Darkly Gothic Vogon Poetry
I can't write it. Probably not surprising, given my non-goth tendencies. Not that there's anything wrong with gothic, or goth-like persons. In high school, I think I would've liked being a goth, but black hair just doesn't go with my complexion (sure, my skin is fair enough, but the freckles would spoil somewhat), and i think I would have given my mother a heart attack. Not to mention my dad. He had a fit when I got my ears pierced. Can you imagine what would have happened if I'd dyed my hair black and worn copious amounts of eye makeup? Yeesh.(I am going to say, for the record, that my parents weren't overly strict. They weren't overly lenient either--at least not to me. And I get on very well with both of them now).
But I did read a lot of Poe and Lovecraft in Yr 11.
I found this Gothic Poetry generator and thought I'd give it a whirl.
They actually match my mood right now, anyhow.
So (she says brightly), here are some examples of My Very Own Darkly Gothic Poetry.
Phantom Pain
Around, all around, the shadows gather.
My dread grows as the stroke of death falls against my naked soul.
It mutilates me, and darkly my
vitae drips
to the fallen despairing leaves.
In unholy terror I call your name
while nothingness surrounds me.
Now alone, my essence falls upon uncaring eyes.
This is your love
The Feeling Very Sorry For Myself Darkly Gothic Poem
Devoid of Love
the night falls in a heavy, suffocating cloak, cold and alone are we.
the understanding for which you sacrifice yourself
flares once, then dies,
smothered by a velvet ebon nothingness.
all hope must fail.
your heart desires no more.
how could you not understand?
shadows surround us, crying,
we are fallen.
And last, but not least:
The Black Abyss of Righteous Hatred Darkly Gothic Poem
stolen emotion
what have you wrought?
a miasma of chaos as sentiments writhe.
once we drank of wonder,
untainted and open,
but your thirst perished.
a feverish morass of darkness -
memories follow death, follow pain,
love burnt to ashes.
in a torrent of tears,
i see you.
Oh, and as a final word, here is my piece of Vogon Poetry:
See, see the lime green sky
Marvel at its big puce depths.
Tell me, sweetheart, do you
Wonder why the dryad ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel asinine.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your kesnickered facial growth
That looks like
A anchovies.
What's more, it knows
Your turgid potting shed
Smells of frog.
Everything under the big lime green sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm goat droppings.
:-)
posted by Heather @ 8:10 pm
1 Comments:
hehe. I have "Don't Panic" tattoo'd in nice, friendly letters on my forehead. ;-)
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