From Uncyclopedia, the content-free encyclopedia
“When I was a boy there was no 'angst,' just primitive lads, disemboweling for pranks. ”
“Hold on now... do pranks really rhyme with angst? Oh bloody bugger... this poetry!”
I could never prose as Wilde,
for I am merely a Devil's child.
Yeah his quotes
are as legion,
like unto my demon.
-Pathetic Goth Poet foaming at mouth and painting nails black
edit Rules Of Writing A Gothic Poem
- You must be pathetic.
- You must be suffering from an inflamed clitoral castration.
- You must have zero perspective
- You no longer have to be on drugs because they are not considered to be post-modern.
Timothy Leary is dead, flushed into space He sucks filthy remnants of your black soul A succubus screams and Timothy crys like a little girl.
- You must practice some form of witchcraft, self-mutilation or continuously hit self in head (preferably with a hardbound Norton Anthology of Oscar Wilde quotes.)
- Kitten huffing is not to be practiced because it leads to happy thoughts.
- You may channel the spirit of Oscar Wilde or Edgar Allen Poe if you wish
“Oh bugger...Not now, I am bloody busy! How damned inconvenient!”
- Some Goth Poets are also humosexuals
edit Rules concerning the subject material
One of the most important rules concerns the subject material of the poem. Allowable subject categories are as follows:
- You may write about how much your school sucks.
- You may write about how much of an individual you are.
- You may write about how only Marilyn Manson truly understands you.
edit Rules of the Goth Poet's Craft
- You may only write on waste paper with a black crow's feather dipped in blood.
- If you are using microsoft word, you may only use a red gothic font in a black text box with brass thumbtacks superglued to the keypad, point up.
edit Examples of Goth poetry
I. "How my blood curdles, When my satan jumps hurdles, And how my heart pumps, As my lucifer jumps, I'm frozen in time, as he crosses the line, Only Silver For My Beloved Beezlebub But I Still Bleed For You"
II. "Satan sat on a chair, eating an emo's hair, he coughed up a lot, then sat down and chucked, All over the Satanic Bible"
666. NB It was Bjorkenheim, Elvin King phD that beat him. Under the dead tree they fought bled and died The crow picked remnants of eyes and cock tearing through flesh with a hook of crooked beak Spawn of Satan. SATAN My SWEET SATAANNnnnnaaaggggghhhrrrahhhhhhh...