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I was reading the other day, and believe Walt Whitman was one of the first to write poetry without a standard form. I thought it was an interesting note, that all others before had followed a guideline in which to express themselves.

I am a slave to rhyme, and I have such a difficult time changing this raving habit.

Lol just re-read that last sentence I'll leave it for an example of my nasty poetry :cool:

I am a slave,
to rhyme,
So difficult a time,
Changing,
My ravings,
A habit not worth saving.
 

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"Swallowed my Heart"

Behind your words,
I see something no superhuman comprehends
I'm almost shocked you think you're one of 'us'
When your depth knows no ends
The words limit the raw distinction
But they egg me on for more
To hold and be held by you
To explore further in your warmth
When you bestow your love onto me
I gush over where it comes from
Because you are the realest of the real
You turn their voices numb
I often wonder what I might have done
To earn someone like you
Who would've thought, through all the fears of lies,
I'd actually see the truth?

Not sure what tomorrow brings
Still, I think you were made for me
I've never been more sure of destiny
I love you, desperately.

Thank you for loving me.
 

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Binder’s book

The frayed edges
Clean lines
Dreamer’s scape
Oh, the rhymes!
Visions outlasting
Created escape
Time is near
I think I’m ready
Plan, Produce, and Shape!
 

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Discussion Starter #44
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I was reading the other day, and believe Walt Whitman was one of the first to write poetry without a standard form. I thought it was an interesting note, that all others before had followed a guideline in which to express themselves.

I am a slave to rhyme, and I have such a difficult time changing this raving habit.

Lol just re-read that last sentence I'll leave it for an example of my nasty poetry :cool:

I am a slave,
to rhyme,
So difficult a time,
Changing,
My ravings,
A habit not worth saving.
Lol really?
I hate following a format. It makes me feel restricted.
I do want to challenge myself to follow a format just once.
 
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Lol really?
I hate following a format. It makes me feel restricted.
I do want to challenge myself to follow a format just once.
When I'm in a fun or care free mood I can't help but rhyme, it is nice to my ear. It's a quick fix that keeps my mind busy without probing to far inside. When writing about a deeper emotion I would be more inclined to be from the cuff, and have a more off best rythym because that's how things feel to me.

The unstylized versions of poetry are too dependent on smart writing, and I usually just want a way to entertain myself and keep my mind busy. When I read poetry here, or elsewhere, I enjoy the rhyming poetry more often. Probably because it's simpler, and like a pizza. You can't mess up pizza.

Nonformatted poetry is like dinner, some things I craves seconds for, and some plates are left for the dogs. But when the writing is superb, it's a feast.
 

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i finally got over my fear of writing poetry/personal thoughts and made a tumblr blog for that. you can check it out if you want to.

but here's few of my favorites i posted:
--------

self love

it is hard
to love yourself deeply.

not just a bit,
not in a way that resembles liking,
but actual radiating love
that kills anxiety,
that stops you from frowning in front of a mirror
and lets you feel everything without embarrassment.

the kind of love that doesnt look
wrong or selfish,
because
it isnt.
--------

why won’t they stay

i want to create but
i’m not very ambitious.
there are worlds and colors in me
screaming for someone to help them flee,
to be free.

but that someone only comes every seven years.
and they never stay.
--------

no name

my bones are fragile
my joints weep at the lightest pressure
there is no end to the pain
yet it all feels so light

but my heart, my veins,
they scream nonstop
maybe your name, maybe for god
i can never be sure
maybe i should just open them up
to get a good look,
a good listening of my deepest desires

hands stained in blood i look at my chest with uncertainty,
for it seems there was no screaming after all

the only noise is as quiet as my body,
but just a tad more close to breaking
i heard only a faint whisper, it was asking for help
--------

thank you for reading!
 

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Aubade For A Missing Body

I blink, and remember only
the shape of your skin. I'm holding up
my hand to show you the emptiness
I perpetually carry. The screen refuses
to waver, your eyes are glass
behind glass, and I cannot break
through the webcam. You thumb your lips
before speaking. When you come back
from your trip, you will drop your baggage
on the living room floor. You will charge
your cell phone the way you stir the air
around me – suddenly, discreetly.
Under my eyelids, I envisage

the tangle of your fingers around
a chain - the one I mailed you:
a steel heart pressed against
your chest. I climb telephone poles
as if they were trees: splinters
embed my weathered hands
as I reach for raw wire
& I feel I'm getting closer
to the source. I'm convinced
when I find you, your voice, calling
I can finally remember my dreams.
How many oceans have I swallowed
to find the right words?

Soon I will sprout a mouth. My tongue
is made of ink, dark and still. A month
ago you would have picked up the phone
to find the earpiece bleeding. Silence
forms a pulse, if I forget
to listen long enough: forget,
and the memories will fall
inside you like moonlight
into a well. They will erupt
into black, lengthy strands
framing your face, barely
outside your field of vision.

You will call
me and wonder how
much I truly miss you.
You will absorb my words
the way candles
swallow darkness.
 

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"Flavor"

Like gospel to a choir
Ignite your vicious fire
Take the blame in the worst way
The need is so dire
For a second or forever
Same basis nonetheless
Some people go their whole shit lives
Without discovering their best
But who am I
Who am I to judge
You can find their names everywhere
And mine's buried in mud
So I'm a critic with s'um to savor
Whenever you'd like
Tape recorder taped behind my mouth
I ride it like a bike
I don't know,
I figured that if I could preach aloud
I could somehow finally force myself
To be part of the sound
 

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I'M GONNA WRITE ONE ON THE SPOT RIGHT NOW to express this BS mfkn anxiety that's destroying me from the inside out:

I can't hear,
I can't see
Sick of anxiety

I can't breathe
I can't smile
Please go just for a while

I feel nauseous
Want to puke
Why am I such a kook?

I feel shakey
Head is hot
Happy I am not

I feel fear
No rationality
All I want is sanity

I feel skinny
Oh so thin
And empty from within

I feel dizzy
I could faint
Need mental restraint

I feel weak
I can't laugh
I've truly had enough

I feel death
I can't live
If this is all I'll give

I can't die
Want to recover
I haven't yet met my lover...

I feel sad
Misunderstood
Please tell me, is there good?

I ask God
when I pray
Please help me the next day...
 

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Everyone's poetry here is so good! :D I posted this poem on another thread for reasons, and then thought "why not post it here?". So here it is! (I just wrote it today so it's probably going to be edited 527 times...)

Eternal Optimist

Call me the eternal optimist

I've been down to hell and I've been up to heaven

I look at the world in layers of color

Eyes so bright that the Sun smiles at me

Everyone thinks that I live in a dream

If only you knew truth

About how it's either drown in pain or

Drown in pleasure that I seek

When time is too fast and life too short

Everything in this world is as clear as day to me

Horror, beauty, blood, and smiles

They all cascade on my heart in waterfalls

I'd rather be an eternal optimist*

Than a cynic loser

I could be smoking my life away in some dark corner

But that can't help me keep the heavy thoughts away

I've choked on my tears and gotten drunk off of laughter

Guilty of being an eccedentesiast

But if wanting to survive is such a crime

Hang me from the gallows

I'll smirk at you while the blood pours down

If a human is clean of regret*

Then they lived well their lies

If a human is filled with regret

Then they died with someone on their mind


I wish this was all a dream

I'll wake up and everything will be gone

But what if this dream is the best we got?

What's sad and ironic about this world*

Is that the unhappiest people

Are the ones who know the most

An idiot gets drunk to have a wild night

A genius gets drunk to stop their mind


I once had a doctor look into my eyes

He told me to stop thinking or I'm gonna die

With a sardonic grin on my lips I said,

"I've already tried when it's 10 past 4

The liquor and the drugs can't help much more

Hope in the future keeps me going

But my mind will truly never stop running

It notices the good the bad and the ugly*

But I still face the day with honest hope

I guess I can't do much except pray

But I won't kneel to the universe and I won't kneel to man

Call me an eternal optimist, but my dreams are about...

...Being happy"
 

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Every now and then I get in these moods where the fact that I do deep down see life as a game occupies most of my thoughts, during which time I'd never help or hurt anyone. And my own indifference scares me more than any harm I would do otherwise (if I felt compelled,) just because I start thinking it would be just as beneficial/useless to break everything as it would be to improve it, potentially:
-------

"Chipped Off”

Don't try to find me in my eyes
Right now I can only see through you
You're like a glass with nothing in it;
You exist to show what's behind you.
And when I'm spacing in my mind
Just cross on over to the side
My pace is steady like a Walker's
What won’t hide will have to die.
I move my piece across the board
Dice says to wield or wrap the sword
It all depends now on the day
I give no fucks now either way.
Run up on you in the night
Leave you breathing, not knowing why.
I see you shaking in your mental
Scared for what might come next time
Chipped off the age-old ice block
As dry as mothers before me
Their blood rushes through my sore veins
Never once leaving me in peace.

-------

"Choked"

He won't make friends with the enemy who threatens me
He won't play nice, but especially not with property
If you hit, he knows that's not in his warrantee
So he’ll shoot before you can force your way for free

There’s a chamber you can enter which I can never leave
Forced to watch you watch me while he keeps the grip obscene
Tears pour down my sunken cheeks just to keep me clean
Nothing I can say that translates to a wicked fiend

Like a shiner from the moshpit or whatever comes after
I'm held over a rafter while he summons the rapture
Palms so heated, sweaty; neck feels permanently heavy
My stomach growling reminds me food disputes his beliefs

When and if I wake up,
I'll know there’s a pensive God
Crooning with concern and fear
Until the next time, he’ll steer.
 

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The more I see,
The less clearly I think,
The more cautious I am,
The more fire I drink.

Saw some of the world
Then forgot who I was
Now I'm back and anew
Think I'll stay, for the cause.
 

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"Lost Souls"

You look confused
I know because I am, too.
You look like you've been in denial
And are now searching for truth.
You're like a child standing up to kids
Much bigger than you
Trying your best to play pretend
But you just wish they would change route.

You look like you're tired of fighting
And like you're ready to give in
It's almost easier to let them punch
Than put in time to "win."
It's not that you know you're above that
Or that you would like to be
It's that you know you only have your mind.
And they're a separate entity.

You look like you need something real
But aren't sure if that thing exists
I can't say if it does or not
But I live like I hope it is.
 

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too bad

Rainy day, rainy day
Take my melancholic feelings down that drain
That I stepped over while walking to the same old cafe
Coffee is my medicine and my gateway drug
It promises wakefulness in the daylight hours
When the night does nothing to make me tired
I want today to matter, I want today to end
I want today to be good, Tomorrow will not be better
Maybe if I had a reason to be happy with myself
I wouldn't feel guilty when I actually feel good

Sent from my SM-N910T using Tapatalk
 

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"It's Only Then"

How is it only then
That I long for my solitude
It always lasts about a day
Until I change my attitude

Why is it only then
When I'm not all on my own
That I really start to feel
As if I'm all on my own

Been telling myself for years
That I don't know what I need
I've been confusing desires
Using what's in front of me

For once, I'll get it right
That's what I say every time.
 

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Taco Bell

Taco Bell, Taco Bell,
why did you eat my Taco Bell?
For you only eat it when you're drunk,
not when your sober like a stump!
Taco Bell, oh Taco Bell,
if only you were able to cast your spell.
 

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I will escape and find you

Hey, hey! English is not my native language and I am not used to write this stuff in English, so it would be cool to get some feedback! :proud:

He was the only one who cried surrounded by sturdy, fake, blue light
and solely his room shined with long lost color during a cool night.
Loneliness was hurting him inside, anger urging him to fight.
His warm hands that were useless became swords, transforming into might.
In vain, he was searching the whole time for friendship, love, compassion.
The people were working their whole lives. These things became out of fashion.
No end in sight. It was time to leave the clockwork and oppression
an act of this kind with passion in mind was seen as transgression.
Machines working with obsession in the sky were keeping this place
guarded. Moony knight severed all his ties which left tears in his face
not to leave any trace, escaping this robotic colony.
Feeling this pain was dearer to him than gnawing monotony.
The gates to freedom were blocked by two gigantic battle-mechs,
quickly eliminated by two energetic blade attacks.
Precise cuts on the weak spots were required. Now near to his dream
in front of him the door, while behind him he was hearing this scream.
Out of the burning mech crawled an old friend begging for him to stay
but he left, followed by gunfire, regretting nothing today.
Until first morning dawn’s lights, he travelled through wasteland and desert,
only saw lifelessness, save a red flower, pleasant yet weathered.
“Are you the last life in this dying world?”, his face was of water,
he asked, “how can you keep on living in this place with no lover?”
Feeling detached, his heart seeking for rest, with his eyes bleeding he prayed
skywards, kneeing in sand: “Please, before my heart dies lead me away!”


To be continued...
 
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