What would I compare thee to?
You art like unto a Ithorian rose,
Wild and untamed, but beautiful.

What would I compare unto thee?
Like twin suns, rising in the morn,
Or the dance of three moons, setting across the sky.

What can compare to thee?
Only the cosmos, only its stature grand,
Can even compare to what I see from thee.

Misium And Julia Sitting In A Tree, K-I-L-L-I-N-G

Oh Julia, I know that this is unexpected,
but it seems the time has come to tell you how I feel.
And when all my words have been spoken,
I hope that you will understand my heart.

When I pass you in the halls each day,
my rage is only flared slightly.
It seems of all the people I have come across,
it is you whom I hate the least.

When I look upon your face,
I am not immediately repulsed.
It is true, I must speak highly,
though you look only marginally better than a bantha's rectum.

Though your voice is grating,
I feel as though I could endure it for 2, maybe even 3 minutes.
And though your scent is putrid,
it's better than tauntaun innards, at least.

All of these things add up to mean
that you're a very special girl.
And so when the time finally comes for me to exterminate all sentient life,
I think I'll kill you last, and only torture you a little bit.

Oh dearest Va'nia,
How I wish to be the one to win your heart.
I wrote you this poem, in the hopes that you'll see it

I want only to relish
In the fruits of our labour
We'd explore the galaxy
The odds forever in our favour

It seems that fate
With twisted wicked tricks
Has our candles of love
Burning brighter than ever on brand new wicks

A single wish
That I've dreamt to come true
After being under your tutelage
Is battling besides no one but you

Oh Va'nia darling
Can't you see all the signs?
Me and you together baby
Can start up new figurine lines ♥

The Ramblings of the Guilty: By Malice

I don't know what the point of this is.
I mean, free verse poetry is just writing things
in a unique way, with unique words and a unique idea.

I'm not good at writing things like this,
I don't think either of us are,
but I want our team to win so I guess I'll give it a shot.

You're pretty cool I guess.
I mean, I like you, and you like me.
Which is weird to think about.

Two killers, both alike in dignity,
in fair distant space where we lay our scene.
Wait, wrong poem.

To be or not to be, that is the question.
Whether tis nobler in the mind to actually write a poem,
I'm not good at this.

We aren't good at expressing emotion.
I don't understand it and you don't care,
but we care for each other, and that's good enough for me.

I hope I slightly got across what you mean to me.
Whether you can make sense out of this or not,
or recognize that I took the time to attempt to write this.

You're pretty cool, and I'm glad you're around.
Also, you know that bottle of rum you were saving?
I broke it. Now I've got a headstart because you took time to read this.

~Mal <3

Lost and Weary Prey (A Rebuff of Teylas Ramar)

In one moment, you ceased
your harsh, sinewy smirk
and the twirling of your tendrils
to offer me honest praise.

“Master Ramar,” I plead
into the vented airlock of your heart.
“Dread Lord,” I breathe
as if your lofty throne would answer me.

No. I understand that every fleeting
glance from on high is poisonous.
I, after all, am on another team,
and Selika has declared this:

“No soup for you!”

A love poem slipped under the door of Selika's quarters by an anonymous admirer:

What is love?
Baby don't hurt me
Don't hurt me
No more

I don't know why you're so Krath
I give you my love, but get your wrath
So what is light and what is dark?
Gimme a sith

What is love?
Baby don't hurt me
Don't hurt me
No more

Oh, I don't know, who should I kill?
Turel or Vorsa, it's up to you
I’ll kill NPC’s, just me and you
I can't go on

What is love?
Baby don't hurt me
Don't hurt me
No more

Want to get it on, no other PCON
This is our house, our clan
Stay up until dawn, never will be gone
Is it love?

What is love?
Baby don't hurt me
Don't hurt me
No more
What is love?

(To the tune of: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEXWRTEbj1I)

this is a joke
there's no need for love
sith are pure hatred
the force is my glove

tried to be funny
but those priorities are insane
so this is a poem
that's nothing but a pain

blood is red
i am blue
poetry is a worthless skill
this is worthless to me too

Oh Rosy Cheeked Lover
How your scales set my heart aflutter

with crimson stained tines
of a tail serpentine

the blood of our enemies makes me sputter