A Poem Thread

[sargentlard]

"Hot"

Cold, so cold, beyond cold
are you cold?, cold takes over me
colder than the coldest of colds
forevermore i shall be cold
while you rest in your toasty bed
i must go and be cold
oh wait, i found my jacket
i am kind of hot now
hot so hot
are you hot?

[airavata]

lol. cool one sargentlard.

[Trust_No_1]

My favourite poem.... WAWA
We'v got a wawa in r house

Squelchy as an octopus and scratchy as a mouse

Slippy and slurpy

Ever so dirty

Wet and slimy

And itz eyes -COR BLIMEY

Nose all runny

Cheeks all funny

Claws all queer

And its tail OH DEAR

We'v gotta wawa comes @ nite

W8z in my bedroom to giv my dad a fright



We'v gotta wawa only i can c

Comes out @ nite but jst 4 me

Nasty and nobbly

Wibbly and wobbly

Sloshy and slow and its teeth- OH NO

lips all lumpy

Bum all bumpy

Ears all runny

And itz hornz, OH MUMMY

we'v gotta wawa come and c

scares my dad but itz very nice 2 me

And i'm g'na bring my wawa 2 skool

Even if pets r agenst the rule

Squiglly and squelchy

Bubbly and belchy

Doesn't wash

and itz roar-OH GOSH

Legs all floppy

Feet all soppy

name u'l find out

Be careful -MIND OUT

I'v gotta wawa, pleased 2 meet u

If ur nasty my wawa will eat u!

[Trust_No_1]

everything, yet nothing.
shes got the fittest bloke,
doesn't just drink coke,
Comes equipped with a baby,
Her sisters a bitch and maybe,
one day people will see,
How nasty they are to me,
Shes a dirty little slut,
My heart in to two, she has cut.

[Trust_No_1]

why must you be nasty?
You're my best friend didn't you know?
Why must you be nasty
Why did you have to say so?

Why must you be nasty?
I thought it was us against the universe
Why must you be nasty?
You make me want to scream and curse.

Why must you be nasty?
Theres no nice way of saying "i hate you"
Why must you be nasty?
All those nice things we used to do.

Why must you be nasty?
I never drempt i'd be saying this,
Why must you be nasty,
You I truly will miss.

[Trust_No_1]

send me away,
I don't wish to see,
there she is lay,
she can see right through me.

Death is hard to cope with,
But witnessing it?
This sure enough isn't a myth
I cry there where I sit.

How could anyone do this to her?
Blood all over the floor,
I just let it all bloodily occur,
I could have done much more.

Now I have to deal with it,
For the rest of my life,
Feeling like i'm in a bottomless pit,
All the pain and the strife.

Nothing she could have done was that bad
She payed a disgusting price,
The murderous person must have been mad
Messing with God's death dice.

Playing God is just plain sick
Her face is blank and torn,
Myself I could so easily kick,
Insted I just burry her under the lawn.

[Trust_No_1]

The sky was dark
The moon was high
All alone
Just her and I
Her hair so soft
Her eyes so blue
I knew just what
She wanted to do
Her skin so soft
Her legs so fine
I ran my fingers
Down her spine
I didn't know how
But I tried my best
To place my hand
On her breasts
I remember my fear
My fast beating heart
But slowly she spread
Her legs apart
And when she did it
I felt no shame
All at once
The white stuff came
At last it's finished
It's all over now
My first time
MILKING A COW!!!

[Angelus]

Down The Wishin Well

Can you keep a secret
and promise not to tell?
I pushed Jenny Jenkins
down the wishin’ well.

It was the summer of
ninety-eight,
we were in love and
her period was late.

I wasn't ready for
parenthood
so I shoved her down
because I could.

At first she screeched
and then a thud.
I never even saw
a little bit of blood.

I knew it was murder
but I didn't care.
We we're alone
no witness' there.

But now when I sleep
I see a dead baby's eyes.
And deep in the night
I hear my dead baby's cries.

So now I'm standin
top the wishin' well.
I got the gun ready
for my trip to hell.

I will take fire,
I will take pain,
cause the little baby's screamin'
is driving me insane...

[Angelus]

Dying For You

Slowly I die,
you know it's true.
It's what I get
for loving you.
The past can't change;
the present won't.
Maybe you could
but you don't.
Where will this end,
in your arms or the grave?
I give you my heart
it's for you now to save.

[sargentlard]

Woah Angeleus nice one..though i fear Jenny's parents might be mad at what you did there buddy

[Congrats]

That Jenny Jenkins! Ratz!

An interesting poem.

It was the summer of
ninety-eight,
we were in love and
her period was late.

Is a really nice, natural strophe.

Btw...who is Jenny Jenkins? A superhero?

[Angelus]

The very first stanza of that poem was actually someone elses. It inspired me to go off in a different direction and write that. I asked their permission and they said I could post it on the web, originally I put it on the site i found the poem, deviantart.com, then i brought it over here to share with sciforums. You can check out the rest of my stuff here:
http://ravenhearte.deviantart.com

And if you find down the wishin well that has a link to the original poem. I have no idea where they got the name from.

[Abdiel]

Take up arms we will
Take up arms we must
Stop a man's free will
Stop a man's free lust

Battlefront to go
Battlefront to fight
Stop a mortal foe
With our earthly might

Stop this war you say
Stop this fight we won't
Stay the course this day
Stay the course some don't

Cause, to some it's plain
Cause of death is life
Heavens wrath shall reign
All througout the night

All eternal souls
Shall rise up this day
Take this heavy role
Throw your life away

Yet you take up arms
Still you must insist
Do a child harm
And make none resist

In the end some die
In the end we live
Peace shall be our cry
Death is what we give.

[eight99]

Day one - Hmm, feels like I'm getting a zit on my back.
Damn, I hate those big old back zits. It seems like they
always take forever to break into a head, and they usually
manage to be in some place I can't fucking reach. This
one's almost on top of my spine, right between my shoulder
blades. Difficult to reach, but not impossible. Hope this
one comes and goes quickly.

Day two - The damn thing is still growing. It's actually
starting to hurt a little bit if I happen to lean against
it. Nothing very painful, mind you, just a little twinge of
discomfort here and there.

Day three - I'm beginning to believe this isn't a zit, but a
boil. It's gotten much bigger today. It's starting to form
distinct zones. The largest zone is defined by the extent
of tenderness around the main structure. Judging roughly,
by using my fingers as calipers, this zone is large, as much
as three inches across, and roughly circular. The main
structure is an area of swelling that is about an inch in
diameter, and also, roughly circular in shape. This region
is raised in relation to the surrounding skin, and feels
warm to the touch. When pinched lightly between my finger
and thumb it feels firmer than normal skin. The final
feature I can sense on this thing is a peak at the center of
the swelling. It's just a little blip right now, but I
assume it will grow over time. It's amazing how deep the
swelling goes.

Day four - The growth continues. The large zone has spread
another inch, and the swollen area has increased in
circumference and depth. The pain is starting to build.
From what I can see in the mirror, there's no indication of
any head forming on this thing, yet it continues to grow.
It's hard not to play with it. Like a hangnail, or a loose
tooth, one can't help but touch it.

Day five - There's been more growth since yesterday. The
large zone has become visibly reddish and the swollen center
part has reached probably two and a half inches in
diameter. It's generating lots of warmth, and I'm beginning
to feel like I could keep my bedroom warm with the heat it's
generating. I've taken a couple of preliminary squeezes on
it, but backed away because doing so yielded nothing but
blinding pain. This thing's definitely not ready to give up
yet.

Day six - All day today my upper back throbbed with a quiet
pain. The muscles around this growth are beginning to
rebel. I feel as though I'd pulled a muscle, or slept
funny, or something such as that. The thought crossed my
mind this afternoon that if it keeps growing, I might end up
with a Quasimodo-like hump out of this deal. That made my
day. I spent the evening brushing up on my swarthy,
unidentifiable European accent and working on my shuffling
limp, just in case I need to adopt them.

Day seven - this has turned into an ordeal. The swelling is
growing more pronounced, and is becoming harder. The
swollen flesh has taken on the feel of overdone roast beef.
Firm and somewhat uneven to the touch. One can only imagine
what is happening inside this thing. I can only believe
there is a massive load of pus, white creamy goo and blood
trapped under the skin. All of the tentative squeezes I've
given it have been met with sharp pain and the firm
resistance a piece of hardscrabble constipation grapeshot
shit might have.

Day eight - I'm hoping for a quick end to this drama. It
has become such a force in my life that I think I might just
have God growing on my back. It makes sense, you know.
Virgin birth, the Millennium and the slow torture to which
I'm being subjected. This could very well be the return of
Jeaysuss. Fuck, I'm gonna be the mother/father of the Xrist
child.

Day nine - I'm sorry to say that it's not the Xrist child
after all. It formed a head today, and it looks as though
it might be ready to pop. Squeezing it still produces no
result other than extreme pain. It looks like the large
ring of skin has turned darker, and maybe grown another
quarter inch. If I were to take my shirt off, I'd feel as
though I was walking around with a target on my back.

Day ten - Today was the day of reckoning. The skin atop the
head of the monster gave way today. Unfortunately, it was
while I was on a date. A first date with a woman I've known
for a short while. We were having a late dinner and drinks
following a play. The first indication I had of the
breakage was a feeling drop of fluid making it's chilling
way down the middle of my back. That was followed by
another drop, then a third.

I excused myself to go to the rest room, and when I stuck my
hand back there, I could feel a large wet spot on the inside
of my shirt. I went into one of the stalls, and took my
shirt off and found a wet spot about five inches in
diameter. The highlight of this wet spot was the coating of
white creamy goo that had been pressed into the woven mesh
of the fabric; a slippery coating of coagulated pus. This
splotch was about four inches in diameter, making it nearly
as large as the wet spot. The coating was perhaps a
sixteenth of an inch, at it's thickest. In all, a sight
guaranteed to repulse most normals. I tried to scrape the
goo out of my shirt, but succeeded only in pressing it more
tightly into the fabric. I made a temporary pad of toilet
paper to catch the continued pus drainage I was
experiencing.

I headed back out to my date. I'd been gone long enough
that she asked if I was OK. Not knowing this woman's
tolerance for things tasteless, I gave her a bullshit excuse
about having to wait for a stall in the men's room and that
seemed to satisfy her curiosity. Throughout dinner, the pad
did its job well enough, but by the time we were leave, it
was saturated and I'd started dripping again. I ducked into
the men's room again and fitted another makeshift pad under
my shirt.

I took my date home and as I kissed her goodnight, she
reached around me to hug me. She placed her hand on my
back. But, as you might well guess, she put it squarely
into the wet spot on my shirt, and on top of the toilet
paper pad I had tucked under my shirt. I pulled back away
quickly, only to be met by her questioning eyes. I
sheepishly explained about the boil on my back and told her
I'd had a leakage problem. She followed my explanation with
a look of growing apprehension and disgustipation, in spite
of my sparing her any of the heinous details. I rather
fancy I shan't be seeing her again, if that look was any
indication of her true mental state.

Day eleven - The mop-up operation continues. I've drained
all day, but this time I've used some real surgical
dressings to soak up the pus. Said pus has become somewhat
bloodstained today, but shows no sign of letting up.

Day twelve - back to work today, but no relief from the
steady outflow of blood-tinged pus. The fountain is flowing
at full volume and doesn't' seem to lack for a supply. Just
as when I've been confined with a cold, I find myself amazed
that such a small amount of tissue can create such a large
volume of liquid. I mean here's a lump of flesh perhaps
three quarters of a cubic inch that's been producing a
steady flow of pus for two days now. Ain't it amazing?

Well, it's been an amazing journey through the birth,
development and decline of this thing on my back. If there
are any further developments, I'll be sure to post them, but
for now, I think it's going to be a downhill slide on this
thing.

Now, where's the fridge ? Wow, after writing this piece, I suddenly feel hungry !

Eight99

[eight99]

For those who don't know me, I am a Network Administrator, managing the School Network. When I have spare time( if any ), I like to write a few short pieces.

This is my second story piece posting. I hope you like it.

Any comments, good or bad, feel free to evaluate.

Enjoy

Eight 99


P.S : My first ( sick and disgusting story) entitled 'Colon Hydrotherpy' can be found as an attachment, on the Free Thoughts section

Sorry about the mistake ! The title of this sick piece is 'The Thing That Ate My Back, not 'My Poem'

Its pretty long, however I didn't bother about placing the piece as txt attachement...... because....... I i'm a stupid dumb cunt

As from now, all futher story postings will be submitted as a txt attachments

See Ya !:My second sick story piece

[Congrats]

Oh my god. I love you. And your pimple.

That poem is a great poem, not because it portrays beauty, or says something sublime and wonderful, but because it affects. Of course, it is not perfect...it is very wordy, and the 'Day 1, Day 2' stuff is really not right. I like non-sentimental, visceral, sadistic poems...you do not relent.

On another note, this actually happened to me.

Last night, I realized that a one-inch wide pimple has been living amidst the jungly curls of my chest hair for about 3 years. It was finnaly fracturing and coming apart. I pressed my fingers against its sides very gently, and off-white pus poured out. Followed it was blood. Blood, melding with the pus. Until it was just blood. An open sore, a pain canyon. I masking-taped a cotton pad to it and went to sleep.

So, we have something in common.

[god-of-course]

Written by Wilfred Owens, a soldier during the first world war.




Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.




"Dulce et decorum est propatria mori" I believe this mean something like sweet and appropriate/noble it is to die for your country!!

[Angelus]

Wicked Witch

Dreaming black,
you can't turn back
The red is gone,
it won't be long
You came to this,
the fatal kiss
that death bestoys;
and you know
that once your gone
they'll sing the song...
"The wicked witch,
she was a bitch,
but now she's dead,
her minions fled,
and we are free
as we can be.
It came so fast
at last, at last.

And we are free."

[Angelus]

Don't Take With Alcohol

A lovely meloncholy,
a beautiful morose,
to be taken very lightly
in an incremental dose.

It will help to ease your worries
it will make you forget life.
It may suggest some answers
like the rope or gun or knife.

I wouldn't take it seriously,
it's not what it's meant to do,
but just a side effect, you see
that it sometimes puts you through.

You can take it when your happy
or you can take it when your sad.
It's good for loss or sorrow,
but I wouldn't mix with mad.

If you do I won't take blame
for what you may go through.
It's a nasty little combination
that breaks your mind in two.

Otherwise it's quite friendly
and shouldn't harm at all.
Just heed these cautious warnings
and don't take with alcohol.

[R.A. Pharrell]

To live before you die is to see success before you rest.
War will bring Peace
with no fight theres no light
at the end of this road that we walk called life
all night
I stay up, with no rest
all this stress in my brain
and this pain in my chest
I'd rather learn all the answers to the questions of life
instead of blaming it on busta trying to cause me some strife.

sad