
A home in which it can live its life
So free from shame, so free from strife
If there is a truth here to be learned
It's that a spirit can not be burned
That creature's heart will cry for light
So free it from this endless night
Allow its wings to fly it high
Away from woe, away from why
So let that bird so black and blue
Feel what it's like to feel what's true
That hope can not be torn away
This is why the bird can't stay
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Postby Tuor » Sat Mar 22, 2008 10:43 pm

Great stuff, bk-o
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Bk-o's Literature [G - PG13; Original] (New - Poem)

Postby Bk-o » Sat Apr 05, 2008 12:53 am

OK, so... hmm, how should I start explaining this. OK, this is no joke. For my Health class at school, as a last sort of project thing, we had to make a 6 page paper about anything health related. I decided to do infection. Stupid me, after not even a page of all the information I could find on the subject, I realized this was impossible. So, I did what one of my classmates did, created a narrative... You should also know that there are only 2 other people in my Health class, literally. Well, there's the back story behind this ridiculous... thing I've done.

I basically wrote about the beginning of a super hero. I realized that I was pretty much using a lot of stuff from things like Spiderman, but I honestly don't care. There, if anyone asks, that's a citation. Fair warning, this totally typed up was a bit over 7 pages double spaced. Too long to read, whatever. This is likely my most idiotic bit of narrative I've ever made. Well, here it is. Please look past the incredible cheesy/corny bits of it...

Tales From Darkly Lit Times
Rise of Rilate’s Hero
Chapter 1 – The Infection

An infection is the harmful colonization of a host organism by a foreign, usually micro, species. In an infection, the infecting organism tries to use the host’s body to multiply, often times at the cost of the host. The infecting organism is called a pathogen, which is just a term for a germ or infectious agent. A pathogen is usually seen as a microscopic organism, but it can also be defined to include feces, parasites, fungi, viruses, prions, and viroids. It inhibits normal bodily functions and can lead to chronic wounds, gangrene, loss of an infected limb, and possibly death. A host’s reaction to infection is inflammation. A symbiotic relationship between a parasite and host in which the relationship is beneficial to the parasite but harmful to the host is categorized as parasitism.

The symptoms of a bacterial infection are localized redness, heat, swelling, and pain. An infection that produces puss is always bacterial. Viral infections are systemic and affect many different parts of the body or more than one body system at the same time…

[center]* * *[/center]
It seemed to just be another ordinary day for Brian Belton. The bank seemed so peaceful that day. So normal and routine was everything…

“Hey, Brian.”
“Hey, Jeff.”
“Looks like it’s going to be a nice day today.”

The two clerks greeted each other as they did everyday when they came to work. Little did either of them know that the day was going to be like nothing they had ever expected. When it happened, neither knew what to do at all.

“Make ready the gunmen!” an unseen man with an accent belted as a large 16-wheeled truck stopped right in front of the bank. “Halt!” Pedestrians standing near the site were dumbstruck and curious. “Fire at will!” The side of the truck facing the bank dropped down and an enormous cannon fired a frenzy of cannonballs and grape shots. The entire front side of the bank exploded as debris and glass shattered everywhere. Nobody knew what was happening, but clamored to get to safety. “Yargh! Forward assault, men!” Suddenly dozens of armed men ran out of the truck and into the bank.

“What the Hell is happening, Jeff!”
“I don’t know! I think we’re being attacked… by… BY PIRATES!?” A bizarre man wearing raggedy 18th century clothing and holding a glowing musket stood over the two clerks.
“Grr, where’s the vault, little beetles?” The pirate was wearing an eye patch and his belt was littered with pistols, knives, and stakes, all glowing a strange purple color.
“You calling us beetles?” shouted Brian.
“It’s-it’s right over there!” Jeff pointed towards a large steel door with a wheel handle and code pad.
“Over there, boys! Come on then, get the cannon armed and aimed!”

In few seconds, the cannon fired another shot and the entire vault door was thrust into the vault.
“No! You can’t take any of that!” Brian jumped towards the pirate, but the pirate immediately turned around, whipped out his glowing knife and took a swing at Brian.
“Ahhhhh!” Brian’s right hand was cut. The pain was immeasurable for him. It felt like a cup of acid had been poured onto his hand. The pirate then fiercely kicked Brian into a desk and he passed out. Brian’s hand dropped onto a spilled pool of ink on the ground.
“Brian! Brian! No! Wake up, Brian! Arg-gh-gh…” Jeff looked up at the madness before him. “I never thought something like this would ever happen in Trenton...”

Brian awoke at his small apartment on the seventh floor. He noticed that his hand and head were bandaged and he had terrible aches all over his body.

“Hey, buddy, finally awake? You’ve been out for over a day.”
“I got… hurt?”
“Yeah, back at the bank. The, umm… the pirate attack. One of them cut your hand with a freaky knife and I think it got really infected. I put a ton of disinfectant on it, but it’s still really red, take a look.” Brian pulled some of the bandage off his hand. He saw a very strange red mass of sore, puffy skin.
“Gah, that’s pretty grimy.” He put the bandage back on and then tried to get up, “Ungfh!” Brian settled back down into his bed.
“Yeah, you should probably lie down for a while.” Jeff walked into the next room. Brian pulled back the bandage on his hand again. He noticed an inflamed red line going out for about two inches along his wrist.
“Hey, Jeff, you think I should see a doctor about this infection?” Brian shouted into the next room.
“Nah, the paramedics said you’d be fine! You just need some more meds.” Jeff shouted back. “And you should know...” Jeff hesitated for a few seconds, “everyone else who got hurt by the pirates’ weapons didn’t survive… you were the only one.”
“What!? How-how many?”
Jeff paused, perturbed, for a moment before he entered the room and said morosely, “Twenty.” Brian just sat there shocked.


About a day later, Brian was walking out on the roof of his apartment building and didn’t need to pull back the bandage to see that the red line had extended about another two inches along his forearm. I wonder if this is something fatal.

Suddenly, a giant blue mass jumped down onto the roof. Brian looked at him in astonishment. It was another strange man, dressed in an old, blue 18th century tunic and clothes. He was wearing a tricorne and had a blue-glowing bow and arrows.

“I see you were able to survive the Ghalpilate attack. I suppose it’s because of that infection you got. You never know what’s swimming around in those ink bottles. Nasty stuff it is.” His accent was similar to the pirates’, but much more refined.
“Who… who are you!?”
“Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that since you’re alive, you’re going to have to make a choice. Either bathe in a tub of water and vinegar to kill the infection for good, or allow the infection to spread throughout your body. Once that inflamed line reaches your heart, you won’t die, but it will quickly spread the infection causing a lot of your DNA to mutate. When that happens, you can bathe in as much vinegar as you want, it won’t go away. I bet you’re thinking, ‘why wouldn’t I die if this hit my heart?’ Well, that’s because that stuff making the pirate’s dagger glow was a radioactive element from another world, my world and their world. I don’t know what was in that ink that went up your body, but it saved your life. Oh, and I suppose you should know, you’ll start experiencing some strange things in the next few days. That is, if you don’t take that bath. Well, I should really get going. I know, you probably have a hundred questions for me, but they will have to wait. They will be answered in due time, well, if you let the powers come…”

“Wait! I want to know-” The man quickly jumped away onto another roof and then down into an alley-way. Brian thought about running to look down at where he was going, but decided to leave him alone. He just stood there musing about his week, why this was happening, where this world of the pirates’ and strange man was, how he survived the bank attack, and then he got this irritable itch on his right arm.
That night, Brian picked up his cup of coffee and sat on his couch to watch a baseball game on his television. A few minutes later, without noticing, he picked his cup with his right hand and felt something strange on the cup. He looked at it to see ink all over the handle and his hand. The ink was very hot and started to burn through the cup handle like acid, but his skin remained the way it was, no damage. Brian was confused beyond reason and ripped off his bandage in panic. Right on his palm, ink was seeping out. It was the place he was cut and infected. Brian did not realize that when his hand fell in that pool of ink, a good quart of ink traveled up his arm and into his blood stream.

“Oh my God! What is going on!?” Brian grabbed a cloth and started tying it around his arm. He was able to stop the acidic ink flow. The next day Brian visited a friend at his tech lab. He noticed another few inches were visible with the red line on his arm. The door opened and there was a man wearing strange glasses and a lab coat. His hair was short and uncombed. He was wearing blue gloves and his belt was lined with little gadgets, devices, and containers.

“Hey there, Magnus.”
“Oh, Brian, what’s up?”
“I need to show you something.” The next hour was spent in explanation about everything that had happened to Brian. Afterwards, Brian took off the cloth on his arm and showed Magnus exactly what the ink in his body could do. Brian learned before that he was also able to expel his ink at high velocities by just focusing his mind to do it.
“I’ve never seen anything like this, Brian. It’s truly fascinating.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, and sorry about your wall. I came here wondering if you could help me control this stuff. Everything I put on the wound gets melted down by the ink. I know you probably have a lot more questions for me, but they’ll have to wait.”
“Hmm, you know, a few years ago I worked in a lab that was working with strong alloys. That acidic ink probably won’t be able to burn through it.”
“Great, where is it?” Brian looked hopeful.
“What!? You mean you want me to just get some!? Are you crazy? That stuff is classified material. I can’t just waltz on over and grab some!” Magnus looked anxious.
“Well… You don’t have any here?”
“What?… Oh, yeah, I do. Hold on a second.” Magnus ran into a back room and searched around for about ten minutes. Afterwards, he finally came out with a large piece of blue metal, “Here it is!”

“Awesome, now let’s get to work.” Brian and Magnus spent the rest of the day working on the metal, working on a way to fit it on Brian’s hand and control the ink flow. The first test proved Magnus’ theory correct; the metal could not be melted or burned by the acidic ink. Brian mostly just watched as Magnus configured the alloy’s shape and size. He wanted to figure out the right arrangement to be secured on his friend’s hand. It took until late that night until Magnus was finished. Brian saw it was done and walked over. The piece was of an ovular and thin cog-like shape, and the middle of it was designed to only open when Brian was using his high velocity strike. Magnus explained that he put a chip inside programmed to only react to that and not the normal, slow flow.

“You should also know. I can’t properly put this on your hand without preventing anything from leaking. The only sure-fire way to place it on is to…”
“What? Is to what?”
“Is to seal it into your hand, not just on it, to create and air-tight seal. I’d have to surgically implant it in a way.”
“Hmm… OK, do it.”
“What!? Are you sure? I would be drilling a few holes into your hand.”
“That’s OK. Just do it. You have some anesthetics, right?”
“OK, then, let’s do it.” The surgery was quick and painless for Brian. He wanted to do anything to stop the ink from randomly flowing out to burn everything. They tested the new attachment on the wall again, and it worked perfectly.

“Thanks, Magnus, I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do. That alloy costs a lot of money. Just do me a favor and do some good with that stuff. I know you’re a good guy, and after I heard about that bank attack, I got pretty worried about our quiet little city.”
In the morning, Brian showed Jeff what he received the night before.
“So are you sure the ink won’t just splurge out and completely melt everything?”
“Yeah, I’m positive, Jeff. There’s nothing to worry about.”


A few hours later, Brian was on his roof again. I think I understand why that blue-clothed guy told me all of that. I need to use this power to bring those pirates, rather, Ghalpilates, to justice. Hopefully, I’ll be able to learn more about this. In time.

End of Chapter 1


If I honestly feel like it, I may just continue this... maybe.
Last edited by Bk-o on Tue Aug 26, 2008 10:44 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Postby BlueNex0s » Sat Apr 05, 2008 1:10 am

lol wut. I say, lol wut.

Nice start. More update please? Though, I think it's kinda wierd and funny at the same time. :)
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Re: Bk-o's Literature [G - PG13; Original] (New - Narrative)

Postby Bk-o » Tue Apr 08, 2008 10:58 pm

Ideal Self
Somewhere my spirit is thriving
My heart is a fire alive
All my fear I'm depriving
Of the cries that swarm in this hive
My hopes are simple and shameless
The lakes are crystal and bright
For things forgotten by the fameless
Are weary, wondrous, and white
My thoughts, they are safely secure
In a chest sealed with a lock
If my actions are dull or demure
No one would know lest I talk
So ring out that person I am
See what I know I am not
If I say I just don't give a damn
Please know it's a lie that I bought
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Postby Bk-o » Tue Apr 15, 2008 9:49 pm

I just felt like digging up a couple of the old stuff (like I said on my first post... yeah, "finally", I know) that eventually led me to making this thread... yeah.
---------------------------
(Consider this one a good luck send off before Delen went off to the marines, and hooray because he's back now!)

Over the reasons under me.
Why can't I see the reality?
Only darkness will consume the word.
How can they find what can't be heard?
Where will we walk when winds weep?
Still solemn so silently silks seep,
Like flowing lava from the hottest cap,
Appears ready to explode with just a tap.
Fear hugs me like a warm escape,
I hold it tightly like a hero's cape
Given with intent for inspiration.
Renewed I'll emerge from my transformation.


---------------------------
(This one was a B-day present for Lono.)

With one gust, two leaves wave.
Each breeze of dark air can taint.
Tears shed won't be able to pave
That light road wet with paint.
Rest easy and lift up your face,
Let your sores be soothed and healed.
At times your blood within will race,
You'll feel like your own fate has been sealed.
But stir not with unease and ache,
Live free and jovially for your own sake!


---------------------------
(This was a "wedding" gift for Cog and Sakura, but I think Cog ignored it. :P)

Today, there is no pain.
Allow one thought to include
The only reason to obtain
A partner who has viewed
The world in a better light.
Wonder which face can express
An emotion that feels right
For the time to proclaim, "Yes!"
Your hopes will not wane
For fear shall not intrude
On such a day so sane
And joy shall never be so cued.
Grasp your heart with a tight
Clutch on the truth, not a guess.
The answer is not dark like night,
It's just real to confess
That with time you can train
Your life to move not with feud,
But with graceful flow like rain.
Still, do not stir from my interlude.
Your mind may whirl with intense might,
But there will not require much to assess
Any worry felt in an internal fight.
Just wait for the moment you will touch true success!






(Ok, so the first poem wasn't actually a gift, but I didn't want it to be an oddball among these!)
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Re: Bk-o's Literature [G - PG13; Original] (New - Poem)

Postby Bk-o » Sun Jun 22, 2008 11:03 pm

I hate that this will be my third post in a row, but I want to get something new out.

Around The Spiral Neck
I see a light, orange band
A ring of melted, cooled land
Plastic at its uttermost
Even viral to its host
Yet there it sits in comfort
With no one to cause it hurt
Brightly lit, the sun's feint glow
Will hurdle and duck more so
In times of strife the band will rise
And cast its shadow's heel
If delirious are the wise
Then why not make a deal
The dead will own the band at night
And none will bother them
At day the wakened will not fight
For they will hold the gem
Yet all this whining for this thing
Does not seem like it's true
Are guards there to protect their king
Does trickery ensue
A close look and one might see
The truth as it just might be
The orange piece truly fake
A lie almost real as cake
Just as someone might just find
Plastic pieces in my mind
I fight Muppets with tactility inhibitions on a regular basis.
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Postby Iris » Sun Jun 22, 2008 11:15 pm

Your latest poem has a very nice rhythm to it, to me it doesn't sound stretched.
The rhyming scheme works very well through out the poem and I know at times that trying to find things that rhyme with the previous sentence is somethings hard without making it sound silly.

"A lie almost real as cake", I love the reference!
Overall, I like this poem a lot.
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Postby Bk-o » Tue Jul 29, 2008 2:06 pm

Thought of this last week... don't know why I didn't start writing sooner.

Pretty Face
Everyone cares when the pretty face gets hurt
Everyone cares when the pretty face is full of woe
Everyone cares when the pretty face has something to say
Everyone cares when the pretty face says no

I used to care when the pretty face got hurt
I used to care when the pretty face was full of woe
I used to care when the pretty face said anything
I used to care when the pretty face said no

Though shameless I should feel
I cannot shake the thought
That I myself shall fall
Mix in with what will rot
The times you see their eyes
And when they stare you down
You feel as if you're weak
And knelt before a crown
With lies and strong deceit
Sometimes they might not know
That you are helpless here
For the high can't see low

I try not to care when the pretty face gets hurt
Try not to care when the pretty face says, "Woe is me!"
Try not to care when the pretty face has something to say
Try not to care when the pretty face can't see

I'm standing here with little hope
That I, weak, will not bend
Holding still with careful fear
And praying wounds will mend
But I can see my countless kin
All falling prey to this
Their eyes are drawn to what is shown
Not seeing through their bliss
So try and hold onto your hearts
Don't let your lusts control
For simple men and fools alike
Will all fall in this hole

But fallacies holds true today
Quake in hypocrisy
We the unbold shall stake our claims
Not let our cold hearts be
All will attempt for all the days
To try again, again
Strive for love from quite harsh places
The marks of foolish men
Their minds are warped and just don't care
How far are their last goals
The pretty face is all they want
They cannot see true souls

But I can't say I'm not the same
I know I'm just as much to blame
The truth is that I still feel bad
Seeing the pretty face is sad
I fight Muppets with tactility inhibitions on a regular basis.
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