"I agree with the principle to an extent. However, in the case of school shooters, I don't think it can be justified. Same with rape. There's definitely a line, but like you said, those are the most extreme cases.
On the topic of mass…"
I Power
Scientific Research & Self-Development Activism
Stories and Poetry
Information
I'm making this group as I often write bits and pieces of poetry, I love the meanings behind poems and write about anything, but I aim for meaning. I am also a great lover of stories, so please share any stories or poetry (regardless of the author).
Location: England, Staffordshire
Members: 32
Latest Activity: Aug 14, 2012
Poetry:
EPITAPH
When man runs the colour of stone, and his form – to rigger mortis,
Then let his etiquette fade on side, for his demeanour means nothing to us.
The cold of his cheek no longer comfort to the love that he would share,
But the love of his heart, play always a part in the love he once did bare.
-Jason Metters.
-A short poem I wrote a little while back when feeling melancholy enough to write my own epitaph.
_______________________________________________________________
SPITE
When the rush of spitefulness fall sharp on the righteous,
And impression of careless, not impress. neither bless,
But the bite of awen, inspiration re-filled,
Just leaves the feeling of my neccessary guilt.
Her glory hang over and mock unworthy of spirit,
And tragedy fall on those within it.
The filth of industry warps my mind,
And bitterness falls on the friendly and right.
When still i mistreat the good of my peers,
They befriend me still and act against their ears.
When awen speaks, my words overshadowed,
And understanding spoke forward to those good.
...For her voice, be hallowed.
When all balance restores, and less of us here,
I beg its my brothers, friends, and good peer',
That inherit the lands of beauty and light,
And imbue upon me the cease of my spite.
Repentance I make, and guilt I feel,
Let the druids of our balance help me to heal.
-Jason Metters
A poem I wrote in guilt. An attempt at writing in more olden style of sentence structure, but with modern language.
_______________________________________________________________
FOXGLOVES
Shining out of over yonder,
The flowing spirit, pride, splendor,
Shining through, though landscape a'plunder,
yet these fragments 'beauty left stand with wonder.
Taken wealth of our natures gift,
our situation and hearts both rift,
below the scar, the beauty uplift,
-and fragments left stand with wonder
Crying... Yet praising far yonder,
Druid cries of Awens honor,
Spirit present and our few still praise her,
but I long for the day, if once I see,
her arise to her full glory, her splendor...
...Wonder.
-Jason
A poem as I wrote as a form of thanks, for the beauty of the land and natural beauty.
_______________________________________________________________
THE PILGRIMAGE TO CLAYTON
Once upon a time say,
Dean and I did travell away,
our eyes be bright and wheather be gay,
and we planned on having a jolly fine day!
away we went to Clayton high,
where people arranged to meet dean and I,
so meet we did, and fun was had,
and along the way we met postman pat,
"where be the gatehouse?" i asked this man,
he told us then we turned and ran,
for l8 it was getting and time was short,
"we best be quick" dean and i thought,
right you are said dean to me,
and off we hurried quick as can be.
Once nearly there we stopped to rest,
and then I sent Cat an informative text,
"arrived we have" I texted her,
she texted back "w8 right there!"
soon after she called and then she squeeled,
"meet us over by sommerfield!"
We went to find her and knew what to do,
we ran full speed to meet her and her crew,
Franki through her arms round Dean,
And my dear Cat did the same to me,
the grass was green and the sky was blue,
and sad i was at 10 to 2.
"this be the end of lunch" Cat said to I,
and if I wasnt so macho, it would have made me cry,
for sad I was that the end was near,
and it would be at least 5 days before i'd see my dear,
and nay, i hadnt asked the question of mine,
and franki kept prompting me to say the line,
"Cat would you do me the honor, please?
of fulfilling my hopes and dreams?"
I asked her that, no more, no less
and she answered my question with a satisfying "YES!"
happy I was and hugged we did,
and before we parted she left me with a kiss.
Away she went back into her school,
and the thought of her was still making me drool,
and as if the day couldnt get any more good,
guess what Dean and I found lay in the mud?
Yes indeed we did find a zimmer frame,
and me and Dean decided to play a game,
"this frame has wheels!" said Dean to I,
and I thought why not give it a try!
So out we pulled it from the mud and pete,
and rolled it along onto the concrete,
so along we rolled down the small ramps,
and local residents thought we were tramps,
I gave them funny looks and to Dean I said:
"we best get gone, before we lose our street cred!"
"Right you are, we are respected young men!"
so we went off and dumped the frame again.
"pip pip, toodle-loo," we said to the onlooking eyes,
but they shook their heads and closed the blinds,
laughed we did for a good while,
and started walking back, mile upon mile,
this time we stopped at "the orange tree"
and we caught the bus, to good old hanley.
Whilst there we decided, not long we had,
and the days end coming made me feel sad,
so quick were we, whilst there we were,
and Dean bought some green dye for his crazy hair!
So after that, off we went,
our day now ended, and our money spent,
but as we were waiting, and resting our eyes and ears,
some chavs came along, acting like queers,
"be you a greb or an emo?" one said,
and neither i replied whilst cocking my head,
so what do you like, he said to me,
and told him a little punk history,
intreaged he was then he had to go,
because his posse had noticed the old 5-0,
I offered them food for there travel ahead,
and the chavs then went as the biggest one led.
the 101 arrived and tired was us,
so off we got onto the bus.
Me and Dean, what can I say?
Just another average old day!
-Jason Metters
-A poem I wrote aobut a day last summer, no literal skill intended, but more for my own amusement, and something to show the girl I liked at the time.
_______________________________________________________________
TOUSTAGROS
Up the morn, then down by night,
Summer heat dist waver,
Toustagros came rambling,
Bearing both fury and sabre,
Begrin slept ast' work had ended,
Tightly he lay resting,
Yet Toustagros swayed through the shadows, preventing Begrin's sighting.
No honor, no rule, no champion, fool
who walked stealthily that night,
to steal off Begrins life,
Coup-de-grace in spite.
"Thy took from me my only, method of living well!
no farm, no store, I stole your corn,
and now you burn in hell!
to guard lands crop, for the sake of ridding
the land from my family,
tonight is the night, where vengence shall smite,
and may a curse bestow upon thee!"
"For theft my crime, and yours: living high,
Soon mine to be murder, and thee shall die!"
No honor, no rule, no champion, fool
who walked stealthily that night,
to steal off Begrins life,
Coup-de-grace in spite.
Up the annex, then down by quarters,
Toustagros drew his sabre,
Begrin lay now stirring,
And attention stole his slumber,
Toustagros, his anger dreaded,
Fury for lack of food,
The anger of man when driven to suffering, resulting in petty feud.
The comfort of Begrin, soon to be quashed by result of social divide.
Toustagros be pitied, for the fury that burned inside,
Lack of needs, drive man to foul deeds, so think upon this tale,
Give unto fellow man, for too much bread goes stale,
proffit be naught, if in the bed,
Toustagros comes mad,
Had vengence evaded,
And food shared,
Then Begrin would live to stand...
-Jason Metters
Toustagros is a metaphor for guilt for those who didn't see a resemblance when sympathising to the situation of the "killer."
_______________________________________________________________
*PLEASE SUBMIT MORE :D*
When man runs the colour of stone, and his form – to rigger mortis,
Then let his etiquette fade on side, for his demeanour means nothing to us.
The cold of his cheek no longer comfort to the love that he would share,
But the love of his heart, play always a part in the love he once did bare.
-Jason Metters.
-A short poem I wrote a little while back when feeling melancholy enough to write my own epitaph.
_______________________________________________________________
SPITE
When the rush of spitefulness fall sharp on the righteous,
And impression of careless, not impress. neither bless,
But the bite of awen, inspiration re-filled,
Just leaves the feeling of my neccessary guilt.
Her glory hang over and mock unworthy of spirit,
And tragedy fall on those within it.
The filth of industry warps my mind,
And bitterness falls on the friendly and right.
When still i mistreat the good of my peers,
They befriend me still and act against their ears.
When awen speaks, my words overshadowed,
And understanding spoke forward to those good.
...For her voice, be hallowed.
When all balance restores, and less of us here,
I beg its my brothers, friends, and good peer',
That inherit the lands of beauty and light,
And imbue upon me the cease of my spite.
Repentance I make, and guilt I feel,
Let the druids of our balance help me to heal.
-Jason Metters
A poem I wrote in guilt. An attempt at writing in more olden style of sentence structure, but with modern language.
_______________________________________________________________
FOXGLOVES
Shining out of over yonder,
The flowing spirit, pride, splendor,
Shining through, though landscape a'plunder,
yet these fragments 'beauty left stand with wonder.
Taken wealth of our natures gift,
our situation and hearts both rift,
below the scar, the beauty uplift,
-and fragments left stand with wonder
Crying... Yet praising far yonder,
Druid cries of Awens honor,
Spirit present and our few still praise her,
but I long for the day, if once I see,
her arise to her full glory, her splendor...
...Wonder.
-Jason
A poem as I wrote as a form of thanks, for the beauty of the land and natural beauty.
_______________________________________________________________
THE PILGRIMAGE TO CLAYTON
Once upon a time say,
Dean and I did travell away,
our eyes be bright and wheather be gay,
and we planned on having a jolly fine day!
away we went to Clayton high,
where people arranged to meet dean and I,
so meet we did, and fun was had,
and along the way we met postman pat,
"where be the gatehouse?" i asked this man,
he told us then we turned and ran,
for l8 it was getting and time was short,
"we best be quick" dean and i thought,
right you are said dean to me,
and off we hurried quick as can be.
Once nearly there we stopped to rest,
and then I sent Cat an informative text,
"arrived we have" I texted her,
she texted back "w8 right there!"
soon after she called and then she squeeled,
"meet us over by sommerfield!"
We went to find her and knew what to do,
we ran full speed to meet her and her crew,
Franki through her arms round Dean,
And my dear Cat did the same to me,
the grass was green and the sky was blue,
and sad i was at 10 to 2.
"this be the end of lunch" Cat said to I,
and if I wasnt so macho, it would have made me cry,
for sad I was that the end was near,
and it would be at least 5 days before i'd see my dear,
and nay, i hadnt asked the question of mine,
and franki kept prompting me to say the line,
"Cat would you do me the honor, please?
of fulfilling my hopes and dreams?"
I asked her that, no more, no less
and she answered my question with a satisfying "YES!"
happy I was and hugged we did,
and before we parted she left me with a kiss.
Away she went back into her school,
and the thought of her was still making me drool,
and as if the day couldnt get any more good,
guess what Dean and I found lay in the mud?
Yes indeed we did find a zimmer frame,
and me and Dean decided to play a game,
"this frame has wheels!" said Dean to I,
and I thought why not give it a try!
So out we pulled it from the mud and pete,
and rolled it along onto the concrete,
so along we rolled down the small ramps,
and local residents thought we were tramps,
I gave them funny looks and to Dean I said:
"we best get gone, before we lose our street cred!"
"Right you are, we are respected young men!"
so we went off and dumped the frame again.
"pip pip, toodle-loo," we said to the onlooking eyes,
but they shook their heads and closed the blinds,
laughed we did for a good while,
and started walking back, mile upon mile,
this time we stopped at "the orange tree"
and we caught the bus, to good old hanley.
Whilst there we decided, not long we had,
and the days end coming made me feel sad,
so quick were we, whilst there we were,
and Dean bought some green dye for his crazy hair!
So after that, off we went,
our day now ended, and our money spent,
but as we were waiting, and resting our eyes and ears,
some chavs came along, acting like queers,
"be you a greb or an emo?" one said,
and neither i replied whilst cocking my head,
so what do you like, he said to me,
and told him a little punk history,
intreaged he was then he had to go,
because his posse had noticed the old 5-0,
I offered them food for there travel ahead,
and the chavs then went as the biggest one led.
the 101 arrived and tired was us,
so off we got onto the bus.
Me and Dean, what can I say?
Just another average old day!
-Jason Metters
-A poem I wrote aobut a day last summer, no literal skill intended, but more for my own amusement, and something to show the girl I liked at the time.
_______________________________________________________________
TOUSTAGROS
Up the morn, then down by night,
Summer heat dist waver,
Toustagros came rambling,
Bearing both fury and sabre,
Begrin slept ast' work had ended,
Tightly he lay resting,
Yet Toustagros swayed through the shadows, preventing Begrin's sighting.
No honor, no rule, no champion, fool
who walked stealthily that night,
to steal off Begrins life,
Coup-de-grace in spite.
"Thy took from me my only, method of living well!
no farm, no store, I stole your corn,
and now you burn in hell!
to guard lands crop, for the sake of ridding
the land from my family,
tonight is the night, where vengence shall smite,
and may a curse bestow upon thee!"
"For theft my crime, and yours: living high,
Soon mine to be murder, and thee shall die!"
No honor, no rule, no champion, fool
who walked stealthily that night,
to steal off Begrins life,
Coup-de-grace in spite.
Up the annex, then down by quarters,
Toustagros drew his sabre,
Begrin lay now stirring,
And attention stole his slumber,
Toustagros, his anger dreaded,
Fury for lack of food,
The anger of man when driven to suffering, resulting in petty feud.
The comfort of Begrin, soon to be quashed by result of social divide.
Toustagros be pitied, for the fury that burned inside,
Lack of needs, drive man to foul deeds, so think upon this tale,
Give unto fellow man, for too much bread goes stale,
proffit be naught, if in the bed,
Toustagros comes mad,
Had vengence evaded,
And food shared,
Then Begrin would live to stand...
-Jason Metters
Toustagros is a metaphor for guilt for those who didn't see a resemblance when sympathising to the situation of the "killer."
_______________________________________________________________
*PLEASE SUBMIT MORE :D*
Discussion Forum
Poetry submissions
Started by Fien. Last reply by Amoira Mar 29, 2009. 44 Replies 0 Likes
Poet in training
Started by Rye Bucek. Last reply by St. Jason Jan 2, 2009. 2 Replies 0 Likes
Comment Wall
Comment
-
Comment by Luis E. on June 9, 2009 at 10:14am -
War at Night
As i walk into my room
I can't see the switch but i do not mind
darkness is a friend
My eyes double up and gobble up everything in a blur
sweat drips down my face
hot and heavy i hear my heart
thump thumping thudump
As i walk into my room
i hear my feet
so wheary is my body my soul
i keep moving
my feeble attempt of avoiding the mines
of chlothes, shirts, socks,
i hear my feet
thump, thumping thudump
The stillness and coolness of the room
is ever so loud as my mind races
my goal, my bed
my feet stop, i am falling, free falling into a bliss
eternity, ever lasting comfort of my bed
the thumping seizes, heart stops, and i hear nothing
I open my eyes
blast of nothing but light
-
Comment by Amoira on March 29, 2009 at 6:10am -
Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.
Something else
Hauls me through air ---
- Sylvia Plath, Ariel
-
Comment by St. Jason on August 26, 2008 at 1:52pm -
Haha, thanks very much, i know it was long, but it was the summary of the whole day ^^.
Sorry its taken so long to express my appreciation but i have just returned from working in germany and got my PC fixed =D.
thanks for the comment! :)
-
Comment by Fien on June 30, 2008 at 4:20pm -
Great stuff here Jason! I really like it, you're very good in playing with language. I hope to read more soon!
-
Comment by St. Jason on June 30, 2008 at 2:01pm
-
Thanks very much :) your words mean a lot. I havn't really shown anyone them before and uploading is the first time I have really broadcasted them so its good to get such nice feedback.
I look forward to anything you'd like to upload =).
Feel free to spread the word as well to anyone in your friends list (if you like of course), it would be great if the group grew. I have no friends in my list so I'm currently struggling to find people to invite.
Thanks again for such nice feedback! :D
-Jason
-
Comment by The Erudite Imbecile on June 24, 2008 at 9:26pm -
I just read your profile and your poems, I think you should be very proud. I used to write a lot of poetry especially when I was seventeen, but I certainly didn't craft anything as good as yours at that age. I will put up some poems shortly. Take care.
Discussion Forum
Poetry submissions
Started by Fien. Last reply by Amoira Mar 29, 2009. 44 Replies 0 Likes
Poet in training
Started by Rye Bucek. Last reply by St. Jason Jan 2, 2009. 2 Replies 0 Likes
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