Thread: Something more serious this time.

Serious eh? Is it wrong that I giggled at the thought that perhaps this was a poem about burning "soulless gingers"... I put that in quotes because that's not how I feel. I believe people with red hair have souls, and can sometimes be kinda hot. Any way, good piece, except to say that... maybe the line about red heads does distract from the serious tone.

Originally Posted by Peach_follows

Serious eh? Is it wrong that I giggled at the thought that perhaps this was a poem about burning "soulless gingers"... I put that in quotes because that's not how I feel. I believe people with red hair have souls, and can sometimes be kinda hot. Any way, good piece, except to say that... maybe the line about red heads does distract from the serious tone.

Montague Summers, in his translation of the Malleus Maleficarum,[53] notes that red hair and green eyes were thought to be the sign of a witch, a werewolf or a vampire during the Middle Ages;

Those whose hair is red, of a certain peculiar shade, are unmistakably vampires. It is significant that in ancient Egypt, as Manetho tells us, human sacrifices were offered at the grave of Osiris, and the victims were red-haired men who were burned, their ashes being scattered far and wide by winnowing-fans. It is held by some authorities that this was done to fertilize the fields and produce a bounteous harvest, red-hair symbolizing the golden wealth of the corn. But these men were called Typhonians, and were representatives not of Osiris but of his evil rival Typhon, whose hair was red.

Source: Wikipedia

that's why I chose the person to be a redhead, so no this wasn't inspired by southpark

Force Retirement

Some people called you hero,
but that was a long time ago,
your fame long lost,
cold, freezing frost,
is what you feel,
sitting in your chair with one and another wheel,
you survived a bullet in your spine,
shot by some swine,
you got your fifteen minutes of fame,
it's always the same,
left by your wife now,
you feel your life needs to end now,
so you get your weapon,
and a bottle of bourbon,
drink a sip,
your revolver then touching your lip,
click, click, click, click, click, click,
you start feeling sick,
"No ammunition....",
you laugh, dropping your handgun.

second attempt on something more serious, let me know how you think about it, thanks

Sounds like an experience ive had before. Awesome poem though. Felt like i was right there.

Death Saves

All I feel is this everlasting tiredness,
and all I see is darkness,
surrounded by fear,
I flee into the loving arms of my dear,
sadly I don't mean a woman, but I mean beer,
it feels like I can't see, everything is so unclear,
everywhere I go I just see hate now,
I can't wait now,
to finally fall asleep forever,
all I can do now, is to weep forever.
Inside I rot,
if this is fate, what's my plot?
I have no place here,
so I just drink my beer,
killing all my feeling,
am I a weakling,
for wanting to take the easy way out?
My soul is just so worn out.

tell me if and what you liked, also what could I do better? Just needed to get this out of my head...