Discussion Poetry Thread

[deaf_judger]

I will start.

One​

The door stayed open.
No one entered.

My phone vibrated.
It stopped.

I checked the lock twice.
Nothing changed.

 

[deaf_judger]

The Classroom​

The desks were bolted to the floor.
The chairs were bolted to the desks.

The bell rang. Eight-thirty.
Nobody stood.

No instruction was given.
No movement followed.

The door was open.
Nobody walked through.

The professor did not act.
The students did not move.
Their pens were poised.

 

[deaf_judger]

The Classroom​

The desks were bolted to the floor.
The chairs were bolted to the desks.

The bell rang. Eight-thirty.
Nobody stood.

No instruction was given.
No movement followed.

The door was open.
Nobody walked through.

The professor did not act.
The students did not move.
Their pens were poised.

I read this and was reminded of 'The Neverending Story' (second half). In Ende's book, Bastian can act freely, just like how the students can stand up. The door is open. But bastian waits for the next wish to tell him who he is, like how the students wait for the professor. Both of them have delegated agency to the system.

The door was open.
Nobody walked through.

An open door is not an exit condition, it is a potential transition. Bastian had infinite wishes but no rule saying when to stop. The classroom has an open door but no rule saying who can leave

The professor did not act.
The students did not move.

The professor doesnt act. The empress cannot act. Both are operationally inert central authorities.

 

[Sovereign]

Of all the things I hate about existence,
is false ignorant persistence.
Why live a lie;
So you can die-

With a false sense of peace?​

 

[deaf_judger]

The lungs expanded. The breath was held.

The tongue touched teeth. No words were formed.

An itch started on the knee. The hand did not lift.

The retinas registered the closing arc of a fist. The brain did not signal.

A thought surfaced: "Why?". It sank back down.
The itch remained. The fist arrived.

 

[midnightsun]

Our beautiful friend
Where did he go and why
Did he leave us behind?

 

[Loner]

I’m about to get some cheeks this weekend

She gonna let me hit it from the rear end

I know I ain’t entitled to her body

But it’s not my fault she’s a thottie

 

[midnightsun]

Our beautiful friend
Where did he go and why
Did he leave us behind?

Oops I fucked up the formatting. It’s supposed to be a haiku lol

Our beautiful friend
Where did he go and why did
He leave us behind?

 

[newsincerity]

Oops I fucked up the formatting. It’s supposed to be a haiku lol

Our beautiful friend
Where did he go and why did
He leave us behind?

I'm here

 

[Sovereign]

Whether master or slave,
whether poor or rich;
Whether ignorant or wise-

We all die the same,
the wise think themselves great;
pondering minds, decerning eyes.
clinging to something they justify.

We all die the same,
He that walks on two's.
Paper as his defense-
in fear of loosing it all;
what a sorry life.

Perhaps that vain man was right.​

 

[deaf_judger]

Three screens. I see them. Two computers. I use them.

I do not know "Computer." I use it.

One mouse. It directs action. I do not know "Mouse." I do not know "Action."

My hand moves. The light changes. I use them.
When something happens, something follows.



But what is it?

 

[wait whattt? :o]

We share here our own poetry (if we have any) or any poem that we like? :o

 

[Sovereign]

Silence gives unrest
Those who suffer in silence,
have no means of finding peace.
Till that day reaps its blackened harvest.

Running from yourself through external means.
Life is brutish, nasty, violent and short-
Yet people like it this way.

Lie after lie,
deception after deception;
Tear after tear.

All the while, I live in fear.
If I tell them that I have it hard,
they find an excuse to make me feel bad.

I'm tired of mans God damn games!
Whether one is right,
Whether one is wrong.

Whether I pray in my room
or lay in my bed
Time is wasted, time is spent.

This is all so frustrating!
I'm losing myself once more.

 

[cosmicx16]

I couldn't write good poetry, controlling language to articulate understated ideas then twisting the words' meanings to fit your own perception is for natural born orators
And women