#oldschool
In a world of monsters I compete
Collecting as I advance
Hoping to be the very best
Taking every chance
Making friends along the way
Eliminating every threat
Living with my companion by my side
A cute little yellow pet
Earning many badges
Leveling up with more wins
Traveling to far away towns
To visit different gyms
Using ***** to capture
As many creatures as I can hold
My sights set on victory
To be the greatest legend ever told
Watch my critters evolve one by one
Whether they swim, scurry, or soar
And see their abilities improve
As I train them more and more
In the arena they duel adversaries
We put our all into each fight
Yelling out commands to follow
As they work with all their might
When we fall we bounce back up
So it's okay if we sometimes lose a brawl
Because I will never give up or quit
On my quest to catch them all
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 5:05 PM UTC
I feel like all I write about
is love—
or lack thereof.
But I mean—
what else am I supposed to write about
when everyone’s chasing after
this fictional feeling
that everybody talks about
when they “find the one”?
I don’t believe it.
I don’t believe it.
Now—
you gotta step back
and see how the other perceives it.
Is it a sneaky link situation?
Do you have to fall back
while they sit there
laughing?
Do you have to worry about other girls
other guys
while they sit here
ruining a vision of love
in your eyes?
Let’s be real—
This is what love is now.
We’ve normalized it.
It is toxic.
It is messy.
There is no real love.
It’s just lust.
There is no real love.
It’s just linking up.
There is no real love.
It’s just wanting to ****
and saying whatever it takes
to get them to “pull up.”
But me?
I want that old-school love—
the kind where fights
don’t end in breaking up.
Even through the bad—
we’d stick together
because we knew
our love would protect us.
Any storm—
any bad weather—
if we could talk it out,
it would get better.
We built that foundation—
through worse
and through better.
I hate what they’ve done to love.
They made us believe
anybody who comes through
with a charming smile—
that’s where the love would be.
But this ain’t no fairytale.
This is real.
I want that old-school Black love—
cocoa-butter-warm,
nice-smelling love,
just-dancing-in-the-living-room-as-the-sky-rains kind of love.
There’s no connection—
just convenience.
Love is just
a monetary thing.
And me?
I’m still looking for that
old-school love
that makes that one person feel like home—
not a random pit stop
chasing the high of lust.
I’ll keep believing
in that love—
because even if the world
forgot how to give it—
I won’t
Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 2:22 AM UTC
A shattered being is all I want from destiny,
Oh my beloved one, would you put me together?
My smithereens perk up by your only glance,
Oh my beloved, would you not let the moon steal your sight?
The raven black of your eyes sink my ship in,
Oh my beloved, would you let this dream shatter me more?
Again my being is lost in the wind's beat,
Oh my beloved, would you let loose the words in a talk?
It is the night, heavy with whispers and sighs,
Oh my beloved, would you confront my love and then abolish it?
In the stillness, where shadows dance like memories,
Oh my beloved, would you weave our hearts into a single thread?
Let the stars witness this fragile truth,
Oh my beloved, would you hold my fragments until dawn breaks?
Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 6:04 AM UTC
the dusty old school rock cds on the cracked cubby top
brush it off, but some still remains
coughing a bit up before setting it down to reminisce
it all reminds me of
the way the Polaroid camera snapped the life outta me
how every word you said was so heavy that i started sinking
how we were headbanging for kicks and started becoming wild creatures
how the radio cringed and squealed and how we still sang every word to “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
how the guitar riffs are just pain coming out into art
bursting with meaning and passion
the dusty old school rock cds sit there, stationary on that same cracked cubby top
and we recall the past as if it was some life-changing yesterday
Apr 27, 2022
Apr 27, 2022 at 9:23 PM UTC
Thoughts of retrospect
I’m no product of today
I am but vinyl
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 5:42 AM UTC
Where have all the good girls gone?
The ones who prefer brains to brawn.
Today's girls seem to like tattoos;
They like bad boys who bring bad news.
When I grew up the girls were classy.
They were smart and kind and super sassy.
But now they're shallow and superficial;
They're so covetous and artificial.
Love should be about heart and soul.
About the truth that makes us whole.
Forget Facebook and Instagram;
Just talk to me: I'm an old school man.
©canadian_cowboy
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
reflect the sky at the dividing line
thousands, pilgrims, acrobatic flight
cautionary signals, holy outline
carry the form of grace and light.
countable and uncountable, alight
coastal meadows of purple aster
neon sun behind the fog, fading night
winged silhouettes settling at Big Sur.
aerial blueprints, circling wet fir,
time resolved into opaque brushstroke,
compass lines, body before mind, umber
cliffs springing off a morning flock, awoke.
red on red ridden their wild throats, pigment
of deepest origin, indifferent.
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 4:58 AM UTC
I'm the best and worst,better than your first,
******* but worse than Courtney takin' the Shotgun to Kurt,
Chick-Chick BOOM! too soon?-get the the **** out
I got more brains than the Cobains Greehouse,
He was in Nirvana...now maybe he's IN NIRVANA,
*I don't know I'll leave it there maybe ask Buddha,
brutha believe me you can't deceive me,or relieve me,
even a trained hunting Dog can't retrieve me*
Let's be Frank...
I leave rappers quieter than Helen Keller's beef with Anne Frank,
need enough Franc's for a trip to France to get some stamp's Franked...
**Frank White or Frank Castle I'm an angry Irish *******
arguments against me are simply facile,
sit the **** down, drop the Mic like a hot Spud,
afore you get stood all over by the Bull Stud,
I'm a ******** detector, Patriotic defector,
criminal Electors rippin' off the Exchequer
while I'm busy in your Ma's room strippin off her knickers!**
*I'm swimmin with an Army of ex Special Forces Women
to the Island offshore accounts are on Gunnin' and Grinnin,
constantly Sinnin' I'm Constantine slammin a Mirror offa Demon
Leavin your bird's face like a Doughnut glazed in *****
dosin' every coffee cup in MIT with DMT,
Observin Scientists tip over at the knees like fallin' trees
new discoveries abound as PHD's hit the ground,
if Forest Whitaker fell in the woods would he make a sound?*
**My ground and pound will confound-verbal skills will astound,
next memory is wakin' up with a crowd around,
ye wanna step and test?,don't mean to be crude,
but ye must have a real taste for hospital food,
through a straw-thru a wired up jaw,
playing ****** up games like Saw,
ye shoulda saw the consequences when ya raised yer paw
yer Paw shoulda raised ye better bout raisin' fists to yer betters,
bunch of bedwetters tryin' to do a Man's job, forget it.**
I'm the best and the worst,best friend-worst enemy,
big mistake offendin' me,don't need no one defendin me
but I still have a crew of real hard rocks,
the lads are used to the hard knocks,
you're used to the hard *****
your faces are so shocked,
you just got yer snot rocked
now you're layin' face first cause you ****** with the best/worst!
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 1:08 AM UTC
It’s an odd romance,
Yet it felt so right,
The charcoal that paints the pristine whites.
Like the scratches and scores across the flawless skin,
The smell of graphite sunk in her skirts,
A touch so rough, yet she yearns.
The creator smiled in delight,
The satisfaction shown in the depths,
From the soul the words formed,
Strung to a garland that met the lead.
The curves and lines the charcoal drew,
Made her quiver in pleasure and pain.
The creator dwelled in these sounds and sights,
Of the romance between his pen and paper.
Like water for a parched throat,
The words soothed many souls.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
I vividly remember back in the day
Before smart gadgets, when I was young.
Every night we waited in the moonlight to play
Life was pure like the playground song.
That was when the world was very young
and friendship was real and not digital.
When autotune wasn't part of a good song
and all photos were normal and typical.
That was when people followed you for real
not on Twitter and Instagram and snapchat.
That was when buttocks and ******* were still real
and real-life friends met for coffee and a real chat.
I clearly remember the big old telephones
When people didn't see the faces of people,
they talked to like we now do on the smartphones.
I missed the old days when sleep wasn't a struggle.
IB-Poetry©️
3/25/2018
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
I like it old-school
receiving handwritten love letters with coffee stains on the paper
putting a music-mix together with songs that remind me of us
going on a simple yet lovely coffee date on a rainy day
or
watching the sunset together even if it's just out of your window
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC
news paper pages
scatter along a ***** wind
some caught in fences separating
some free to climb into the forever of
deep blue sky pure sunshine
washed clean of the sins printed on its page
only photographs remain
a black & white image of the old man
feeding pigeons along the empty path
that lead him there
news paper pages
forever silently burning in a collapse of worlds
so old the smoke has died away
pages with masterful words written
never finding lips to uncage their meaning
a beauty of phrase that has never faded
a chain link barrier between what its
long dead author spoke eloquently
and the world disguised by years of dead dust
only photographs remain
a faded image of an old man
walking the sunset
a scattering of bread crumb's
stretching back along his trail
leading not into the living sky
forever shifting between dark and light
but into the dusty caverns of twilight
forever twilight
by candle light
he will pour over the things he never spoke
wishing only for a voice once more
a way to tell her
about all those yesterdays ago
the why's and whatnot's
that he fiddles with
like wooden toys ever more finely crafted
never to knowing play
never to escape the gathering dust
here he sits
in his comfy chair
tea and biscuits gone cold
and his lips ****** with gentle care
words written on discarded news paper pages
like bread crumbs scattered for
birds that never come
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
we woke up from our dream.
The playground was empty, the swings barely touched by toddlers.
We wanted too be like mommy when mommy is on drugs and daddy can't be found.
It's so hard trying to remember the last time you preferred soda over ***** because soda doesn't make you forget the pain as well.
Can you believe we really did sit on those swings, wanted to watch reruns and drink soda?
Even wanted to be like our parents for a time?
It may look nice, cheerful, and happy as can be but its cold out here in the world and sometimes I'm happy I woke up.
I know that its not unicorns and sugar-pops all around but, there are times I wish I was oblivious to my indigenous home.
Friend we woke up a long time ago but you handled it differently than I.
So differently that you were dreaming again just a new dream.
I only wonder when you will wake up this time.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
You called me old school
Just because I believe in purity
You called me old school
Just because I wasn't influence by social media to overcome my inferiority
You called me old school
Just because I don't swear or cuss
You called me old school
Just because in the midst of a chaos I remain Hush
You called me old school
Just because I believe in a deep sacrificial love.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Ru,
My name's Ru,
Name's Ru. . .
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
One night a year,
I head the sleigh
Good or bad,
play or pay
My name's Rudolph
'now-what-do-you-say?'
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Rudolph,
I brought San-ta here
Got eleven brothers,
they call 'em reindeer
Rock the whole world,
'only-once-a-year'
Discovered on a farm,
no fans, -no cheer
Made fun o' me,
'cause my nose queer'
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Ru,
My name's Ru,
Name's Ru. . .
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
So Santa comes up,
has this to say;
"There's no Sun,
...how do we light the way?"
Brother reindeer's looking here nor there...
Santa an elves searching every-where
Nose lights up,
they stop and stare!
So Santa comes up,
has this to say;
"Your nose so bright,
why don't you light my way?"
Better not laugh,
or mess with reindeer
My name's Rudolph,
I kick it in gear
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Ru,
My name's Ru,
Name's Ru. . .
These horns is guns,
nose a la-ser
Eyes on target,
and that is you Sir
You better be good,
or I'm taking you out
*'member-my-name-son,
cause-I-got-clout'*
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Ruddy as Hell,
so listen right cheer
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Ru,
My name's Ru,
Name's Ru. . .
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Nose of light,
rock-night/crystal clear
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
My name's Rudolph,
and I'm a reindeer
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
It's common knowledge that after getting a phone number,
one must wait three whole days before giving a call,
to make sure the interaction remains calculatedly casual,
as opposed to needy or uninterested,
which is complete cupid ****
It's appalling that one's intense desire to contact an individual one is drawn to,
is not seen as a mere gesture of sentiment or affection,
but rather weakness and vulnerability.
Even in the darkest and drunkest hours
there will be no super likes,
for no one can afford to wear the heart on their sleeves,
in this world of left and right swipes.
The chase is so overrated not only does it never end,
but also overlooks the catch even when it's finally caught.
True feelings disguised by emojis concentrated into 140 characters
ridicule the ideology of love and romance,
when really we're nostalgic of the times,
we once murmured into brick sized cordless phones at wee hours in the morning,
"you hang up... nooo you hang up first..."
When did meeting the parents not become meeting the parents,
but rather the quick show of another chick to flaunt how well life is going at the moment?
When did compartmentalizing life mean pursuing romantic relationships over the weekends only?
When did to love, to want, to need, to show affection become such girly things,
those who are engulfed by romantic comedies and sensitivity did?
All I really want is to call you and tell you how much I miss you,
and just listen to you breath even if you don't have anything to say.
But, I guess I'll just wait for you to whatsapp me sometime during the weekend...
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
*Its been awhile
We're happy, oh my
I shrug you sigh
You joke I die.
Under the sunlight
I hug you tight
"Oh you got fat.."
I got a knock and a pat.
Together with the league
I laugh and gig.
Our team's back
Feathers are ready to flock.*
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
square ;rectangle
rhomboidal shapes
a special safe
to hold memories in place
magical contraption
hanging on walls
look long enough
and you'll float
on little paper planes
carrying you to another time in space
which once lived now seems surreal
bringing you back to the moment
the present is all you have for real
yet you may traverse the memory lanes
thanks to photoframes...,
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
Language, anguish
Wrapped myself in blankets
Thinkin' about girls that consider me strange-ish
Well who really cares
Givin' off looks, and creepy stares
Stalkin' and talkin'
Chills and sidewalk chalkin'
Layin' in bed with you
Makin' plans we'll never do
Pretty girl, anywhere, I'll take you to
Just wanna kiss,
And kick it too
Sleeping tonight, feels so wrong
Alone, tonight, feels so long
But you call, talkin' *****
We up till seven-thirty
You know I'm right here
Let me whisper in your ear
Let's fu- I mean make love
And then maybe, if push comes to shove
I'll let you act just like a white dove
Scheming, dreaming, it's all seeming
A little hot, but not shot
All my plans and secrets too
Cause when I'm in your bed
I'll stay lovin' you
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
It brings my heart so much pain
when she passes through my brain.
So badly I want this dame,
but everyday’s still the same.
Even though I try to change
to keep no shame in my game,
she keeps on switching lanes,
which is driving me insane.
When at me her smile aims
it just hits me like a train.
My composure's harder to retain,
getting me higher than a plane.
She might think I'm strange
and I might be out of her range,
and some may even claim
that my efforts are in vain,
but as long as she says my name
in my mind she'll remain.
From her I can't abstain,
which is kind of hard to explain.
To the wall she has me chained.
She has this beast tamed.
My love for her I'd exclaim
from Spain, then back to Spain.
Whenever too much I entertain
and start to become drained
she is my support cane,
helps to keep me sustained.
Though this world's full of rain
she's my light through the pane.
Once she knows my love she's gained
in her life she'll be glad I came.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC