Undead Poets Society

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Drakan
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Undead Poets Society

Post by Drakan » May 25th, 2006, 18:05

Greetings fellow bloodites! As we all know, we have been here many a moon for sometime. Uh well, been here for a long time. But something is lacking in this place. there's no poetry thread! So I thought I'd make one and show you some of my writings I have done over the years.

This one I simply titled "scent". It's about how wolves would feel when one loses their loved ones to a hunter.... enjoy.

PS. I retitled the thread, it feels more appropriate. Thanks for the idea, Sir Jungle Hunter!


One last time I smell your sweet scent
One last time I nuzzle your face
As the last of your blood flows, I wonder where you went
Mankind, a humiliation and a sad disgrace

With a howl I mourn
With this howl I cry
I feel them scorn
Why did they want you to die?

Remember we were prancing
You dazzled me in such beauty
Gayly we were dancing
We never knew no cruelty

In final moments we tasted tears
I never felt so sad and afraid
My life goes on shrouded in fears
You and I we were made
Last edited by Drakan on May 29th, 2006, 09:32, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by Hellen » May 25th, 2006, 19:25

Very touching…
Do you always write poems about wolves?

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Daedalus
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Post by Daedalus » May 25th, 2006, 21:59

Hey Drakan. Very nice, man. I didn't think you the type for this. 8) I guess my 'poetry' is summed up in an older thread.
Kazashi wrote:Daedalus, I don't care how much you know about Blood, your attitude has to change.
Blood + Focus = Love · Faith is the key · Heretics and traitors cannot stand before us · Some games are self-perpetuating - Blood requires conscientious communal effort to survive · We are the last line · Ask not for whom the main menu animates · Blood's promotion and survival - all other gaming considerations are secondary · More than just a game · Need a hint? · Make a stand

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Drakan
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Post by Drakan » May 26th, 2006, 08:54

Thank you very much Daedalus and Hellen, I appreciate it. Yes Hellen, I've written about 4 so far, but 2 feel unfinished to me. I tend to suffer that good ol' "writer's block" at times but I'll get them done sooner or later.

There will be more poems coming soon. Stay tuned!
Life is a privilege...Death is a promise...

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Post by Choronzon » May 26th, 2006, 18:07

Nice work Drakan! I write fictional stories but I recently tried my hand at poetry... I think I'll leave it to people like you from now on :oops: Look forward to future work!
Im gonna paint the town red...

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Post by Predator » May 26th, 2006, 18:13

Very nice work Drakan.
You won't be surprised to hear that being a predator I like wolves very much.
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Drakan
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Post by Drakan » May 26th, 2006, 18:49

Nope, not at all Predator. ;) You gotta admire their hunting skills as well.

Thanks guys, it means a lot to me. But hey, Choronzon! Try it anyway! You never know what you'll come up with, and who says poems need to rythme anyway? Some of mine don't. (althought that COULD be just my opinion).

And hey, if anyone's written something themselves, feel free to post it here. :)

Here's a quicky I wrote for Doom. if you've played it, you might be able to guess what map it talks about. Enjoy!


His flesh is disembowled. Nothing is left.
Red was his color, as it is now mine.
The spirit is tainted of pure carnage.
The soul is tainted of pure evil.
My weapons hot, my hands burned.
layeth before me the cyberdemon.
Crushed is the demon, the unholy machine.


The sky above me is red and quiet.
The sky below me bellows it's call.
I hear not the tales of one leaving hell.
But for blood, I will shed their blood.
With nowhere left to go, it's down the moon.
And into a world of unspoken evil.
I embraced this world. And hell followed.
Life is a privilege...Death is a promise...

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Post by Daedalus » May 26th, 2006, 19:22

You've pressured me into joining in. :P

Okay, so I must be a real sucker to have two identical posts on a forum at the same time, but this post seems more at home here than in its previous thread, anyway. I now post my ... post.

Greetings gang! Just thought I'd throw this Blood poem in. I wrote this back in November 2001, if I recall, so don't shoot me if the style or wording is a bit simple! Anyway, it's named after me! Enjoy!

-=THE DREAMING GOD=-

Upon a tall, dark hill shrouded in mist,
A raven's cry, omen of death, pierces the gloom.
The hill is held in darkness, like a clenched fist,
Bearing witness to the dark overseer above; the luminescent full moon.

The twisted trees hold council, standing scattered,
The dead's gravestones go unnoticed in the black.
The old sign reading: "Cemetery" is tattered,
And in the deathly silence there isn't so much as a crack.

But the stillness of the night is slowly shattered,
And not by the trees, rising out of sight.
A silhouette approaches, hunched, facing downward and battered,
It comes, disregarding its immense plight.

Its cloak is blowing with the silent wind, it pulls down the brim of its hat,
Surveys the landscape with blood red eyes.
Weapon, trusty shotgun, against its leg flat,
Shoes caked with mud, it sighs.

"I'm getting too old for this crap!" It states,
"Though it is still kinda fun."
"Now where the hell are those bloody temple gates?"
"I'll make those bastards run!"

With that he proceeded and waded through the night,
For now his anger was at a low ebb.
He reloaded his shotgun, ready to fight,
This man's name was Caleb.

He approached the temple gates and searched for a door-handle,
But to no avail, looking up to the temple rising into the clouds.
The uppermost window held a candle,
Caleb began to have his doubts.

He looked for a switch, anything would suffice,
And the large stone door stared at him mockingly.
All this did was intensify his malice,
And he cursed rather shockingly.

Then he sighted a glint of light,
Reflected from a camouflaged switch.
He pulled the lever with all his might,
Stood back, trigger finger began to twitch.

From inside the temple came a deep, slow bellow,
The door rose slowly and the ancient dust departed.
Light poured forth from flames within, illuminating yellow,
This was where Caleb started.

He stood alone in a great dark hall,
The voices of the eternally damned sounding in his ears,
But he had heard them many times before,
Lanterns in the silence like everlasting tears.

Paths of madness, cultists down the hall,
Zombies rising from the dead.
Gargoyles, hearing their awakening call,
And hell hounds - where few dare to tread.

Mountains, haunted mansions, a hedge maze,
Crypts, forests, cemeteries.
Hellish realms, dark castles, dimensions out of phase,
This wanderer has marched many centuries.

Through monasteries plagued with hundreds of servants,
Being the Cabal and Cerberus; the great hell dog.
But on this path there is only one deterrent;
The killing of the One that Binds; Tchernobog.

Death to Cheogh, lord of gargoyles,
See the mangled body of Shial the fallen,
Cerberus passes on, but now tension boils,
For now Tchernobog is callen.

Caleb stands before the Hall of Epiphany,
Shotgun and Tommygun standing ready.
The great doors open by some form of wizardry,
Caleb enters carefully.

Caleb enters under Tchernobog's burning gaze,
Two worlds together hold their breath.
Napalm launchers set the room ablaze,
A thousand cries, all alone; one of the titans has suffered death.

Tchernobog lies dead,
Though no answer Caleb finds.
Smoke rising; the smell of burnt lead
Roles have been replaced it seems; Caleb; the One that Binds!

---

*Bows* 8)
Kazashi wrote:Daedalus, I don't care how much you know about Blood, your attitude has to change.
Blood + Focus = Love · Faith is the key · Heretics and traitors cannot stand before us · Some games are self-perpetuating - Blood requires conscientious communal effort to survive · We are the last line · Ask not for whom the main menu animates · Blood's promotion and survival - all other gaming considerations are secondary · More than just a game · Need a hint? · Make a stand

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Post by Predator » May 26th, 2006, 19:49

Daedalus, nice stuff, I must say.
The only question I have is why did Tchernobog lose? Isn't it enough that he died in the game? You could have altered the ending to make Tchernobog invincible and immortal. :wink:
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mouth
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Post by mouth » May 26th, 2006, 20:00

Morgue

Here they lie ready, as if one may
find some deed belatedly,
one that would all of them coldly
know to conciliate, and tie together;

for all is still here like no end.
What name should be found
in pockets? Moroseness from the end
of their mouths washed by washers:

no good: but clean, at least. Hard,
beard hardens a bit more,
but prim, for the housekeepers' taste,

for not to loathe their yawning gapes.
Eyes of two, fell under the lids,
to stare inside now, inverted.
Long live the new flesh!

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Drakan
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Post by Drakan » May 29th, 2006, 08:19

Exceelent work there guys! keep bringing it in. Oh, and I call dibs to write on the Cheogh and Cerberus battles - so leave em! :D

Anyhoo, I wrote this one just for the hell of my mood and being wanting to write some more. Enjoy.


I can see your face again
Beautiful through the window payne
When will I see you again?
When will I wake up from the rain?

Raindrops running off tree leaves.
It's like when I watched you cry.
Flooding rain from the heavens.
You're tears I'd only begun to dry.

I whisper your name again
These memories I feel so somber
when will I learn to love once more
Depression sets I feel so homber
Life is a privilege...Death is a promise...

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Post by Predator » May 29th, 2006, 08:54

Nice again, Drakan.

This starts to grow into 'Undead Poets Society'. :wink:
I think we have to start compiling a 'Poetry of Bloodites' tome.
I'm sure Hellen could design a great cover for such a book.
Possible title: "Victims, aren't we all?".
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Drakan
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Post by Drakan » May 29th, 2006, 11:10

Thank you sir!

Hmmmm..... a bloodite poems book you say?
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Post by Hellen » May 29th, 2006, 11:27

Predator wrote:I'm sure Hellen could design a great cover for such a book.
Sure, I can contribute. (Since I’m not fond of writing poems). But I doubt if I’m good enough for it. Probably you need some professional illustration artist *hint-hint*.

Hey, Drakan. I would be happy to read some gargoyle poem!

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Post by Predator » May 29th, 2006, 14:12

Judging from your drawings that we have seen so far,you are exactly the person our undead poets need.
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