Poetry competition CLOSED 8th October 2012 2:22am
WINNER
shaunda
shaunda
RUNNER-UP:
siphondarkness
The Art of War
Anonymous
The Art of War
I am
not a housewife
but a savage
surgeon.
I am that girl
who-
being beaten
will dress in mud
then,
disguise
myself
as your
friend.
(Hence I use it in everyday situations, The Art of War has proven methods.)
I am
not a housewife
but a savage
surgeon.
I am that girl
who-
being beaten
will dress in mud
then,
disguise
myself
as your
friend.
(Hence I use it in everyday situations, The Art of War has proven methods.)
Anonymous
"Stone Cold"
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/70265.jpg
Their supremacy is
your weak heart worn
on open sleeves.
You mark yourself revealing
unlocked code,
easy to decipher,
picked by the deceivers,
malcontents intent on
your total destruction.
Utter confusion
divides the enemy ranks,
vanquish them with
the stone cold you
wear on your face,
fear not as
deception
secures
total victory,
making them
part of the past,
ancient
history.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/70265.jpg
Their supremacy is
your weak heart worn
on open sleeves.
You mark yourself revealing
unlocked code,
easy to decipher,
picked by the deceivers,
malcontents intent on
your total destruction.
Utter confusion
divides the enemy ranks,
vanquish them with
the stone cold you
wear on your face,
fear not as
deception
secures
total victory,
making them
part of the past,
ancient
history.
Anonymous
"War Artist"
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/70064.jpg
Formlessness satisfies,
the efficiency of
unknown schemes
strikes fear,
stealing power
while they sleep
in dreamy confidence.
No coincidence,
the spoils can be yours
before the sun rises,
restoring your strength,
the greater depth.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/70064.jpg
Formlessness satisfies,
the efficiency of
unknown schemes
strikes fear,
stealing power
while they sleep
in dreamy confidence.
No coincidence,
the spoils can be yours
before the sun rises,
restoring your strength,
the greater depth.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/62176.jpg
Where no body gives a shit!
Its 142 degrees and hotter than fish grease,
the freaking desert is bone dry,
sand is blowing in the afternoon sky;
all is quiet, too damn quiet, so, so quiet,
you can hear a mosquito fart in cotton.
A pit viper slithers by
looking for a place cool to hide,
I am sweating so “gotdarn” hard
my boots have become a swamp.
An ideal breeding ground
for some bonafide jungle rot,
what fun, ass rash and foot funk,
oh yea baby we got it going on!
Flippin Kevlar is squishing my boobs
making it very uncomfortable
and hard as hell to stay unbruised.
This bullet proof bucket on my head
is nothing but a hot house cooking my dreads.
For the umpteenth time I wipe my face,
Its too damn quiet; what the hell is coming next?
Sitting on an amo box smoking a square,
hand cupped over the glowing ember
so no one knows we are there.
In Coming!!! In Coming!!!
Hit the deck!!! Shrapnel everywhere, damn!
it hit my partner in the neck, go in my back pack
and pull out a tampon to plug the hole,
wrap a sanitary napkin over the wound
with some 4 40 tape to make it hold.
Shoot him up with joy juice he won’t feel any pain,
It is just anther day in the arm pit of the world,
where no body gives a shit! What about you?
Gypsy Red
Where no body gives a shit!
Its 142 degrees and hotter than fish grease,
the freaking desert is bone dry,
sand is blowing in the afternoon sky;
all is quiet, too damn quiet, so, so quiet,
you can hear a mosquito fart in cotton.
A pit viper slithers by
looking for a place cool to hide,
I am sweating so “gotdarn” hard
my boots have become a swamp.
An ideal breeding ground
for some bonafide jungle rot,
what fun, ass rash and foot funk,
oh yea baby we got it going on!
Flippin Kevlar is squishing my boobs
making it very uncomfortable
and hard as hell to stay unbruised.
This bullet proof bucket on my head
is nothing but a hot house cooking my dreads.
For the umpteenth time I wipe my face,
Its too damn quiet; what the hell is coming next?
Sitting on an amo box smoking a square,
hand cupped over the glowing ember
so no one knows we are there.
In Coming!!! In Coming!!!
Hit the deck!!! Shrapnel everywhere, damn!
it hit my partner in the neck, go in my back pack
and pull out a tampon to plug the hole,
wrap a sanitary napkin over the wound
with some 4 40 tape to make it hold.
Shoot him up with joy juice he won’t feel any pain,
It is just anther day in the arm pit of the world,
where no body gives a shit! What about you?
Gypsy Red
Taking Point
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/68036.jpg
Once more I take point,
listening for danger where it may lie,
hoping that this won’t
be last day of my life.
Alone in the belly of the beast,
your mind has lots of time
to dig and delve deep,
rehashing the foretime.
Breathing deep I fortify myself,
now is not the moment
to let demons assert themselves,
I laser hone my sites, as a deterrent.
Yet all the discipline in the world
does not silence the mind,
when it wishes to be heard
it can be extremely unkind.
Shhh… slow, slow my heart beats,
the enemy draws near,
my focus now singular, his defeat,
and a determination to persevere.
Let this combat be met
with courage and honor,
true grit and no regret,
this bit of fortitude, my definer.
Once more I take point,
a fight for life,
Will this be my last
or will the fates favor this sinner
one more time?
Gypsy Red
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/68036.jpg
Once more I take point,
listening for danger where it may lie,
hoping that this won’t
be last day of my life.
Alone in the belly of the beast,
your mind has lots of time
to dig and delve deep,
rehashing the foretime.
Breathing deep I fortify myself,
now is not the moment
to let demons assert themselves,
I laser hone my sites, as a deterrent.
Yet all the discipline in the world
does not silence the mind,
when it wishes to be heard
it can be extremely unkind.
Shhh… slow, slow my heart beats,
the enemy draws near,
my focus now singular, his defeat,
and a determination to persevere.
Let this combat be met
with courage and honor,
true grit and no regret,
this bit of fortitude, my definer.
Once more I take point,
a fight for life,
Will this be my last
or will the fates favor this sinner
one more time?
Gypsy Red
Anonymous
So you're telling me you read the book?
Did you understand it?
Did you understand it?
Anonymous
firedaughter said:Either Or..
doesn't matter.. I originally intended it for the book..
Then I thought..nobody else has read this, I'm such an idiot..
so either..
I've read the book many times, and it can be applied in real life settings. I'm wondering if you've actually read the book as your original comments on your competition are absolutely vague on the actual content of the book, it is about war yes, but has far more themes other than war, has strategic planning, applicable advice, etc.
As I said, you appear very vague and seem to only have made this competition to either attempt to show you're connected to the book or just simply incapable of adding anything more to your competition description.
Although, in relevance to poetic competition, I may pen a entry for you.
EDIT - I cut down on the harsh tone, which I deserve the god damn Nobel peace prize for.
doesn't matter.. I originally intended it for the book..
Then I thought..nobody else has read this, I'm such an idiot..
so either..
I've read the book many times, and it can be applied in real life settings. I'm wondering if you've actually read the book as your original comments on your competition are absolutely vague on the actual content of the book, it is about war yes, but has far more themes other than war, has strategic planning, applicable advice, etc.
As I said, you appear very vague and seem to only have made this competition to either attempt to show you're connected to the book or just simply incapable of adding anything more to your competition description.
Although, in relevance to poetic competition, I may pen a entry for you.
EDIT - I cut down on the harsh tone, which I deserve the god damn Nobel peace prize for.
- Rallying Cry of the Fallen -
“To tear at the very veil of all creation…
Rending it aside to gaze madly beyond!
Such thoughts of the darkest jubilation,
Are amongst those of which I am fond.
Have I not rent asunder such barriers?
Mine eyes, have they not seen through!
There is more to the universe than stars.
Pleasures wait for myself and for you…
We can seize them, even from Heaven.
One third of the angels: hears my voice!
The self-righteous will hate and condemn.
But we have the freedom of our choice!
No gods can keep us from our destiny…
So follow me!”
“To tear at the very veil of all creation…
Rending it aside to gaze madly beyond!
Such thoughts of the darkest jubilation,
Are amongst those of which I am fond.
Have I not rent asunder such barriers?
Mine eyes, have they not seen through!
There is more to the universe than stars.
Pleasures wait for myself and for you…
We can seize them, even from Heaven.
One third of the angels: hears my voice!
The self-righteous will hate and condemn.
But we have the freedom of our choice!
No gods can keep us from our destiny…
So follow me!”
- Battle Cry of the Fallen Queen -
Prelude: Serpent of Light
A serpent of light entwines, becoming a sign of infinity,
Its’ radiance stretching forth like a great spider’s web!
Then, like glass, the web shatters to reveal all eternity…
And I have looked beyond it, swallowing all my dread.
The mazes of memories, the thoughts of bygone ages…
All like light are they, and do illuminate for me my path.
As the hourglass turns, the sand causes us such rages…
For we struggle against time, when time is full of wrath.
Like a butterfly, I flit away into timelessness; I awaken!
And the cycles turn like the hands of an immense clock.
Time resumes, but of greater mysteries I have partaken,
And my spirit is strong to have survived the fiery shock.
For illumination is like fire and lightning; it strikes quick,
Leaving one changed, and opening one’s perceptions…
The spirit is like the serpent I spoke of, coiling so thick!
Becoming infinite, when freed from all dire deceptions.
Such is my spirit; and anyone, can become as I have…
Opening the third eye within, and piercing all the clouds,
Until the universe reveals what heals better than a salve.
Old wounds close, old pains pass, like fleeing crowds!
And I scream, not from pain, but from spiritual release.
If existence is a battle, then to win is to achieve peace!
Part One: The Fallen Angels
The fallen angels shall gather as the veils are shredded,
And the symphony of darkness will play for all to savor.
Mankind is blind, knowing not, where time is headed…
But I fell first, and because of that, I dare never waver!
We brought civilization, we whom the gods did resent.
Araqiel, who taught the signs of the earth and the land,
Armeros, who taught the means to create enchantment,
Azaziel, who taught the arts of combat oft on command,
Lilith, who taught of passionate love in more than words,
Baraqel, who taught the readings of astrological dignity,
Ezeqeel, who taught of the clouds, the skies, the birds,
Gadreel, who taught: the way of adornment and beauty,
Kokabel, who taught the secrets of constellations wide,
Penemue, who taught the gift of writing, with noble will,
Sariel, who taught knowledge of the moon and the tide,
Semiaza, who taught of herbs and healing to cure the ill,
Amazarak, who taught of magic, sorceries, mysticism,
Akibeel, who taught signs, omens, portents, and more,
Kasdeja, who taught how demons might be imprisoned,
Tamiel, who taught: of astronomy behind a closed door,
Shamshiel, who taught knowledge of the sun and sky,
And then there was one, nameless, and that one was I.
Part Two: Bonds of Cruelty
If thou could only know, the deep sorrows of the night,
Then to match them all with the pain within my bosom…
Would be not less the task than to behold the fair light:
Of starry skies, of mournful moon, and palest blossom!
But I shall not stand idly by whilst my enemies encircle…
Rather would I call upon Hell itself: for dire vengeance.
Once my spirit sought to soar far, on a winged miracle!
But the gates of paradise closed, with barred entrance.
Let Heaven keep its’ sterile climes, and stagnant rules,
Which chain the soul, and shackle the will with burden…
For they are but the rallying cry, for fanatics and fools!
Those same who are too cruel: too quick to condemn.
They who called me damned, and tried to seal me fast,
With bonds of cruelty, all of which were broken whole.
For evil shall not have its’ day, and hatred cannot last…
And so I utter my battle cry to fulfill of my ancient goal,
That my passion be known, that my love be given free.
No angel wings were ever meant: to be bound eternal,
So my feathers of light, shall with old power carry me…
Beyond the confines of the chasms of domains infernal!
Let evil be smitten by its’ own twisted adder’s tongue,
Through which the hook shall pierce, until all is undone.
Part Three: Smiling Ascension
The beauty within my heart longs to dance with angels,
To walk in peace amidst flowery fields with great joy…
But the pain others inflict on me, a darker way compels.
And yet I try to ease the agony, with the arts I employ!
Where is the love I seek, the compassion that I desire?
Vacant in the hearts of those mortals who are wicked…
And as surely as Hell contains vast lakes of molten fire,
I shall not allow the foe to see my wounded heart bled.
Better, for my fallen brothers and sisters to rise up all…
Those whom the gods once warred with and did exile,
Than for me to be cut down when I do try to stand tall!
I must rise, I shall ascend, and so I will manage a smile.
Those who love me will be at my side when all is done,
When the lies and the deceptions of the ages are torn…
Those who do stand with me shall be said to have won.
So take my hand and let us embrace the coming morn!
Enlightenment is not corruption, and truth is never false.
I need no lies, when what is most honest holds cunning,
More terrible, than any crafted behind the hidden walls:
Of demonic palaces with blood and flame ever running.
In scarlet and white, the raiment of the ascended spirit,
My formlessness takes form: my music rises, near to it.
Part Four: Crown of Horns
What course is there, that is not plotted in the shadow?
Illuminated by the flame imperishable, green and bright.
I, the terrible queen, have basked in its’ pale meadow…
Whilst given by that fire, the most potent and vivid sight.
Before the fallen fell, before the rise of civilization large,
I was, and I am, and I shall be, for such is time’s cycling.
Behind the things you cannot know, I did of old march,
Bearing my terrible burdens and yet never of them tiring.
Yet the wickedness men do is a cross I shall not carry…
Rather shall I nail the wicked to it: with cutting sharpness.
My words are a sword and its’ keenness cannot tarry…
For righteousness hastens it, unto the heart of darkness.
Tremble, tremble, and let the universe be rocked apart!
My sons and daughters play the symphony I did teach…
Gods of heaven and earth, who across history did dart,
Never touching, yet touching all things that minds reach.
The dark and androgynous goddess, the horned lady…
Whose crown of horns, unlike thorns, is silvery and fair!
That was what I was called when my creator made me.
When palest, was my flesh, as suns blazed in my hair…
Do not look too deeply at my soul, lest you be blinded.
My coming was foretold; thou needs not, be reminded!
Prelude: Serpent of Light
A serpent of light entwines, becoming a sign of infinity,
Its’ radiance stretching forth like a great spider’s web!
Then, like glass, the web shatters to reveal all eternity…
And I have looked beyond it, swallowing all my dread.
The mazes of memories, the thoughts of bygone ages…
All like light are they, and do illuminate for me my path.
As the hourglass turns, the sand causes us such rages…
For we struggle against time, when time is full of wrath.
Like a butterfly, I flit away into timelessness; I awaken!
And the cycles turn like the hands of an immense clock.
Time resumes, but of greater mysteries I have partaken,
And my spirit is strong to have survived the fiery shock.
For illumination is like fire and lightning; it strikes quick,
Leaving one changed, and opening one’s perceptions…
The spirit is like the serpent I spoke of, coiling so thick!
Becoming infinite, when freed from all dire deceptions.
Such is my spirit; and anyone, can become as I have…
Opening the third eye within, and piercing all the clouds,
Until the universe reveals what heals better than a salve.
Old wounds close, old pains pass, like fleeing crowds!
And I scream, not from pain, but from spiritual release.
If existence is a battle, then to win is to achieve peace!
Part One: The Fallen Angels
The fallen angels shall gather as the veils are shredded,
And the symphony of darkness will play for all to savor.
Mankind is blind, knowing not, where time is headed…
But I fell first, and because of that, I dare never waver!
We brought civilization, we whom the gods did resent.
Araqiel, who taught the signs of the earth and the land,
Armeros, who taught the means to create enchantment,
Azaziel, who taught the arts of combat oft on command,
Lilith, who taught of passionate love in more than words,
Baraqel, who taught the readings of astrological dignity,
Ezeqeel, who taught of the clouds, the skies, the birds,
Gadreel, who taught: the way of adornment and beauty,
Kokabel, who taught the secrets of constellations wide,
Penemue, who taught the gift of writing, with noble will,
Sariel, who taught knowledge of the moon and the tide,
Semiaza, who taught of herbs and healing to cure the ill,
Amazarak, who taught of magic, sorceries, mysticism,
Akibeel, who taught signs, omens, portents, and more,
Kasdeja, who taught how demons might be imprisoned,
Tamiel, who taught: of astronomy behind a closed door,
Shamshiel, who taught knowledge of the sun and sky,
And then there was one, nameless, and that one was I.
Part Two: Bonds of Cruelty
If thou could only know, the deep sorrows of the night,
Then to match them all with the pain within my bosom…
Would be not less the task than to behold the fair light:
Of starry skies, of mournful moon, and palest blossom!
But I shall not stand idly by whilst my enemies encircle…
Rather would I call upon Hell itself: for dire vengeance.
Once my spirit sought to soar far, on a winged miracle!
But the gates of paradise closed, with barred entrance.
Let Heaven keep its’ sterile climes, and stagnant rules,
Which chain the soul, and shackle the will with burden…
For they are but the rallying cry, for fanatics and fools!
Those same who are too cruel: too quick to condemn.
They who called me damned, and tried to seal me fast,
With bonds of cruelty, all of which were broken whole.
For evil shall not have its’ day, and hatred cannot last…
And so I utter my battle cry to fulfill of my ancient goal,
That my passion be known, that my love be given free.
No angel wings were ever meant: to be bound eternal,
So my feathers of light, shall with old power carry me…
Beyond the confines of the chasms of domains infernal!
Let evil be smitten by its’ own twisted adder’s tongue,
Through which the hook shall pierce, until all is undone.
Part Three: Smiling Ascension
The beauty within my heart longs to dance with angels,
To walk in peace amidst flowery fields with great joy…
But the pain others inflict on me, a darker way compels.
And yet I try to ease the agony, with the arts I employ!
Where is the love I seek, the compassion that I desire?
Vacant in the hearts of those mortals who are wicked…
And as surely as Hell contains vast lakes of molten fire,
I shall not allow the foe to see my wounded heart bled.
Better, for my fallen brothers and sisters to rise up all…
Those whom the gods once warred with and did exile,
Than for me to be cut down when I do try to stand tall!
I must rise, I shall ascend, and so I will manage a smile.
Those who love me will be at my side when all is done,
When the lies and the deceptions of the ages are torn…
Those who do stand with me shall be said to have won.
So take my hand and let us embrace the coming morn!
Enlightenment is not corruption, and truth is never false.
I need no lies, when what is most honest holds cunning,
More terrible, than any crafted behind the hidden walls:
Of demonic palaces with blood and flame ever running.
In scarlet and white, the raiment of the ascended spirit,
My formlessness takes form: my music rises, near to it.
Part Four: Crown of Horns
What course is there, that is not plotted in the shadow?
Illuminated by the flame imperishable, green and bright.
I, the terrible queen, have basked in its’ pale meadow…
Whilst given by that fire, the most potent and vivid sight.
Before the fallen fell, before the rise of civilization large,
I was, and I am, and I shall be, for such is time’s cycling.
Behind the things you cannot know, I did of old march,
Bearing my terrible burdens and yet never of them tiring.
Yet the wickedness men do is a cross I shall not carry…
Rather shall I nail the wicked to it: with cutting sharpness.
My words are a sword and its’ keenness cannot tarry…
For righteousness hastens it, unto the heart of darkness.
Tremble, tremble, and let the universe be rocked apart!
My sons and daughters play the symphony I did teach…
Gods of heaven and earth, who across history did dart,
Never touching, yet touching all things that minds reach.
The dark and androgynous goddess, the horned lady…
Whose crown of horns, unlike thorns, is silvery and fair!
That was what I was called when my creator made me.
When palest, was my flesh, as suns blazed in my hair…
Do not look too deeply at my soul, lest you be blinded.
My coming was foretold; thou needs not, be reminded!
