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"Short Poem Competition pwnz j00"

Yes, it's that time again. Time for a new poem competition to leave it's fickle seed and begin life. After my amazing victory in the last SCP (where it looked as if I could lose it until the very last second) I've decided to set a new one, uber fast.

So, yeah. Word up, holmes. The topic for this competition is... Passion

Be it passion fruit, passion of the christ, passion with your mum or just simply Buddle's love for the crew, you can write about it. And anything else. At all.

Go go go my gaybys.

Oh, yeah, well done on all the late entries, but today was the finishing date. So yeah.

JFH am teh winnar.

Up front

I've waited 16 years for this
I've made myself so sick
I wish I'd stayed
Asleep today.

But I woke up
I got up and sung, sung
from the bottom of my
enjambed heart
and what did I hear?
I heard you.
Weeping.
'Why is my son gay?'

Flower or Fruit?

A tough choice, oh yes for sure.
Following flavour / following fashion?
But both I can ignore
For the passion of passion,
From a tu'penny whøre

Hey Scenesters

[I]Hey scenesters, hey hey scenesters
I can see your hearttless passion
how you weave a pattern of lies on the dancefloor
looking for all the latest bands though your blind
taking note of the clothes in the nme
one week your in polkadots, next week you're in stripes
you'd sell your soul if it was in style
pity you've not got one.

NOOEESS!!!1!1

Mon 06/06/05
13:15
90 Minutes
AQA
GCSE
Science
Dbl Award
Modular
Paper 1H

Love

[I]Love isn't a cold winters morning, the wind upon the bare trees
Love isn't the look upon a child's face on christmas morning or the embace of two lovers at the height of their passion
Love isn't a Butcher, a banker, for me or for you
Love is Columbus. Love is the Crew.

In response to JFH's piece, Brian (I assume we're talking about scum McBride, obv.) didn't want plastic surgery to be attractive rather than ugly. He wanted to hide who he was - a deserting, Buddle-betraying bast. However, as everyone knows, Buddle knows everything. He knows who you are, and what's inside us all.

In Buddle's own words at the last supper, "I know you will betray me, Brian, and I know you will then have plastic surgery to try and disguise who you are."

In conclusion, 50% of your piece is not relevant to McBride, and it should be titled "A Deserter's Shame".

But other than that I enjoyed it!!!!!!

Djorkaeff's Crimson Tears

I unlock my rusty basement door
to be greeted with the biting cold,
this has become my only home
my life path all but controlled.

And I lay here this black night
to let the serpants devour my soul,
releasing the depths of hate from my body
with hell's piping hot coals.

It is at this moment, senses divide,
I realise my state, the lack of good mind,
and I see one, single Columbus Crew jersey,
fading, fading away into the distance.

It escapes my touch.

The gold is consumed by black, eternal
my fate burned with Satan's scar,
I lay, alone, and weep,
I've become a Metro Star.

Double

Post

Passion fruit, passion fruit,
Feels funky in my boot.
Makes me want to get my gun,
Because the passion fruit, I want to shoot.

But I cannot shoot the fruit
Because my foot is in my boot.
A bullet would surely hurt my foot,
So the passion fruit, I cannot shoot.

How will I get the passion fruit
That is stuck within my fashion boot?
It feels odd, I don't like it,
So the passion fruit I will shoot!

I shoot the fruit inside my boot.
I scream.

I shot my boot and the fruit,
The fruit is now soft since I did shoot.
As is my foot, I cannot walk,
But at least the fruit does not feel funky within my boot.

Passion Fruit

A single bite,
and down you go
into my stomach.

Processed,
By the digestive system,
you are, my lovely

Passion fruit