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Heaven is a peanut farm

One for you and me

With friends and music, banquets and balls

And a good man named Jimmy

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Heaven is a peanut farm

Surely it's the best

There's a porch with a sleeping dog

One where you can find rest

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They say there is a man out there

Who made sure every heart he would fill

When God said "it's okay, you can stop your work now"

He said "no, I don't think I will"

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When you come to this peanut farm

You will be filled with this delight

Friends and family, we gather 'round

To wish Mr. Carter goodnight

Here's what a successful free message looks like

I was testing some unconventional C methods and got bit off track with the error messages. Source code is in pastebin.

There's others small details in the sources, such as the addresses needed to correctly free the memory is invalidated right after the "regret" verse (allockStack = NULL), if the "Worry not" verse doesn't come up.

Moral of the story: free your allocated memory.

This is my first complete poem, ever.

The forest was on fire. The trees were scared, and felt powerless. The two candidates offered to save them. The axe, whose handle was wood, suggested that if their neighbors were “relocated”, the rest of the forest would be safe from the fire. On the other hand the old growth tree in a clearing suggested that fire was a natural part of the forest, and they’d all be okay. In the end the axe was elected, but the forest all burned.

when on my wordless ways
i pass the ruined temples
once erected in my name
where now i roam feral

i leave a howl of lament
for the prayers i ignored
as i hid in my savage shelter
from their lust for sacrifice

i still hear them call my name
under the silent trees
oh could i find how
their song turned into axes

Drowned is the anguish.
Sunken is the pain.
Mountains of self doubt lay hidden,
Dormant under the gentle sway.
A beast of vitriol and rage lays buried,
Under an ocean of practiced patience, serenity, and calm.
Her thirst overcomes.

I started writing a grimdark fantasy based in DnD (Dungeons and Dragons) in Forgotten Realms, where some outcomes are left to a dice roll. I have never written a poem or a book, but I got lost in the topic and building this character.

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I see grimdark being about moral ambiguity, a gruesome world where there are no good choices or endings. This started as a freeform poem from the protagonist's perspective, which led to a tragic ballad-like structure.

-Quatrain

-AABB rhyme pattern

-8 or 9 syllables per line

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The protagonist, "Aaneu", is a rogue/warlock who lost his past life. In the desperation, he made a pact with a trickster patron without realizing the extent of the contract. The ones Aaneu knew in the past, but they don't know him anymore. But they live.

If Aaneu were to defy the pact, he and his past would perish. Aaneu is tasked with cruel deeds, while his past is kept as a hostage. His sheer will and loyalty drive him forward regardless. Selfish acts for a selfless cau

Thoughts while contemplating life during a short episode of autistic burnout.

I was having a dream

In which a plucky young female character

Was technically homeless but had three or four safe places to sleep

And was still going to high school

But still had an income somehow

To buy the things she needed

And was going to rule the world.

But I woke up because I needed to pee

And I know that nothing counts unless you write it down

And I didn't want the obnoxiously loud ticking from the second hand of my wristwatch

To tick away the seconds for her as well as for me

Until I die of lymphoma;

I wanted at least one of us to survive

So now this poem exists.

They bowed their heads and prayed to their god. And he was made of garbage and oil, lies and ignorance, bombs and bullets, suffering and decay.

This god above all others was called America.

Then the sky split open, and America's angels rained down upon the unwanted, the weak, and killed them all with guns they called peace.

The people rejoiced and danced upon the hills of corpses. They ate the flesh of the dead and called it justice.

Lucifer looked upon the carnage and wept. And as he watched the horror, he held Lilith close and asked "why must they worship such evil?" Lilith replied "they fear difference."

I wrote this poem for fun (and because I hate the current state of america) I would love some constructive criticism

Yes I know it’s a shitty poem I haven’t written one since middle school. Just felt I needed a way to express myself and to post it somewhere and forget about it. No I’m not going to kill myself. This is about me getting a lifelong incurable chronic illness (ME) from a COVID infection. I’m bedridden, unable to talk, tubefed, unable to process noise, and just pretty much dead. Not looking for feedback.