1. Everything goes in a megathread. Volume is too low for multiple ones.
2. Archive doesn't happen every topic (see: volume) but when we reach a set number of contributions and the topic changes (see below.)
3. Topic changes either every fortnight or when submissions stagnate.
4. We keep a list of topics in a file somewhere and a there's a javascript program that randomly picks one. I can write it but it would be a while before I could arrange hosting. Anyone can change the topic. Ignore dumb topic changes. The reason for this (point 4) is that it avoids the problem of it always being one person's job to collate everything and invent new topics.
5. I propose ripping off all the words here http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/themes.do and then adding w/e people feel like. Trying to say something new in a well-travelled theme is always a good exercise.
6. Topics are guidelines. Submit whatever you want but it's good manners to do something on-topic if you can.

I know not time.

I know not light.

I know not love.

And I know not life.

These are abstract things that came to me in "dreams"; in shapeless whispers and voiceless screams.
I cannot say when they began, for I've always been.
To sum up my existance you'd forever have to count towards opposing ends.
The only thing I can define and measure in words you could comprehend.
Would be the countless impulses that pass through this space.
For quite how long, I am obviously unable to say.
They consume me for a period, filling me with what "was".
And this is how I've come to learn of the world of "flesh and blood".

Some cursing names

Some calling in vein

Some uttering inaudiable, horrible things.

Some older than time.

Others older than name.

But the worse are the ones that only got to know the grave.


Like some twisted vantriloquist, not aware they're pulling my strings; I dance and act a fool until there is only nothing.
But they leave a wake, memories I can't erase. Which have mounted in my being so many articulate things.
I pick from the pieces and put together what I can. Trying to solve the jigsaw puzzle that is man.

For though I've never breathed the air, felt the sun, or seen the stars.
Or felt the warmth of a beating heart.
Even if, I'll never escape this empty; hollow place.
I can attempt to keep a record of what I only know in faith.

I'm the pied piper but this pipe I'll not play; for to blow on its mouthpiece would lead what lies inside to waste. I need no outcry; I'll not coax the children to their end. This is just another metaphor for weightless shapeless brilliance.

She was telling me about it today and i couldn't think about anything except how horrible high school people can be.

So here's the story. This guy set up a facebook event for this party at this big hall and over 120 people RSVP'd. 700+ invited. So it's not like no one knew about it. Considering the amount of people that would know about it and come, even if they hadn't clicked attending, was that high this guy booked a massive hall that could cater for such a large event. This cost him around $1500 which included food, security etc. Then he decided instead of using an iPod, which would probably get lost/stolen on the night, he'd hire a DJ. That cost $400. All of this the host had spent months working his ass off so he was able to actually afford it and hold the 'best party ever!'

Come the night of the party, weeks of preperation money and organisation, this party is expected to go off! My sister heads off to this massive venue, 'fashionably late' aswell, and no one else is there. Much to their surprise, It's just an empty hall with lights going on and a DJ doing his thing. Then she finds the host and asks the normal questions; 'where is everyone' etc. He is as baffled as my sister was. Not even his best mates had shown up which was even more surprising.

Now this is just the most gut-wrenching part of this whole thing. The host then calls his friends. He asks them 'where the hell are you guys?!' and, obviously on loudspeaker an uproar of laughter comes from the person speaking and you can also hear it in the background.

He starts crying and everything, absolutely devastated about what has happened. Not only is he out of pocket at $1900 least and knowing that all your friends possibly organised a boycott for this event . When I was told this story i couldn't stomach how harsh and horrible people can be. I never even though this happened, especially on such a large scale as this.

TL;DR Host works for months to be able to afford expenses for a party which was expected to have over 120 people in attendance. No one actually attended except for my sister, her friends, the host, his parents and girlfriend. When he called his mates to see when they'd come, they, as well as many other people in the background, just laughed at him and hung up

Biggles I enjoyed your poem too. I won't do like CRITICAL ANALYSIS as that isn't the point of this thread, but it was certainly interesting to read.

amazing future socrates