Poetry, yes?
Alrighty then. A bit of my poems from both this year and last year. Enjoy :D
Untitled
Is it bad that I forgot you existed?
I ask not out of spite or discourtesy
for I am quite serious indeed
Your existence is something apparently not
worth the space in my memory bank
because I saw you and it took a bit
before I could put a name to a face and even recall how
we're associated
it was not one of those often occuring
seconds of blank thought like
when I space out
I truly forgot who you were and I suppose I ought to
apologize
but if you are obviously not worth
my memorization
why say sorry to someone who does not exist?
This one's called Hunger, and I blame my morbid fascination with man-made, medically injected cannibalism for it. >.>
Hunger
Hunger, it calls and you cannot resist
it keens and whines in a persuasive hissing voice
Go feast, it coos and you can feel
its desire to feast on flesh
and sinew
to crunch bones between blood stained teethe
you are held captive to its whims
a mindless puppet you become
a shell
Feed me!, it rages, snarling and unkempt
you are pained as it berates you
The Urge, so volatile and cruel
Its demands are your actions
the muscle, the blood, the meat it craves
feed it, fuel it, never deprave
though it hurts you to stomach such a repulsive meal
you are savage now, a beast now
you cannot sleep, for every time you close your eyes
the copper taste is on your tongue
the flesh you've devoured
it haunts you, those faces- your meals
you cannot resist it. you, a husk, no more than a carapice
can never revolt, deter, escape
it is your sin, your burden alone. with every inhalation
the scent fills your nose, dousing you in the aroma
you cannot control it, this urge, for it controls you. To feast
is its religion and this urge is devout to the highest caliber
can you feel it calling, cajoling, howling, snarling,
jerking your marionette strings around in the oh-so-familiar pattern?
Can you not... feel the hunger?
This next one is called Killer and is more... not-that-weird... a little bit
Killer
Soldier, seasoned warrior, how do you call yourself?
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
is what you have been taught
It is sweet and right to die for your country
Little boy, little man
you've yet to find your name
can you kill, little one?
end a life on demand?
little one, little warrior, can you justify yourself?
justify the pain you cause, the blood you spill
the lives you end?
can you justify yourself, little one, little warrior, good solider?
your leaders are corrupt and you are expendable
you are a pawn, sent to die for the queen and king
where is your god, little warrior? will your savior save you, good soldier?
can your god justify your actions, little one?
will anyone cry for you, little boy, little man?
when you die - never if, death for you is imminent-
will there be prayers for you?
soldier, seasoned warrior, how do you call yourself?
it is truly right and sweet to perish
for the sake of others
especially those cloaked in cowardice
who refuse to fight for themselves?
do you truly wish to die, good soldier
knowing you may never be remembered?
knowing that you may never go down in history?
history is written by the victors after all
and who truly wins, little one?
the country that which can rebuild itself
or the one full of post-traumatic men?
can you really be a killer, little boy?
do you have what it takes?
can you justify your actions, little warrior?
the pain, the bloodshed, the lies, the tears?
can your god save you, little soldier?
can he redeem all your sins?
will anyone cry for you, seasoned warrior?
will they pray for you?
will you perish for the cowardly?
just because it is sweet and right?
will you die, little one?
end your legacy before it takes flight?
my dear soldier, my seasoned warrior, how do you call yourself?
will you be my killer?
I know none of there are particularly long, but I'm not done yet! I'll have more posted as I go through them, and it's up to you lot to decide if you like them or not.
Untitled
Is it bad that I forgot you existed?
I ask not out of spite or discourtesy
for I am quite serious indeed
Your existence is something apparently not
worth the space in my memory bank
because I saw you and it took a bit
before I could put a name to a face and even recall how
we're associated
it was not one of those often occuring
seconds of blank thought like
when I space out
I truly forgot who you were and I suppose I ought to
apologize
but if you are obviously not worth
my memorization
why say sorry to someone who does not exist?
This one's called Hunger, and I blame my morbid fascination with man-made, medically injected cannibalism for it. >.>
Hunger
Hunger, it calls and you cannot resist
it keens and whines in a persuasive hissing voice
Go feast, it coos and you can feel
its desire to feast on flesh
and sinew
to crunch bones between blood stained teethe
you are held captive to its whims
a mindless puppet you become
a shell
Feed me!, it rages, snarling and unkempt
you are pained as it berates you
The Urge, so volatile and cruel
Its demands are your actions
the muscle, the blood, the meat it craves
feed it, fuel it, never deprave
though it hurts you to stomach such a repulsive meal
you are savage now, a beast now
you cannot sleep, for every time you close your eyes
the copper taste is on your tongue
the flesh you've devoured
it haunts you, those faces- your meals
you cannot resist it. you, a husk, no more than a carapice
can never revolt, deter, escape
it is your sin, your burden alone. with every inhalation
the scent fills your nose, dousing you in the aroma
you cannot control it, this urge, for it controls you. To feast
is its religion and this urge is devout to the highest caliber
can you feel it calling, cajoling, howling, snarling,
jerking your marionette strings around in the oh-so-familiar pattern?
Can you not... feel the hunger?
This next one is called Killer and is more... not-that-weird... a little bit
Killer
Soldier, seasoned warrior, how do you call yourself?
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
is what you have been taught
It is sweet and right to die for your country
Little boy, little man
you've yet to find your name
can you kill, little one?
end a life on demand?
little one, little warrior, can you justify yourself?
justify the pain you cause, the blood you spill
the lives you end?
can you justify yourself, little one, little warrior, good solider?
your leaders are corrupt and you are expendable
you are a pawn, sent to die for the queen and king
where is your god, little warrior? will your savior save you, good soldier?
can your god justify your actions, little one?
will anyone cry for you, little boy, little man?
when you die - never if, death for you is imminent-
will there be prayers for you?
soldier, seasoned warrior, how do you call yourself?
it is truly right and sweet to perish
for the sake of others
especially those cloaked in cowardice
who refuse to fight for themselves?
do you truly wish to die, good soldier
knowing you may never be remembered?
knowing that you may never go down in history?
history is written by the victors after all
and who truly wins, little one?
the country that which can rebuild itself
or the one full of post-traumatic men?
can you really be a killer, little boy?
do you have what it takes?
can you justify your actions, little warrior?
the pain, the bloodshed, the lies, the tears?
can your god save you, little soldier?
can he redeem all your sins?
will anyone cry for you, seasoned warrior?
will they pray for you?
will you perish for the cowardly?
just because it is sweet and right?
will you die, little one?
end your legacy before it takes flight?
my dear soldier, my seasoned warrior, how do you call yourself?
will you be my killer?
I know none of there are particularly long, but I'm not done yet! I'll have more posted as I go through them, and it's up to you lot to decide if you like them or not.