Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

Wow, no-one has been one this in awhile, I best contribuit something..
Here is one I made for a fellow Newgrounder.

I'll tell you the story,
about the other day,
When I finally found out,
my best friend was gay.
It was unbeilevable
He did just come out and say,
He had to physically show it,
in the worst kind of way.
Well I invited him over for
newgrounds and a movie,
During eash of the scenes
he moved closer to me.
This is not what I wanted,
If you thought so you were wrong.
I just wanted to gets some blam points
and watch king kong.
He finally pushed me abit to far
when he placed his hand on my ball bag
I said 'oh my god, What the fuck!'
He say 'hey don't dis my dad.'
All of the sudden the walls lit up
he smiled and said 'lets have some fun!'
I tried to resist but I couldn't move
He really was the lords son.
Halos acted like handcuffs
and chained me to my bed,
Jesus really took control
when he was giving head.
He made a earthquake in my room
forced me to say he was 'boss',
I'm not religeous but...
I thought he got nailed to the cross.
Maybe this is his 2nd coming,
Or could be the first this time.
But each load of his was just as much,
and all tasted like wine.
At first I was in pain,
But then I was totally numb,
no-one beileves my story
of when jesus took me up the bum.
All of the sudden he vanished,
after about an hour.
I didn't if he was coming back,
to show me more of his power.
My blanket were a mess,
My mum thought I was a drunk.
She didn't beileve the wine smell
was left over jesus's spunk.
Sometimes I do pray,
But only to tell the lord,
That jesus can come over any day
If he is kinda bored.

That ones pretty funny :P
Here's one of mine that i made a while ago when i was in jerusalem, it's rather short...
Jerusalem Taxis

Taxis, vultures,
Biding their time,
Waiting,
Until,
*Snap!*

P.S. If you've ever been there, they really are like frickin vultures. Anything to get a shekel. Ridiculous, but it's their culture. Sigh...

Sonnet #1
Context: The End of A Date

Before you say "Goodnight"

And after, my daughter, you will go home.
Then He will stand near, staring at my door,
Unnoticed by you, you'll stare at the floor.
Now here, He's watched close by the garden gnome,
Who at once knows, for he has heard this po'm,
Many times before, and now lives the lore.
Though recently, his eyes have seen it more,
Many times before, in many a tome.
You ask him in, believing he's laid bare.
'So sweet,' you think once, 'So cute yet so coy,'
You naïve girl, you don't know you've traded
For the man standing behind the boy.
And I fear this has become not so rare.
Lo! Tis the monster you have created!

Sonnet #2

Context: None

The Race

We agreed to sprint up the mountainside,
a race neither of us wanted to run.
For at its end, neither of us had won,
Because our path back down had been denied.
"If this don't stop, I'll jump to death!" I cried,
to the hot knives of light thrown by the sun,
and I wondered how my friend had them shunned,
just ahead, how was he able to hide?
Then I see, on my friend, a curtain drawn,
I rip it aside as I hear him pant,
and I know now that since I will not stop,
he won't. He prepares to do what I can't.
I take one more step and my friend is gone.
My shadow had beaten me to the top.

Haven't been here in a while. I write this song for the girl I love. I call it "Free To Be Together". Reviews or edits please?

Every time I'm down,
You help me up.
Every time I frown,
You help me turn it upside down.

Because I love you,
And you love me,
And just like love, we could be,
Free to be together.

If we ever fight or tell lies,
We should always compromise.
Patch the problem, solving it,
Do it right, and we will fit.

Because I love you,
And you love me,
And just like love, we could be,
Free to be together.

Hmmm... well, I've posted all my recent poems on my blogspot blog. So please take a look. Leave comments or whatever.

http://sniperram.blogspot.com/2008/04/po ems-lots-of-them.html

I write poetry (see blog), but I also write for you, if you'd like a little something let me know on my userpage. I can't promise to write wonders, but if you're trying to woo a 28 year old Asian F, then I know what *I* like to read :)

I also love to read 'real' poetry, at the moment I really enjoy Scott.

can i join the club
a poem i made, although it is french.

Être Des chaussettes,
Avoir Des chaussettes,
Manger Des chaussettes,
Veut Des chaussettes.

Untitled:
The grass between her toes moves,
While the dew sings on each blade,
The Wind whispers, touches her,
Sun streaked hair blows across her face,
Twice that day i saw her cry,
Twice i saw her smile.
That day is long forgotten,
By all but me...

Untitled:

We shared more than a smile,
But tears ran through our hair,
I saw her eyes,
She saw mine,
Green...Blue...
Couloring the sky with hues and shades.
watching the horizon disappear beneath our gaze,
Watching it die...

Hey folks, I really love poetry and Ive written some poems recently but my faviroute most meaningfull poem would have to be "leisure" by W.H Davies.

hey, could i possibly join. Sorry if my grammar isnt all there but grammar and litriture are not my strong points.

wow this hasnt had a new post in ages someone say something sheesh!

You deforested the woodland in my soul.
You freeze the blood in my veins.
You tangled me in a web of eturnal antipathy.
Reality is winding before my vision.
A bird hatches from an egg then chirps.
But before my eyes it is consumed into the dark world.
The dreamweavers of nightmares.
The artisans beatific realm is destroyed.
When will you disemerge from your state of neutrality?

Just found this club, cool, never knew there was a club for just poetry. Although, how can you expect to get better in your poems if you can't get any criticism for them? Anyway;

Despite the darkness
You shine like a star

Despite the separation,
You connect with me

Despite the others,
You are patient

Despite the obstacles,
You avoid them

Despite the crowd,
You stand out

Despite my nervousness,
You relax me

Despite the gossip,
You know the real story

Despite my mistakes,
You stayed calm

Despite life,
You are the center
Of mine.

Hey, peoplezorz. Let me share with you a limerick I wrote a few months ago. I just found this club and thought this might fight just right. It a bit dirtay, so watch out!

The Story of The Lunar Elf Named Joe: An Epic Limerick

I may write a whole book some day
Let's hope it's before I decay
But it takes time to do
And between me and you
I think reading is totally gay

There's a story that I want to tell
(And I know that I'm going to Hell)
But when you are done
You'll have had some fun
That last line was awkward. Oh well.

So I'll switch to my limerick mode
I'll forget about graphics and code
I just smoked some grass
And I'm high off my ass
So let's get this show on the road

*Ahem.*

In a far away hut on the Moon
Lived a hermit named Joe and his spoon
He thought to himself
"If I weren't an Elf
I bet I'd get more Martian Poon."

Now, Joe was a one minded fellow
And nothing this craving would mellow
So he put on his boots
And jumped through the chutes
That led to his ship, which was yellow

He popped that old mo-fo in gear
But was stunned by a terrible fear
He remembered his shlong
Was not very long
And Joe shed a singular tear

He shook off this nonsense but quick
A doctor could lengthen his prick
A fellow on Venus
Could build a new penis
And then Joe would have a big dick

So with this now Joe was inspired
He revved and his ship's engines fired
Be blasted away
Toward Venus, let's say
While his Latte-No Whip kept him wired

He arrived at the good doctor's door
And knocked 'till his knuckles were sore
The doctor peaked out
And Joe gave a shout
The man was eleven foot four!

The doctor revived Joe in hours
In one of his "Fainted Elf" towers
He asked Joe, "What's wrong?"
And Joe sang his sad song
About his gross lack of pleasuring powers

The doctor said, "Joe, you're in luck.
For only a nominal buck,
I'll build you a cock
That is made out of rock,
So I hope that you don't like to tuck."

But then the good doctor said, "Oh!
There is but one catch to this, though.
As part of my craft,
You must fetch me a shaft
From which I can best mold the dough."

Well, Joe was quite stunned at the start
He even let out a nice fart
For the thought was so foul
It had loosened his bowel
On second thought, maybe a shart.

Once Joe was done changing his shorts
He gathered a courage of sorts
So with pep in his stride
He hopped in his ride
And scratched at his genital warts.

He came to a planet near home
There were plenty of places to roam
But he came to a stop
On a shady hill top
And browsed through his favorite tome

The sports coverage in it was great
And the pictures were too, at that rate
And When Joe was finished,
His sperm count diminished,
He dozed off and left things to fate

Well fate is a hell of a bitch
Who found him but some guy named Mitch
Now, Mitch was the guy
Who made grown men cry
And develop an odd nervous twitch

Mitch tied Joe tight to the bed
And forced Joe to give him some head
But Joe was much wiser
And had sharp incisors
And bit off the fucker instead

Now, Mitch rolled around like a dope
And Joe somehow loosened the rope
Joe grabbed Mitch's rod
And gave it a nod
Then left Mitch to cry and to mope

He flew back to Venus like whoa
And gave the doc all of his dough
The doc built the pecker
And checked with the checker
Then gave the new upgrade to Joe

Joe hit the first bar he could find
It was one where the Martian girls dined
He danced with some biddies
And stared at their titties
Then found one that seemed just his kind

They stumbled on back to her room
And Joe banged her good, you'd assume
But listen close here
Or you'll miss it, I fear
There's a twist that'll hit with a BOOM!

Now, Joe threw the lady a rose
The bitch took off all of her clothes
And what a surprise
A trick on the eyes?
Her penis was bigger than Joe's!

"The nerve of these insolent whores!
This is the shit that starts wars!"
Joe, still filled with shock
Took a look at her cock
And said, "Shit bitch! I could have used yours!"

...................silence.............

Can I join?

At 4/3/05 08:47 PM, ZeroAsALimit wrote: Tomorrow, I shall (hopefully) be able to actually spend some time on a poem. I've got to be careful though (when an adult sees my written work, they want to talk with me).

That was always a problem that i faced.
Now that Im in college though, i find much more freedom in what i'm wiling to commit to ink and paper.
Id fill up notebooks so fast that it was alot of troube finding places to keep them all without the prying eyes of the "responsible adults" fulfilling their addiction to meddling in my affairs.

But thats it, isn't it?
The young hearts that raced so uncautiously
Are tied like mules to the fears
That grew from the needle-and-ice eyes of
A self-indulgent whim of the previous generation.

And, hey, why not though?
Isn't youth meant to be afraid?
We are only the fools who
Someday might grow into the next great genius
And sweep the dust and the devils from those most ancient boneyards.
But, by then, I think, We will forget what it is
That we set out to accomplish,
And the tracks we made in getting there will be faded and melted
like footsteps in the snow as the sun comes round for a
longer day's work.

But that's it, isn't it?
And Maturity is nothing more
Than the bastardization of a
Long walk to a better place.
And as our legs grow longer, and our hands can hold more,
Our minds grow shorter, to retreat and hide behind a
Bad face and a hard mouth
From which the sad elucidation is born and spoken all wrong.
But that's it, isn't it?
Damn.

The Prettiest Mother in the World

Her face is no longer smooth,
it is lined by time.
Even if she doesn't look the same,
she is still that dear mother of mine.
She has always given of herself to me,
nothing was I ever denied.
She laughed when I laughed,
she comforted me when I cried.
There is no one like her,
I don't think there will ever be.
No one means as much to me,
as she.
To me, it doesn't matter what she looks like,
I guess it is a matter of pride.
For the things that make her the most beautiful,
are the things she has inside.

Note: I wrote this back in 1992, when my mother was going under surgery for cancer. She is now 87 and cancer-free.

Ugh, i might as well send you this poem i made for halloween 2007.

I made a little pumpkin,

i loved the little touch.

it was happy, it was smiling

i liked it very much.

it had two teeth, a little nose

two eyes and a smile

the bad part was that i couldn't see it far away

well... i would say about a mile.

I named it ''lil' pumpkin'' put in a candle

it looked very nice,

he wasn't very big, not very small

so the name ''lil'' was 'cause of the size

well i'm gonna write a little more,

it won't be very long.

but i'm gonna say HI to lil' pumpkin

before the town bell rings ''DING DONG''

but the bad thing was

that he was starting to rot,

so i had to throw him in the dumpster

i'm gonna miss him a lot.

now there is no pumpkin

and no candle light

but i'm sorta happy,

because in the dark, he gave me a fright!!

You know you will die
You know you will end
A meaning is nigh
And for that you'll contend

The game's simple really
The rules almost none
And it's not about winning
But who can have the most fun

I'm new here, i've been suggested to come here, tried to make a thread and it got locked and EVERYBODY complained. Will make a thread with my artwork and my poems. I just hope you guys don't get angry at me too. Here's one of my poems (not all of my poems rhyme and/or flow, so don't get angry about "rules of poetry" i'm new at this). It's called "Time" it's my first. I know love and wove don't rhyme but it was hard to think of a word that did.

Time won't tick
I don't feel sick

Shadows haunt me
And I can't find the key

To the lock
So the clock

Will move again
So I can begin

Life
Strife

And all that follows
I don't feel the hollows

In my heart
I can't start

Till I find the key
In me

It goes to the lock
In the clock

So it can move again
And I can begin

Not breath
But death

I am dead
I drink red

Do you know
I can show

My teeth
If not I'll sheath

Them
Succumb to my whim

That I will not make you
Do

For I found the key
In me

By my guest
Go ahead and guess

Just who the key goes to
What can you do
It's you

But will you mind
To wind

The clock
With the lock

Again
So I can begin

Love
That you and I wove

If anybody read my stuff up above, you can probably tell I have "issues" with the general range of older people. I'm at university now, so I'm no 'kid' age-wise, but I feel that youth is more than a measure of years. Youth is about the passion to live, and finding your place in the world by following your heart.
Anybody care to weigh in ( through poem or prose) on this subject?

A poem seemingly about losing the path of life, its called rain, sometimes you have to take the dreary path to go the right way.

Rain

Time stands still
And I don't have free will
To fight
Do anything right
Or break the chains that bind
What I need to find
Is somewhere I don't know
No one will show
Hidden away
I can't find the way
Then it begins to rain
It begins to pour
So fast it floods
The way I was looking for
I am lost
I'll pay any cost
To find the way again
To begin
My way
On such a dreary day
I wish the sun would shine
And intertwine it's hand with mine
Oh! But there it is!
I can't believe this!
Then it begins to rain
It begins to pour
So fast it floods
The way I was looking for
I hoped for more
I'm stricken to the core
Where will I find rest
Will the sun not jest
And make me believe
That I can conceive
The thoughts I need
To heed
So I can find the path
Beyond all this wrath
Then it begins to rain
It begins to pour
So fast it floods
The way I was looking for
I begin to think
And to link
Together the hints
The sun vents
Helping me along
So I can finally belong
And find the place
Using the case
Of the rain
To fight the pain
Just follow
The path the rain made hollow
Then it begins to rain
It begins to pour
So fast it floods
Down the way I was looking for
I smile
As the rain does file
Down the wet
And slick outlet
Down the path the sun
Does rise, and i begin to run
Hoping for the better
Even if it is wetter
Path of life
And no more strife
I found the way
After all of today
I can be content
And never again relent

im here waiting to plot the prevention, of another debating dead shot intervention, my mind is deflating as I fought for protection, as I keep fading to stop my infection, all of this hating atop of negelection, drives my soul grateing to pop my perfection, illuminating so called self dissection, while im still waiting to rig an election, slowly and slowly I crawled to inspection, to decide that you owe me a hip new erection. ;)

Can I join? Here is my poem:

Sammie

A girl called Sammie existed,
She was perfect, in every way, gifted.
She was only 17, and looked like a goddess.
A face painted by angels,
She never looked a mess.
Curvy body, if all else fails.
Straight As, in every subject,
She had beauty, a great personality, and to match, intelect
Blonde, green eyes, what else do you need to know?
Well, one more thing you need to know.

Whilst walking from school, she felt followed,
She looked at her phone and moaned.
Her dad told her: 'Come home a.s.a.p!'
By now she was hearing footsteps.
She was scared, she needed help,
At that moment, she thought about her boyfriend, John Phillps
Of how loving he was, making her happy.
The footsteps grew so fast, it was silly!
Until she was snatched, and put in a bag,
She now knew, the footsteps were bad.

She was thrown in a cage,
She fell asleep, at this stage.
When she awoke, she was naked.
Being raped by someone familiar.
It was a boy everyone hated.
He was evil, and a liar.
But she was chained to a bed, unable to react.
Forced to perform sexual acts.
He raped her again and again,
He knocked her out, unchained her, and ran away.

Sammie was no longer the same.
She was aorexic, and became lame.
The girl she was is dead.
She took heroin, until she was left dead.
Now she is a ghost, wandering the Earth,
She turns people anorexic, that's the truth.
Killing them off, when they were dying.
But some made it, or am I lying?
She killes the anorexic,
Which I think is sick

Tell me how to improve please.

At 8/11/08 02:49 PM, dididu915 wrote:

He raped her again and again,
He knocked her out, unchained her, and ran away, left her in pain .

Forgot about that part lol

Nice work, kid. I dig the fluidity of your thoughts throughout the piece.
It's sometimes difficult for me to smoothly connect one point to another in my works, especially when in a defined rhythmic/stanza format. Keep writing, for sure.

Can I join?
Here is a site with my stuff so that you can see if I am good enough :)
www.poeticallyyours.com <-- all my work