Kryo's Poetry Corner

[Kryozerkia]

Welcome to my crappy poetry thread. Why am I posting this? Because it's probably the least offensive of all the stuff I've written. My poetry, mostly free-form, is a lot tamer in terms of content than my fiction, which would no doubt unnerve some people. Without further ado, I give you the first of many crappy poems.

Ungrateful

Ungrateful being
You’re a burden
You’re childish
Far too childish
Do not ask for help
Do not ask for anything
Stay on your own
You do not deserve anything
You ask for too much
And cower from the truth
It hurts, doesn’t it?
It hurts more when you’re ungrateful
Keep to yourself
Keep it all…
I don’t want it
Not now, not ever
You’re ungrateful
Selfish even
You want help
But, with it, comes truth
It’s harsh
So is the world we live in
Grown up, ungrateful being
Or, face tomorrow alone

If you were grateful
You wouldn’t scoff at me
Not when I help
Not when I tell you the truth
If you were grateful
You’d be rational
But, you aren’t
You’re cowering
You’re retaliating
Letting ignorance consume you
Taking over your sense
Too bad if you don’t like truths
Its there, forever…and an eternity

[Nanatsu no Tsuki]

Kryo, do we Generalites opress you so much? I'z sorry.

Nice poem, btw.

[Kryozerkia]

Kryo, do we Generalites opress you so much? I'z sorry.

Nice poem, btw.

No, not at all; I just happen to have material that wouldn't be within the rules, so I'm only able to give my poetry public exposure here. Some of my fiction is quite dark; some rather raunchy and depraved.

And thanks.

---

For you, I've dug into the depths of my collection and pulled out the darkest poem I ever wrote. Yes it's violent. It was inspired by a fanfiction (Angel Santuary) I wrote for a friend on request he/she (and yes, I mean that literally) wanted me to write them something dark for their birthday. This poem follows that theme.

This poem is not as dark or morbid as some of my fiction/fanfiction.

Die a Thousand deaths

Die a thousand deaths
Lie a thousand years
In the fiery realms
Deep in the purgatorial fires
Deep in the heart of hell

By my hand, I swear
By the teeth of Lucifer
Thy death shalt not be…
Thine end merciless
In mine world

Cat o nine tails
The thousand lashes
Methodically stripping thee of skin
Blood seeps from thy wounds
In a small puddle upon the floor

How thou dost bleed unreservedly
The pungent odour rising
The scarlet fluid crusting
Droplets raining from thy wounds
Into rivers at thy feet

Taste the Heretic’s Fork
Thou art speechless, admirable
A collar around thy pretty neck
Four prongs cutting thy flesh
Freeing more succulent blood

The gashes are wide
The snide smirk upon
My lips so cruelly
The cat’s paw down thy chest
Pleasuring those wounds

Sweet piercing screams
They echo from thee
Thy body twitching
In pained convulsions
The blood flowing infinitely

Thy head in a vice
The skull crushed into mush
The bone shattered like crystal
The blood oozing out
From the cap of the skull crusher

Aren’t thou dead as of late?
‘Tis thy timely fate…
Thy blood spilt
Thy soul left for feed
My ravens art ravenous

Canst thou expire?
Why dost thou haunt me?
Vile ghost, thou art an illusion
Vanish, be gone wicked image
Or die again

Die again… another thousand deaths
Lie in thy cesspool of blood… another thousand years
Still in the heart of the realm
Deep o so deep within
Buried in those burning flames

Perched o so high
On that pedestal of Judas Cradle
Balanced at a point
So delicate o so painfully

A wrong move
Upon my part, a slip
A mere utter of ‘opps’
And thou art impaled
Via thine ass… through and through
Thy mortal being

Silenced so sweetly
O so simply in that trap
The binding scold’s bridle
Muting thy blinding foolhardiness

Thy tongue chained
Thy words a muffled incoherency
A trickle o blood
From the corner of thy mouth
Words in thy eye, naught on thy tongue

And if thou art vivacious
Thou shalt be made an example
Bound in the stocks by thy ankles and wrists
Made a fool in the eye of God
And in eyes of thousands

Thou shalt crave o so sorely
Thy death instantaneously
And thou shalt die
Die again…

Die again and over… another thousand years
Lie in that bed thou hast made… another thousand years
Trapped in solidarity for eternity
In the burning inferno
Deep in the heart o the purgatorial fires o hell

And die a thousand deaths
By my hand
And only my hand
Shall justice be served
Upon a silver platter

[Galloism]

This is like the twisted and creepy "Dot's Poetry Corner".

Galloism approves.

[Kryozerkia]

This is like the twisted and creepy "Dot's Poetry Corner".

Galloism approves.

You're comparing me to Dot?? Dot, the Warner Sister??

[Galloism]

This is like the twisted and creepy "Dot's Poetry Corner".

Galloism approves.

You're comparing me to Dot?? Dot, the Warner Sister??

She was cute. Plus, she never wore a shirt.

I recommend you do the same, but I recommend that to 95% of women every day. Probably why my cheeks are so red.

[Nanatsu no Tsuki]

Kryo, do we Generalites opress you so much? I'z sorry.

Nice poem, btw.

No, not at all; I just happen to have material that wouldn't be within the rules, so I'm only able to give my poetry public exposure here. Some of my fiction is quite dark; some rather raunchy and depraved.

And thanks.

---

For you, I've dug into the depths of my collection and pulled out the darkest poem I ever wrote. Yes it's violent. It was inspired by a fanfiction (Angel Santuary) I wrote for a friend on request he/she (and yes, I mean that literally) wanted me to write them something dark for their birthday. This poem follows that theme.

This poem is not as dark or morbid as some of my fiction/fanfiction.

Die a Thousand deaths

Die a thousand deaths
Lie a thousand years
In the fiery realms
Deep in the purgatorial fires
Deep in the heart of hell

By my hand, I swear
By the teeth of Lucifer
Thy death shalt not be…
Thine end merciless
In mine world

Cat o nine tails
The thousand lashes
Methodically stripping thee of skin
Blood seeps from thy wounds
In a small puddle upon the floor

How thou dost bleed unreservedly
The pungent odour rising
The scarlet fluid crusting
Droplets raining from thy wounds
Into rivers at thy feet

Taste the Heretic’s Fork
Thou art speechless, admirable
A collar around thy pretty neck
Four prongs cutting thy flesh
Freeing more succulent blood

The gashes are wide
The snide smirk upon
My lips so cruelly
The cat’s paw down thy chest
Pleasuring those wounds

Sweet piercing screams
They echo from thee
Thy body twitching
In pained convulsions
The blood flowing infinitely

Thy head in a vice
The skull crushed into mush
The bone shattered like crystal
The blood oozing out
From the cap of the skull crusher

Aren’t thou dead as of late?
‘Tis thy timely fate…
Thy blood spilt
Thy soul left for feed
My ravens art ravenous

Canst thou expire?
Why dost thou haunt me?
Vile ghost, thou art an illusion
Vanish, be gone wicked image
Or die again

Die again… another thousand deaths
Lie in thy cesspool of blood… another thousand years
Still in the heart of the realm
Deep o so deep within
Buried in those burning flames

Perched o so high
On that pedestal of Judas Cradle
Balanced at a point
So delicate o so painfully

A wrong move
Upon my part, a slip
A mere utter of ‘opps’
And thou art impaled
Via thine ass… through and through
Thy mortal being

Silenced so sweetly
O so simply in that trap
The binding scold’s bridle
Muting thy blinding foolhardiness

Thy tongue chained
Thy words a muffled incoherency
A trickle o blood
From the corner of thy mouth
Words in thy eye, naught on thy tongue

And if thou art vivacious
Thou shalt be made an example
Bound in the stocks by thy ankles and wrists
Made a fool in the eye of God
And in eyes of thousands

Thou shalt crave o so sorely
Thy death instantaneously
And thou shalt die
Die again…

Die again and over… another thousand years
Lie in that bed thou hast made… another thousand years
Trapped in solidarity for eternity
In the burning inferno
Deep in the heart o the purgatorial fires o hell

And die a thousand deaths
By my hand
And only my hand
Shall justice be served
Upon a silver platter

It's just that the poem felt like the woes of a NS mod. Witty.

[Kryozerkia]

It's just that the poem felt like the woes of a NS mod. Witty.

Perhaps... though I did write this a number of years prior. I believe I have an exceedingly stupid rhyming poem I could post... it's a matter of finding it. It's an extreme contrast to this one.

[Kryozerkia]

Untitled - A Folly of Utter Nonsense

Once upon a time
There were two animals that love rhyme
They also enjoyed the taste of lime
And one was always covered in slime
It was in the abode on the floors
And deep in the basement stores
Down passed the depths of the house core
In a hole there was a mouse
And it was a smelly louse
It lived in the raccoon’s house
The raccoon is blind as a bat
And he is twice as fat
Yet he dances with a cat
That slept with a silly-billy goat
While living in a large boat
That is in a long twisty moat
And that boat is staying afloat
With a tote full of pants
Weasels see London
And weasels see France
Weasels see raccoon with no pants

[Void Templar]

Untitled - A Folly of Utter Nonsense

Once upon a time
There were two animals that love rhyme
They also enjoyed the taste of lime
And one was always covered in slime
It was in the abode on the floors
And deep in the basement stores
Down passed the depths of the house core
In a hole there was a mouse
And it was a smelly louse
It lived in the raccoon’s house
The raccoon is blind as a bat
And he is twice as fat
Yet he dances with a cat
That slept with a silly-billy goat
While living in a large boat
That is in a long twisty moat
And that boat is staying afloat
With a tote full of pants
Weasels see London
And weasels see France
Weasels see raccoon with no pants

I like this one. It's exactly the kind of nonsensical stuff I love.

[Kryozerkia]

Untitled - A Folly of Utter Nonsense

Once upon a time
There were two animals that love rhyme
They also enjoyed the taste of lime
And one was always covered in slime
It was in the abode on the floors
And deep in the basement stores
Down passed the depths of the house core
In a hole there was a mouse
And it was a smelly louse
It lived in the raccoon’s house
The raccoon is blind as a bat
And he is twice as fat
Yet he dances with a cat
That slept with a silly-billy goat
While living in a large boat
That is in a long twisty moat
And that boat is staying afloat
With a tote full of pants
Weasels see London
And weasels see France
Weasels see raccoon with no pants

I like this one. It's exactly the kind of nonsensical stuff I love.

This would be my most recent piece. I wrote it back in May of this year while... "intoxicated". I'm glad you like.

[Buffett and Colbert]

Hey, da Vinci was dark. Poe was dark. Your stories could be just between us! Haha.

[Buffett and Colbert]

Untitled - A Folly of Utter Nonsense

Once upon a time
There were two animals that love rhyme
They also enjoyed the taste of lime
And one was always covered in slime
It was in the abode on the floors
And deep in the basement stores
Down passed the depths of the house core
In a hole there was a mouse
And it was a smelly louse
It lived in the raccoon’s house
The raccoon is blind as a bat
And he is twice as fat
Yet he dances with a cat
That slept with a silly-billy goat
While living in a large boat
That is in a long twisty moat
And that boat is staying afloat
With a tote full of pants
Weasels see London
And weasels see France
Weasels see raccoon with no pants

Twas brilig and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe...

[North Wiedna]

Untitled - A Folly of Utter Nonsense

Once upon a time
There were two animals that love rhyme
They also enjoyed the taste of lime
And one was always covered in slime
It was in the abode on the floors
And deep in the basement stores
Down passed the depths of the house core
In a hole there was a mouse
And it was a smelly louse
It lived in the raccoon’s house
The raccoon is blind as a bat
And he is twice as fat
Yet he dances with a cat
That slept with a silly-billy goat
While living in a large boat
That is in a long twisty moat
And that boat is staying afloat
With a tote full of pants
Weasels see London
And weasels see France
Weasels see raccoon with no pants

This poem makes no sense. However, that's what you want to envoke in the reader. This was a fabulous birthday gift.

[Kryozerkia]

Untitled - A Folly of Utter Nonsense

Once upon a time
There were two animals that love rhyme
They also enjoyed the taste of lime
And one was always covered in slime
It was in the abode on the floors
And deep in the basement stores
Down passed the depths of the house core
In a hole there was a mouse
And it was a smelly louse
It lived in the raccoon’s house
The raccoon is blind as a bat
And he is twice as fat
Yet he dances with a cat
That slept with a silly-billy goat
While living in a large boat
That is in a long twisty moat
And that boat is staying afloat
With a tote full of pants
Weasels see London
And weasels see France
Weasels see raccoon with no pants

This poem makes no sense. However, that's what you want to envoke in the reader. This was a fabulous birthday gift.

This poem was something that I wrote recently. The second one I posted (the more gory one) had been inspired by something else I had written for a friend's birthday. This was just some well-spun jovial nonsense I splattered on a canvas.

[Kryozerkia]

Little Fox Spirit

Hey there little one
You’re too quiet
I never hear you
You crept up behind me
You pounced and caught me
In a fit of giggles
We laughed heartily
I held you close my little sister
And listened to your soft words
Your gentle voice
Little fox spirit

Come here little one
Let’s talk about life
Let’s embrace sisterhood
Let’s smile together
Let’s cry together
And decry boys
And try to be ourselves
In a world of ugliness
Not changing for anything
Our identity
That’s our pride
Isn’t it, little sister?

Get out of the rain, little one
The hunters are nearby
They seek to gun you down
Crouch between the bushes
Come to safety my dear
Before they come for you
As the bounty and prize
In their sick little game
Of catch the prize
And escorting it on display
As an intoxicator for that ego
That bruised ego

Run little one
Run like the wind
Don’t look back
The world is yours
Little fox spirit
No one can trap you
Not even you
Taste that freedom
And mock those guys
Who have the lock of hair
From that long, beautiful
Bushy sexy tail of yours
Wrapped in a mere ribbon
And no bounty

[Buffett and Colbert]

No more poetry?

[Kryozerkia]

I have plenty more. I just didn't remember to post it between writing exams and moderating. However, I shall post more now.

Colour Me

Take the crayons
Open the box
The crayons are lined up
In an immaculate fashion
New, unused and perfect
Ready for the innocent child

Colour me a soft blue
Like the limitless sky
Floating majestically
Peacefully circumventing
Our humble earthly abode

Colour me ivy green
The accent of life
In the rolling valleys and fields
The leaves flutter
Taking to the air and flight

Colour me a rich red
The liquid of life; passion
Caressing my veins
Feeding the flesh life
Cloaking it with a velvet cloth

Colour me a pure white
Untainted by sin
Purest of all we know
The light in the night
A heavenly chime

Colour me a mellow yellow
The shade of our sun
The harbinger of life
And the container of
Of our contentment

Colour me a floral violet
A soft shade of nature
The dye of petals
Falling from the blossoms
Dancing through space

Colour me a bold orange
A fiery hue of humanity
A shadow of unfettered desire
The rebellion from the median
The yearning and unfurling courage

Color me a turbid brow
The dirt and muddy foundation
Of this humble life
Supporting it unconditionally
Asking nothing in return

Colour me tickled pink
The colourful hue of youth
And the joy of elation
Through light flutters
Of the fickle heart

Colour me a striking black
The feathers of the cocky raven
The satin shroud of night
The alluring mistress
Of the darkest hour

Colour me a shade of grey
For the hidden message
The secrets that we know
That which doesn’t meet the eye
Only the ears of the soul

The colours of the rainbow
Splashed across the sky
As the storm parts
Droplets of dew hang in the mist
Colour me the tint of freedom

[Kryozerkia]

Hey, da Vinci was dark. Poe was dark. Your stories could be just between us! Haha.

My fanfiction... I don't remember where I posted my original fiction.

[Buffett and Colbert]

I quite like Colour Me. It has a rythm that I definitely enjoy!

[Kryozerkia]

Weeping Willow

The sighing branches
Dripping with fresh rain
The rain of despair and melancholy
As branches are broken from her
By ignorant vandals
Who joyously relish in her pain
Gleefully laughing at her anguishing
Celebrating her suffering
Only in the end to feel empty

Each leaf, each twig
No matter lack of size
They are her precious children
To whom she has given life
She breathes life into them
Lovingly nurturing them
Embracing them
Sheltering them from coldness
As wind whips around her

The sanctuary of her grasp
The serenity of her beauty
Shattered…
Blood drips from her hands
Tears of anguish falling
Rain falls around her
Landing on her fallen children
Broken and left for death
Muddy, cold and alone

She stands in the blood
Weeping for her children
Her heart is torn out
No one is near; she is alone
Even her allies
Offering soft words of assurance
Provide no solace in her hurt
She is truly alone
Her children stolen from her

Her tear stained face
Contorted in pain
Her broken heart
Left in ruins at her feet
Her beautiful eyes
Full of shock
Her elegant hands
Coated by her salty tears
Tell of her loss of hope

Her branches furl back
Her protective nature
Embracing her children
Holding them close
For her, her life
They are all she has
They are her life