English Poetry with... Flight?

This is Flight, obvious by the bright yellow text. Today I'm here to help Chaos with... poetry? You have to be kidding.

No, I'm not kidding. It's hard! Not my fault I'm, um... not gifted in this spectrum?

But it's not even a study topic! I mean, you've got Kaya with History and Sundra with Math. Atleast do it right, not some lame English thing that doesn't even require studying (because English is dead-easy).

Shut up. You never even finished school, you hypocrite. I was kind enough to not make you into an idiot, so you owe me. Profusely.

....fine.

right, so, my objective is to make a poem. sounds easy, right? wrong. I'm utterly horrible at poetry. doesn't really help that he gave us such a vague topic that we have to flail around to decide what's appropriate and what isnt'. I'm going to write down the stanzas and see where we can improve from here. ready? let's go;

-----

take the pounding of your cranium - a nice staccato beat
and cram it under your skin that
aches for his touch
so that maybe he could
l
o
v
enter(tain) you with
sticky flesh that he eats up and spits
back out as sugar-coated lies because
he never says the words you want to hear

(add a bit more, it doesn't flow in some places)
(hush, I'm writing!)

hot boozebreath against the softness of your cheeks
and sharp motions that make you (ohgodohgod)
(s)cream for more like this was
the last time you'd
ever be touched again
((because who would want to touch you?))
and you even shaved for him - stark white under his gaze
because you want
to be beautiful for
the whispered promises that he braids into your hair
and expects you to wear them proudly
since you'd never betray your secret love

the scars you make along his back
bloom like rotting roses
an orgy of b(l)ack/lash/ that feels
so right because it's wrongwrongwrong
as he settles between your thighs and the
dull beat of his song becomes
a screaming that you
can't ignore anymore ((inoutinoutinoutohgod))
he crushes your weight with his and you always feel safe in his
arms

To Be Continued....

...wow, Chaos. You're a pervert.

As if you can talk, you hoe! But yeah... I think it's just a little bit explicit. I should change it, shouldn't I?

Yup. Leave the first stanza and some of the third, but the second requires a complete overhaul. (Shame, too, because that's actually kind of hot.)

That's disgusting.

Don't lie. You find pedo!secks really smoking. After all, that's what you wrote with me and Dwyn, wasn't it?

....OKAY PEOPLE, ATTENTION DOWN HERE! (Shut up, Flight, you're making me look bad!)

-----

hot boozebreath against your cheeks
that will always smell like the
anticipation and sweet scent of forbidden desire
to your nose alone.
his gentle touch and rough hands make you
shivershake(S)CREAM
because nobody ever wants to touch you
((who would want to do that?))
and you curl up against his side because he
hates to be alone

they will never understand because they don't know
what goes on in dark corridors or hidden rooms
((they must witness to understand))
and a /love/ that blooms like rotten roses
as you take him against your breast
that rise and swell (as nubile apples) so that he may
suck(le) the honey from your youth and
take it with him
when the nights become too cold

-----

Better. I guess now all that's left is to write the last stanza? I know you have to put meaning in there so that it isn't TOO obvious because people have to analyze it. And being inyourface about that means no challenge, which also means you lose marks.

Since when did you get smart?

Since your brain turned into mush.

You aren't helping. Take three!

-----

the scars you make along his back
riceflesh that tears under heathen nails
you cry daddy in a way that prompts
an orgy of b(l)ack/lash/ that feels
so right because it's wrongwrongwrong
and he breathes that he has always liked you best
to pull a smile from your baby lips

pretty little sister
you were always my favourite tragedy

-----

There, it's done. Now, let me just post the full poem.....

-----
take the pounding of your cranium - a nice staccato beat
and cram it under your skin that
aches for his touch
so that maybe he could
l
o
v
enter(tain) you with
sticky flesh that he eats up and spits
back out as sugar-coated lies because
he never says the words you want to hear

hot boozebreath against your cheeks
that will always smell like the
anticipation and sweet scent of forbidden desire
to your nose alone.
his gentle touch and rough hands make you
shivershake(S)CREAM
because nobody ever wants to /touch/ you
((who would want to do that?))
and you curl up against his side because he
hates to be alone

they will never understand because they don't know
what goes on in dark corridors or hidden rooms
((they must witness to understand))
and a /love/ that blooms like rotten roses
as you take him against your breast
that rise and swell (as nubile apples) so that he may
suck(le) the honey from your youth and
take it with him
when the nights become too cold

the scars you make along his back
riceflesh that tears under heathen nails
you cry daddy in a way that prompts
an orgy of b(l)ack/lash/ that feels
so right because it's wrongwrongwrong
and he breathes that he has always liked you best
to pull a smile from your baby lips

pretty little sister
you were always my favourite tragedy

-----

That's really twisted. Congratulations, Chaos. I'm quite proud of you. I'm really waiting to see the teacher's face when he tells the class to analyze this.

You evil bitch. I like.

Tell me what you think, people?