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Chuck  Jan 2013
Gangsta Poet
Chuck Jan 2013
I'm the best, there ever was
Can't get with me, at da club
Other poets, need to respect
My reputation, I'll protect
I got a 9, pen in my hand
Write your name, in the sand
To me, you can't never stand
I ain't afraid, to let out a curse
Write you in, an ugly verse
I'm da best, you da worst

You can't, stay with my meter
I spit sick, iambic pentameter  
I'm da truth you da cheater
You rhyme like Armstrong rides
You have to dope, ya got no rhymes
You da Cheech I'm da Chong
I write, you smoke da ****
You da burger, I'm da veal
I earn likes, you freakin still
You got da, cheesy *** rhymes
Droppin' words, like love & sublime
I put the free, in free verse
You all about, Nonsense Verse
I drop a sonnet, makes his head Shake
I'm the Chaucer, you da fake
I'm a Lyric, you the Lune
You can't quit writen', too crazy soon
Your stuff is dirt, mines the moon
You want a challenge, get in the ring
I'll make you cry but your mama sing

You'all poets, you got to know
You da fluff, I'm da show
I'm the king of the poets, HELLO
Thought it would be funny to be a gangsta poet. For the record, no disrespect to poets or rappers. I wrote this for fun. I like rap.
undefined Apr 2013
She said, "They use to call me busy-body, now I'm just a no-body,"
as I stroll up, headphones to unplug, to sit and wait for buses of school children to come up.
Feeling kind of broke of a sort that wont shut down, inside I'm meaning, reeling for home unfound.
Prospecting, working, commish here and there, "case management" on my case breathing till no air.
Looking and ardently searching for something that's not there, a plain jane job, to just give room for air.
Plans on paper, sound right in my head, but seem less and less practical in practice of what's read.

"Help? Daddy has a headache and sickness with no want to help baby,"
as she fashions a meal from play food in a play kitchen to make me feel better.
But I wont sit at her table, I wont play with her dolls, not today, when I've got the world at my *****,
biting and stabbing me in the back of my brain,
no, now I'll just put on a movie and try and sleep for a change.

"I love you's" are exchanged as I cover my head,
and the ultimate weight that is me lies in my bed.
Troubled, down, pierced by the bad negative points of life,
I'll rise later again looking for a "re-set" button to make alright,
while she sets the table with guests to an imaginary meal
cooked to perfection in hopes to change the way Daddy feels.
wrote this couple of years ago...
just looking back at some things now in my journal
Quinton Oct 2014
never date an artist:
for they’ll find the beauty in the fight -
they’ll grow to remove themselves from all the light,
knowing nothing lasts forever,
it’s all a stroke of fate -
or a pen’s dance on a paper’s grate.

never date an artist:
for the moment’s together will be exaggerated into a shakespearean play -
love’s trance will be in every date,
never knowing if the words spilled are the beauties of your’s or estranged gains of a moment’s escape,
for everything is painted by the beautiful eyes of an experienced guide -
is it real or a work of art they’re just trying to explain.

never date an artist:
they’ll miscommunicate everything they care to say -
not knowing how to communicate beyond the artistic escape,
an artist will rejoice in the gain of a moment’s grace,
finding every reason to hide from the honest’s truth -
for an artist is nothing but a fairytale’s goof.

painted, writen and expressed to be everything they wish people would see,
washed up and beaten by reality’s plea -
never date an artist, for their life is nothing but a conglomerated mess -
of how to escape the stress of the everyday and live in hopeless harmony,
they’re nothing but an anomaly:
never date an artist.

trust me.
When i was knee high
Could i ever cry for our countries gone under
Because we had to surrender
Shredded by German's plunder
Yet i rejoiced and thanked God
when the sun was shinning
I did a lot of day dreaming
watching the clouds as they went by
The only jewells i saw were the daisies by the road
their perfect little rows
of white petals , center gold
I dreamt of far away lands where people were free
free to talk, free of fear and striffe
America land of my dreams
you were floting in my inner space like a desert's mirage
I clung to it with determination
until the day, it came into action
Young Gi's fresh faced, full of youth
smiled at us from their metal girth
tanks, cannons, guns and the likes
They looked so vulnerable and young
they held my hand " small " in theirs " strong"
in their palms well fed and reassuring
they could be so loving to a little girl
who defied dying
So land of my dreams you will come true
In my heart you grew and grew
till one day, i will see NewYork bay
Land of my dreams you will be mine

Colette Anne Naegle
1945
Words can convey so much more than most know.
A poet can make someone smile, laugh, or cry, and weep
All in the same collection of syllables forming words

A poet can push a person's mind until the heart bursts with happiness, breaks from deep sadness, and dies down right frightened.  All from words formed into sentences

Poets can create a scene of great disdain or nothing but frivolous faire in one sentence turning it to deep concentration hunting for resolution from sentences creating stanzas.

Poets paint a picture that can't be seen by a passerby or displayed in a window case.   It can be placed in plain site something of ******* nature yet unless looked into deeply will never be seen.  As stanzas form a poem that paints that picture

Poets sometimes can only paint basic emotion with words yet some can pull raw lustful emotion from deep in the soul.  Syllables to words bring excitement and desire.  Excitement, need, and release like two bodies locked together in sweaty heated embraces

Poets bringing syllables to words to sentences can capture ones longing carrying along to paragraphs that feel, hear, taste, smell, and see the burning need that the stanzas envoke the basics of carnal lust to break free like a caged lion whose food lay just outside the cage

Poets bring to close the paragraphs that wrap it all together Can you feel the sunlight against naked flesh so warm reflecting off beads of perspiration?  Can you taste the deliciousness of her desire upon ruby lips?  Or from the moisture that coats his fingers as they glide easily through silken petals?  

Poets continue painting with words, stanzas and paragraphs moving to hearing.  Can you hear the cries and pleas begging as desire builds to uncontrollable heights? Feeling. Hearing. Tasting. What is left the poet thinks. Ahhhhh to see and to smell

Poets syllables to words, stanzas, to paragraphs moving towards the pinnacle of rapture their every desire for the reader to see. Hius tongue lavishes the sweet flesh, tasting the musky desire as hands caress and pull upon tender buds of pleasure, the pants, moans, mews, cries, grunts, screams, mix together to form to a crescendoing of music

Continuing as pools of deep blue suffocate emeralds that look back. A growl followed by a almost hedonistic finale as the beings are rocked to their core. The syllables, words, stanzas, paragraphs almost to the picture seeing as the golden dagger of despair is plunged into the innocent heart.  Mixture of musky sweetness glistening upon flesh as red rivers flow to meet and mingle, swirling against the pale white.  The punget rust mixed with essence of bliss finishes the painting.

Poet started with syllables to words on to stanzas then paragraphs drawing from happiness, love to desire, need, release, slammed into the abyss of pain, despair and a private hell only each person viewing the poet's work can explain to themselves and perhaps share with another.

Bashfulness, Happiness, eagerness, apprehension, desire, need, fire, pleasure, release, pain, excruciating pain, lonely, despair, abysmal sadness, depression

The picture painted yet not with colors on canvas but with words on paper.  The mind fills in the forms, colors, and lives the sentence of taste, touch, sight, noise, and of course the smell.  If the poet is truly good one might find they actually do get a whiff of what is writen caressing their nasal pathways.

Written by Niyahlove.  :-)  All rights reserved please be respectful November 2, 2014
Corkey Hawley Apr 2010
While reschearching 4 my book I
discovered this & would like 2 share
It was writen when I was 16 &
still in High School

I was sitting very depressed
Taking a Mathmatics Test
When I noticed this
Written upon my desk
"Smile!
It's not so Bad
It Could Be Worse
But, Don't Ask Me How"
And I Just Had To SMILE
I think this one has 2 go in the new book, Doc
James M Vines Jul 2012
Maybe I can pull it all together
maybe I can write something clever
maybe then you'll finally look my way
everything I've written I'll get the chance to say
look into those big green eyes and gaze
dig down deep and find the strength to say
everything I've written
day dreaming my pen moves across the page
every stroke paints the words I long to say
I've never known myself to feel this way
thoughts of you are filling up my day
while these words I write are filling up this page
looking at your smile I hear the melody
to everything I've written
Another for N.B. : ')
Cherry  Oct 2018
As far as today
Cherry Oct 2018
I remember when I was a child I disliked reading books , mostly all of them . They all had a specific ending it could be happy or sad and sometimes something in between. Somehow  I knew that I could never read the words writen in my heart by someone elses pen  so unknowingly I started writing. I started writing as what a normal child would have to, when he starts to dream and imagine about all the things that one wants and desires and everything one knows he could be. I started writing in the blank page of life . I wrote my desires my ideals my character my adventures and everything else I thought I needed my life to be about. Pages full of happines, memories , mistakes and terrible regrets. All my darkest desires ,darkest secrets my best and worst qualities. Since I was a child the only thing I didn't give importance was time , time was passing fast right before my eyes into the words I was writing on that blank page . I never stood still to realise that until now .  My life was turning into my worst nightmare filled only with paranoia and fears. I never realised that getting so hooked into what you want life to be and what it actually is would turn my reality upside down and realised I was living in a lie that I was writing . As I was stading alone in the dark yesterday I woke up . The page I started to write since I was a child run out of all empty spaces , I dont know how old I was back than but now I'm 21 and the worst thing is that I realised that I'm one of those humans helplessly stupid and I've wasted so much time rewriting and correcting on that blank page everything that I thought was wrong and now my blank page looked like the messy adventurous confusion I wanted my life to be. Today I woke up and I  had a new page to write on and I've only writed four sentences  the only four sentences I decided to keep as a treasure from my life
as far as today.
To desire is to dream
To dream is to want
to want is to do
And to do is to live.
(Write artfully)
Don't let words of the past scream at you hysterically in  angry crying voice .
Ella  Aug 2017
Mother's Breath
Ella Aug 2017
You
held
my hand
I fell asleep
I woke with the Lord
my soul to keep
In the Book of Life
tis writen that
perfect day
After all,
we were never meant
to stay
Born anew
I look forward
to seeing you
At Heaven's pearly gates
Jesus
awaits
like a
father
I never knew
I'm at complete rest
in my Savior's
arms
Completely healed from
all of life's
perils  
and harm
I send peace on the wings
of
a Dove
Knowing full well
I have been
truly
Loved.
e  Oct 2013
foot fetish
e Oct 2013
I thought about getting a tattoo
a small script that read "*******"
I'd tell all my friends, it's deep,
there's a massage there, you can't see
all writen and now inked on my feet.
In hopes that you might see



and never want to **** my feet.
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
whats going to happen to me-
now that the sky is falling

can't see the forest for the trees-
now that the sky is falling

you thought I was strange,
you never knew my name,
you perverted the game,

ain't no more zombies-
now that the sky is falling

everbody believes-
now that the sky is falling

you laghed when they harassed,
you didn't help when I gasped,
you joined in when they kicked-
my a**

words of the prophet writen on the school's wall-
now that the sky is in free fall...
Warning adult content or theme
Aine  Jul 2018
Just US
Aine Jul 2018
We struggle to die
Running right into life's trap
Racing with time ,
We want to grow up
No one to blame that's just us

We age and we differ
Our bones becoming weaker
Our skins lose the  glimmer
Our teeth have no holder
We look back onto the days we were young and merrier
No one to blame that's just us

We seek home in holes
Love ,lust and betrayal
Cries, laughs days pass on
History writen ,they say it lives on
Legends writen over our dry bones
No one to blame that's just us

We can't see these wonders anymore
The sky no longer embraces our world
6 feet deep it feels stone cold
Our souls in rest in the world unknown
As the recite these words on our tombstone
There's No one to blame that's just us

©mereidow
About man's life circle . Remember It's unstoppable
Stevie Ray May 2015
A worn out face and soul I hide behind other parts I play.
He's asleep, slowly waking up, he can only be energized by his daughter's presence today.
Yet she maybe is unaware of his father's existence
it wouldn't be strange, we're nearing a full year
I pray day to day she's not unaware, truth be told it's my biggest fear
it's hard to hold on to hope
when all you've got is memories
and an old picture on your desk
All these questions and doubts I got
a beating rhythm in my head
every tear I shed embodies my love for you
every tear I shed is because I'm missing you
I pray you don't ever forget that I'm your dad.

I remember being scared to death the first night home.
As I focused on your breathing and I pictured you behind closed eyes
I slept shallow and checked multiple times to see if you were still alive
My biggest fear then was losing you... and two years later I did
and now I've missed a year experiencing you turning into a kid.

I bet you're cheeky, witty and stubborn. Curious, full of love, sensitive and have a deep intelligence. So now I'm fighting to get you back, giving it my all. To continue setting an example, to show you that you've gotta fight for those dear to you, to show you the power a person can have. And if by some stupid lies I lose this fight, I promise you Sara look for me when you're old enough and you'll realize dad always got your back. I won't give up on you.. EVER
You'll hear an other side of a story but I won't impose my opinion on you. I will give my side of the truth and let you decide from there.

Know that I would rather endure an entire life of this heavy burden and pain and take it to my grave then let you say you had a father who gave up halfway.

In three days you'll turn three. I'm sorry I can't be there Sara but I promise I'm doing everything in my power to see you as soon as possible. In advance I wish you a happy birthday, your birthday present is going to be a bit late though. Bear with me, it's on it's way.

I love you.

Writen with tears of sincerity, a strong soul and a loving heart,

Your father Stevie Ray de Vries Andries.

ps. You're always way to young to have any boyfriends, ever. ;) Dad will put them to the test. If they're unworthy Spartan-Kick them out of the house and if they are you'll sleep in seperate beds. And if he does treat you with the honor and respect you deserve.. I'll think about letting you sit next to eachother on the couch. Haha...

— The End —