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Post by Burnttonothing on Jun 21, 2004 16:29:23 GMT -5
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
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Post by Reaper696 on Jun 21, 2004 18:02:47 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser... no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
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Post by Lina Inverse on Jun 21, 2004 21:26:28 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude... How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored... so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone? My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help... pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson. To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book... endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen. Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance... oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you. spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser... no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express... A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
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Post by Burnttonothing on Jun 22, 2004 2:25:51 GMT -5
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Jun 27, 2004 16:05:02 GMT -5
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
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Post by Lina Inverse on Jun 27, 2004 21:07:45 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser...
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
To dirty myself Swamp my flesh its own blood Ultimate beauty
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Post by Reaper696 on Aug 18, 2004 15:16:14 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser...
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
To dirty myself Swamp my flesh its own blood Ultimate beauty A nighttime sun shines, A gothic game is playing Inside mind's chasm...
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Post by Reaper696 on Nov 30, 2004 19:38:23 GMT -5
(Has this thread now died? Funny how haikus just sit Contemplate genius?...)
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser...
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
To dirty myself Swamp my flesh its own blood Ultimate beauty
A nighttime sun shines, A gothic game is playing Inside mind's chasm...
But am I too dark? Does sun burn beneath my skin? Do I need solace?...
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Post by Reaper696 on Jan 31, 2005 21:33:32 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser...
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
To dirty myself Swamp my flesh its own blood Ultimate beauty
A nighttime sun shines, A gothic game is playing Inside mind's chasm...
But am I too dark? Does sun burn beneath my skin? Do I need solace?...
This thread stops again. Should I sit? Resuscitate? I'm the only one?
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Post by Seventy Times Seven on Feb 11, 2005 20:50:34 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser...
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
To dirty myself Swamp my flesh its own blood Ultimate beauty
A nighttime sun shines, A gothic game is playing Inside mind's chasm...
But am I too dark? Does sun burn beneath my skin? Do I need solace?...
This thread stops again. Should I sit? Resuscitate? I'm the only one?
Let me try, he says His first poem was haiku He prays, not his last
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Post by Reaper696 on Mar 16, 2005 16:20:00 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser...
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
To dirty myself Swamp my flesh its own blood Ultimate beauty
A nighttime sun shines, A gothic game is playing Inside mind's chasm...
But am I too dark? Does sun burn beneath my skin? Do I need solace?...
This thread stops again. Should I sit? Resuscitate? I'm the only one?
Let me try, he says His first poem was haiku He prays, not his last
One step at a time. Shakespeare wasn't built in days, Needs time and practice
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Mar 18, 2005 16:00:49 GMT -5
i open my mind.. creativty succumbs. gently the words seep.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Apr 6, 2005 15:33:22 GMT -5
is this working yet, reap?
i guess we can start up a new thread if this ones f*cked.
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Post by Reaper696 on Apr 7, 2005 12:48:14 GMT -5
I think it is now solved Now where the hell was I dude? No more joints today...
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Post by Reaper696 on Apr 7, 2005 12:51:31 GMT -5
Ok, so who starts? From the heart? Maybe the mind? Decisions, decisions dude...
How about I start Where most would tread if lonely Dammit, I'm so bored...
so quiet it is in this lonely realm of words.. where have they all gone?
My pen has no blood Nor paper with nourishment Doctor, Doctor, help...
pass me my scalpel, i need to write a poem.. it shall be crimson.
To write of this despair Does nothing more than breed more Could become a book...
endlessly i write my thoughts moving with swiftness faster than my pen.
Paper warm with thought Mind is finding beaten path Muse and I now dance...
oh, my dearest muse, where have you been all this time? i revel in you.
spiraling the drain a deserters final thoughts before the fray
digging, digging deep into my pale, flaky flesh inscribing this poem
Words and thoughts collide; Pen and paper? Casualties Of my heart's geyser...
no pen and paper nothing needed for my words just use blood as ink
Blood so blue lands hard Upon the paper tiger; Riding heart's express...
A razor, a knife Create mortal red writing Poems of my life
My life, my despair Crimson writing of darkness Think and let it flow
this sick imagery gouged into my burning flesh fuels my desire
To dirty myself Swamp my flesh its own blood Ultimate beauty
A nighttime sun shines, A gothic game is playing Inside mind's chasm...
But am I too dark? Does sun burn beneath my skin? Do I need solace?...
This thread stops again. Should I sit? Resuscitate? I'm the only one?
Let me try, he says His first poem was haiku He prays, not his last
One step at a time. Shakespeare wasn't built in days, Needs time and practice
i open my mind.. creativty succumbs. gently the words seep.
Parties have begun, Thought entities intertwine. Literal dreams fly
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