Viewing Thread:
"Poetry corner"

The idea behind this place is that instead of starting your own thread with one poem they can all go in here instead.
Here is then, a place for your all your word's of beauty, anger, love, disappointment and anything else you care to add.

some times i feel really low,
so put on a smile just for show
and not one person would know.

that inside i'm unhappy,
from this place i'd like to flee
and be anyone but me.

at times i fall from my summit,
to the depths i do plummit
and my buttocks the ground does hit.

i don't give in and die.
however i do have to cry,
whilst the period does pass by.

but then comes an end
and into euphoria i ascend
only for it to happen all over again.

Speed and Excitement

Moving through the night
Like a
TRAIN

Running through the fields
Like a
WILD INSANE HORSE

Speeding down the motorway
Like a
MOPED

This thread,
like a moped
Moves quickly
Yet steadily
Into
The abyss

"Peni"

Sometimes floppy,
sometimes Hard.
Although all the time,
Arousing.

loris

The slenderest of them all
Swinging through the undergrowth
Like a power ranger
On morphine

It makes many mistakes
But revitalises the spoon
With necessary contact
Of a jumbert

"Nameless"

The Ring is powerful,
Powerful like a cat's
Fart.
Although possibly more powerful.
No one has performed a fair test
on the Matter.

So Use the Ring, just this
Once. Although more than once may be needed.
Twice is acceptable, although not
Desireable.
Once is a good many tiems to use the
Ring, although some would argue
Otherwise.

The night was cold
and the moon was bright

The house was empty
all darkness, no light

The door creaked open
and in crept the shadow

He pulled out his gun
so small, slim and narrow

He aimed it at Tommy
as he slept in the chair

Then Tommy woke up
and shouted 'Who's there?'

But the shadow squeezed the trigger
and the bullet screamed out

It hit Tommy's temple
and Tommy hit the ground

He stood ove Tommy
all bloody and wrecked
just another victim
just another one dead

[I]Gerard Mitchell

Phobias

There are many
You know

But not one of Forest Fan
How weird
Yet

HE SINS

WHy ruin it?

WHy destroy the genius?
WHy make a hash
OF a genuinely
THorough
ANd clever
THread
OF poems

POems of genius
POems of thought
POems of life experience
POems of philosophy
POems of meaning

TOuch my anus.

The Poem Formerly Known As Dave

Ee divnae ken whit yer dain
Dave
Yer pure mental
Ya bas

Oo'r their is yer wee baw bag
brother
ey's lonely
bit fir the flies

Arm

You like backpacks?
Niké backpacks?
If so then fill out my
Questionaire.

I am a Student;
a student of
Arts. Specifically, a student in the
Art of
Backpacks.

Could this be something?
Or nothing?
Nothing?
I agree with nothing.
Nothing at all?
If so, then feel my
Testicles.