Duck and Cover

Do you like poetry or perhaps you wrote a really good poem yourself? Share your favourite poems here. It could be a haiku or a koan or a limerick, playing fast and loose with the definitions here okay, what is "art" anyway. Cheers Kotario.

The mother of all poems! The lord of all poems!
The fear that haunts the deepest, darkest forest!
The one that fills the mind with dread when there is no escape.
The end of all things looms above our heads
It is the death that dare not speak its name...

- by AI Dungeon

These are from the highlights of Episode 5 of Mammas Rejects, crafted by Hyacinth, Megatron and Amis who is soon to pass out from drinking, enjoy.


I love her though.
I love her.
I don't think,
I don't think I trust Hyacinth.


Amis wondering self
Sees beautiful desert rose
Shiny light, perfect sun
Love in wilderness


Pretty desert rose
Lives in USA
I will marry her


10 years, 10 years
I met her in the desert
A desert flower
A desert Rose

Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice;

With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;

In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.

-some guy



Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

- some gal

i like sob stories it seems
i like Rumi too tho

Good good

https://youtu.be/a7z-1hZkNiU

Whatever this is

well I guess it's a poem, the Flintstones bit has a bit of rhyming even

here's another mashup
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyMS4qJ8NXU

I notice the slices, then she smiles at me hesitantly, and I wonder,
is this lady a muse?

Because I find her shamelessness inspiring.

She's shameless because she's chosen to show her scars.
They make her arms look like an old woman's,
the cuts so numerous they might otherwise be wrinkles,
wrinkling right up to her shoulders.
Some are thick and raging white;
some, pencil marks, brushed across her skin.
Her bracelets of pain.

There's no shame in feeling shit,
she says, without speaking.
And without showing me, she shows me
that grace can be a sleeveless top.

-Mr. TeaTime

Poetic

Talk to me, I talk back
Let's talk money, I talk that
Crunk juice bombs, Oakley shades
Shawty got class, oh behave

- Faheem Rasheed Najm

https://youtu.be/LjogCytzX0s

Very :CLECK:

Sands stretch wide, relentless heat scorches. Barren beauty, unforgiving, holds secrets, tales untold. Survivors brave, seek oasis 'midst dunes. Desert's whispers, a realm of mystery, lure explorers into its sandy embrace.

you almost make this seem like a Fallout forum

The Wanderer
I have walked a million miles
And crawled a million more
My skin is burnt and beaten
My every muscle sore
One day my journey shall end
Then so shall I
Only to wander again
In the wastelands of the sky
-Rodney"Doc" Hill-

edit: he was the guy in the wheelchair wasn't it? why was he crawling then or was this referring to some kind of a pre-wheelchair era of his

"There's an evil virus that's threatening mankind
It's not state of the art, it's a serious state of the mind
The muggers, the backstabbers, the two faced elite
A menace to society, a social disease
To brainwash the mind is a social disorder
The cynics, the apathy one-upmanship order
Watching beginnings of social decay
Gloating and sneering at life's disarray
Eating away at your own self esteem
Pouncing on every word that you might be saying
To attack someone's mind is a social disorder
The constitution, the government, martial law order
Superficially smiling a shake of the hand
As soon as your back is turned treason is planned
When every good thing's laid to rest
By the governments hate, by the constitution and their lies
And every time you think you're safe
And when you go to turn away
You know they're sharpening all their knives
All in your mind
All in your head
Try to relate it
All in your mind
All in your head
Try to escape it
Without a conscience they destroy
And that's a thing that they enjoy
They're a sickness that's in all of our minds
They want to sink the ship and leave
The way they laugh at you and me
You know it happens all the time
But it only happens in your mind
The rats in the cellar you know who you are...
Or do you?
Watching beginnings of social decay..."
-Blaise Bailey Finnegan III

Beneath the sun's fierce stare,
Lies a land, bare and rare,
Radioactive sands, they sprawl,
A toxic thrall, silent call.

Grains aglow with tales untold,
Whisper secrets, stories old,
In shimmered grace, danger lives,
A desert's dance, where time forgives.

"Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Dear Enemies and Friends,

Why are we all so alone here? All we need is a little more hope, a little more joy.
All we need is a little more light, a little less weight, a little more freedom. If we were an army, and if we believed that we were an army, and we believed that everyone was scared like little lost children in their grown up clothes and poses;
so we ended up alone here floating through long wasted days, or great tribulations..
While everything felt wrong.

Good words, strong words, words that could've moved mountains. Words that no one ever said.
We were all waiting to hear those words and no one ever said them. And the tactics never hatched.
And the plans were never mapped.
And we all learned not to believe.
And strange lonesome monsters loafed through the hills wondering why..
And it is best to never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever wonder why. So tangle -- oh tangle us up in bright red ribbons!
Let's have a parade. It's been so long since we had a parade, so let's have a parade! Let's invite all our friends.
And all our friends' friends! Let's promenade down the boulevards with terrific pride and light in our eyes: twelve feet tall and staggering..

Sick with joy with the angels there and light in our eyes.
Brothers and Sisters, hope still waits in the wings like a bitter spinster; impatient, lonely and shivering, waiting to build her glorious fires. it's because of our plans man; our beautiful ridiculous plans. Let's launch them like careening jetplanes.
Let's crash all our planes in the river. Let's build strange and radiant machines at this Jericho waiting to fall."
-Mischa