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[Spinal_Taper]

Wat.
Wat. Wat.
Wat wat wat?
Wat.

All hail nosane

[Il Palazzo]

Tap.
Tap. Tap.
Tap tap tap?
Tap.

That's a nice spine!

()

[Fniff]

I think the quality of poems are going down
like the pattern of waves after a tsunami
or the hangover after a great night out with some clowns.
Man I'd like some vodka,
I wonder where the bar is...?
is it over there?
No, that's the toilets. Eh, I need a whizz.
Oh wait, uh, something about Il Palazzo. Yeah.

[Fr0stByt3]

Like the shifting tides,
Quality ebbs and flows.
Vodka is needed.

[Il Palazzo]

Howdy ho, vodka my love,
How's your mood tonight?
Let's sit by the stove
With Moon high above
And set this thread - right!

We'll smith some words,
Concoct an odd theme,
Affix feeble rhymes,
Repeat a few times,
And make it all weird and grim;

Here goes some spice,
Unlike ever before;
Cast are the dice,
I bet it'll be nice,
Viscereal and teeming with gore!

My liquid friend,
D'you recall how we met?
It was around that bend
Where lights end;
He stood there all soaking and wet;

He hardly objected -
I found you once he was dead.
He had never suspected
To be thus elected.
I got Fr0stByt3 in the back of his head.

Now he swims in the sea
Charitably feeding fish.
And I've got thee
To keep me company,
While I dabble in butchering English.

[Fniff]

Remind me never to be the subject of Palazzo's poetry
he's an awful good poet
but my word to survive with him entails you having heroically
exaggerated skills.
I need to get out out of here over this fence
so I run and I dodge
and go over the barbed wire, hence
the scars.
Now I'm safe...
Until I hear him laughing behind me
I really wasn't safe at all, was I?
As he draws the knife, I can see
he has a smile in his eyes.

[mcclay]

Gods and kings did battle here
to save what they thought was dear.
Poems of old oriental style
gave way to sonnets that would make Shakespeare smile.
What fools and oafs these forums dwellers be
to try to open the door without a key.
Poetry the inescapable death
worse than 20 kilos of meth.
If all is fair in love and war
than maybe poetry can help the latter for
in the long lost bay of 12
Something deep in the darkness delves.
The forgetful master, ideas great by lifted up by lead strings
soon to all his ideas death will I bring.
The Sun god caws a mournful sound
as the Penguinfiex burns the world to the ground.

[Fr0stByt3]

"The world shall burn," you say.
Greater men have tried, but we're still here today.
"All is fair in love and war," or so I've been told.
But if I may be so bold,
I'll dare say, a bigger lie has never left a man's tounge!
In war, does the better man lower his gun?
Nay, he will fight all the harder to please whatever blood-thirsty god be above.
And as for love,
What man will refuse a pretty face
In favor of a beautiful mind?
You call it defeatism.
I call it real life.
[Kinda became freeform at the end. And fuck this Kindle]