I am not a poet.
But i have written a few pieces.
I was in a weird mood.
So sue me.
NOTHING. This isn't really a poem. It doesn't rhyme. This is the first thing I've ever written solely for the purpose of expressing myself by my own will.
FATE. I'm the only person who would really understand this one*, but you're welcome to see it. I have no reason to keep it a secret. *lya N did'o ntju stme ansyntactical.
IMPALED. I think this is the third one I wrote at some time, not including the ones I had to write for school that I'm not including here. Well, maybe I will.
BABBLE. This one is sort of the sister to the previous one.
OBSESSION. This is the last one I've written. It's kinda raw. Speaking of which, the alternate name for Nothing is Raw. I don't know why I bother naming them, though, which probably explains why the names are so concisely unoriginal.
SANDS. This is now the last one I've written. The one before this one is no longer the last one I've written. When I wrote the description of the one before this one, it was the last one I had written. Since then I have written this one, making it the new last one I've written.
Here are some stupid poems I had to do by command in under an hour in a noisy classroom under flourescent lights following a predetermined format.
Rain I was standing next to a shed the other day, by the rain...a naturesque setting, a plant nursery. I became attuned to the platonic life, not the life I know.