I'm a poet and so ima write you a poem. Give me a promt.
otherwise I'll just fall deeper into my hole of depression and self loathing.
I guess I could write about that, but I don't want to write poetry that is 90% of the crap you see on the internet today.

Anyone can write about how life sucks but ask them to write a poem about the beautiful night sky and they are silent.

Hermit crab.

The wind slides silently through humid leaves,
sighs as the paling rosy hues of dusk gives way to night...

chief manghu shuthu bhutu leisi cul de sac

De-reppers are such.....
Feel free to continue,but beware the snakes:-)

25 miles of trailless wilderness between me and my truck and my gps just died.

how are you able to post here?

edit: ok got it, you're stuck in new jersey :)

cmd.exe

Ah, wrong prompt?

Sorry, only love and beauty inspires me..............and I´m watching you people. :P

....and the grey, more grey and darker grey GOG background.

I got a laugh from that. thanks. There was a crab made of sand, who lived in a far off land.
He made his home in a tree because he hated the sound of the sea.
The birds would often ask, why he was such a ass.
He simply clicked a clack, for he had no mouth to talk back.
And being made of sand, made water hard to stand.

With a breeze she caressed my body like tender kisses, warm and soft to the touch.

I closed my eye's as she ran her fingers through my hair and whispered sweet nothings in my ear.

Opening my eyes I looked into her golden face so bright and beautiful,
her dark hair glittering mysteriously,
and though I'd seen her many times before,
my breath caught in my throat as I realized how beautiful she really was.

I could only hope the next night would be as wonderful as this one.

Hardcore S&M.

Chief Manghu had the highest title but the lowest of self image.
He dreamed he was a small mouse, trapped in a great house on the corner of a cul-de-sac.
The man loved to play games, but he was terrible as scrimmage.
Though he had the hand of the most beautiful women, he lacked all that one might call tact.
So he moved to a far off land, in a place he could hide in the sand,
some placed called Bhutu, where he was no one, than anyone knew.

(I haver no idea what some of these words are :U )

Who? I just want to see some poetry about bloodsex.