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Discuss and Submit Literature


Nov 17, 2005
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This is a thread for authors, whether amateur, professional or just plain atrocious (like me) to discuss literature and submit samples of their works. I have written five terrible poems, none of which, of course, has actually been published. One is of a political nature so I will omit it, but here are the other four:

"Illness of Time"

Time is ill,
Carved in ice,
Sorrow kills,
Worth no price.

Feel the chill,
Painful spite,
Not undone,
Never won.

Time feels pain,
Pain is old,
Acid rain,
On your soul.

Time is ill,
Pasts won't die,
Let us will,
Let us cry.

"I am One"

Don't approve me,
I am one,
You won't move me,
I am one.

Persecute me,
I am one,
You can't mute me,
I am one.

Just accuse me,
I am one,
You can't use me,
I am one.

You despise me,
I am one,
Not divide me,
I am one.

“I Ask Why”

Evil’s lurking everywhere,
I am good if I despair,
Evil works are everywhere,
I’m so hurt but I must care.

Ears that never hear the sound,
Eyes that cannot see the ground,
Feet that are forever bound,
Hearts that beat but never pound.

Shaking hands that never tremble,
Do we know whom we resemble,
Nothing is so incidental,
Nothing is inconsequential.

Trapped within a lion’s den,
Some ask where and some ask when,
I am now the one they send,
I ask why with pointless pen.


Isolate the mind,
It will lose its way,
Trap it in its kind,
In a cabin gray.

Shouts are never heard,
Tears are never dried,
Live in the absurd,
Cry at that you’ve cried.

Watch each hour pass,
On a worthless clock,
Longer than the last,
Now my mind can’t block.

Time itself has stopped,
Hurt yet there’s no pain,
Trying not to drop,
Move yet make no gain.

I did warn you that they were terrible, but perhaps you have some better examples to submit.
That's some quality **** right there, galen!...I hope you don't screw it up with some god-awful music behind it...

Also songwriter...

Just an acoustic guitar...verses read as limericks...

I mourn for myself every night
'Cause it's you that I want to hold tight
Every time we're apart, I get a pain in my heart
And I knew that this was love at second sight

The people you are with are not your kind
Proving to me that love is blind
I know how I'd react, so I will keep up my act
And pretending who your with; I don't mind

Grey skies are falling upon me
Beautiful eyes are turning away
I'm dreaming, one day, you will love me
But I know it'll never...be that way

But I'm still hopin' for the day when you are mine
And you will be with me all the time
But for the while; I will bare with a smile
And keeping thoughts of you in my mind
My favorite poem by anyone is Samuel Daniel's "Delia", especially this excerpt:

Let others sing of Knights and Paladines
In aged accents and untimely words,
Paint shadows in imaginary lines
Which well the reach of their high wits records;
But I must sing of thee and those fair eyes;
Authentic shall my verse in time to come,
When yet th'unborn shall say, "Lo, where she lies
Whose beauty made him speak that else was dumb."
These are the Arks, the Trophies I erect
That fortify thy name against old age,
And these thy sacred virtues must protect
Against the dark and Time's consuming rage.
Though th'error of my youth they shall discover,
Suffice they show I liv'd and was thy lover.

Now if I could write poetry like that I wouldn't have to worry about what career to take up.
Here is one of mine from college:

There is no taste sweeter than that of the fruit forbidden
Condemned by God, yet still God-given.
And what of the gentle call of sin
Mellow sweet and sovereign?

Oh to revel in the night
Where wings of fantasy take flight
To ever turn my eyes away
From the vulgar light of day!

To live inside these dreams of mine
And take no note of date or time
Wrapped in soothing velvet dark
You and I would never part...

But you are gone and I am here
And I see the dawn is drawing near.
Your touch to me is nocturnal
Until my slumber is eternal.

I walk with longing through my day
And wish that I could go away
Into the abyss where you now dwell
And make a Heaven of your Hell.
And a more recent one...

For Joshua...

The time I've spent in viewing
And actively pursuing
The light that lies
In Joshua's eyes
Has been my heart's undoing.

And now my heart I'm scaring
While toward the heaven's glaring
Asking why
To storm-swept skies
About this man I'm caring.

Love I wasn't hunting
But others now I'm shunning
His lips so sweet
That now my feet
To him are always running.

For we first met in passing
But the impression was ever-lasting.
My heart inflamed
Will not be tamed
So this die I'm casting...

Venus, lovely muse
With aim strong and true
Swift and sure
Send Cupid's lure
To pierce our hearts right through.
"Coming of age". by galenrox

I remember being confused.
When all my friends were bemused.
"Mary Anne of Ginger"? they discussed.
I was very much nonplussed.

It started in the gym shower.
That's where I lost my flower.
That hairy brute named Al.
Became my very first pal.
I still remember his power.

I thought, "Gilligan or the Professor"?
I will not choose the lesser.
Much to my surprise.
Gilligan had the biggest prize.


I aged and became more easy.
Butt cheeks always greasy.
I will always please he.
Even a Chimpanzee.


Be careful down in Tijuana.
galenrox will go down if you wanna.
But don't be smoking his Marijuana.
You'll get the muchies for fried Iguana.
teacher said:
"Coming of age". by galenrox

I remember being confused.
When all my friends were bemused.
"Mary Anne of Ginger"? they discussed.
I was very much nonplussed.

It started in the gym shower.
That's where I lost my flower.
That hairy brute named Al.
Became my very first pal.
I still remember his power.

I thought, "Gilligan or the Professor"?
I will not choose the lesser.
Much to my surprise.
Gilligan had the biggest prize.


I aged and became more easy.
Butt cheeks always greasy.
I will always please he.
Even a Chimpanzee.


Be careful down in Tijuana.
galenrox will go down if you wanna.
But don't be smoking his Marijuana.
You'll get the muchies for fried Iguana.

Oh teacher...no...:eek:
Ramblings From a Doomed Generation
Chapter 1: Semblance of sanity lost to a mixture of rum and coke.

Here I am, my first semester of college how did I get here or maybe the question that I should be asking myself is why? . . . for the life of me I can’t remember.

Bad scenes man going on three days now, no sleep and only vague recollections of the previous night’s events. The room in front of me is in total disarray, clues everywhere helping me to unravel a mystery that I don’t want solved. What had happened here? Holy god man a ****ing roach look at the size of that ****er! I’ve got to get out of this apartment I believe I’ve completely warn out my welcome in fact I’m sure of it. Scaring the straights on what’s beginning to be a daily basis answering questions that no ones asked. And the worst part is, is that it’s beginning to be a whole lot more serious than that there ready to put me in a rubber room I can feel it. And this is where I’m left stuck between a rock and a pointed blade the ****er’s are closing in I thought. Every second I’m here the room gets a little bit smaller . . . starting to cut off my circulation now. But then it comes to me and I realize that their out there just waiting for me to stick my little peepers out that door so they can club me over the head and drag me to some god awful insane asylum. And just as I’m beginning to think that my delusions are getting on top of me there comes a nock at the door.

“Who the **** is it,” I screamed into the darkness like a man in the midst of a 72 hour binger, which I in fact was.

An answer came after a long pause brought on by the shock of the lunatic screaming through the door at this poor hapless son of a bitch who had no Idea what he had just gotten himself into, “Uh, it’s your room mate,” the soft timid voice said under hushed breath.

“Who sent you, what the **** do you want with me!” I answered.

Another short pause and then the reply of, “the music, can you turn the music down please.”

“Well since you said please I suppose I can accommodate you,” and with that I got up locked my door and cranked my sound system with heavy base up to full volume and then closed my eyes and passed out and with my last thoughts before being consumed by a drunken slumber I pondered the fact that my new roommate's and I were going to get along just fine.

Only halfway through the night and I’m already twisted, I’ve been ordering up overpriced double rum and cokes with pitchers of beer on the side for about three consecutive hours now. Some things gotta give . . . maybe my mind which is already stretched way past the breaking point.

And then a pause in the deafening silence from one of my associates by the name of Jacob Degains who’s dressed like the caricature of a cheap pimp from one of those late 70‘s police shows, his eyes were red from lack of sleep and the massive consumption of every conceivable fix that he’s managed to obtain through his vast underworld connections.

“Hay Tyler guess what I got,” my nonsensical friend mumbled under hushed breath. Oh ****! I thought. What does this deranged bastard want with me now?

“What?” I muttered with slurred speech.

Even more quietly he answered, “Some paper, bet you haven‘t seen this in a while.”

I couldn’t help but thinking that the night was about to take a turn for the worst. But **** it I’m here now and the only thing I can do is except my fate, head full of acid on an Easter Sunday . . . why not?

Now let me tell you a little something about the people whom I often consider to be my closest friends, the ordinary rules of right, wrong and sobriety don’t apply to these simple bastards and to me either for that matter. While most people, normal people, can drink a few beers and have a few laughs and then call it a night, these son’s of bitches have never quite been able to grasp the concept of moderation in fact to these people excess is the norm and moderation is a word to be belittled and ridiculed. The average night for us lasts from about five in the afternoon to well past sun up and that‘s only when alcohol is in play when we start up on the whole hallucinogenic, cocaine and zanni bar mixed bingers the nights can last for weeks at a time . . . and here I was stuck in the middle and apparently giving serious considerations to causing some real damage to my brain cells.

Forty-five minutes and counting won’t be long now. And with that thought the first flurry’s of the wave began to wash over me slowly at first and then with added rapidity. There would be no escaping it now just buckle in and prepare for take off I thought . . . it was going to be a bumpy ride.

I’ve lost all concept of time now and the line between what happened first and what will happen next is beginning to become very vague. I’ve now completely forgotten the events that have brought me to this most precarious of situations. Stranded here in the middle of a lake in a boat with no engine power. No clocks, phone, or radio to help me grasp out of the darkness to get a fix on the time and ultimately a fix on reality. Complete spatial, temporal, and intellectual paralysis a nice side effect not known to many outside of the acid culture. I am generally able to maintain a balance between this world and the one of my minds eye by grabbing onto something tangeable like the time of day. But no hope of that out here, I thought, stranded in the middle of nowhere surrounded by deep black water.

The sun was coming up now and it felt like a Tuesday we finally manage to get the engine started but only for sporatic increments at a time. The crippled engine finally manages to push us all the way back to shore like some kind of immense wounded beast limping back to the safety of its cave. And with that a plan began to form with in the recesses of a demented mind.

"Hay Jacob can you grab that rope?" I yelled over the roar of the engine.

"This one?" Jake asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"No no, not that one!" I yelled back at him. "The one hanging over the side you're really going to have to stretch for it."

And with that just as he was about to reach the rope I cut the engine and delivered a swift kick to his ass sending him flailing over the side.

"Help, help!" He screamed wildly, "I can't swim!"

"Well this would be a good time to learn don't you think?" I anwsered.

"You evil ****er!" he yelled.

I calmly answered in a condescending tone with a giant grin on my face, "Evil you say?" . . . "Well, I was going to help you out but now I'm not so sure maybe if you say please I might reconsider but then again I may not."

I knew he wasn't in any real danger Jake had grown up in Florida and definately knew how to swim but then out of the corner of my eye I saw it, it had no discernable shape at first and you could hardly make it out in the dim light of the rising sun but as it got closer there was no mistaking it as one of the biggest god damn gators I had ever seen and to make matters worse it was on a direct course for my now floundering friend Jake.

"Jake!" I yelled, "Get the **** out of the water there's a huge gator heading right for you!"

"Nice try." he answered while turning around to face this monster of a gator.

"Swim you stupid ****, swim before that gator takes a chomp out of your fat ass." I yelled.

He was in a fear induced shock by the time he reached the shore, and I couldn't stop laughing.

After the drugs and alchohol had finally left my system I genuinly felt bad for what I had done and I suppose that these feelings of regret which had been plaguing me for the past couple of sleepless days and nights were in fact my conscience . . . and here I thought that I had managed to kill that ****er long ago.

"Oh well, here's to you, you nagging little **** . . . I'll see you in hell yet."
Ok I've finally gotten up the courage to actually submit some of my stuff. This is an opening to my short story that I've titled 'Knowledge'. I hope you guys like it. I wrote about 50 pages and I'm currently in the process of editing and typing so just keep that in mind as you read

Oh and it does have language and sexual content in it (yes its very dirty, I know)

What am I doing here?
Yes, that is what I was thinking, alone in my bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, the fans blades hovering above my head.
I put down a book I was reading (A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess) and let it lay on my chest.

‘Why am I here?’ I thought silently, listening to the hum of the fan overhead. ‘What is the point of my existence?’

I considered many possibilities though not all, of course, as there are an infinite number of possibilities. I came up with two possible possibilities (if there is such a thing): If there is a universe, someone must have created it. So therefore, there must be a God. However, if there is a God and God created everything, who created God? Well perhaps God has always existed and we as humans cannot possibly understand existing infinitely but perhaps the same thing could be said about the universe? And what of the big bang?

I pondered these points for what seemed like hours until finally, I drifted off to sleep. I dreamed that night and what a lovely dream it was! I cannot remember it but I know it was wonderful. I’ve always loved dreams. Dreams are so wonderful but yet so bitter when they end. Such a shame one cannot visit their dreams at leisure. We should work on that. But then again, I suppose one would not want to leave his dreams if one could get into its dreams.

I woke up to my alarm clock. Nearly 6:00 A.M. it was. I usually liked to wake up this early in the morning but I missed my dream. I tried to remember it but alas, I could not. I knew a hole and a rope fell into the mix somewhere though, as it is with all dreams, this made very little sense. As I said before, dreams can be quite bitter once they are over.

I took a shower, taking my time with it. Somehow or another, my mind began to debate with itself about the existence of life as we know it. Two voices were debating inside my head and what a ferocious debate it was! Though, of course, there was no victor once the end came.

I will not bore you with the specifics of this seemingly endless debate that went on inside my head but instead continue with my story. I went through my regular routine and soon I was off to school. I traveled through the streets for awhile until, sooner then I had hoped, the school came into sight. I walked inside but then, to my surprise, the bell rang. Not wanting to be late for my first class, I rushed upstairs and only barely made it on time.
The first class of the day was Math. My worst subject yet so closely related to science. But I was not bad at math because I couldn’t understand it but rather because it bored the hell out of me. There was no challenge in it. All you did was plug in answers and the like. It was mostly a chore really.

As my teacher continued with her lesson on this tedius math stuff, my eyes began to wander around my classroom. There was Michael Becker, first seat, front row, listening intently, as he was known to. I felt bad for him. Charlie McDowell was fondling a girl named Stacey’s breast. She seemed to be enjoying herself. The teacher took no notice, of course.

Finally, my eyes fell upon the lovely Emily O’Harris. She was sitting in the next row to the right of me, just a seat ahead. I was quite taken of her, though I had spoken no more then perhaps three or four words to her. I was quite certain that my semi- infatuation with her, had to her arresting green eyes (that and her nice, tight ass, which I enjoyed to look at as she walked down the hallways). Those eyes were hypnotizing. They seemed to be saying something to me, though I could not say what. Perhaps they were saying something like “Beyond this beauty, there is something deeper.” Oh, how I desired to learn what this was!

I had begun to fantasize about having her in my room, alone when suddenly, and quite harshly, I was brought back to reality by the voice of my teacher which said “GREG!”

I raised my head, which was comfortably resting on the desk, and stared up at her. “Yes?” I asked, a bit angry, though not showing it.

“Did you have answer for this?” she said, pointing towards the problem on the board.

“Sorry I don’t,” I said, “I’m still working on it.

My teacher began to look at me sharply, as all teachers do when they are suspicious of a student. I suppose she had decided that I wasn’t work the effort and merely said, “Very well then.”

Now that the teacher began to start harassing another student, I caught the eye of Emily O’Harris, staring right at me. She smiled at me warmly and I knew this was the part where I smiled back so, of course, I simply gaped at her. I must have looked really stupid because she started giggling and I blushed very deeply, I must admit. As I began to try and smile back, my teacher called for attention again so Emily turned away. I cursed myself, thinking that she must know now that I was a complete fool. ‘Way to go asshole,’ one of my voices said to me ‘You blew it, you little bitch. You will never so much as touch her let alone **** her if you don’t step up to the plate, and you won’t.’

Oh come on!’ said another voice, a bit brighter then the last ‘you must not be so down. You’ll get plenty more opportunities.’

Thus, my self-hating conscious and my other more optimistic voice kept up with these comments until finally, the bell rang. I packed my bags up slowly so I could keep observing Emily until she finally left. I then picked up the pace and walked outside.

There I saw Emily, standing outside, alone. She didn’t seem to notice me but instead of saying anything to her, I simply walked past her, as though not noticing her as well. My self hating conscious mocked me but I did my best to shut him out.
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