Hate and Love

F**k the world and f**k you, too.
No one really gives a s**t about you.
Kill yourself, because you're already gone,
F**k Love, this is a Hate Song.

You're useless, will grow up to be nothing.
You're standing at the bridge, but you're still not jumping.
Just f*****g do it, you know you really want to
Pray first; you'll go to Heaven if you do.

I don't care if you don't like this song
It wasn't written for you, and we can't all get along
It's a world full of hate, so I guess I will, too.
It's really the only thing that I f*****g know how to do

Use your fist, and break the jaw
if nothing else, just break the law
Open your eyes, scream at what you see.
Avoid the f*****g mirror, because you've turned into me.

------------------

Whispered death, I have bled
I wish for darkness, silence instead
All this pain, I'm a slave,
seems to bring me to the grave.

Standard thoughts, uncouth mind,
this feeling is making me blind
All this hate, I'm a slave,
I feel the pain that I always crave.

I have seen and heard the screams
that exit through your eyes
I come back, through your prayers
I'm written in the skies...

Unheard scream, bleeding heart
When you left, you tore me apart
I'm a god, burned at the stake,
anything to keep me awake...

I have seen and heard the screams
that exit through your eyes
I come back, through your prayers
I'm written in the skies...

Untouched love, dusted hate
Everything I feel has come too late
Now it's gone, along with me
I have become what I never wanted to be...

Reviews

[J. A. Svercek]

The first bit did well to not take itself too seriously, but the second bit, being incredibly melodramatic, should probably be re-evaluated.

I sense that this piece is not supposed to be taken too seriously (by the narrator's tone), which is why I think the rhyme fits, but many of them are choppy and don't really fall into place.

Lastly the title doesn't really fit with the story, since the story doesn't involve "love" by any stretch.

But this has potential, and thanks for writing,
J.

[The Scanners See Sound]

As Jake pointed out, this....song? Well...song, seems to be presenting itself so as not to be taken seriously by any means.

But if I were to take it seriously, well, I would find it fairly difficult to do so, with the innumerable moments of backwards logic, and contradictions.

Antichrist, Welcome. I believe it's time I picked away at your poetry/lyrics without the lazy stupor that clouds my head elsewhere. This being as flawed as it is seems as good a place as any to start.

First, the upper section. You start off strong with the powerful declaration "This is a hate song!" but it tapers off a little as it leads up the the second half. There's a few small issues with flow; the second stanza syllable count goes "10, 12, 12, 10" which is an odd pattern. I'm aware that, as a song, it would be spoken aloud and with the flow bent into shape to fit the rhythm of the music. However, as we have no music here, I can't evaluate it on that basis.

The last stanza of the first half is the weakest; it reads with a change in pattern that lasts only half a stanza. If you could perhaps split it in two and expand on each half, then it'd read better. The last line, "Avoid the mirror, because you've turned into me" doesn't quite carry the impact you'd like it to. I know you, so I know what type of person you are and why you would make that comment. A random person reading this will not and as such, the effect is lost.

The second half may as well be a completely different poem/song, so I don't know why you don't just list it as such. There's a change in line length, rhythm and tone, becoming shorter, slower and more depressing. The transition is terrible. There are also two stanzas, the chorus I suppose, which are ABAB, which contrasts the rest of the poem/song's AABB. It's noticeable enough in text to be disruptive. In fact, I'd suggest you just scrap the lower half completely; you'd immediately have a better poem. If you also extend the upper half by four or five stanzas to make up for the lost lower half, you would have a much, much stronger poem on your hands.