Her name was Lola,
she was a cuntlip.
(nappy rash, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:37, Reply)

...I'm still a teenager, actually.
They were happy the first time I said "cup"
They cheered the first time I stood up
I don't know how
Or why, but now
They just tell me to sit down and shut up
(icouldbeahero, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:37, Reply)

a surrealist ditty.....
is the moon
a big balloon
that floats up in the sky?
or is it made
of lemonade
and a piece of apple pie

...which is often used to fill lulls in boring conversations. Try it. It works a treat.
( fr13day has everything required to be a Penguin, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:37, Reply)

I used to write deliberately bad poetry, just to be awkward.
One nearly won the school Green Society's poetry competition, until someone noticed it was apparently written by 'A Moron' -
'Trees are nice
Industry is crap
Why can't we be flowers?'

Another one was put into the school magazine. It was about aliens deciding not to destroy the world because of all the children laughing. It was long. It was bad. It began -
'Across the time-frozen nebulae
The onyx tetrahedron glided.'
and went downhill from there.
( George Spiggott, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:30, Reply)

Bloody Hell
Personally I didnt have a poetic bone in my body (with the possible exceptions of "tibia" and "fibia" Gettit?)

But back in the late 80's, my mate used to send me screeds in the style of "Robert Smith on a downer"! He used to make The Cure's critically acclaimed album, Pornography, sound like "Knees Up, Mother Brown"

Right I am off to rake in my attic..back later!
( Fire & Forget it's the only way to be sure, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:25, Reply)

Quite simple...
People live,
People die,
I survive.
( Goriath, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:23, Reply)

Poem to B3ta and its members.
B3ta, oh B3ta
I love you, you smeater*
My girlfriend doesn’t,
So I beat ’er.
And then eat ‘er.**
Feet (er)

*note – this is a made up word. Sorry, but not that many things rhyme with B3ta. Lets pretend it means clever, funny website, populated by people who laugh at others, and don’t work as hard as their bosses think. Also people who use the word cunt a lot. Which I like.

I don’t think it’ll make it into the OED.

** Not in the 'rude' way. Pervert.
(grr_boy, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:23, Reply)

one i remember....here goes,
Hashes to Hashes
Dust to Dust
If the dope doesn't get you
The acid must.....

No apologies for length cause i'm a rude bastard!
(djgalaxe, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:21, Reply)

damn it
i was going to talk about teenage pottery
(Sheepattack!, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:13, Reply)

this isn't poetry as such
but i to this day still have a little note-pad of my "creative writing". i like to read through it every so often and laugh about how much of a knob i was. this is my favourite bit...

"with a tear in my eye, i try in vein (sic) to get through it. At the moment it feels like i'm trying to convince myself everything will be ok. fuck, fuck, fuck, sick, fuck, sick, sick, fuck. I'm on the biggest downer ever and god how people are going to know about it. I am just a left handed, idiotic, depressed, twatish, lanky, hyperactive no hope that no-one gives a fuck about"

and this is an absolute killer of a line;

"i've tried so hard not to hate the world, but it's difficult when the world hates me"

even now, i'm shocked at how i could write such things.
(wayneofthedead Dale Winton was my dad, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:13, Reply)

More of a Lymeric really...
made up on the spot because my freinds knew loads of them and I didn't know any. It goes thus...

*coughs*

There was an old from the sea front,
Who's tools were incredibly blunt
da da da da da,
da da da da da,
da da da da da d-da cunt!

I thank you.
(sbeck, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:13, Reply)

Haiku
Killing toddlers, then
desecrating their corpses,
I did it again.
( Lightguy hail satan, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:10, Reply)

My Poem - made someone cry anyway
You walk around with a face like death
And kill everyone with monster breath
I'm sorry but I don't know why
You just don't fuck off and die
(Eli-T, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:09, Reply)

Perenium residue
I love to smell her ebayed panties
Slightly soiled
Like my mind
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:06, Reply)

This QOTW is an emo kid's dream!
Not sure if this counts as poetry, but I did write a song in one particularly depressed moment. Its not very good. So, without further ado, I give you Always Something Else.

Life is never easy
As it goes on day by day
Often never good enough
And the good bits never stay

And people often tell me
They are right and I am wrong
But if they only knew me
They’d know why my cheer has gone

And I know, yes I know
But nothing’s ever easy
There’s always something else
Causing troubles on the way

Yeah I know, oh I know
That time stands still for no man
There’s always something else
I should really, really say

Have you ever noticed
How the stretch of life drags on
What once did seem a simple task
Becomes a complex one

You’d think that with experience
Everything would be OK
Problems come and problems go
But they never go away

And I know, yes I know
But nothing’s ever easy
There’s always something else
Causing problems on the way

Yeah I know, oh I know
That time stands still for no man
There’s always something else
I should really, really say

**Instrumental**

Things that come between us
Can tear us both apart
Is it worth repairing
What will only break our hearts?

Oh I know what I know
Nothing can ever change that
But there’s always something else
Always something else
To take my joy away.


Cripes. And that was only last year.
(costie, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:05, Reply)

M C Escher
Culminating a Year's worth of Study into M C Escher and learning to closely emulate his style, Our Art teacher Gravely dissapointed us by telling us that the final task in the study of our artist of choice, was to write a poem about that artist.

A POEM?? I learnt to draw Escher's wierd and twisted things to write a Frikking POEM???

"We could go when we'd finished..."

Right: Bollocks to this..

I got a 'D'. That man never appreciated surrealism...

"Escher was Wierd,
and had a Beard.
The End"
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:03, Reply)

Respect
Sir?
Yes sir.
Yes sir.
Yes sir.
No I won't, sir.
Yes sir.
Of course, sir.
Right away, sir.
Yes sir.

Sir?
Shove it up your arse, sir.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:02, Reply)

not mine, honest..
see that girl there?
the one with the purple hair?
cutting her wrists 'cos she just doesn't care
.
.
.
about me
(fiery_jackass, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:01, Reply)

I wrote non,
as poetry is for benders, always has been always will be.

I wrote novellas.
( DrPoppers Touched by his noodly appendage, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:00, Reply)

not mine but...
I remember as a kid reading about the world's shortest rhyming poem.
It was basically about a boy called Adam who was afflicted with fleas.
It went:


Adam had'm.


The end.
(nappy rash, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 15:00, Reply)

He did too..
There was a young fellow called Dom
Who swallowed a nuclear bomb
It ticked away for a year and a day
Now half the world is gone

Boom boom
(walow, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:59, Reply)

The Chesapeake
There once was a man from Nantucket...

Seriously:

Woe the tide
it trickles in
with dolphin fin
and sailors do abide.

I grew up near the Chesapeake Bay. I think there was too much mercury in the water.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:58, Reply)

It wasn't the grass,
that tickled her ass,
it was my finger.
She sat on my face,
and i guessed her weight.
She was a minger.


:|
(nappy rash, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:57, Reply)

No body
I cry out
But there is no
Body to hear
Am I talking to no
Body?
The television talks to no
Body but that is no
Body talking to no
Body so who am I?
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:57, Reply)

Wascally
Yes like You, I was waiting for first
But I didn't get it! thats the worst.
Better luck next week
Whos the biggest geek?

Not really teenage poetry
cos im 28
i sound like jack Doherty
who's in a band i fair rate.


is all....
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:56, Reply)

Teenage poetry - the horror!
Let's just say that it was very sensitive and leave it there.
(Glen Moranjie, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:56, Reply)

Well, you asked for it...
The dreams that were that children make
All lie in places dusty and dim.
Memories that with passing day
Become false photographs
As venom seeps away.



Edit: "You don't understand me or my music, don't click 'I like this!' See if I care, harumph!" (storms off in huff and throws up cheap cider on hideously patterned brown 1970's duvet cover)
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:53, Reply)

Thom
Thom is fit
Thom is cool
Thom smokes weed
Thom makes me drool
Thom has long hair and
Thom wears baggy pants
What more could I ask for in a Lad?

Later I realised he was (and still is) a pathetic stoner with little hope in life. Ah.
(The Disillusioned Starburst, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:52, Reply)