Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 209077 times)

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #585 on: March 10, 2016, 11:46:03 PM »
Pg 489

Blind Hacks, Bloody Axe

As the sun sinks,
The pair still chops.
To cut the links,
That made their tank stop.

Within the vehicle,
Tuuri at the wheel.
Kitty, fluffed like ball,
Troll's proximity it feels.

Still hacking away,
Mikkel, eyes closed.
Blood then spurts and sprays.
Living tissues exposed.

Spatters towards his suit,
In surprise he's caught.
This thick fleshy root,
Not as dead as he thought...

----------------------------

Filthy Blood Pours
(based on 45th Floor by the Doobie Brothers)

Librarian drivin' down the road
Flashin' those lights till our tank was slowed
Here's another obstacle
With monster tentacles, is it dead?
Oh the filthy blood pours
Chopped 'till a leak was sprung

Blood keeps spurting endlessly
These branches aren't that dead you see
Talk about a shockin' sight
My eyes are both open wide and I'm pale
Don't inhale
Oh the endless blood pours

I don't know what's been happenin'
Ain't no helpin' it now
We're supposed to clear the way for the journey
But the blood squirting never seems to stop
Oh the filthy blood pours

Doesn't matter if it's day or night
'Cause we're all gonna pay the price
And the blood, it pours on

Used to be a monster goin' round
No people left here inside of this town
We thought we'd see our way outside
It seems that we can't escape this night
All because of the monster blood scourge

I don't know what's been happenin'
Ain't no helpin' it now
We're supposed to clear the way for the journey
But the blood spraying never seems to stop
On the monster blood pours

Doesn't matter if it's left or right
'Cause we're all gonna hafta fight
And the blood, it sprays on

None of these fools ever thinks about the protocol
It's all about fighting and looking cool
How can anybody like these fools
Takin' all the babies and letting them run wild

I don't know what's been happenin'
Ain't no helpin' it now
We're supposed to clear the way for the journey
But the blood letting never seems to stop
I don't know what's been happenin'
Ain't no helpin' it now
We're supposed to clear the way for the journey
But the blood trouble never seems to stop
On the filthy blood pours
Doesn't matter if it's day or night
'Cause we're all gonna pay the price
And the blood, it spurts on
« Last Edit: March 11, 2016, 03:56:00 AM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #586 on: March 12, 2016, 01:35:39 AM »
Pg. 490

Unpleasant Find, Tentacles Unwind

Mikkel puts up his axe,
Arms aloft, Sigrun turns back.
Stopped in their tracks,
The pair after the fact.

Too late for regrets,
No time to dwell.
They're in a deep mess,
They know all too well.

The whole mass shifts,
Tentacled, foul flesh.
Strands unfix swift,
In an unwinding thresh.

The branch unmerges,
Panic on faces plaster.
Between them it surges,
And spelling disaster.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #587 on: March 13, 2016, 10:38:20 PM »
Pg. 491

Horrible Feeling (based on More Than A Feeling by Boston)

I looked out behind me and the arms were long
Clenched on my dagger and felt afraid
I lost myself in a feeling all wrong
It hit my side and I slipped away

A horrible feeling (a horrible feeling)
When I fell back into the water way (horrible feeling)
I feel like screaming (horrible feeling)
When I feel the water hit my face
I feel my confidence slippin' away

So many branches, it took only one
The force was great as it pulled me by
Then backwards I fall as I'm feeling stunned
As clear as the sun, everything's awry

A horrible feeling (a horrible feeling)
When I fell back into the water way (horrible feeling)
I feel like screaming (horrible feeling)
When I felt the coldness hit my face
I feel my consciousness slippin' away

Now I'm wet and I've been grabbed
I clutch my dagger, brace for melee
And think of a Dane I want to stab
It hit my side and I slipped away
I slipped away

A horrible feeling (a horrible feeling)
When I fell back into the water way (horrible feeling)
I feel like screaming (horrible feeling)
When I felt the water hit my face

---------------------------------

Winded and Wet, Day to Forget

The tendrils retreat,
With great speed and force.
Sigrun swept off her feet,
Caught in a lonely divorce.

So shocked and stunned,
No words can escape.
Pulled towards water, Sigrun,
Arm bound, in a terrible shape.

Mikkel is too indisposed.
On his back, legs in the air.
The pair split and exposed,
He'll be of no help to her there.

With her dagger in hand,
She can only but look.
In a splash, in water lands,
A single branch was all it took.


« Last Edit: March 13, 2016, 11:17:27 PM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #588 on: March 15, 2016, 12:22:51 AM »
Page 492

Dagger to Sheath, What Lies Beneath?

Swimmingly travels,
Away is her knife.
Her bandage unravels,
In midst of strife.

To surface she rises,
After looking below.
Not quite a crisis,
But soon will be so.

To Mikkel she shouts,
The Danish farm-wife.
Have to get out,
Before end of life.

He's big and strong,
So he's able to tow.
To find something long,
And towards her throw.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #589 on: March 15, 2016, 10:27:55 PM »
Pg. 493

Lady Fighter (based on Lady Writer by Dire Straits)

Lady fighter is uneasy
Reaching out, she's wet and chilly
Something in proximity
It's surfacing, all big and scary yeah

Lady fighter is uneasy
She seemed to have anxiety
The way the monster looks
And you know she never read a book

Just the way that the creature's underneath the place
And her fall is some disgrace
Another time, another case

Lady fighter is uneasy
She had all the brains and the beauty
The picture does not fit
She's treading there where the creature sits

Just the way that the creature's underneath the place
And her fall is some disgrace
Another time, another chase

He's a strong old man,
You know she'd a call him a ring leader
She's got the same command
This thing's a bottom feeder

Just the way that the creature's underneath the place
And her fall is some disgrace
Another time, another race

Lady fighter is uneasy (Lady fighter is uneasy)
She knew all about reality (Lady fighter)
You couldn't dare to follow her
I think I want to just as sure as the ...

Lady fighter is uneasy (Lady fighter is uneasy)
Reaching out, she's wet and chilly (Lady fighter)
You know she's talking about skald Tuuri
And the lady fighter is uneasy (Lady fighter is uneasy)
Reaching out, she's wet and chilly (Lady fighter)
Yeah you know she's talking about something beastly
And the lady fighter is uneasy

---------------------------------

It Comes, The Water Scum

In chilly places,
The wall Sigrun gropes.
Back Mikkel races,
To retrieve rope.

So he can reach her,
Before she is swept,
By the creature that
Plumbs there the depths.

Calls once more his name,
Urgency he needs.
The creature in frame,
And instruction to heed.

Tell Tuuri to drive, as
Much space between them.
Before the creature arrives,
And they all become chum.
« Last Edit: March 15, 2016, 11:23:32 PM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #590 on: March 17, 2016, 09:11:47 AM »
Pg. 494

Hope Squashed, With a Swash?

As Sigrun climbs,
Calm as you like.
Of course it's a nice time,
For an evening hike!

Follow the tracks,
Out they will lead.
Find a place to shack,
Don't drop your speed.

Pay some attention,
Get out of the city.
Just don't mention,
The wet monstrosity.

As she gets higher,
A black tail swishes.
Swept from the wire to
Sleep with the fishes.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #591 on: March 18, 2016, 11:11:32 PM »
Pg. 495

Busy Burnin' (based on Busy Earnin' by Jungle)

So you come a long way
And have found the blob-brains
Never have things for a normal life
It's time, get busy burnin'
You can't get enough

This busy burnin'
You can't get enough

You think that all your time's abused
Get busy burnin'
You can't get enough

Keep the blobbies away
With your flamethrower spray, oh
Damn, that's a horrid sight
Now get, busy burnin'
You can't get enough

This busy burnin'
You can't get enough

You think that all your time's abused
Get busy burnin'
You can't get enough

Just busy burnin'
You can't get enough

You think that all your time's abused
Get busy earnin'
You can't get enough

You think that all your time's abused
Get busy burnin'
You can't get enough

Just busy burnin'
You can't get enough, no
Just busy burnin'
You can't get enough

---------------------------

Things Are Askew, Brain-Blobbies Shoo!

As Sigrun's in deep,
Emil's isolated.
The watch he keeps.
Too long has he waited.

The others move away,
Forgotten about him.
Can't hear what they say,
Driving off on a whim.

He hears sounds of feet,
As he's left behind.
Faced with a fleet
Of multiple blob minds.

While his guard was lowered,
They emerge in a queue.
He raises his flamethrower,
As he says to them "shoo?"
« Last Edit: March 18, 2016, 11:34:40 PM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

Unlos

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #592 on: March 19, 2016, 05:37:44 PM »
Poem by Róisín, art by me :) EQUINOX:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #593 on: March 22, 2016, 02:14:48 AM »
Page 496

Fire The Mob, Admire Burning Blobs

The boggled eyes stare,
Through the brain dome,
A leg lifts through the air,
Trying to stab it home.

A well-timed back-step,
He escapes in his retreat.
While turning he swept,
With a blast of his heat.

The leg is aburst,
Bright flames licking.
Painfully submersed,
The fire keeps a-sticking.

The roast leg is waving,
With no way to smother.
Peculiar behaving,
As it collides with another.

It doesn't abate,
Careful where you tread.
Emil can only spectate.
The flames only spread.

------------------------

Flamey Blobs Can Dance
(based on Same Old Song And Dance by Aerosmith)

Get yourself hotter, burn them with haste
Transparent brain spotters, fire lays them to waste
With the spout, conflagration will go to their heads
And burning aggravation, they're soon enough dead

It's the flamey glory
Flamey blobs can dance, my friend
It's the flamey glory
Flamey blobs can dance, my friend

Gotcha with the napalm, spraying with my gun
No useful arms to douse them, to getcha undone
It spreads all over, in flames they will drown
And it's just not the same without Sigrun around

It's the flamey glory
Flamey blobs can dance, my friend
It's the flamey glory, flamey glory
Flamey blobs can dance

No longer blockin', legs start knockin'
My source of convection, looks like perfection
Disinfection, can't help projection
Can't stand the heat, when the flames got you beat, my friend

When you burn up and combust, the meltin' white-heat
With my old flamer-nozzle, having hot feet
It spreads all over, in flames they will drown
And it's just not the same without Sigrun around
« Last Edit: March 22, 2016, 02:59:04 AM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #594 on: March 23, 2016, 11:14:41 PM »
Pg 497

Gasp For Breath, Catching Death

Sigrun emerges,
This trip is a wash.
The creature converges,
Can't buckle this swash?

She fights the torrent,
Struggling for air,
Close, the abhorrent.
Like a mouse in its snare.

Pulled ever deeper,
Gazing, the unholy maw.
The tentacled sweeper,
And its potential meal raw.

Seeing with one eye,
The leader desperate.
An underwater stairway,
To escape from this threat.
« Last Edit: March 23, 2016, 11:20:33 PM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #595 on: March 28, 2016, 10:42:12 PM »
Pg. 498

Rocks Pelt, Nothing Felt

Sigrun strains,
To the far staircase,
In great pains,
A life or death race.

Down pebbles rain,
Above the surface.
Distract to gain,
Sigrun breathing space.

Mikkel projects,
He pleads and bombards.
There's no effect,
With such tiny rock shards.

He prepares to eject.
To become a life-guard.
His thoughts collect.
The medic's job is so hard.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #596 on: March 28, 2016, 11:09:08 PM »
Pg 499

Climbing The Flight, Chasing Bulbs Alight

OK, this is it!
The Dane prepares to dive.
His head is hit,
Sigrun has arrived!

She can only cough,
But they need to leg it.
They best be off,
Now find the nearest exit.

Climbing the stairs,
The thing many-limbed.
Chasing to air
After the foul swim.

Emil, from the west,
With much more besides.
Uninvited guests,
Getting their heads fried.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #597 on: March 28, 2016, 11:25:47 PM »
Pg 500

Both Sides Collide, Spide and Brains Fried

The trio all returned,
As it all closes round.
Emil near burnt,
Sigrun near drowned.

On the leader's face,
Tired of this stuff.
After the chase,
She's having enough.

They huddle tight.
In chaos embroiled.
Legs surround alight.
But an attack is foiled.

What an upset!
Wet legs, inflamed orbs.
The trio they forget,
In their battle absorbed?
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #598 on: March 29, 2016, 10:25:04 PM »
Pg 501

Leave The Dump, In A Slump

While the fight raged,
Off the squad peeled.
Away from this stage,
And the creature surreal.

It watches them leave,
As it collapses.
Its strength to retrieve,
The more time elapses.

Emil asks how do they deal,
With the monster at large.
With heat and steel, or
A more eplosive charge?

"Keep walking," says Sigrun,
Surveying the prey.
To handle the big one,
They'll kill it the easy way.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #599 on: March 30, 2016, 11:32:00 PM »
Pg 502

It's Stuck, Hard Luck

The hurt aquatic beast,
Desiccated and stranded.
Fluids slowly decreased,
A quick death not granted.

Ventral bloody-greased,
Inconveniently transplanted.
Begging rapid release,
But it won't be as demanded.

Like mammals of the seas,
Demise found while landed.
Its humanoid feast, by
Pain and ruin supplanted.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan: