Everything withers, everything fades when no one sees It, It eats up the days Nothing left to quench It, darkness fell so fast It awaits, aint gonna quit till it has killed the last
The hopes died, all was wasted the truth revealed, though never tasted As blood was spilled by those who loved none the trails of time knew It was not gone
It saw the sun set and the night fall a new dawn came, tried to save it all The ones who fought It fell and died as Its chaos left them terrified
A creature never seen before took down the world, took down its Core It grabbed the sun, It tore it down It howled and threw it to the ground
Things were twisted, lives were spent It had just started, so on It went
The rigid horrors, all the fears those few alive cried frightened tears It raged in silence, thrashing, breaking a new world order - something awaking?
From deep within an ancient cave a Dragon rose from its old grave The Dragon spread its wings in silence watching, thinking, planning vengeance
To find It, who destroyed the dawn who slaughtered lights and ate their spawn
Must be a year and a half old. I know it's bad. More to come...
Re: That last poem, interestingly, were that to appear in another forum or say, Livejournal, you would have most likely provoked a huge flurry of complaints from the self-harm and body modification communities because you would paradoxically touch a nerve.
I'm making this comment because it's a feature of social groups where the bonding factor is something deeply personal and sensitive...any expression is confronting and scrutinised with a hostile lens. This above piece is particularly dangerous because of the strong reference to suicide, which can also potentially provoke a bunch of irrational reactions.
This presents quite the headache to community moderators and administrators, depending on the social climate. Me, I personally think there's nothing wrong with a bit of emotional honesty (or melodrama or angst, depending on how you want to put it), since suppression seems to me counterproductive.
A huge flurry of complaints? Interesting. Well, back then, I figured it might help preventing me from actually doing it if I wrote about it instead... I'm not sure I understand what your saying (somehow I always avoid being shunned/flamed for my work), but having an arm covered with cut marks does rule out any mockery of the group~
*rereads your post a few times*
Last paragraph: unless someone reports it as being offensive there's no rule breaking, right?
Last paragraph: unless someone reports it as being offensive there's no rule breaking, right?
That's the take home message here! I was basically ruminating out loud over whether the subject matter violates any site policy, and I don't think so.
Well, back then, I figured it might help preventing me from actually doing it if I wrote about it instead...
I like to say sharing is caring at this point, given that by writing it and posting publicly, you'll find other people who have similar thoughts and will hopefully come forth...I actually agree that it's more likely to be a preventative rather than a precipitating factor, which may appear counterintuitive but I think it can be applied to a whole lot of other things.
And that's why I said paradoxically in the post above...because while I think writing about this is a good thing in some places (probably not here) the reaction you'd get may possibly indicate otherwise!
lol, you spread faster than my anthemia virus/goliath syndrome! These are nice, and I would give constructive criticism if it wasn't for the fact that I can't write poems for crap.
And that's why I said paradoxically in the post above...because while I think writing about this is a good thing in some places (probably not here) the reaction you'd get may possibly indicate otherwise!
I'm looking forward to it. *devilish little smirk*
@thoad: *infests your brain with mazzelhs*
@steevo15: It tends to be negative things that floats into kmy poetry because I have less of a reason to find a channel for my happy thoughts. And when I want to, they usually end up as drawings, because I somehow don't see the point in writing it down... Misery can be put through cleaner in writing (either people don't get it, or think it's something else when I draw it out), while happiness works better visually. The short answer to 'why so sad', is that I was depressed. I managed to use some of the negative energy from my depression to create something rather than destroy it.
Eck, sorry for double posting, but since I'm removing this from my About, I might as well throw it up here instead.
The horror Like the instincts screaming I should get away from you Flee before you drag me down with you Like everything other than my love for you yelling about the pain The passion seeking a new master But no one it wants to be with wants to be with it For the only one it truly wants to be with is you And you were the one who sent it away Like the starving puppy Taking more responsibility than it can carry Threatening to break its wings Fearing the possibility of falling
I wish you would embrace it Take care of it Make it whole again But it's too much for you And it knows it
Fighting instincts, emotions, sense... I hate how this love is
No rhymes, no meter, just written to get something off my chest. I wonder if I'd even be able to write a happy poem...
I was once.......a while ago. I wrote some poetry, but burned it all once i got out of the god awfull fase of my life.
I cling on to mine. Reminds me of how I felt, but it can actually be really nice... My memory is generally really bad, so being reminded of feelings and events by looking at/reading my old artwork is really nice.
Why didn't you enter any of the poetry contests? or did you?
For the 'epic poem' theme: Once again, returning home Once again, my body wrecked Let me tell you the tale, my dear Of the Bridge of Peace that failed its purpose
There were two kingdoms, mighty as can be On either side of a mighty canyon And each were ruled by a mighty king Each of their mights based on tyranny
The people of each of the lands Were nothing to the Kings, but food Food for the dragons the soldiers rode Food for the war they kept ongoing
The great canyon between the kingdoms Was were every body got thrown Each slain dragon as well as its rider And every pawn slain for the dragon
The war between them had continued Through forty-seven generations And now the Divines had had enough So they called on me once again
I went to the world of the two kingdoms I built bridge between the halves Hoping the two people would rise together Causing a riot, making the kingdoms fall
I was a fool, was I not, my dear? Thinking the slaves could work together thus... Instead the riders and guards gained a new battleground And my beautiful bridge was painted crimson
I roared my anger to their world Despite knowing the Divines would punish me As you know, I may not interact directly Only use the sky and ground to guide
I threw myself into the battle Killing more than would have died The kings were astonished, and so was the crowd No such creature as me had been seen before
But slaying the armies and slaying the kings... What good did this do? Yes, the war was ended Yes, the pawns were no longer mere fodder
But the red bridge, build to be a Bridge of Peace Will forever be known in their land as the Bridge of Death And no person dare cross it None of the pawns will set foot on it
So neither of the kingdoms exists anymore But for what good were they destroyed? One fear was merely replaced by another And I was tortured for my error
A century has passed since then, my dear I return now from the chambers of pain To find you gone, your life expired Why did the Divines chose a fool to do their biding...
The twirling roots of the withered Tree contracted as if they were in pain. The stem cracked, the inside of the Tree dissolved into the same grayness the roots were made of. It shattered. It moved. The gray mass hang silent above the Sea of Life for a few seconds, then reshaped itself to a tiny black orb. Recreating eons. Re-evolving worlds. Starting from scratch - again.
A tower stretching between ground and sky. A life hatching below it. A playful creature...
She sat down. *So a world became. Why.* The blue hawk landed on her shoulder. >Because you told it to.< Her gaze slid over the silent mass of clouds she had just been playing with. *But... It seems so empty.* >Just wait. Life will taint it soon.< *Mhm...* Her eye colour shifted to a pale blue as she gazed down the incredible length of the tower. *Down there... It has already started.*
... If I just post a story pr. day until I have no more, you won't notice I secretly bump this, right?...
I've gotten critique on this one before. I know there's stuff that could be improved. And I know I play too much with italics.
.........ow...... A feeling struck the being, it's first feeling ever. It was pain, but as soon as the mind started functioning it decided that it was normal. Being was experiencing this, the only feeling. Then something broke into the feeling and disturbed it. It only hit two small bits of the feeling lump, but the mind focused on this new experience. It was a faint sound, the mind concluded, still thinking without words. Shrieks... The being's awareness grew. Apparently it resided in a large chunk of substance that was able to feel pain. The pain sank into it from - behind, then flowed into it, up into a bulb where the shrieks entered from both sides, and in other directions too... It faded in the four attachments to the main chunk. A new thing shaped in it's perceptions. All had been black, but now, close to where the shrieks entered, a red lit up. It was just another source of pain, a new kind, but still only pain. The being was intrigued, and when the red started to pulse the pain subsided. What was that? A feeling, not of pain... It was like a rhythmical throbbing, deep inside the chunk... Had it been there before, hidden by the pain? Questions began to shape in the consciousness of the being. Why? The throbbing grew in the consciousness of the being. It was a strong, fast pulse. Somehow the feeling of the pulse spread through the pain, all the way out in the extensions of the chunk, and into the appendages of the extensions as well... Five there was, five little knots of feeling the pulse at the end of each extension. One of them twitched when the being became aware of their existence. Oh? So... It's possible to - move? The being tried again. The red near the shrieks parted, an almost black gray replacing it. It tried again. The red closed over the gray. The gray wasn't part of - my body? The awareness still had no words, but the feeling of being in a substance that wasn't part of itself gave it the concept of having it's own. My own body. The gray beyond my red is the world. The world causes me pain? The being asked itself this without shaping the words. Then it asked itself again, and the words started falling into the thoughts. Why am I?... Suddenly something happened. A cold spread from somewhere beneath - my head. It sank into my body, the feeling of the foreign cool substance that surrounded me spread inside me. I pushed it back out. A moment later it sank back in, deeper this time. I pushed it back out again. And again it sank back in. Could this not be stopped? The being had begun to breathe the liquid in which it existed. After the first five breaths it accepted this, as it wasn't a source of pain, but merely a new constant - like the pulse which it no longer payed attention to. It just continued. The pain in my back was growing fainter... Or had I just stopped realizing it was there, like I had that pounding? I could still feel the throbbing, yes, there it was, but only when I focused... Will I stop being when I stop feeling? Feeling is all there is, how could I possibly stop feeling? The being clutched it's body - legs pressing against body and arms, arms wrapped around knees and head bent down between them. It had a clear image of its body now. But there was nothing except its body and the substance, the fluid it hung in? The source of the pain? My movement had sent a strong wave of pain through me, it had burned into my back ... What was it? Why was it there? I grasped the substance. How I found the muscles in my hand and the way to control them - I don't know. The movement the creature made was registered. The pain in his back intensified as the tube feeding him let go off his flesh. He sank. 'Pain!' A clearly shaped word. The red grew sharper as the pain rocked through my body, and somehow the word wanted to get out... I didn't understand. But being was a constantly changing experience, and I could not affect my surroundings. As he sank towards the bottom of the thing in which he was, a stream in the liquid started to pull. Pressure soon gripped him all over, his fetaly curled up body being stretched out for the very first time. He shrieked into the fluid without understanding, without knowing. All the liquid in his lungs was pressed out in his scream. 'My entire body... Being pushed from all sides... Please let it stop...' He gasped air, his first real, deep breath. Then he choked. He lay in a puddle of slimy liquid, his pulse racing... His mind felt numb as the pain slowly subsided. The red in his vision shattered when he blinked. My - eyes saw gray, lighter than the one earlier... And my eyes won't close! The world in front of him was a mess of blurry gray shapes and screams that seemed to want to tear his ears off... Why did it sound so much louder now? Why was this strange new surrounding substance so much colder to breathe? He staggered to his feet without realizing that he did so - his body just moved instinctively. His hair clung to his head, it was sticky and full of the liquid... He didn't notice, though. All his mind perceived was painful sound and blurry gray - for a second red again, then more gray. It was dark. Why was he here?
