Dikter

[Funnylin]

Rosor är röda, violer är blå. Jag är skitfin, min flickvän likaså.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

All your base

are belong to me

[pKz]

Roses are red

Violets are blue

All your base

are belong to me

Haha, min enda bas är min röv. Vill du ha den?

[Funnylin]

Haha, min enda bas är min röv. Vill du ha den?

Mycket gärna.

Om någon vill köpa röv, PMa mig.

[pKz]

Mycket gärna.

Om någon vill köpa röv, PMa mig.

Jag vill köpa röv..

[Frenzy]

Jag skrev en dikt om pKz precis,nu, i detta inlägg.. den kommer snart.

pKz gillar en tjej, Tjohej!

Tjejen gillar pKz, okej?

Jag vet inte vad jag ska skriva nu.

Så jag får väl strunta i det.

Tack och hej, Hälsningar pKz och hans tjej.

[iweX]

Lägger upp dikt imorgon när jag skrivit av den på skolan...

[Tweak]

Här kommer en dikt som min kompis Adam har skrivit

On my shoulder I have this mystical bird

In my ear it whispers, the worlds most beautiful Håller med till 100%!.

Again and again its repeats your name

But as the time flout away the bird start thinking I’m lame.

Birds doesn’t think about fucking like us

They are not nervous they don’t blush.

And as I can’t speak the love I feel

I’m living in a purple world were nothing is real.

I’m thinking of myself crying happy tears

Just wont touch, then I will loose my fears.

[Crice]

Detta är heavy shit, meng.

Bob Dylan - Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie.

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb

When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb

When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace

In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race

No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up

If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup

If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on

And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone

And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it

And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it

And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long

And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong

And lonesome comes up as down goes the day

And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away

And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'

And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'

And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys

Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys

And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'

And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'

And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'

And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'

And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm

And to yourself you sometimes say

"I never knew it was gonna be this way

Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"

And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat

And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet

And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air

And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare

And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying

And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'

And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet

And you need it badly but it lays on the street

And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat

And you think yer ears might a been hurt

Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt

And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush

When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush

And all the time you were holdin' three queens

And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean

Like in the middle of Life magazine

Bouncin' around a pinball machine

And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying

That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'

But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head

And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed

And no matter how you try you just can't say it

And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it

And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head

And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead

And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth

And his jaws start closin with you underneath

And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind

And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign

And you say to yourself just what am I doin'

On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'

On this curve I'm hanging

On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking

In this air I'm inhaling

Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard

Why am I walking, where am I running

What am I saying, what am I knowing

On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'

On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'

In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'

In the words that I'm thinkin'

In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'

Who am I helping, what am I breaking

What am I giving, what am I taking

But you try with your whole soul best

Never to think these thoughts and never to let

Them kind of thoughts gain ground

Or make yer heart pound

But then again you know why they're around

Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down

"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping

And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping

And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'

And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking

If that was you in the dream that was screaming

And you know that it's something special you're needin'

And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'

And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding

And you need something special

Yeah, you need something special all right

You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track

To shoot you someplace and shoot you back

You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler

That's been banging and booming and blowing forever

That knows yer troubles a hundred times over

You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race

That won't laugh at yer looks

Your voice or your face

And by any number of bets in the book

Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze

You need something to open up a new door

To show you something you seen before

But overlooked a hundred times or more

You need something to open your eyes

You need something to make it known

That it's you and no one else that owns

That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting

That the world ain't got you beat

That it ain't got you licked

It can't get you crazy no matter how many

Times you might get kicked

You need something special all right

You need something special to give you hope

But hope's just a Håller med till 100%!

That maybe you said or maybe you heard

On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you need it bad

And yer trouble is you know it too good

"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill

And it ain't on Macy's window sill

And it ain't on no rich kid's road map

And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house

And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ

And it ain't on that dimlit stage

With that half-wit comedian on it

Ranting and raving and taking yer money

And you thinks it's funny

No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club

And it ain't in the seats of a supper club

And sure as hell you're bound to tell

That no matter how hard you rub

You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub

No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you

And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you

And it ain't in no cardboard-box house

Or down any movie star's blouse

And you can't find it on the golf course

And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus

And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes

And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons

And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices

That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'

Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin

Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow

Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry

When you can't even sense if they got any insides

These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows

No you'll not now or no other day

Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache´

And inside it the people made of molasses

That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses

And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies

Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny

Who breathe and burp and bend and crack

And before you can count from one to ten

Do it all over again but this time behind yer back

My friend

The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl

And play games with each other in their sand-box world

And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools

That run around gallant

And make all rules for the ones that got talent

And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do

And think they're foolin' you

The ones who jump on the wagon

Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style

To get their kicks, get out of it quick

And make all kinds of money and chicks

And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat

Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that

Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at

Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel

Good God Almighty

THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race

You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face

You gotta look some other place

And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'

Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'

Where do you look for this oil well gushin'

Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'

Where do you look for this hope that you know is there

And out there somewhere

And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads

Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows

Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways

You can touch and twist

And turn two kinds of doorknobs

You can either go to the church of your choice

Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital

You'll find God in the church of your choice

You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And though it's only my opinion

I may be right or wrong

You'll find them both

In the Grand Canyon

At sundown

[Guitar_Fucker]

Crice...Förväntar du dig att man ska läsa allt? :">

Citoner är gula , Meloner är blå, Min öron är röda och The dudes ansikte likaså

[Crice]

Crice...Förväntar du dig att man ska läsa allt?:">

Nej, jag förväntar mig inte att merparten av Er ens vet vem Woody Guthrie var. Det finns dock ett fåtal vars kunskapsområden kolliderar med mina då och då, och de kan få ut någon av texten.

Det är en sjuhelvetes dikt, to boot.

Redigerad 27 januari, 2006 av Crice

[Umberto]

The Moon

It shone, pale as bone,

As I stood there alone.

And I thought to myself how the moon,

That night, cast its light

On my heart's true delight,

And the reef where her body was strewn.

En till...

Membrillo's Lament

We may have years,

We may have hours.

But sooner or later,

We push up flowers.

En sista...

Flesh Dream

Alive!

We slept!

Life's just some rapid-eye-movement

In a warm, cozy bed...

Buried!

We wake!

The flesh dream is over, Daddy!

Now that we're all crazy dead!

Grim Fandango. Ett sjuhelvetes spel. 'Nuff said.

[Corleone]

This is some freakin' deep shit, d00d!

Skrivet av mig själv, azZå !

Att regnet gjorde död på lusten spelade ingen roll.

Att kylan frös sönder all lycka spelade ingen roll .

Att natten mörkte livet spelade ingen roll.

Att döden väntade spelade ingen roll.

Det enda jag ville nu var att färdigställa alla satans skolarbeten som tilldelats mig.

[Stora_tomtefar]

En liten prosa jag skrev när jag och en vän kom in på ämnet dikter. Den heter "Victor"

"Det var Viktor och far som var vänner,

de båda föll offer för skabb.

Av lögner, av lim och av ränder,

vår Viktor förstördes som grabb.

Den sjunde december 2000,

Viktor, hans fader sov tungt.

En bris for förbi nå’t av husen,

och Viktor blev tagen så ungt.

Nej, hans fader är faktiskt oskyldig,

men områdets katt är det ej.

Ni ser, denna morgon var tidig,

så Viktor skulle fixa en grej.

Väl uppe ur sängen den sköna,

fann Viktor att något var fel.

Ty mattan, med ränder så gröna,

var nu allt annat en hel.

Ock färgen var ändrad dramatiskt,

den vittnade om något sött.

Och nu skall ni veta, ja faktiskt,

att där hade ingenting dött.

Nej, hur illa det än här må låta,

går inte historien så.

Att Viktor genast börjar gråta,

av blodet på fadern han såg.

På mattan fann Viktor ett papper,

väl lindat i rödaste tyg.

Och Viktor, vår gosse,så tapper,

han tog det och läste i smyg.

Där stod ”Kära Erik, du store,

kan du inte strypa min katt?

För nu har han ätit upp Tore,

här kan jag ej sova inatt.

Och om du nu hit skulle komma,

och visst skulle jag tacka dig,

var då säker på att undkomma

din äckliga son, eller tjej”.

Vår Viktor förstod inte mycket,

men katter är något han kan.

Och att strimla katter i stycke’,

det skall bara göras av han.

Så färden bar av mycket genast,

och Viktor han fann det rätt kallt.

Här ute var genvägar enklast,

och något som var mycket ballt.

”Hur skall jag nu ta mig dit snabbast?”,

en tanke som forslade runt.

”Vilken väg är nu närmast?”,

Viktors val det blev sunt.

Han känner till snabbaste sättet,

att gå från punkt A till punkt B.

Men, säg mig, Viktor, är du från vettet,

du dör, ja du krossas på sten.

Det snabbaste sättet att färdas,

det är att fara väldigt fort.

Nu kan Viktor aldrig med räddas,

han hoppar från någon hög port.

Så där ligger Viktor och kvider,

med skador på märg och på ben.

Jag undrar om det alla tider,

har funnits nå’t huvud av sten.

Den tolfte december 2000,

i kylan på marken så finns,

en gosse som sprungit från husen,

av orsak som nu inge minns.

Hans fader han sover i sängen,

han känner ej till vad som skett.

Men Viktor han springer på ängen,

i himmelen... Där han nu är... För att han är död, typ..."

[Tija]

The Moon

It shone, pale as bone,

As I stood there alone.

And I thought to myself how the moon,

That night, cast its light

On my heart's true delight,

And the reef where her body was strewn.

En till...

Membrillo's Lament

We may have years,

We may have hours.

But sooner or later,

We push up flowers.

En sista...

Flesh Dream

Alive!

We slept!

Life's just some rapid-eye-movement

In a warm, cozy bed...

Buried!

We wake!

The flesh dream is over, Daddy!

Now that we're all crazy dead!

Grim Fandango. Ett sjuhelvetes spel. 'Nuff said.

Världens...bästa...spel!!

Här kommer en dikt som jag skrev...

And you ask me if it's okay

And "yes, ofcourse" is all I can say

You wonder if it's really true

And I say "you know it is, I love you"

And inside my heart is breaking

Inside, my soul is aching

But it's not for me to decide

If I leave like this, I'll keep my pride

But it's hard to stop

To let all the love just drop

When I've been over-loving for so long

And everybody elses feelings are gone

And I know you both love eachother

My feelings for him is like for a brother

And you're supposed to be my sister

But I guess my mind is more twisted

Nothing sexual at all

It's just that since last fall

I've found the love is deeper than the sea

I know you wont feel the same for me

So I don't tell

It'll go well

You will have your man

And I'll do what I can

To forget and forgive

In order to live

Feel no more

Or become a whore

But I will see you everyday and know

That in your mind is he, and in his are you

And when you get a sms

It's always from him, more or less

But when you love someone,

And I don't say this just for fun

You have to let them go

If they don't feel the same for you