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my new poem ' i ate '

and i ate

i ate so far away

i just ate

i ate all night and day

You cannot be serious. I know the rules state no death threats... but this MUST demand an exception.

i ate all night and day

woke up with a hang over

What the hell are you talking about? What are you like 6 years old?? You don't get hang overs from eating you moron.

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The ball of fire rose up from the darkened grounds,

As the lifeless bodies of our tribesmen lay,

With fire still consuming them bit by bit,

The sound of a million horseshoes was heard,

The Iron Horse's skin tore open,

Not revealing any red bloody flesh,

But thousands of white aliens,

Carrying thundersticks,

Dressing alike,

The aliens rushed towards us,

Their thundersticks puffing away at us as we fell by the hundreds,

Undeterred by our fallen comrades and fearless as ever,

The remnants of us bullrushed forward,

My spear tasted blood,

Oh how sweet it must have been,

one loud blast,

and then my own dripped down,

Covering my face,

Spilling into my mouth,

I fell,

I fell courageously,

My task is complete,

I felt that I was like a bird,

Free as ever...

"Sir, the Indies are cleared out"

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  • 3 weeks later...

Well, my lazy, non-reviewing butt has finally been kicked into gear for reasons that I choose to keep shadowy and secretive because I'm hoping it will annoy you.

Firstly, a calm and collected first impression of the poem directly above;

"You were writing like that when you were nine?!"

Come to that, so was I, but I destroyed them all and degenerated since then; honest.

Now, a slightly more detailed approach:

I thought it flowed very well (though I have not recited it out loud to see if it performs well when spoken, I have no wish to be considered mad in any ways other than I already am), though the chorus seemed a little long. I do wonder, since you mention those thrice-cursed hymns, if it was meant to be sung rather than spoken, and by this I mean to a specific musical piece. Hmm, thinking about it, I think spoken is probably better.

The second and fourth lines of the last verse don't quite fit, but it would be difficult to get them to do so. I can't really comment on the depth or meaning to the piece, since I'm not a good reviewer and I don't let myself get immersed in the work. Examining it from a detached point of view, however, I can see that the limerick-like recitation has been used very well (snobs would say inappropriately, but what do they know?); and there doesn't appear to be any glaring error, though some of the patterns don't quite match unless you twist the words a li'l bit. Nevertheless, a glowing work. Must be the radiation.

I really like the former of the two, but I tend to prefer light-hearted poetry anyway. Again, it doesn't quite match, but in humorous works it doesn't really matter. In fact sometimes it adds to the effect quite nicely. [Why couldn't we ever do anything like that in English? Bah!] You done good, chum, you done good. Spleeeeeeeee.......... Soryy, I'm losing patience with this post. I'm rambling, and that's never a good thing. Just take everything I've already said and multiply it, that should do.

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Here's a brief critique:

We'll Meet Again

1. "I know you're going to miss me,"

She muttered there in bed.

She then got up and kissed me,

And this is what she said:

Chorus: "We all know I'm going to die,

There's nothing we can do.

And just as you'll be missing me,

I'll be missing you.

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For I am on the verge of life.

Let me step back.

The guttering where the toads cry out

twists around the world,

twists around and snakes.

This world is brick and fog,

a smog

lays thick across this space.

Now watch where all the twines arrive,


they drive

along the long and sundry avenues

where numbers count each worth;

where numbers strap across each tattooed arm.

I sit and smile

and suck a teabag.

Let these walls dissolve.

There is a knock, a cough

upon the lock. Oak wood

around this smoky den -- a portal

opened like two parted toes.

Cheeks rosed and blushed, mouth

hushed and small and red, a girl with flowers

on this hour

taps against my bedroom door.

The waves of tiny lips both heave and break

and giggle

and she wriggles out of sight for me to chase.

I circumnavigate the iris in her woven hair,

and down the worm-wood steps,

through the door, the light! the light!

I might

have known that in following this wayward angel,

I would see upon the coming door:

TAMFOA BEBRE (the enemy will stew in his own juice).

The sodden souls of midnight peoples filter through the air.

The fog is in my throat, my nose and hair.

Along the wharfs the cats cry out,

a child at play, dark palms and sweaty face.

The chase goes on

up along the roofs, across the curling steam

smeared upon the window panes.

The Witching Moon glares down

my shoulders, our shoulders, backs

and heads borne up and showered with precocious spears.

This saline growth, condensed in gas,

begins to fade. Heavy breathing

with the chorus of laughter

echoing through grey, grey streets.

We burst through a sporadic trance,

another nostalgia,

and we dance through destined steps

beneath heaven's toothy glance.

The darkness dies

and we slide through a summer's day.

This old house is overgrown.

I remember crawling through the plants

and playing in the basic soil. Only

there are people all around, all frozen

mid-step, petrified in their farcical humour,

their wretched guffaws and champagne chat.

Fancy that.

We waltz on through.

The sky is damaged, cut up, broken tiles

for miles around.

Old house, you've weathered with my dreams.

The sunlight splits and bulges grossly through the gaps,

spitting on our skin. I have you,

tell me

your secrets.

A box. She smiles and holds it out, palm flat.

Like that.

It opens with a sigh, I know that this duplicity

is centred here. I fear that what I learn

will rid me of my ignorance, but only just enough

to force me through those midnight streets.

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  • 2 months later...

I don't know if it's any good or anything...but here's something I wrote for a girl I feel deeply for...

Once, I asked myself

"Where have I gone?"

"What have I done with myself?"

"Why can't I ever succeed?"

But I was weak,

But I was foolish.

I see now,

I realize now,

I was blinded,

By the eternal veils of life.

I saw no purpose for myself,

Nor do I still.

But what I do know,

Is that purpose will find me.

I was going to Bury it,

Smother it,

Murder it,

Put it away, for no one to see.

But it's something beautiful,

Not black and shriveled,

Only a seed;




It defeats me, and I must express it:

It is my love.

I will always be here.

Always for you.

I will always support you.

Always for you.

I will take the pain, to see you smile.

Always for you.

I will not yield, because you are my Sihaya,

Even if I am your nothing.

Always for you.

I would give it all, take it all,

Endure it all, and I will not fail you.

I will not let you fall.

I will not let you fail.

And I will never let you drop a tear,

For me, or otherwise.

Always for you.

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  • 3 weeks later...

The Last Unknown

This cavern echoes Death throughout its rocks.

Indeed, its rocks are made of Death: a Death

made palpable. My breath, a nostalgia

of what is warm above, where fire still falls,

flows like liquid ash in the false orange

of my lantern. The air is still. Silence

is king in shadowland, reigning with ease

the lofty deserts of this great crevasse.

My lamp seems wont to cast more shade than shine

its aura in the dark. But there's a thing:

a pool that gapes beside my dusty boots

and swirls with fog. I lower my dim light

while dark clouds circulate and froth. The gloom

falls back a way to let me see that place

reflected fully in that maw. There was

Death. Death, a world obscured by fluid mist,

a land of flitting shades I feel I know,

so strain I, eyes close to the darkened gate.

My ears, already blue from fog, are wrenched

by sound: my name, echoed in the steel clouds

beyond a crumbling wall built of odd stones

cemented with what might as well be steam.

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  • 4 months later...

Here is a new poem I wrote. It is an abstraction of feelings I had, and images that deal with the issues at their core.

Untitled: by Titus Mandahl

Dissolving in my mind

Fermenting in a pool of

Seminal power conduits

Time of cleansing

Dialysis in reaction to

Subtraction of black roiling

Steaming tar laden sadness

Suck the punk out of me

The chemical tyranny

poison is time

Morphius mind in season

Eyes are a prize for motionless

Sorrowful mandolin

In fetters of chainless connectors

Selecting a delicate prerequisite

Of missions to the vagina

It clicks like the motor arm

Like mandibles of mannequins

Without the aid of skin

What tar has taken away

Synthetic flesh is left

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  • 1 month later...

          Well I`m deeply impressed of what you all are writing, wanna be T.S  ;) are writing really good, really good.(Remember me when you get the royalty check hehehe).

Here is one of my lyrics written a loooong time ago.

ROSALIE & DANNY  manna dessi

Danny keeps on going on his bleeding restless feet

Hunting high and low he can

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  • 3 months later...

I read about half the poems (getting sleepy) their pretty good too, you guys are pretty talented.

Here is one of mine.

Million Tears


The news struck me like,

A dagger in the chest,

This is my worst day,

Sadder then the rest.

My mind

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I'm enjoying all of the talented poets here! I am amazed at the length of so many of these poems. Keeping the subject matter and the structure all together has alway been difficult for me. I think that is why I like haiku. A songwriter I'll never be!

So... here are two Dune inspired haiku. Hope they are enjoyable!

They tried and failed?

      one drop

They tried and died.

Wise in the ways...


Maud'Dib is no mouse.

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  • 1 month later...

Decided to post a couple of my poems recently made. Enjoy :)

The Insanities of a Maddened Carnival Ring-Leader

In the spotlight is where I shine

The darkness beckons out of line,

But that is where nobody can see

The evil that's crept inside of me.

Fire burns and sharp steel cuts

The evil inside is making me nuts,

For that is what I fear it'll do

The very next time that I see you.

Creep crawl snap break and twist

Deep inside I'm making a long list,

Of those who hurt me and those who will

I'll quench my thirst from every kill.

Don't be afraid my dear, sweet child

Until I get to you it'll be a long while,

But pay attention when I call your name

Your state of life will never be the same.


Love, Serve, Remember

In the days that pass with the sun on our backs

Life is but a blink without our love to fulfill,

It doesn't seem that it needs a perfect saviour

Beauty lets nature set its course and final will...

I will not bow to any timber, gold or brass

Do not give me a prayer for the long night,

I do not need to soak my head heavy

With parables and miracles telling me right.

Do not try to convince me with holy imagery

But I might sit down to hear stories of the past,

False gods and angels are found plentiful in dreams

But their mystics and magic lie naturally uncast.

In essence I find the power of God lacking

Lest He strike me down with enormous fury,

And it cowers to the power that does exist

When love is found and found with no worry.

Let myself become the Hanuman of Ram

In order to love, serve, and remember

But let my love be that of you and not God

And my worship be of you and not timber.

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  • 2 months later...

Hey, another poem from when I was pissed off haha:

<Etches of My Insanity Show No Mercy>

You drones of ignorance are everywhere

It leaves me a foul stench, it isn't fair

To have to listen to your shit all day

I couldn't care less for you anyway.

Hide your broken face with smiles

It doesn't fool me of your bitter soul,

While you reveal your unclean thoughts

I'll wait for the day for it to take its toll.

Practiced and unfelt words are your verbage

They mean nothing and they mean your life,

I can ignore your insults until I break down

Into what I've been hiding with so much strife.

You can't hide from me, little fucking girl

You won't escape from what I have to say,

You'll sit and shut up and look into my eyes

Because this will change you in every way.

Call me fucking arrogant once more my dear

And I will show you what it's like for me,

To be alone in the world with no one to understand

Or to care so much and have no one there to see.

To break down inside and conceal the fall

Is something you can't do without losing it all,

And try as I might, my foundation is weaker

So soon it'll show through the holes in the wall.

I have no importance that I play in my mind

I have no effect that others have on me,

I am a light branch held helplessly in the wind

That doesn't think of itself as a mighty tree.

So keep your insults because I am finished

I've reached my edge and I'm set for the fall,

You are the push and the wind that guide me

Into what I have fought and hated most of all.

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  • 2 months later...

Guess I'm the only one keeping this thread somewhat alive currently. I would like to see other people though!

'Twas The Moon's Turned Eye I Loved

The night casted its shadows upon the tree

And I held them over to blanket me,

To keep me from seeing the terrors align

Outside this little blanket of mine.

The whisping of the long branches stood clear

From the rustling of the terrors that drew near,

And in case it helped I cried for the divine

Outside this little blanket of mine.

No one came, not a sign to show its grace

Left alone with the tree that loomed over this place,

The terrors came closer to the tree's deep whine

Outside this little blanket of mine.

Nothing else to do but hide in the night

If only they knew who hid with great fright,

But ignorance lay cause to their passing of the pine

Outside this little blanket of mine.

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I keep constructing roads for you to tread,

or creep, a shadow dusting tracks on dirt,

stooping beneath willows that fill your head

with fronds curling into grief. Seagulls spurt

upwards like anti-lightning while I pour

water into your ears--until you crawl

the sea. The shark, the raving diver: these

are you, assimilated by your eyes

and mixing. Soon his wetsuit grows a fin,

the shark wears goggles, and you disappear

over a hill towards the sun, which spins

a violin bowstring of cloud. You sever

it, reckless, heroic, while sunlight sings:

You never stop, you never stop, you never

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  • 3 years later...
  • 2 months later...

Lemme give this a shot...

"Player, Virgin, Gamer"

I found a world where now I live

A reality I believe

Swirling colors and vast landscape

Not minding the pain on my nape

I'm accepted for who I am

As I mingle with all of them

With flashing epic gear I wield

Atop my mount I charge the field

Swinging left and right in a craze

My godlike power made them brace

I saved the world from terrorists

'Midst the discomfort on my wrists

MP5 Navy and handgun

And hand grenades got the job done

Then rabid zombies plagued the world

Charging wildly while Boomers hurled

My guns made short work of them all

As the chopper came on rain fall

From the Deceiver to the Bloodthirster

With all my heart I called them 'brother'

And not a night was ever right

Without Maria Ozawa in my sight

I loved being with Aang and Appa

Bianca Freire and Natt Chanapa

I frag and win with pure delight

I splatter gibs with all my might

With zeal I cut down all my foes

And watch them suffer in their death throes

I'm a gamer, plain and simple

With my abilities I stand tall

Nerd, Geek, Addict, they all call me

"Basement dweller," my taxonomy

I don't care, I don't give a damn

At least I'm proud of who I am

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<i><b>The meter's all wrong.

The imagery, trite.

And worst of all?

Fremen travel by night.</b></i>


<i><b>Spawn of a louse

Muad'Dib was a mouse!

And if  fremen slept by day

'Twas to escape the sun's rays</b></i>

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