Thinas

Well... I appreciate the optimistic comment Mardrax, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to burst the bubble. My premonition was unfortunately correct and the timing of the poem frighteningly good. I'm certain people can learn to either overcome or live with this kind of massive differences, but this one didn't work out. It ended last night in a bar at 4am, accompanied by a short fight, an exchange of nastily direct questions, truths and subsequently, a truck load of hurt. It's such a shame, but from a purely objective point of view, I fear I may have been too idealistic about this. It's funny you were to point out that exact line Appy, as it formed the basis of the poem and was, along with the very last verse, the first to be written. Thank you for the nice comment. ~Thinas

Hey all, The following is the result of my muse helping me unload a series of frustrations regarding a girl that I currently date. The piece is nothing epic or universal - It's just another story of a regular guy's problems with those irresistible abominations called women. This one in particular causes me quite the mental hazzle and so I wrote this, and though addressed to her she is certainly not meant to ever see it. It is merely a ventilation - But for the sake of constructive criticism (and for the sake of having an audience at all, bless you people) I decided to post it here. My relationship with her is somewhat untraditional and interesting to me because we're so horridly different that the concept of her and I as a couple is unthinkable in itself - She is a typical mainstream girl, dresses normally, goes to cafés, listens to pop and soft rock, and so on. I, on the other hand, is a roleplaying geek with my head solidly buried in the world of hardcore metal music, which heavily influences the way I look. This setup makes for some interesting conversations between her and I, and the relationship's future is questionable at best. The poem is entitled "Ambivalence" because that's how I feel about women - I absolutely love them and cannot imagine living without them, but I loathe the complications they bring and the way they seem to insist on screwing my head up. Hope you enjoy! Ambivalence Flowing, soft, fair hair Bright blue eyes and angelic skin Hourglass waist to tell the tale Of grace and beauty, so feminine Army boots and slouchy walk Chains of metal to scream the name Dangling laces and holey pants Long black coats complete the frame Such a mismatched pair we make Us together is either miracle or joke Tell me, do we grow with the differences? Or suffer and crumble under their yoke? The curse is there at conversations Goodness dear, the bullshit you can spew! I open my mouth, and I’m perfectly sure, What comes out is exactly the same to you But it’s forgotten, there at home Buried by Eros to conflict smother: Resting in my arms and I in yours Entangled in sheets and each other There is beauty here, in my world Even in growling and grinding guitars Truth, hidden in cryptic lyrics Why, sweetie, the hopeless visage? Unless, in time, on own volition I cannot and will not deter Since bending to mainstream is gutless Honestly, is that what you prefer? “To believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest.” - Ghandi To extend my hand in loving invitation, To reveal what’s whispered and what they say Please, love, please, won’t you realize? The door opens outwards, and you’re in the way. But you’re going to leave me. Aren’t you? Scared or bored away. The doubt returns at lonesome nights Where feelings run high and mind astray The choice is yours but make it soon Thoughts based on emotion, ultimately If you can live with this longhaired boy Then stay and be loved indefinitely But if you scoff and shy at whom I am Embarrassed and willingly blind to see Then, my dear, it says more of you, Than it does of me. ~Thinas

Ah, a bit of answers to your questions as well, if you'll permit. The Swedes do indeed use the letter å, but it ends there. They got ä instead of æ and ö instead of ø. The letters æøåÆØÅ are in fact keys on my keyboard. The Norwegians use æøå just as we do, however, and is far more similar in sound and construction to Danish than Swedish is. Danes and Norwegians have an easier time understanding each other than Danes and Swedes do, though it is correct that Danes will most often understand Swedish if spoken slowly. Swedes, on the other hand, tend to think the Danes seem to speak with a potato lodged in our throats, hence the "blur" that was mentioned. In terms of tone of voice, the Norwegians and the Swedes will seem change it as they pronounce vowels and thus "sing" their words whereas the tone of Danish is more...level. An appropriate comparison would be proper British english compared to the level sound of American english. That's in my ears, at least. Of course, I can't speak for everyone and I'm sure some are bound to disagree.

Hejsa! Du må da meget gerne øve dit dansk med mig. Jeg er født og opvokset her og har dermed engelsk som andet sprog. Du laver stort set ingen stavefejl, og udover enkelte sjove formuleringer fungerer dit dansk helt fint. Ved ikke hvor meget feedback du er interesseret i, men jeg vil med glæde rette lidt i det hvis du ønsker? Bare sig til. /Thinas\ The english translation for those concerned: Heya! Feel very free to practice your danish with me. I was born and grew up in Denmark and as such, english is my second language. You make practically no spelling errors and besides a few funny phrases, your danish is just fine. Not sure how much feedback you're interested in, but I'll be happy to correct it if you wish? Just say the word. /Thinas\

Alas, double-Weenie would suck. And I'll get it if I don't do something about it. So luckily, I did. I started a poem yesterday and finished it today, but will refrain from posting it here as I have posted it in the Banquet Room already, and it's too long to bother you with in two different threads. So I will direct you to its title instead, should you wish to read it. It's called "Crimson Creak", and I hope it'll take care of my Weenie as well as the dreadful prospect of becoming a double-Weenie. Thank you, /Thinas\

Greetings yet again, This is probably the longest poem I have ever written. I spent two days on this one. It's a song about a man, scorned by all, who gets pissed off and decides to teach life a lesson. The poem is heavily influenced by Nick Cave and his album "Murder Ballads". It has ties in particular to the song "The Curse of Milhaven". As such, the grim contents of the song are to be viewed humoristically morbid rather than tastelessly gory. :-D Oh, and...I've written 2 or 3 pieces since I got the Weenie Award for never posting anything, so I thought I'd try to poke the almighty leaders of The Pen and ask them if this will do. Thanks in advance. I hope you can work your way through it and can enjoy its casual approach to the ending of life. That's what I aimed for with this piece anyway. The Crimson Creak This one’s about Willy A man from Chasm; that’s a town It’s where they defined “Hillbilly” And even the crows turn around Small but full of people Yet completely devoid of life Most mentally feeble Fueled only by petty strife His face was molded “real fine” By a thousand fishing hooks Willy was indeed last in the line When God handed out good looks So this poor guy, twisted by fate In any way, shape or form He lived subjected to everyone’s hate Unable to follow public norm You see, disabled too he was Chained helplessly to a chair Met spite and disdain, cause’ “He had no right to breathe their air” And the rev’rent’s daughter spat on him The type that meets challenge and bails Connie, she’s an unruly, walking sin Listens to Blink182 and Nine Inch Nails And Mrs. Goodfield, that snobby hag Let her dog leak on Willy’s chair Outside where she goes though just to brag Where she gossips and does her hair And the principal looked away When the schoolkids gave the name And “Wheely” joined the fray To add scorn to growing shame And after then, never the same… You see, one day it got too much Like a bull with tweezers on its nuts Wheely snapped, and as such Returned tenfold all the cuts Wheely was gone, mind too dark And as he hurt, shall suffer town So listen on, the future stark What goes around, comes around And luck turned about Struck so god damn fast As Wheely cleaned out Down to the very last It happened mostly in Main Street They still don’t know who and how but cops said “Done by an elite” With no mind and hands like a plow Come with me, witness the murderous streak That’s it now, don’t be shy So now the road’s called “Crimson Creak” Come, and witness why: So! Mrs. Goodfield, there you are Look at you, as always, piping hot Slender cheek, not a single scar Can you gossip more? Maybe not Her dog there, too, oh so sad Clothes completely free of stains Held on to that power line so bad Did at least the charred remains They found Connie there, too Adding her own to the river Rev’rent’s daughter, stabbed through By 40 times metal sliver With all her angsty little bands Ha! Oh vengeance hails At least she was holding hands With all the Nine Inch Nails They found all the kids from school Dug down, though necks stickin’ up Actually, I think this is kinda cool It must’ve said “lop!”, “lop!”, lop!” I couldn’t have done it nicer All in a line and run o’er Must’ve been quite the geyser As he drove the janitor’s lawn mower Police have been at it now for years Have found only a single clue Screams and mother’s tears Because they had nobody to sue Clue led to a secret garden Deep between darkest tree It’s where his heart did darken And Satan set his body free And there they found the evidence Of the man for whom none will care That man where blood took precedence They only found his empty chair So mind you this, should you enter Chasm Careful who you call a freak They’re no fun, dying spasms Behave, or join the Crimson Creak

Robot for me. I would've expected Emo Kid, but I guess that was 4 years ago.

Dear all, It's been a while since last I put something out here, but I guess my writing goes like that. My muse doesn't inspire me as often as some of you people, damn you. The following poem is something I wrote in a state of depression. The story described within was meant to end in cataclysmic disaster, the end of everything and evil's final defeat over good. But I write depression out because it helps my mood, and so did this one. As such, the story's ending changed from horrible to better, along with my mood as I finished the poem. I hope you like it, though perhaps more importantly, understand it. The title is not necessarily the final title as I thought it too cliché, though it fits the contents well enough for now. Suggestions for another title are more than welcome, as is any other constructive criticism, naturally. Gothic Redemption It was a cold evening in fall And Jinn walked alone Through alley and darkest hall They broke her every bone No comforting chiming bell Nor watchtower’s ray of light No beacon in this hell To chase away the night Only the thick of gloom And raindrops’ drum Against rock lit by the Moon And betrayed by the Sun Her dress cleaned the street Her blood the souls of Men The rocks cut her feet From now to way back when And fall turned to winter As final rest was nigh She the final splinter Life’s last sigh And she marched, this child Face of stone, toward her grave Lost and hope defiled Standards no longer wave Creaked open cemetery door As dead trees greeted her To bloom in spring nevermore What once was, now were And there they waited for Jinn Belial, Lillith, Asmodai To commit their wretched Sin For their House of Lie Purity march to defeat As lamb to the slaughter Eyes rending meat And heart of Nature’s Daughter ... But their eyes grew As her pace quickened A single dove flew And their power weakened And she no longer paced Steel to readily pierce This enemy they faced Never before this fierce Their knives dug deep And drained her for life Blood spilled, world weep Though die did Adam’s Wife And ferryman took her away Eyes widened in denial Banish Evil Astray And gone was Belial And the dove did return Soared o’er hallowed sky Never to fall and burn Took with her Asmodai Left is but a humble cross Red dirt amongst many graves Testimony to lives lost Though humanity’s banner waves

LOL @ Alaeha That would be a poem about my love for my computer, not my love for a girl. Maybe I should do one of those one day too. /Thinas\

Hello, all. I just started studying software technology, so I'm heavily influenced it seems. The topic of the following poem is something that came to mind as I rode my bike home from school today. I can't believe this happened to me as I suspect I'd be the last person to ever write anything on this topic. But here goes anyway. This is what happens when a computer nerd faces the challenge it is to describe the world's most powerful feeling. I hope you find it less cryptic to read than I found it to write. Binary Emotion Whether embers or burning fire It lurks in everyone’s hearts You get what you desire Or you’re blown to a million shards It will blind your sight, and it will blur your mind Can’t resist, try as you might, but only her. No world behind. There’s no path in between It refuses compromise Fight to meet either extreme: Sweetest victory or painful demise And so I, too, burn alive I wish she could tell I walk aflame. Binary pool, took real a deep dive Tasted before, though never the same Indescribable, no word’s enough, despite countless books written Torn down no matter how tough I’m twice shy though once bitten Though…If I take the chance… Here’s the outcome offered: Either enjoyed or heinously suffered So here’s something I feel fits, for the heart’s searing sun: I need naught but two bits And it’d be zero and one. The answer’s so ridiculously obvious: IF: I want her to see. I want my feelings heard THEN: Courage is the key Love is the word

Have you ever had to bitterly take the scorn of others because you lacked the courage to do something about it, only to walk away fantasizing about what type of revenge would suit you best? Have you ever mustered the courage to finally do something about it and felt proud over the mere attempt, even if unsuccesful? Have you ever pondered how cool it would be to, as a complete adult, dress up like Marilyn Manson at Christmas time and go line up in the Mall to sit on Santa's lap and, in front of all the kids, wish for Uzis and high carbon ninja swords? Have you ever seen a fantasy movie at a friend's and gotten so caught up in its world that you experience a depressing anti-climax upon staring at the rain-wet asphalt of the deserted roads as you walk home in the middle of the night? Have you ever experienced ambivalence towards a person because you like and admire him/her, but despair over the realization that you can never be as good, cool and succesful; that the person's existence points out your obvious inferiority? ...Only to realize that someone else feels precisely that, about YOU? Have you ever sat in front of your computer with WinAmp playing and subconsciously thought intensely about a song, snapping back to reality just in time to see WinAmp's shuffle function pick THAT EXACT song out of your 600+ long playlist - At random? Have you ever thrown the truth in someone's face, knowing it would hurt them, anger them and jeopardize your friendship, because they needed to know? Conversily, have you ever lied to a friend's face when they badly needed the truth, convincing yourself that you did it to protect your friend's feelings when the truth is that you lied because you were too much of a coward to deal with the ensuing hassle?

Somewhere crucial inside Area-51 that the US will NOT appreciate my seeing. I wanna know if there really is something, or if it's just a hoax blown out of proportions by the media.

Thank you, both of you. I'm not sure I know what Gwai means by shifting word order for rhyme, though...Each line was made in an attempt to rhyme with the next. I looked it over to see if I made a bobo and switched somewhere so one line rhymed with the second next or something, but I couldn't find that anywhere, so that makes me curious. Thanks for the comments, Thinas

Good poem, Sabre. To be honest, I hadn't expected you to write poetry, so I'm pleasantly surprised. Like Loki Wyrd stated, it reminds me of a bad trip of some sort. I really like the way you describe losing the struggle against the addiction, and especially the incredible cost. Your soul for feeling like a king just once. Go fight for your soul. It was taken without right. Someone who isn't as bad or as uptight as people are led to believe -

I told you online already, but I thought I'd give you permanent recognition while I was at it. Describing something as deep as Love is a mighty task to take on indeed, but I think you manage it very well! You sound...experienced. As I stated in #thepen, the line I recognize the most is the one with the senses where you call it uncaptureable. This is exactly my opinion of it too. Love's too wide to be defined. No example fully contains what it's all about, yet everyone knows what Love is. Well done. /Thinas\