Poems anyone?

Alright, I'm weird like this, but I write random haikus all the time. If you have any poems you'd like to share please, I'd love to read them. I don't think I'm some sort of poet, these haikus are just easy to come up with.


Juice
Entering my house
I see my dog laying down
Sleeping in red juice

The Cat
Died in your warm arms
Placed in a black garbage bag
Cremated later

Walking home
Half eaten donuts
Left on the sidewalks for cats
Openly happy

Battlefield
I fell for his trap
I was sticking my head out
I regret my move

I have a few laying around. Will post if I find them

You'd better find them! Then we can read poems and drink tea as we snap our fingers while wearing scarfs in the summer like Hipsters in a coffee shop.

Battlefield
Got the USAS-12.
No need to aim anymore.
Frag rounds for the win.

Hark. What is that sound?
Someone trying to snipe me?
Knife. Teabag. Owned n00b.

Raise up in heli.
Beep beep BEEEEEEP. Oh no Stinger!
Fuck fuck fuck FUCK FU-

Roses are dead, violets are too...

That's all I got right now. Not like I'm Edgar Allen Poe or some shit.

Spike991 wrote:

Roses are dead, violets are too...

You killed your flowerbed again, didn't you?

Wasting Time
Spent all day in bed,
Not sick, not tired, not dead.
Only wasting time.

Mass Distraction wrote:

Spike991 wrote:

Roses are dead, violets are too...

You killed your flowerbed again, didn't you?

Nope, my roses are still alive and well. They are of course artificial. And my Flower Pen.

My poetry is here. Most of it sucks ass, cuz I wrote it a few years ago.

http://www.poems-and-quotes.com/author.html?id=481663

Vandal wrote:

Wasting Time
Spent all day in bed,
Not sick, not tired, not dead.
Only wasting time.

Story of my life.

I didn't write this, but I wish I did. It really speaks to me. I don't know who the author is, sadly.

You were thirteen
and so was I,
but the difference is,
I was thirteen and wanted to die.

You were fifteen
and some boy broke your heart,
but I was fifteen
and covered in scars.

You were seventeen
with a future so bright,
and I was seventeen,
but so terrified.

And who would've believed
that when we were both six,
we were two best friends,
we were two happy kids.

I don't really write poems but I do write lyrics for future songs I will work on, like this one for example:

Threshold of morality systematically pulverized
All traces of purity neutralized in the mists of such acute ecstasy
When lechery and guilt become synonymous, all traces of decency become extinguished in the blind spot
Keen vision lacks the perception of synthetic blindness
To not recover from psychological obliteration is to commit to self-sabotage
Everything is abandoned in the climactic exchange concealed by pessimistic assumptions of a bleak yet quxiotic existence
Decaying youthful extravagance seizes to amaze virgin eyes in this hour of meaningless reflection

Songs are poems.

Resident Evil 3 Poem
(This is not mine. I just saw it randomly. I better share it with you guys.)

I can still remember,
When everything was fine.
There was nothing wrong,
But now I look around,
And what I see scares me.
The city is in ruins, Victims of this
“Cannibal disease”
Shuffle along the roads,
Moans and cries fill the heavy
air.
I look around me, They come after me,
I just run around them,
They’re not a threat,
At least, not to me.
Umbrella said
That it was nothing to worry about,
Just stay in Raccoon,
And we would be all right.
But they were wrong,
Just like always.
What they do is sick, Creating all these things
Out of living human beings,
It’s to understand
What I’ve been through
But this what I do,
Because I joined the S.T.A.R.S., It’s all happened to us,
Chris, Barry, Rebecca,
We all saw it at the mansion,
But now it’s in Raccoon,
And I’m left alone now,
On my own for a while, But it will be over soon,
Because I know,
That I will get out alive,
I have to stop Umbrella,
To make what went wrong,
Right again.

Roses are red, violets are blue, now shut up both of You!

Spike Reaver wrote:

Roses are red, violets are blue, now shut up both of You!

Ha ha, nice poem you got there.

New guy here overstepping his boundaries. I'll post one I wrote years ago. I was inspired by the cold deadness of Resident Evil 4. I was younger, so this one is almost laughable/comical.

Beasts linger in the dead of night. They moan with all their might. They hunt me like I am no being. I am nothing but something seeing. That spark of life that grows so quick. Will end with a sharp stick. Fog rolls across the field. Traveling like phantoms who never yield. I will die here tonight, in this pasture, Only if it could be faster. The fear plagues my soul like a bitter rush, By the end of the night, I will be pure mush.

Roses are tits.
Violets are tits.
I like tits.
Tits tits tits.

Sundown31 wrote:

New guy here overstepping his boundaries. I'll post one I wrote years ago. I was inspired by the cold deadness of Resident Evil 4. I was younger, so this one is almost laughable/comical.

Beasts linger in the dead of night. They moan with all their might. They hunt me like I am no being. I am nothing but something seeing. That spark of life that grows so quick. Will end with a sharp stick. Fog rolls across the field. Traveling like phantoms who never yield. I will die here tonight, in this pasture, Only if it could be faster. The fear plagues my soul like a bitter rush, By the end of the night, I will be pure mush.

While reading the first sentence, I thought this was more like a Introduction rather than a poem.

Nice... I was trying sarcasm. Sorry I ruined it for you, Miss Redfield.

And I like Vandal's poem. We should publish that immediately.

I'm actually not the mastermind behind that poem.

I do pretty good, there jsut extremly dark.

This is kind of reversed topic, I like treating my novels like poetry - opening them often on random places and reading again (and again). Not every writer will "allow" such approach, of course.