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The Mikachu
Captain

PostPosted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 6:57 pm


Yay poems!
Answer this people: What inspiries you?

My answer: Nature, my feelings and emotions, pictures, music, and other people's creations.
And yeah... Every time I wanna write a poem, I can never get any inspiration... One day (Maybe Saturday since I'll be home alone all day) I'll lock myself in my room and blast the stereo. Or I'll watch a moive or something. Then I'll write something...
It's strange. My best poems are ones that are written when I'm depressed. I'm not good at happy writing.... I guess this is what I get for being emo. But I never chose to be emo, I just... AM!
PostPosted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 4:55 pm


Not much for poems.
On occasion when I feel like one I'll jot some lines down in no particular order.
Meh, I guess my inspiration would come from nature. Or paintings of landscapes.

Kirisali
Crew


The Mikachu
Captain

PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 8:27 pm


One swear word. Partially *'d. Overall a very strong, angry poem. There's a weird story behind it. Originally a love triangle gone wrong. Like something out of a manga. xD It just popped into my head and I wrote it down. Kinda short, yeah. It's also in my journal. And on my dA

Shut Up, Just Quit
Written February 20th, 2007


I don't care if you hate me.
I'll deal with my own sh*t!
Just get outta my head.
Shut up, just quit.

I don't care about you anymore,
I don't see why I ever did.
That way you used me, crushed me.
I ain't no little kid.
To all those people trying to help,
Just leave it.
Don't bother.
Like I give a sh*t!

Yeah, I know you're scared,
I can see it in your eyes.
That tremble in your silent voice,
I heard through every lie.
I know what you're thinking,
It's exactly what I said.
"I hate you, I hate you.
Just get outta my head!"

I'm making my own choice,
So you listen good.
I'm forgetting about it all,
It's exactly what I should.
Quiet, don't say a word,
'Cause I'm not gonna listen.
Don't assume I'll regret this,
Over you, my eyes won't glisten.

I don't care if you hate me.
I'll deal with my own sh*t!
Just get outta my head.
Shut up, just quit.
PostPosted: Sat Mar 15, 2008 2:57 pm



Hmm. So I haven't written a poem in over a year, eh?
Well, here goes:

I Can See Through Your Lies

Your unbreakable dreams
Your heartfelt laughs
Your funny jokes
Your perfect life
I can see through your lies

Your dreams don’t mean a thing
The eyes don’t fool
Don’t look now ‘cause
Nothing’s perfect
I can see through your lies

You tear at the seams so
Fragile, so lost
The jokes are bad
No one’s laughing
I can see through your lies

You put on that smile
Looking through the
Dirty mirror
No need to hide
I can see through your lies

So I saw you today
You looked so sad
Even with that
Screwed up smile
I can see through your lies

But please stop your crying
It kills me to
Watch you falling
I want to help
I can see through your lies

I ask if you’re okay
And you just stare
With those brown eyes
Say not a word
I can see through your lies

I know how you’re feeling
I understand
I do because
I’m just like you

And I can see through your lies.

The Mikachu
Captain


[Comic.Explosion]

Gracious Guildswoman

PostPosted: Mon Jul 21, 2008 9:32 am


City Child
I had stopped, this night, at a corner where the traffic lights
flaunt their tricolour blooms in monotonous cycles.
I noticed the child as she stood, her bare feet clasping the
pavement, her short dressing gown revealing pale limbs
like the stems of sun-starved seedlings.
Her face was sharp, honed perhaps by a knowledge of the
alleyways.
In a world of bitumen and towering glass,
she watched the hurrying crowd, unconscious of their buffeting,
and scanning faces anxiously; whom did she seek?
Sometimes she glanced upwards where the god Neon
embroidered the midnight sky with garish dogmas.

How I wish that child the tenderness of grass beneath her feet,
soft foliage to brush her hands.
But most I wished her a blossom tree
to cast confetti petals on her sad scarecrow hair.

The lights changed. The cars behind me registered impatience.
Guilty in my warm comfort I pressed the accelerator,
knowing I would be haunted by the small figure
remaining in the petrol fumes of her concrete chasm where the
warehouses reared like sandstone cliffs in a dark forest of
factories.

-Phyllis Telfer


xxx I love this poem xxx
PostPosted: Mon Aug 11, 2008 5:11 am


I am a teacher by John W. Schlater

[ .B a b y _ I. ]

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The Role Playing Guild of Randomness

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