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Miscarriage and mortification convene languidly in the nooks of my soul.
Quelling my fervour and vitality to perpetuate or persevere.
Significance diluted; only rancid afflictions torment my dull heart.
Pink-rimmed watery eyes bleed tears of forgotten passions,
whilst lacklustre emphatic sympathies deluge my unseasoned psyche
devoid of benevolent intent, diseased by loss.
Gleaning shattered remnants of beatitude from my elapsed precedent
but the jigsaw no longer fits together.
A deep black-lined sullen, morose void accumulates in the puzzle’s centre.
Beckoning, sneering, urging, compelling me to commit the final act
Desperation overlaps reason, powerlessly blinding sense.
The gaze of one million pairs of sightless eyes torches my core.
Stiletto blade reasoning. Slit wrist theory.
Down the road, not across the street.
Cavernous forearm flesh wounds yawn sickeningly wide.
Pain fades as coldness blankets my sallow cadaver.
Coroners report protocol.
Generic depressed teenage suicide #1.
Quelling my fervour and vitality to perpetuate or persevere.
Significance diluted; only rancid afflictions torment my dull heart.
Pink-rimmed watery eyes bleed tears of forgotten passions,
whilst lacklustre emphatic sympathies deluge my unseasoned psyche
devoid of benevolent intent, diseased by loss.
Gleaning shattered remnants of beatitude from my elapsed precedent
but the jigsaw no longer fits together.
A deep black-lined sullen, morose void accumulates in the puzzle’s centre.
Beckoning, sneering, urging, compelling me to commit the final act
Desperation overlaps reason, powerlessly blinding sense.
The gaze of one million pairs of sightless eyes torches my core.
Stiletto blade reasoning. Slit wrist theory.
Down the road, not across the street.
Cavernous forearm flesh wounds yawn sickeningly wide.
Pain fades as coldness blankets my sallow cadaver.
Coroners report protocol.
Generic depressed teenage suicide #1.
Page:
Sounds like you've opened a thesaurus on a random page, pointed at a line and written whichever word you landed on.
Didn’t like it.
Didn’t like it.
Black Glove wrote:
> I find it difficult to judge poetry - usually because I have to
> re-read and re-read in order to get the rhythm, but this had an
> extravagnce of 'wordage' that I liked.
Which, conversely, I disliked.
Every line made it sound like it was some overly descriptive nu-metal song.
i.e; 'Gleaning shattered remnants of beatitude from my elapsed precedent'
> I find it difficult to judge poetry - usually because I have to
> re-read and re-read in order to get the rhythm, but this had an
> extravagnce of 'wordage' that I liked.
Which, conversely, I disliked.
Every line made it sound like it was some overly descriptive nu-metal song.
i.e; 'Gleaning shattered remnants of beatitude from my elapsed precedent'
Paradox: wrote:
> cRaCkHeAd wrote:
> People who commit suicide are weak, sad, no friends, individual,
> selfesh, ignorant, craze.
>
> though it has been said that illiterate people deserve to rot in a
> gutter due to their blatant disregard for literacy rules.
>
> I hope you get cancer you small minded critical little spastic.
I hope I get one, I'll enjoy having one.
> cRaCkHeAd wrote:
> People who commit suicide are weak, sad, no friends, individual,
> selfesh, ignorant, craze.
>
> though it has been said that illiterate people deserve to rot in a
> gutter due to their blatant disregard for literacy rules.
>
> I hope you get cancer you small minded critical little spastic.
I hope I get one, I'll enjoy having one.
Paradox: wrote:
> I hope you get cancer you small minded critical little spastic.
Hmmm, its not often i like to see this sort of tone, but in this case i agree.
> I hope you get cancer you small minded critical little spastic.
Hmmm, its not often i like to see this sort of tone, but in this case i agree.
cRaCkHeAd wrote:
> People who commit suicide are weak, sad, no friends, individual,
> selfesh, ignorant, craze.
though it has been said that illiterate people deserve to rot in a gutter due to their blatant disregard for literacy rules.
I hope you get cancer you small minded critical little spastic.
> People who commit suicide are weak, sad, no friends, individual,
> selfesh, ignorant, craze.
though it has been said that illiterate people deserve to rot in a gutter due to their blatant disregard for literacy rules.
I hope you get cancer you small minded critical little spastic.
People who commit suicide are weak, sad, no friends, individual, selfesh, ignorant, craze.
Dumb poem.
It's not a poem, its the recipie for a good night in.
Hedfix wrote:
> Wait until you get to the 20's - it gets even worse. ;)
*****
The 30's are way better.
Good poem, Paradox.
> Wait until you get to the 20's - it gets even worse. ;)
*****
The 30's are way better.
Good poem, Paradox.
Black Glove wrote:
> I find it difficult to judge poetry - usually because I have to
> re-read and re-read in order to get the rhythm, but this had an
> extravagnce of 'wordage' that I liked.
There was no rhythm here that I was aware of, if you found any it was accidental. I also tried to use a more extravagant lexis here, which seems to have given it a romanticised edge
> I find it difficult to judge poetry - usually because I have to
> re-read and re-read in order to get the rhythm, but this had an
> extravagnce of 'wordage' that I liked.
There was no rhythm here that I was aware of, if you found any it was accidental. I also tried to use a more extravagant lexis here, which seems to have given it a romanticised edge
Page: