Demon overlord

The demon overlord comes and kills like a bird in search for a mate.
He wrecks havoc everywhere and kills all he sees.
He is emotionless has no care for life.
He is your conscience.





(if this os so go to your consaller)

Eep!

Hi conor
this could be good if you wrote it like a poem but at the moment its a bit rubbish
Sorry
Charlotte

This could be quite a nice piece, but, please be serious.

...
Yeah.
Whoever you are.
I hope your mother cries when she reads this.
What was this?
This was not good.
It was the opposite of great.
It was a synonym of terrible.

Hmm... demons stink anyway.

Hehe! Very interesting idea. Try making it so we can see what's going on instead of you just telling us.

OK,now kiddo I want to see some serious good stuffs by you.

Or is this a idea or a plan to get everyones attention?

ConorR--


This is a tour of amateur thoughts presented in jarring, meaningless form. Outside of my relief to reach the end, I found nothing of interest here.

What is it that you felt would appeal to the reader?


Best,
Brad

For the first time in my life... I'm actually going to agree with Brad.
Yep, usually me and him don't see eye to eye and I've had continuous messages from his of suggestions to go to www.pathetic.com but this one really deserved it!
Do you really want to be a writer?
Because if so.... you're not making a good start with it!!!!!
Try something that means somethign to you, is interesting and isn't a load of.. well... crap.
Good luck,
Lexy x

BTW, this is lexy on patricks profile.

er, its the thought that counts. do some editing, and formating, and post it again. nice idea at least

Well...somebody has been reading Lord Loss, am I right? What you've got here sounds a lot like the poem Darren Shan wrote at the beginning of his book...

Lord Loss sows all the sorrows of the world
Lord Loss seeds the grief-starched trees

In the center of the web, lowly Lord Loss bows his head

Mangled hands, naked eyes
Fanged snakes his soul line
Curled inside like textured skin
Bloody, curdled sheets for skin

In the center of the web, vile Lord Loss torments the dead

Over strands of red, Lord Loss crawls
Dispensing pain, despising all
Shuns friends, nurtures foes
Ravages hope, breeds woe
Drinks moons, devours suns
Twirls his thumbs till the reaper comes

In the center of the web, lush Lord Loss is all that's left

I'm confused! Can this be called poetry.
This would be a really good idea for a poem, but in itself can it really be called one?
Do you take yourself seriosuly as a writer?
Because so far your work seems to be really bare and not thought about?

i am sorry for my stupid poems but there will be better one's soon!

check my new poem abbadon! it is quite good!