Goth Poetry
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Poetry for people who hate poetry |
Goth Poetry began in the Middle Ages when really bored rich dudes got sick of going outside in the light to check on unruly serfs. Castle life then was stylish and a pasty white complexion meant that one spent much time in the much adored darkness. So when castle folk weren't beating serfs they composed some of the greatest Goth Poetry ever! (I mean serf torture was fun but, come on you can only do that for soooooo long ....) Anyway the torch has been passed to us to cauterize serf wounds and to continue the ancient art of writing brutally powerful (LOL) and funny Goth Poetry... (oh yeah back then it was spelled with an "e" like Gothe... like all those other old english medieval words back in the day...)
In Latter Days...[edit | edit source]
Today Goth Poetry is said aloud to a large group with emphasis on words like Black (which must be capitalized for all intensive purposes) or said quietly in a creepy tone to a small group. It is always said in the dark (for effect) though it is very hard to read in the dim lighting. Thus is the challenge of the poet and venerable individual reciting the literature!
Requirements[edit | edit source]
Time Tested Favorites..LOL[edit | edit source]
Down the Road
Down the road
Not across the street
I do it now as I beat my meat
It fades to black as I start to skeet
Satan greets me...oh deprave
Like a hot dog exploding in a microwave
-The Dreamer 3666
Black is my soul
My soul is black like a really dark track,
I run in circles while scratching my back,
Darkness soo insideous it forms darkness blobs,
You have to watch out for them or you'll trip when you jog!
-Sir Winton "Reverend" Jim the 13th
I wish I was dead.. (lol)
I wish I was dead.
You there, please chop off my head.
I'd look really crappy and that would be great,
I wouldn't have to wear makeup or act strangely sedate.
I could act care-free as my zombified body drools.
I stink anyway, let's play how ball in cess pools.
I could run through the graveyard or play chicken with cars.
Damn those bitches would freak but, I don't think they let zombies in bars.
-Sir Winton "Reverend" Jim the 13th
Hallway Horror
Grey and black bowling balls rolling their way down dark school halls,
If they strike someone and blood spurts forth from their shin,
I'll punch the thrower in the chin...
-The Dreamer3666
Doom of My Soul
Doom of my soul... it would become but a hole.
Like putt-putt golf on a small grassy knoll.
Overcome with hate my heart would collapse,
Like playing hard ball with wiffle ball bat.
-Sir Winton "Reverend" Jim the 13th
Black
Black is an instrument you fool.
I play it at night, it sounds really cool.
In the graveyard or out on the town it's really quiet, therefore, emits little sound.
It is used to play a song of death.
You'd feel it around you, 'ere it already left.
It sounds best when it's clean, so always use Dreft (soap powder... for sensative Goth skin)
-Sir Winton "Reverend" Jim the 13th
My Shell
Digging my way through the blackness,
scraping my shin on a desk,
the impenatrable protection of darkness
is shurely the best.
-Sir Winton "Reverend" Jim the 13th
My inner Strength
Skeleton Skeleton, surrounding my room.
Skeleton Skeleton, wishing for doom.
Necromancy Necromancy, is my hobby.
I pretend to do magic like the house elf Dobby!
-The Dreamer3666
No Pain, No Gain.
Torture and chains preceded by monochromatic games.
It's great to get it off to women with piercings in uncomfortable planes!
-Sir Winton "Reverend" Jim the 13th
An Excerpt from a Historically Accurate Medieval Manuscript Depicting Life In the Castle Ghetto...(really...?)
Beating a serf is really fun,
Smashing his face with the stock of my gun.
That is the way our ancestors rode,
'got lift kits on their impalas so their 22's showed.
Satan ridin' shotgun, Dr. Dre' got the back seat,
gonna' score some castle crack and some medieval hos,
to make me bust a skeet.
-Sir Winton "Reverend" Jim the 13th
The Dark Dank Unspeakably Ghastly Bloodstained Dungeon of My Soul
I trudge these barren halls alone,
Hearing only the horrid groans
Of all that was! What came before!
The uncivilised children! The filthy whores!
Their shrieking, all I get for thanks?
I'm going to go back to my room and angst.
-Lord Baron Henrik Angstenstein Wolfgang von Woe III
Black
Everything is black.
Even those preppy fags.
I would drink their blood.
And then make crud
In their open body cavity
I have no moral depravity.
Darkness is a vagina and penis.
That I have sex with
And splooge all over.
Rhymes are conformist.
-Unknown (Written in 2004 at a unknown high school)
Life Sucks
All lifes suck
Just like bitches like to fuck
life is like that light that you cannot block out of the room
You some times try to kill the groom
- some guy the third-
Fraujas Bida
atta unsar þu in himinam,
weihnai namo þein.
qimai þiudinassus þeins.
wairþai wilja þeins,
swe in himina jah ana airþai.
hlaif unsarana þana sinteinan gif uns himma daga.
jah aflet uns þatei skulans sijaima,
swaswe jah weis afletam þaim skulam unsaraim.
jah ni briggais uns in fraistubnjai,
ak lausei uns af þamma ubilin;
unte þeina ist þiudangardi jah mahts jah wulþus in aiwins.
amen.
-Anon (Wulfila? Xristau Iesu?)-
Please Add To Our Collection![edit | edit source]
Please do add you own Goth poetry... Its Fun... and scarry... well sort of...
Links[edit | edit source]
Sources[edit | edit source]
Wulfila (fisrt Gothic poet.)
Count Dracula (one of our first patrons of our fine art)
Count Chocula (keeps you hyped up while writing)
Licorich (it's Black... what else is there to say?)
Satan (He's kinda creepy...)
Fat Bob (He floats in the ocean.)
Atawulf (Whiney Goths.)
"Night" by Elie Weseil (I laughed the whole time.)
Shindler's List (A great movie for making out.)
Alaric (Another whiney Goth.)
Death (yeah it's pretty cool, but I just don't want to go there.)
"Rent" (A whole lot of laughs...Stupid Fags...dicks are for chicks...)
"Little Nicky" (An insightful work describing the delicate inner workings of our complex universe)