Mordeus: poetry contest
*** It's TIME!!! ***
***** THE THIRD ANNUAL POETRY CONTEST BEGINS NOW!!! *****
submit your poems in a note to mordues (NOT to all)
try not to make them too long, and submit all poems before Oct. 31
top 3 get prizes...to be judged by me and anyone else I ask:).
a sample submission of my own poetry will follow.
good luck to all...



Mordeus: poem example
A Warm, Sunny Day
What more is there to say?
The world was again pure
Need I know more?
How can I describe
These thoughts I've derived.

My problems are small
Compared to them all.
My ideals I've passed,
They would not last.

Perhaps now I define
That which is divine.
Perhaps now I know
Of the ebb and flow.

My thoughts and feelings
All constricted.
A warm sunny day
That never existed.

All this...
Just a lore.
A warm, sunny day
That was no more.



Mordeus: poetry contest
Oh and I think it goes without saying..but I'll say it anyway
all submissions must be origional and your work..and no repeats from last year
anything not found to be your work will result in a severe beating of some sort:)


Balcom: Something to do
Down through the misty forest I walk,
Not having anywhere inparticular to go.
I sit down and admire God's creation for a while. 
A single butterfly flies by,
And I watch as it soars through the air.
Oh, how I long to be that carefree,
And not have any impositions. 
Life has caught up and passed me,
And I wish I could get back ahead or even alongside it.
Now I have to think about where my life is going,
And worry about what I should do next.
I long for a moment of peace,
Where I can sit back and watch things speed by.
But just as the butterfly,
I've somewhere to go or some goal that needs to be reached.
I guess I'll never be as carefree again,
Just as it was when I was a child.
I stand up and continue my walk down the trail,
Knowing it will end somewhere up ahead.
Then this little break would come to a halt,
And then it's back through the forest reaching the open road.
Hmm, I guess my break will be just a bit longer.


Gorfang: Tears from above.
The drink of life, the juice of sweet.
These liquid pleasures, are here.
My heart is pumping, a body of concrete.
As I walk in a landscape of steel, my dear...
I am walking through a hellish jail, 
to see you, just once more. 
I want to relive our seemingly endless tale, 
As it was, before fate us tore.
I have been gone for so very many years, 
And likely youre as old as me to see.
But your eyes are same, and no different tears, 
I know you are still the same for me.
I walk in pain, night and day, 
to see your hopefilled eyes.
Terror has led us apart and stray, 
but life has so many tastes in spice.
I am nearing, and soon Im lost, 
these barren legs are not so young.
I will walk, whatever the cost, 
because once this distance was easily sprung.
Perhaps the horizon hold, 
the same sweet gentle look, 

As in my dreams they unfold,
Like the sweetest fairytale-book.
Your house lies over the hill, 
only a few more steps to go.
I see an old house, which gives me a chill,
through endless oceans I row.
I travel forward to see the house, 
in which we used to live.
Some wooden planks and a startled mouse, 
Has more than entire worlds to give.
You open the door, your face is old, 
;and your body is fragile and weak.
Though I try to remain strong and bold, 
My tears fall like a flowing rivers creek.
You are lovely, my woman, I love you as much, 
as I always used to do. 
And yet I have seen both german and dutch, 
laughing when Im telling bout you...
My face is as wet as a cold shores sand, 
When looking at you makes me whole.
I am no stranger in this my holy land, 
I feel like facing heaven at the bottom of a hole.
Slowly, im fading, your face has been seen,
I wander towards a new world.
This life is the best, since I have with you been, 
And many mornings to you curled.
The warmth of your face is the last thing I see, 
;as I slowly walk to my new domain.
Few people in life, has lived as loving as we, 
And our times were short, and filled with pain.
But love has fulfilled, what time couldnt fill, 
And I leave this world in your arm.
Your tears hit me like rain on a hill, 
and your face is the sun, just as warm.
Goodbye my love, I saw you again, 
and that is all that I tried.
Now I am leaving for another lifes den, 
And I want you to leave me in pride.

My grave is standing by our fine tree, 
I can see you water my flowers, 
I look through my spirits eyes in glee, 
As I feel how you sense my rainy showers.
I am the cloud above your house, 
above your life and world.
I will prevail here, for you to arouse, 
my thundering voice to be heard.
On a cold november day you too died, 
and your spirit left by my tree...
;Your eyes were sad and to me cried, 
that I should take you to me.
Now we have joined, two clouds in the sky, 
circling the world in joy.
As like as two doves, so free in the high, 
We see from above our own boy. 
We follow the life of our own little pride, 
as he lives a life down below, 
And only in winter we to him ride, 
for him to see our tears in the snow...

Gorfang, written by himself with help from a good friend.





IamGod: poem
Ruler of Shadows of the Mind.
What you think is yours is actually mine.
Spreading fear, betrayal, death and disease.
When you see me you drop to your knees.
Mow you down like a blade of grass.
But of course, i waxxed that ass.
Crushing all the holy and amoral scum.
When they see me they scream RUN RUN RUN.
A lesson i teach to all those suckers.
That lesson is SHIVER IN FEAR MOTHERFUCKERS!
The reason they all sit in the AG.
Is because of my greatness, they're scared of me.
And when i fill their pagan graves with moldy sod.
They will finally understand that I AM GOD!




Dis: poem
Well here is my poem:

Death and Destruction
This is all that I see

Hope ya like it :)



Ami: poetry contest
pretty pretty girl
with the pretty pretty face
stuck in the back
of this pretty pretty place
hiding in a corner
hiding deep within
hiding, always hiding
from the sin that comes within 
faithful father watches
keeping correct score
watching, watching, waiting 
as she slinks across the floor
pretty silver dress
that she slips over her head
silver silver gold
as she slides into her bed
father finally comes
score card kept in hand
another perfect score, dear
another demon fed
moonlight sparkles down
covers the pretty little face
over the pretty little girl
in her pretty little place
as faithful father watches
keeping perfect time
to the clock inside her body
and the clock inside her mind
tiny silver tears course
her pretty little face
while a fragment of the moon 
silver silver in the gloom
bids her safely through the night
to the ticking of her clocks 
as she drifts off into sleep
moonbeam her canopy 
dreamlight her only key 
to the pretty little room
in her pretty pretty mind
where her demons rest unsettled
where her father cannot find
3/8/98 -- Amy Short

- Ami






* Star *
Gold locks and baby blue,
With a milk white complexion
Her cherry smile
And Bulemic waistline
Made her what she is today. 

A cigarette brought to her lips 
Momentarily resting in her fingertips
And those diet soda thighs
One crossed over the other. 

She's that face up on the big screen,
That idol young girls praise,
And guys watch just to see
Her shake those hips, 
In tight black leather legs. 

Gold locks and baby blue, 
She had an addiction
A dark desire, that negative
She just couldn't kick. 
While black steals the light from day
In her world of shades of gray. 

Even though her blisters showed, 
And she plastered on that makeup
Just to pretty up her face,
They loved her.
Yeah, 
They loved her. 

Gold locks and baby blue, 
She was a star. 

- Demosthenes 




Syndicate: Peom Entry
POEM
Time
I was never born.
I will never die.
I am never happy.
I will never cry.
I am as large as the universe.
I am as small as a pinpoint.
I am not wet.
I am not dry.
I am not old.
I al not new.
I need no watch.
I am in your clock.
Who am I?
-Syndicate





Syndicate: Poem entry
Peotry 
School
Seemingly everlasting.
Truly quite short.
Cramming material constantly.
With one exemption for eating.
All exceptions are alwasy welcome.
Day after day going on forever.
Is a child's life wasted away from this thing adults say is good?
- Syndicate




Faber: poem
I sure hope this isnt too late to be entered

Please give me some slack, heh, i just wrote it, and i think its good


Through the Crimson Mist, you see the piles
Through the Crimson Mist, you walk the aisles
You move closer
In the Crimson Mist, you smell the death
In the Crimson Mist, you hold your breath
You move closer
Bathed in Crimson Mist, you see his size
Bathed in Crimson Mist, you see his eyes
Bathed in Crimson Mist, you realize

The only reason You've been left alive
is so He can watch you agonize