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[Doubler]

Hmmm, missed this thread at first...
A pity, they're really quite good k:

[Yobor]

The way I used "Lo (and behold)" was just as "But, Look"
Poetry can be a pain with the language difference.

[blastradius14]

Wow, this is nice stuff Yobor!

Looks like you found yourself another brain-child hehe...

[punch999]

My own poetry


And today as I look into your eyes.
I regret that I was circumcized.

[bruno]

k: , i like very much your first poem here, i think i will tell to a girl, thanks...

[Yobor]

Here's an extremely depressing poem. I also have a story that I'll put in my next update.

“The Innocence of a Child”

Walking home on a dark night
From the sweatshops of the city.
The innocent child.
The casual stranger.

He stops her in the last alley.
Closer to home than ever before.
The innocent child.
The familiar face.

“Would you like some candy, darling?”
He grabs her hand just as always.
The innocent child.
The loving father.

Without emotion she stumbles to the place
Where he takes from her the prized possession.
The innocence of a child.
The betrayal of the protector.

[Yobor]

I wrote it in five minutes, to don't expect to be awed. I have no title for this.

The sun sets. Like a whisper, the shadows flit through the streets and alleys. A tussle with a hobo, a midnight rendezvous beautiful in its monstrosity.
The creature’s head and face glistened with fresh blood, the elongated skull protruding into the air. Spikes gleamed in the moonlight, massive claws retracted, and a mouth of fangs closed.
The thumps of the body could be heard not at all as the creature dragged the corpse. Soon, he would have new materials for his construction. The haven came into view, an old run-down mansion on the outside, a catacomb of pulsating flesh, blood, bone, and sinew on the inside.
The creature’s nose perked up. Wait! He had been followed. Quickly, he summoned up all the strength he could muster, and vanished. The hobo’s leg, from where it had been suspended in the air by the Tzimizce’s hand, fell to the pavement.
Silence, broken only by the quiet *pit pat* of blood dripping to the pavement.
Then, a small coterie of the Kindred crept into view, equipped with assault rifles and phosphorous rounds. Their leader, a Gangrel, sheathed his claws and approached the deceased bum. Hesitantly, a hand reached out to touch the lifeless form…
The 97’ Honda Civic flew through the air at a miraculous speed, inducing Final Death upon three of the five kindred. Their ashes dispersed into the wind, soon joined by those of their two impaled brethren.
The Tzimizce continued on his way home. Opening the door, he lay the hobo next to his other kills of this night. Walking calmly to his bedroom, he took a relaxing blood bad, lay in his coffin, and went to sleep.

[Playbahnosh]

this is some deep stuff dude, and not a bit too lucid. Just great keep on k:

[bruno]

I like very much keep this work as good as now..

[Tulac]

Hmm a poem about pedophiles, now that's something new...