Yeah I couldn't be bothered to come up with a good name. If you'd like to do this with someone, you must contact them and set everything up outside of this thread. MAKE SURE THEY AGREE TO ALL OF IT BEFORE YOU GO AHEAD AND START. This is not the spam zone. Now, what will basically happen here is a poetry "tennis" between two or more people. One person will write a small poem, and the next person will write a "response" poem to that first poem. This can be taken any way, from a parody to a poetry competition to just inspiration and comparing styles. Rules: The amount of rounds (poems) in one session will be six or less if there are only two people. If there are more than two people participating, then a reasonable amount of rounds will have to be determined according to how many people are playing (ie, three people would constitute about 6-10 rounds). Figure it out yourself. I may go get a table later if there are problems with this, so please. I really don't want to go get a table. If you have written a round and your partner has not responded, you cannot write another round for the session. That's just rude. One person writes a round, then the other person does, then back to the first person. If there are three or more people, then you must stay in a predetermined order, as so;
Descending Love- Bump, Bump, Bamp goes the beat of my heart I dont know why I did this from the start Hold you, love you, steal your soul Gripping tigheter on your strings till they cut off your love supply so I can feel all much better in the messy bloodslide :/
Descending Love (Round 2) Hearts may go bump Like the beat of a drum, But a corroding landslide Is what we make of blood. Your heart pumps this blood, As it does for love, It seems in this game They may be one and the same, Just by different names.
Descending Love (Part 3) Blood may gather Collect as a scab But you keep pick, pick, pick and the scab bursts with the recycled love running down your face Clean it up, you look dirty with those rusty color tears
Descending Love (Round 4) What are these tears that clean up our blood, That clean up our love, Are they yet the same? I'd say that a flower as willing to bud Is as willing to shove If to protect it's name. Is this what you say? Is this what you mean? Are these rusty tears meant to keep it clean? Could tears become blood? Could blood become tears? Does love look beyond all distance and years?
Descending Love (Part 5) Silly Dalk, You know that love cant thrive on blood Flowers smell much more sweeter, If they thrive on Malice So lets have some fun I seem to have lost my way Down the windy roads of yesterday Up the stairs of the past. So what path shall we take now, or later or even Betwixt or Between. For I have blinded myself to this world.
Descending Love (Round 6) Love can't flourish on blood alone, Just as your spirit is not flesh and bone. But the flower of malice that feasts on this blood, If this blood would love, then there would be none. And as tears may fall to wipe away blood, And as blood is love, tears are flower buds. So I ask you again, as this end is here, Can tears become blood? Can blood become tears?
The last pieces Awoken from a fantasy, to find the shards of my broken dream. this last memory that fails to recognize, the frailty of this poor human being. Where a heart cannot connect. When the darkness is named the overtaker. These pieces are fragmented, and nevermore to be recollected. Nothingness is my destiny, but don't awaken the sleeping. For their chains crackle warily Do not awaken this sentiment of frailty.
The Last Pieces (part 2) ...replacing Jiku Neon. ~~ memories falling like shattered pieces of glass, cutting through my heart lash after lash. each fallen memory was meant to last, didn’t know it would end so fast. the dream I built lay broken in shards, scattered here and there, like forgotten discards. quietly I stand with naught but tears in my eyes watching the last pieces burning with all the lies.
Last pieces(part 3) Lies that cannot mend. truths that are at their end. Pieces are scattered too far away, waiting for a future that they wanted spent. The fate of these pieces, cursed it be, for memories scattered do nothing but fleet. Do not awaken the sleeping, for their hearts weight heavily. Do not waken the carnage and misery.
The Last Pieces (part 4) at the mirror’s edge the fantasies spill over. the unfinished questions… the unknown answers lost forever. this is the end, the end of the line. grab hold of what you can this won’t be back again. day by day... it goes farther away. don’t open your eyes this dream is about to end. for once this ends there’s no turning back again.
Last pieces(part 5) And, onto this dreams, I say "cursed be the luck of dreams" for delusional extremities have bound us all. And onto the end, we move forward This last moment, forever forward. For these pieces, broken they be. Never mended, destroyed they be. The sight must open, and awake we must be. 'Tis too late for waking. Those are already awake. Waiting for a redemption. Asking for the time of day. Open your eyes, into the dawn. For once this ends, no turning back again.
The Last Pieces (part 6) dreams and fantasies, they come and go. they leave not a choice... not even a "no". sleep...sleep...sleep... do not try to leave this land. tis where the secrets come to life, a safe haven for all those lies. naught but endless plains, naught but endless boundaries. but this where it stops, this is where it ends. open your eyes and see the world, let those last pieces unfurl.
