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Right, so on St. Valentine's Day, I always get really depressed. Dunno why, its just an annual thing. Might have something to do with I never have a girlfreind on that day...

But I digress. I wrote a poem that day. It might be slightly depressing, but since I have nothing better to do, here you go.

Damned of St. Valentine

Discourse on this blood red day,
I told them,
I warned them,
They said they'd never pay.
Those same lay dead
This St. Valentine's Day.

Brutal Murder was their fate,
No longer intertwined with mine,
Not that I would mind such fate
But to kill me would be too kind.
Now riots spring up,
Revolution with new cause,
"Overthrow the corrupt"
Scream they, little did they know
They would be their own fall.

The St. Valentine's Rebellion failed,
Not to the world's surprise.
However,
As much as this can be surmised.

Discourse on that blood red
Was not the work of one man
But by a mob of fickle humans
That now lay dead, Valentine's damned.

Hearts are red, that much is true,
Hearts are of blood,
And blood is of war,
And hearts are of love.
So is love of war?
Or war of love?
Good and bad,
I do not differatiate.
One cannot exist without
The other

And if blood fuels the heart,
Then does war fuel love?
If so, blood is good.
So the massacre this day
Was not in vain.
Though that offers little comfort
To humans,
Red themselves,
Though in shame.



As I said, slightly depressing. Good thing was, I got hammered that night, so it all worked out fine.

Depressing, and morbid.

But I liked it!

Good job, though at first I thought you were refering to Al
Capone's Valentine's Day massacre.

It was kinda depressing and morbid, but it was soooooo GOOD!!!!

Originally posted by King Burger
Depressing, and morbid.

But I liked it!

Good job, though at first I thought you were refering to Al
Capone's Valentine's Day massacre.

Thats where I got the inspiration

Thanks for the positive feedback.

No problem! You gonna write some more??

Maybe...If my bipolar-ness shows up again.

So you don't usually write unless you're depressed?? Awww

good poem

Right...This next poem is from pure, unadulturated anger. Its very personal, and, although I'll take constructive critisisim, make fun of it and risk a) castration, b) spadation, and c) having your throat slit and blood drank.

Untitled

As I wallow here in depression
I think about past things
That I have done and had done to me.
A tear, alone and emotionless,
Falls from an unwilling eye,
Smudging this poem.

Why do I even bother?
No one gives a flying f*ck
Who wants someone elses burden
To add to their own?
Humans are vain, ignorant, and selfish.
They try to preserve themselves from
The imment, looming, inevitable decay
that we have named
Death.

I have no fear of Death
Because death is un-avoidable
I die with each breath,
I die with each step,
Each sip,
Each kiss.
I die.

What the f*ck are we trying to prove
when we aviod death?
That we're superior?
We think we can beat death,
But we cant,
You dont think about death,
Until you meet him,
Face to face,
Eye to eye,
And then...
Black.
Nothing.
Emptyness.

Death is imminent,
Death is impending,
Death is inevitable,
Death is everywhere,
Death's domain is.

wow...that one actually made me tear up cause i sometimes feel that way still... cry
at least i dont cut anymore

.... wow that is soo sad.... but I like it. If I decided to make fun of it, I'd 1) be a total b*tch cuz that's rude and 2)be lying, cuz its good.

*Wince* Cutting...Yikes...

Had a freind who did that, she stopped though.

'Nother one I wrote a while ago.

No Answer

My mom had always told me
"God will answer your call"
My dad would always scold me
"God wouldnt like that at all"

Two points of view
One divine, the other wrathful
I dont know which to believe
So I've decided to be unfaithful

Finally the time came
Where I needed God to hear me
So I picked up the phone
Dialed his number
Thinking of my query

And so the phone rang and rang
And rang and rang again
Finally I hung up
Realizing
There would be no answer.

hmm not bad...

Oooo that one's good too!

your poems are really deep cry
but theyre really good and i like them

Shot and Forgot

As the kid walks to school
Hollow and alone
The winter wind blows around him
Cold and strong,
But to him it is unknown.

He dwells on the past,
Of things long forgot
Of his mother, of his life
Before he reached this eternal
Hell
The aftermath of a shot

A simple echo
That's all it was
A loud disruption
That had teachers
runnin'
To go see what it was

In the bathroom,
They had found his freind
A bullet in his head
And a
gun
in his hand

Now three years later
Another shot
Echos through the halls
The shooter, another
Statistic
Soon to be forgot.

That was kool dude. Had nice depth to it. Was sad but very deep. I like it.

One Last Sip

The dregs of a potion
Swirl in the bottom of
the bottle.
My thoughts are fuzzy
And seem to be quite
mottled.

I snuck out again tonight
Donned my hoodie
And my hat.
As I walked through the streets
My ex walked past me
"Hey Nat."

She did not reply
No answer escape her
lips.
And so as I drink this potion now
I pray that this
one last sip,

Will take all my memories
Of that b!tch from
my mind.
That I will leave all the
Great times far far
behind.

Why I wished this, I'll ne'er know
Because as I took
that sip.
Down I fell, unconcious
My beer from my hands
did slip.

Prison of Reputation

In this prison of society
This block of teenage polity
There is a girl who shares
This cell
But I have never dared approach.

She's clever
She's beautiful
She's all of the above.
She's my perfect companion
Perhaps my one true love.

But I never have approached her
there is a simple reason why;
Her freinds? no,
Her parents? wrong,
Its simply because I'm shy.

Oh, you may think that with
these words
I'm romantic, that I'm outgoing,
But your wrong.
I usually keep to my own,
A tiny corner, my own mind's haven
Blocked from the outside world.

I wish to touch her,
To hold her,
To kiss her,
But in this fateful cell block
We are destined
to never
cross paths,
Lest the mongers talk.

For this is the reality
Unfortunatly.
So in fair Verona
we do not set our
scene.

So she sits, looking expectantly,
Knowing what I'm about to say
"So," says I, shifting my feet,
"I guess I'll see you
in Geometry, ok?"

Those are deep! And good too! Keep up the good writing!

Two more poems...

Finished Falling

I fall
Through a dreamworld
my fantasies
now true

I fall
Through depression
Dark and dank are
all my thoughts

I fall
Wind rushes past me
a cool breeze
on my face

I fall
Never wanting this to end
You in my arms
one last time

I fall
Forever this way
Happiness
overwhelms

Now I'm finished falling
And I want to jump off
Another ten stories
But I know that
the first fall
is the best of them all

So instead I dig
I dig until;
I've hit rock bottom.

And another smaller one...

My New Eraser/No More Eraser/F*cked/Eraser

I want to erase
the past
But its etched to deep

I want to erase
myself
But I've lost my eraser

I want to erase
you
but you were my eraser

So I've gone to the
liquor store
and got a harsher
eraser.

ahhahaa... nice one... I want to have one eraser too...

Here's one that I didn't write, but I think its pretty cool.

Dancing Towards Bethlehem

If there is only enough time in the final
minutes of the twentieth century for one last dance
I would like to be dancing it slowly with you,

say, in the ballroom of a seaside hotel.
May palm would press into the small of your back
as the past hundred years collapsed into a pile
of mirrors or buttons or frivolous shoes,

just as the floor of the nineteenth century gave way
and dissapeared in a red cloud of brick dust.
There will be no time to order another drink
or worry about what was never said,

not with the orchestra sliding into the sea
and all our attention devoted to humming
whatever it was they were playing.

-Billy Collins

Writing this one on the spot.

Castle Walls

Battlements
blocks of gray stone
for the deadly archers
to fire from behind.

Ten stories high
Above my head
Searing oil pours down
Scorching my skin

Pain and burn
That's all I feel now
Arrows raining upon
my head aflame.

Kind of like you
Searing love and tempt
Mingled with hatred
Pinpricks of pain.

And both have the
same outcomes. Though
the former is a less cruel
way to die.

Wrote this earlier today...

Beaut:"Cute":uperficial:Human/Analogies

Superficiality
reigns supreme
with hypocrisy.

They claim
that they
are not vain,
and yet they
dress up,
put on make up,
for a mere date.

You are not
beautiful
if you hide
who you are.

Natural beaut,
this is true
"cute". If one
uses crayons
to color self in,
then one is
black and white,
no depth within.

Eye liner and blush,
all those others
are not the tools
of Devinci, but
of a immature
youth,
unwilling
to grow up.

Is this
superficiality?
Or is this
humanity?
Is that a
trick question?

A poets eye
get a picture in your head and PM me when you get it

invisible like the wind, appears at dark
I scared many people including mark.


PM me when you get it

I like your poems Dwarfdude! And yours too Powerful Dragon!

Title was suppose to be "Beaut:"Cute" :: Superficical:Human:"

Dern smilie messed it up...

Originally posted by Coldfire
I like your poems Dwarfdude! And yours too Powerful Dragon!
Thx