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I think i heard from some lit professors once that poetry was the voice of the soul.
I gotta say, I think that means that most of us have morons for souls. Or a stupid little soul moron living inside our soul like a soul golem that's a moron. Especially me. I recently started a poetry blog. In which I write poetry. This is not a good thing.
Here is what I have been told is the BEST of the poems I have written:
On top of a mountain crisscrossed with bones
there stands one creature all alone
with eyes of fire that steam forth hate
and a bill that's black ass hell's gate
there waits, the doom duck.
The bodies of those that have come before
litter around his blood stained floor
There is no hope for those that come
He's faced a million, you are but one
He doth be, the doom duck.
Red of feather, from all the blood
His soul as bitter and cold as frozen mud
he does not only slaughter, he prefers to maim
so he can hear the dying call out his name.
The name, of the doom Duck.
Fear sustains him as a fine wine
And he guards the clock that ticks down time
The end of days can not be stopped
the fowl feathered shadow is about to drop
the beating wings, of the doom duck.
So give into despair and give into defeat
Go home to your family, cook some meat
smile and laugh and have a grand time
forget all about this silly little rhyme
forget all about, the doom duck.
That is the best poem, apparently. I've been doing the blog for a month. Attempting to average a poem a day. Ouch. They range from things about cookies and naked people. Fetishes about grass. Things like that. Some of them are even about stuff like death. Super seeeerious terrible trite stuff.
Read it and despair. Or don't read it and just you know, live a life of normal.