Dost thou even go here?
Can thou even read?
Doth thou know the website thou art on?
Poetry be what we breed!

Ye foolish man!
Ye simpleton!
From whom unrefinement flows!
Thou shalt not write,
On a poetry site,
A work of ****** prose!

Oh yeah? Watch me.

Hello beautiful people. I'm in the mood to philosophize. And this being a poetry site, let's make the topic poetry. (WARNING: this piece will be filled with opinions, personal beliefs, and probably a little butter. If you don't agree with anything I say, good for you. Way to have opinions. AND WHATEVER YOU DO. DON'T SUBSTITUTE MARGARINE FOR THE BUTTER!) Ok, so poetry. I like poetry. And since I'm the one writing this, I'm gonna tell you about my philosophy, and my personal style and influences.
My philosophy that I try to live by is minimalism. Which is NOT laziness! Minimalism is quite difficult really. Anyone can write a nice fluffy poem (and yes, nice fluffy poems can be dark pieces about death and the like.) What minimalism is to me,  is the stripping away of all of that fluff to get down to the raw emotion of a piece. An abundance of words pollutes the emotion.
Now, my stylistic mumbo jumbo. My aesthetic has gone through a few phases. A lot of my work is very modernist. What that means is that it deals a lot with... well with failure. Failure of the human race, failure of people, and my own personal failure. But also with separation. Some prime examples of my modernist works are  "here I lay a martyr" and "of my faults and follies"
The next phase is when I started writing music for my band (Bisclaveret Marie, we're on Facebook. Check it out.) I became enamored with a man by the name of Jack White. (yes, that Jack White. The one formerly of the White Stripes.) Also the source of my minimalist approach, Jack revived my love for the Blues. When that came crashing into my poetry, it was definitely for the better.
The next phase was surrealism. The use of images and metaphors and weirdness to paint a picture of the emotion I choose to write about. (I don't really know how to describe this, just go read Though There Be Dragons, A Journey Through The Mind of a Madman. It'll make more sense.)
And most recently the Blues have seen a renaissance in my work. The simple lyric structures and rhyme patterns tickle my inner minimalist.
Yeah, so that's my spiel. If you actually read this, you freaking deserve a medal

I ask you,
Please tell me,
If you know,
I have a question,

But the answer eludes me.

So you wonderful people of the internet,
(Oops, there goes the fourth wall...)
This question may not even have an answer.
Wouldn't that ****?

Ok, so the question.
To ponder of yourself.
Also, the only really poetic part of this work...
(Is critiquing your work in that work pretentious? I don't know. Anyway, back to the poetic crap. )

What world will will you find,
When you leave this world behind?
And what world will you leave behind,
When you run out of time?
What will children say of you?
What will your legacy be?
Did you use each day by day to do
Something worth memory?

In morning light so radiant
As spears cast from the Sun
As glimmering shafts of daybreak fall
The blanket fog of cool of night
Is pierced and soon is gone

May my love to you be Sun
And my words be to you light
And may they pierce your shadow shroud
And bring your soul to life

When all falls into shadow
And fire burns the sky
When smoke and blood
Stain sky and stream
Still I will be at your side

When war comes crashing on the door
And battle scars the land
When fear and death march from their gate
They will march upon us
Hand in hand

When monsters bellow from the depths
When all seems lost to fear
Should armies surround and besiege
When the sun goes black with arrows
I will hold you ever near

Her lips may drip honey
But her teeth drip blood
She'll spend all your money
She'll squander your love

She's got no good intentions
She's got no noble cause
And all her inventions
Are deadly as claws

Beware the Bad Woman
She's pretty as a follower
She's bad things a-comin'
She'll leave you sad and sour

He watched as she fell
He watched as he did what he had to
He watched as she hit the ground
He listened
There was no sound

He watched as their world split
He cringed at the spectacle
Unfolding before his eyes
He listened
There were no cries

He felt the shockwave
As her reality exploded
He marveled at the colors the wound
He listened
And then it boomed

Violent
                             Force
     Wreckage  
                                                   Shrapnel
            Fallout
                             Screams
Weeping
                                          Unrestrained
  ­                    Anguish
   Betrayal
                                    Hatred

But hold on child
This is not the end
This is just a pothole
On the Warpath of Love
So look to the Bittersweet Bystander
His hand extended now
Take the help he offers
You need it to continue

Woke up this mornin'
With a case of the chills
Mama was snorin'
Daddy was takin' his pills

I called the old man in
Said I ain't feeling too well
He said just try stan'in
And down to the floor I fell

I got those
I got those Stayathome Blues

Confined to my bed
But that's ok
I don't really wanna get up
And move anyway

So I lay here in my blankets
A cold pack on my head
With a big ol' box o' Kleenex
Sittin' empty by my bed

I got those
I got those achy breaky ickly sickly Stayathome Blues