/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.19331406]

Time turns the old things to derision
And our loves into corpses or wives,
And marriage and death and division
Make barren our lives

[Anonymous No.19331427]

I imagine your life is just as barren if not moreso if you stay a bachelor

[Anonymous No.19331430]

>>19331406
Simply plant a garden

[Anonymous No.19331467]

crazy cope

[Anonymous No.19331530]

>>19331406
>corpses or wives
Shallow.

[Anonymous No.19331594]

But I'm married.

[Anonymous No.19331604]

>>19331406
>frogposter
>getting a wife

[Doggy No.19331937]

Children often not knowing the source of their sorrow, or lacking the language to convey basic needs.

Require their mothers to interpret their wishes. Who can tell by their breath or their gaze that they're sneeds.

[Doggy No.19331943]

Barman restock their cafés with Gulpener beer. The mothers sew costumes for children. The old men sing the three coloured song, the Prince carnival lights bonfires. The orchestra tunes their instruments to humour the city’s festive parade. Whilst Egbert and his brothers create floats shouting.

NL “Alaaf”
ENG “Above all else!”

[Doggy No.19331956]

“Eetcafé De Tenne Kan” situated at the edge of Waldeck Park in Ceramique is one such example. I’d highly suggest you try their Endive-stew, Grilled Duck, and Wine Sauce with a glass of Raadhuis Sherry. Then, having taken your pleasures, order a Bospoeper Superieur, sit on its terrace, and look up. Past the offices, chains and shops. The habitat of pods. How the window-frames glow. Nevertheless, tombs. An illusion of life. How silent they seem, at odds with faint laughter, clinging of glasses and murmurs come night. Notice the occasional servants frequenting the scene and notice yourself on this island of light. Floating in an ocean of dreams. And realize, you’re in a ghost town. You’ll get a mint with your cheque, then go home and sleep.

[Doggy No.19331971]

We were glad with our profits but guilty as charged, though empty in meaning, our pockets enlarged.

We knew our stuff was top-notch, served utterly right, no mixing or waining, pollution in sight. They’d protest, couldn’t be, as they usually might, but the skeptics they fall at the taste of delight.

[Doggy No.19331979]

>Ok sorry, I'll stop poemposting.
Your ass is so fine
Thy buttocks so tanned
Your countenance divine
Some might call it grand

If one calls it bland
I’ll strike them down
With feverous hand
For you wear the crown

Thou “boobage” so lean
Thou maiden in shape
So amorously clean
You’re fresh like a grape

I’ll suckle your vine
Be generous, one must
Doh I must incline
To allow me to thrust

Thou body and mine
Doh I long for your bust
Shall surely entwine
The snake of your lust

Thou slithering snail
Call it churlish you might
Your plumage I’ll rail
For a saint, I ain’t right.

A friar doesn’t yearn
So lecherous and fowl
You’ll rapidly learn
As a hound I will howl

For your purse, I’ll donate
White like a cloud
A huge sum I’ll ornate
So renowned as I’ve ploughed

Your staff in your tricep
As we’ll wash and we’ll clean
To circumvent such a mishap
And smoke a pack till we’re green

Give a kiss then roll over
My amorous queen
And sleep tight like a rover
Of you I will dream

[Anonymous No.19331996]

>>19331406
it's tuesday
i am laying in bed
as always
wondering if I should
order
a dildo
with a suction cup

[Anonymous No.19332002]

Neat, a new namefag to add to the filter.

[Anonymous No.19332086]

>>19332002
I'll stop using it, recently discovered everyone hates it anyway. A "tripfag" you cal lit, ok. I totally buy into, anonymity being 4chan's most redeeming quality. But, sheesh.


You guys are a sad bunch. The self-publishing thread of today being a good example. You always manage to find an angle to ruin simple pleasures for everyone. So pessimistic with your snarky little titles like "pseuds". Whatever just enjoy the process.

[Anonymous No.19332162]

>>19332086
This is a Swinburne thread.

[Anonymous No.19332198]

>>19332162
It's whatever you want it to be.

[Anonymous No.19332219]

You will never be a writer.
You have no brains, no vision, no skills, no courage to be bold and original.
When you look in the mirror you can see your smooth, pale hands, devoid of the calluses a writer would have.
You can see your cheeto encrusted neckbeard, with not a single hair above your jawline.
You can see the thick glasses that you flaunt in an attempt to look like an intellectual, but that are actually due to your masturbation addiction.
Your parents talk about you in their bed during sleepless nights fraught with anxiety and shame.
You acquaintances (you have no friends) mock your cringe intellectualoid persona and your literary aspirations.
All the encouragement you get is from embarassed near-strangers and people who want to keep selling you their writing workshops and courses.
Your keyboard, glazed in dried semen, watches you in mute sadness as you fap and pant. It has never been used for anything more complex than typing "trap genderbend doujin sword art online", and knows that it never will.
You will never be read in admiration to a flock of college girls that will fawn over you like groupies.
You will never put on paper any amazing saga of bravery and magic, you will never conceive any mindblowing insights, you will never depict a generation's experience or craft awe-inspiring worlds out of thin air.
You will never be a writer.

[Anonymous No.19332250]

>>19332086
Then leave. You obviously can't appreciate it here, so leave. That's okay, most people can't, you are just normal. Your intuition to use a name in the first place is the only thing that differentiates you from everybody else who visits here, realizes it's not for them, and leaves- you are abnormally dense.