Poetry sucks

The story of man
Makes me sick
Inside, outside,
I don't know why
Something so conditional
And all talk
Should hurt me so.

I am hurt
I am scared
I want to live
I want to die
I don't know
Where to turn
In the Void
And when
To cut
Out

For no Church told me
No Guru holds me
No advice
Just stone
Of New York
And on the cafeteria
We hear
The saxophone
O dead Ruby
Died of Shot
In Thirty Two,
Sounding like old times
And de bombed
Empty decapitated
Murder by the clock.

And I see Shadows
Dancing into Doom
In love, holding
TIght the lovely asses
Of the little girls
In love with sex
Showing themselves
In white undergarments
At elevated windows
Hoping for the Worst.

I can't take it
Anymore
If I can't hold
My little behind
To me in my room

Then it's goodbye
Sangsara
For me
Besides
Girls aren't as good
As they look
And Samadhi
Is better
Than you think
When it starts in
Hitting your head
In with Buzz
Of glittergold
Heaven's Angels
Wailing

Saying

We've been waiting for you
Since Morning, Jack
Why were you so long
Dallying in the sooty room?
This transcendental Brilliance
Is the better part
(of Nothingness
I sing)

Okay.
Quit.
Mad.
Stop.

-Jack Kerouac

[fluxrad]

"Terrence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly ache.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well the horned head:
We poor lads, 'tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping Melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad."
Why if 'tis dancing you would be,
There's brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a peer of England Brews
Livelier liquor than the muse ,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot
To see the world as the world's not.
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:
The mischief is that 'twill not last.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And left my necktie God knows where,
And carried half-way home or near,
Pints and Quarts of Ludlow beer:
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely much I've lain,
Happy till I woke again.Till I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.

Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill,
And while sun and moon endure
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure,
I'd face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good.
'tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
Is not so brisk a brew as ale:
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I wrung it in a weary land.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the embittered hour;
It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my sould's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.

There was a king reigned in the East:
There, when kings will sit to feast,
They get their fill before they think
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink.
He gathered all that springs to birth
From the many-venomed earth;
First a little, thence to more,
He sampled all her killing store;
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
Sate the king when healths went rough.
They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat;
They poured strychnine in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
- I tell the tale that I heard told.
Mithridates, he died old.

-A.E. Housman

You fail at life if this isn't one of your favorite works.

[TheIrishThug]

[ QUOTE ]
no offense.

[/ QUOTE ]

dude, this is oot. flame him to [censored] for his ignorance. don't back off with that "no offense" bull [censored]. completely hurts ur point when u say that.

[chuddo]

bukowski

[istewart]

If I actually forced myself to read that I would kill myself.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
no offense.

[/ QUOTE ]

dude, this is oot. flame him to [censored] for his ignorance. don't back off with that "no offense" bull [censored]. completely hurts ur point when u say that. /quote]

Point taken. I take it back. I intend offense. Be offended. Retard.

[Eurotrash]

[ QUOTE ]
If I actually forced myself to read that I would kill myself.

[/ QUOTE ]



have some cream soda instead

[TheIrishThug]

i personally prefer the root beer.

[istewart]

[ QUOTE ]
i personally prefer the root beer.

[/ QUOTE ]

[mikech]

[ QUOTE ]
And English departments that force students to read it should be done away with. It's gay.

And for an analogy:

Poetry : Literature actually worth reading

::

Finger paintings by a blind kid with Down Syndrome : Mona Lisa

[/ QUOTE ]
first of all, you do realize that poetry is the oldest form of literature? ever wonder why the "novel" is called that? because it was new. the first artistic expression of every civilization's language was in the form of poetry.

second of all, do you listen to rock bands or other popular music? if so, do you think those guys putting words to music and singing them is "gay" too?