Post your own poems!!

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I wrote this poem when I was 14:

Living in darkness,avoiding the light
the darkness my pleasure,the light my fright
my life is a nightamre with nothing to cope
I've been ruined in this fight without hope

I've nothing to offer,nothing to give
no dreams at all,no reason to live
adondoned here lying broken in the mud
drowning in my tears,drinking my blood

I'm a mistake,no londer cna I stay
I gotta leave now,there's onlt one way
I raise my hands high and strike with the knife
ending my pain by ending my life

I started this otherp poem and the only thnig that came to mind was:

I'm trapped in my box,slowly going insane
unable to hold back the sorrow,unable to cope with the pain

I don't know where I'm going to go with that one though...

-SpaceCase

Last bump

You people keep count of how much of something you write? I don't

PLANCK'S VERSE

From under Euclid's hat
Where space is very flat
The points dance out to anchor skeins of lines
Forming abstract mediums
Subservient to axioms,
Hypotheses and theorems that underlie designs
Which articulate extensions
Of the classical dimensions
Where the ideal and the concrete intertwines.

But something misty-hazy,
A modicum quite crazy,
Infected lines selected parallel.
It was hard to put your finger
On the doubts that tend to linger,
But they rang an alien brass bell.
When scrutinized with rigor

They simply wouldn't figure -
A discord most difficult to quell.

With the grace of an Eglevski
Along came Lobachevski.
He'd an eye to Euclid's parallel device.
By combing suppositions
He discovered new conditions
To make the general precise.
With Riemann he played games
With mathematic aims
And invigorated space with new spice.

Einstein looked at Newton's space.
He measured to the millionth place
And discovered something really wasn't right.
At orders of high magnitude
He found old concepts came unglued,
Especially at speeds close to light.
"The problem is," he had to state,
"Space is really not quite straight
But somehow strangely slickly subtly skewed."

How it's curved, he could not say.
It could be almost any way
Dependent on the mass proximity.
It needed no great miracle
For fourth dimension spherical
But then, in equanimity,
Theories deployed
Hyperbolic paraboloid
Held truth in anonymity.


"This space", he said, "I must
Most radically adjust
By fusing it confusingly with time.
So that the present, past and future
Are joined in special spacial suture.
Not in plan Satanic nor sublime."
Since time is also space
In each and every case,
We should call it tace or, maybe spime.

But events within this framework
Became, no longer, tame work.
The kingdom of the random becomes rife.
Uncertainty is certainty,
Will becomes insanely free,
And God is playing craps with your life.
So, if you are late for dinner,
You no more are a sinner.

Modern physics will explain it to your wife.

way kewl, I loved that,
I am into physics,
that poem is way kewl.
thank you for sharing.

Um. I have more than 30. Most are in song format, though.

Anyways, here's a non-song poem.

"Poison"

To breathe for death?
The mystery
I must realize:
Is all our life
Just a path to nothing?

To sing for blood?
Licking love from my lacerations;
I sing to the stars
That call my
Bloodshot
Broken
Name.

To throw away
All my life;
In the end it's pointless
To sing.
To reach.

Meanings: O, what are they?
To die before one breathes,
Or to live through
Empty
Wretched
Suffering?
Why?

Life: A petty nothingness
That sings its sorrow
To us all
Bleed, dark hollow:
Soon we'll find a reason.

The reason for life?
Can it be told
Through suffering?
Or experience?
Or death in all its pity?
Nothing everlasting.
Scream, for your flesh lies.

Love:
Merely a game?
The cure for suicide?
Shall I know
The answer?

To drink up fear:
Is that my game?
To tear you from the life I had?
My light eats away at your
Battered
Broken
Lungs.

Bloodstained lungs,
Comforting sorrow.
It eats away
At your thoughts! Your dreams:
Tomorrow never comes again.

Tainting the miserable,
Laughing out sorrow:
Conspiracy the mind can't teach.
Leave blood, leave blood,
And wrench your fears
From the poison
In your minds.

Roses are red
violets are blue
I want nothing more to do with you

Roses are yellow,
Lilies are white,
Sometimes poems
Are not very bright.

Then why do you mimic
What I write?

Silly fool, you're so easily scattered
Something I've wrote must have made your ego shatter

It's not my problem you pretend to be sane
What's really going on in the back of your mind is the song "If I only had a brain"

Your perception, it seems,
Is lost in your dreams.
My sanity, no vanity,
Still brightly gleams.
I never cringe, I don't whine.
No paranoia, I'm doing fine.
I followed your verse
Because of a whim.
No better, no worse,
But it seems you're intent
That I'm really no gent.
So to hell with your stuff.
Away with your fluff!
I'm off to my verses
In spite of your curses
To do what I will.
So swallow the pill.

I don't care if you are a gent
I don't care if your time is well worth spent
I will not care about you in a box
I will not care about your putrid green socks
My cat avatar thinks about putting your avatar on a plate
I'm undecided. Should I listen to Beethoven or Tom Waits?

karma will soon make you feel dull to let you know
Life isn't under your full control.

Should I care
If you don't care?
Or should I, perhaps,
Beware?
I am not
Superstitious.
I have hopes
You're not vicious.
Which may,
Or not
Be judicious.
Nevertheless
I've no distress.
I'm quite calm
And quite sure
You're not pernicious.
But I protest!
You've bad guessed.
My socks, not green
Can be seen
As very clean!
You're not accurate.
They're immaculate.

And of course,
There's your cat.
Looking greedy,
Clumsy, fat.
Caution her
On appetite.
My small mouse
Can really fight.
Though it looks
Calm, contained,
In martial arts
It's well trained.
Your black cat
Will be dealt
By a mouse
With black belt.