1. #1
    Field Marshal buddhapunch09's Avatar
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    Poems from the heart.

    This is a thread to post your own poems!
    I got first:

    I be smoking this joint with my bitch
    All askin her fos a sandwhich
    Sometimes I be gettin ah certain itch
    Switched
    No we be getting baked
    Munchin on mommas cake
    It didn’t taste like no steak
    Because my mom aint no fake

  2. #2
    Als ich mit ner Tasse Tee
    Raus in meinen Garten geh
    Seh ich einen dunklen Schatten
    Leiche tot, es war'n wohl Ratten
    Körperreste andrer Dreck
    Ich war es nicht, ich räums nicht weg.


    Should I translate it? :P

  3. #3
    Field Marshal buddhapunch09's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Sorefang View Post
    Als ich mit ner Tasse Tee
    Raus in meinen Garten geh
    Seh ich einen dunklen Schatten
    Leiche tot, es war'n wohl Ratten
    Körperreste andrer Dreck
    Ich war es nicht, ich räums nicht weg.


    Should I translate it? :P
    Dude.... you cant translate art man... I like it because its about the emotion of a seal living his life to his needs.

  4. #4
    I gave my heart to Susie,
    She threw my heart away.
    I gave my lungs to Kylie
    who smokes a pack a day.

    My liver went to Alice
    Whose blood is mostly beer.
    Hannah the musician
    Took my only decent ear.

    My bowels, they went to Sarah,
    Who has a lot of guts,
    My testicles to Lucy,
    The girl who called me nuts.

    My blood went off in bottles,
    They barrowed out my marrow.
    My bones went to the dog pound,
    My brain went to a sparrow.

    But I gave my heart to Susie.
    She threw it in the bin,
    And now I’m feeling empty,
    Like a saggy sack of skin.

  5. #5
    Quote Originally Posted by buddhapunch09 View Post
    Dude.... you cant translate art man... I like it because its about the emotion of a seal living his life to his needs.
    In reality it is about not wanting to clean up the parts of a dead body in my garden. But you were pretty close.

  6. #6
    My ferret wont stop
    to let me finally sleep
    shes going in the cage

    I love to make poems
    but most poems are enigmas
    so I dont try hard
    "He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you." -Friedrich Nietzsche

  7. #7
    The soft banter of his strings swam across the place. The sound was sweet and slow, still and silent, and yet it shone like a star in the dark. The wind rocked the world to and fro, the waves splayed themselves against the stone, and life stood still. It was all there was.

    In the sky the stars winked at all. One by one, thousands in view they winked below at whoever could see. The wind could hug, the waves could kiss, but only the stars could turn. His sound stopped, and the world grew quiet. It was all there was.

    His strings giggled as he brushed them gently, and yet he made no noise. The long grass held onto his ankles as he walked by, and yet he did not turn. The branches poked and twiddled him as he prodded through, and yet he did not falter. It would always be there; it was all there was.

    He flew away into the night without a word. The wind still blew, the waves still broke, and the world still lived. But his sound had left with him, his sound was all he had. Into the sky with the stars he flew. It was all there was.

    In the sky he lit and he play, in the sky he bright up the day. He flew on his steed, and with his pine box he sprinkled it all with silver bits and metallic clips, which sparkled for some time before falling back down. They would always fall down, he did not know why, and yet he kept on. It was all there was.

    With the stars he played his sound, and he would close his eyes and bite his lip. He bit his lip for the familiar cold, he closed his eyes for the familiar spray. Yet all he felt was the heat of the stars shining too close to him. His sound grew feeble and he did not know why. He could not lose his sound. It was all there was.

    And in the sky he felt alone. And in the dark he felt alone, but he did not know why. His sound was gone, he could not feel the cold and the spray; his fingers grew stiff without the water’s kiss; his grace left with the flowed embrace; but yet he did not know why. The stars still sparkled, but it was all there was.

    He grew sick and he grew frail, he grew toxic and turned pale, his strings snapped and his bow rot, and he fell. He fell from the stars, from the heat, from the beauty, from the sky, into the dark. He fell for as long as anyone had ever fallen, with his bow in hand and his strings a flail, his arms under and his legs over, his hair up and his head down. He fell and hit the ground, where the world awaited patiently; for he was all there was.

    The wind blew, the waves splayed, the grass held. It was all there was, and all there would. And the sound played.
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