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NeroameeAlucard Dec 2014
I'm like Gangrel I burn hotter than a ****** of devil my damphiric killer instinct runs deep into my soul mending bending and twisting what you think is a weakness dents in the armor I bring to battle I go to war on the floor while your rhymes **** more than a who're symphonic with the flow so solid like onix lyrical high like I spit the chronic hits like a **** leaving hoes wetter than a just washed thing what's wrong didn't think that the kid brought bars if you stand before me you'll fall before me I known you abhor me but ya girl adores me like loose leaf or sweet leaf Osbourne I'm still sore from last night another fight slept with another dudes wife I bring trife strife and drama enforcer like a flying saucer animated like flip o rama 
Cranberry ***** harder than a just busted cherry it's scary what I do to this microphone it's my own when I'm in the zone 
*drops
Mike Hauser Nov 2013
Okay that's it
I finally quit
I've had my years of fun

I've got exercise
Clear in my sights
Fat will soon be on the run

Had a problem in
Getting in the gym
The doors won't fit my **** double wide

So in disgrace
I plaster my face
On the window to watch the skinny's inside

In my depressed state
I went and ate
Another meal served up for four

One thing I like
About the places I dine
There's always room in and out the door

Then guilt overwhelms
Like a hellhound
As I was in the middle of my desert

It could have come sooner than this
And for that I am blessed
It could have come during my last course

Here I am back in my boat
Without a paddle to row
My only form of exercise

But before it's to late
I toss a little more dirt on my grave
With another order of double fries

With my meal out of the way
I go back to the start of the day
Which seems to be sunnier than ever

I decide to go for a jog
Before all my arteries clog
Maybe though I'll wait for better weather

........................................................­........

Here we are a new day
This is the earliest I've ever been late
You know what they say about catching the worm

I stop to eat my worm on the way
IHOP  double stack pancakes
Will that worm never learn

The only exercise these days
Is a fork in my face
If this were the Olympics I'd win a prize

I wonder if this is considered a sport
The reaching of maple syrup
And wouldn't squeezing the bottle also be exercise

I'll try tomorrow again
To reign myself in
One of these days it's bound to catch

I'll look to the future in life
Instead of behind
Then at least I won't have to look at my fat...
Fat, ugly, and unloved.
You need to go puke in the toilet.
Continue puking in the toilet, ugly *****.
Because you really are not that slim.
Only drink coffee.
No food for you today.
Starving yourself everyday will for sure keep the fat away
Stupid *****, continue to excersise.
You must look perfect before you die.
About me....
©LogenMichel copyright 2015
Eli Grove May 2013
I tried to quit smoking last week. And my best friend died for eighteen hours. Such a deep loss has only been felt by rose hips, in the early winter, after the petals have fallen to the ground, like snow, like jumpers from high-rise buildings, like a maiden, after that last, fatal step off the plank, with swords at her back, and the horizon calling to her, the song of the Sirens drifting up from the ocean floor. Dropping, like petals, caught in a harsh winter breeze. The left-overs, the carcases of the flowers that were and are no more, watch with eyes of sorrow and hearts of lead, as each friend, companion, lover, even casual aquaintance plummets, to land on the already frozen soil of a dead, snowless, Colorado winter.
I died with my friend. My roots were tangled, and with each second that passed, a million axes took bites out of them, feasting on my identity. The axes were only gold-plated, it would seem, and not pure, unadulterated precious metal. Engraved in the paper-thin facade was a name, a face, and a hope, all of which were merely a poor excuse for an excersise in willpower. The cold, iron blade shone through the thin, gently curved lines of lip and ear and eye made of nebula. With each breath that passed between loosely parted lips, I felt myself fade, giving my everthing to the world (hope, name, face) that had, only moments before, murdered my closest companion.
My eyes grew steadily hard, increased stone-content. By 6:30, I had been staring into the eyes of my mistress, Medusa, for at least two hours, my head filled with love songs and daydreams, clutching straws and holding out for the one perfect moment that would shed a brief light on my life, which is, in all reality, the afformentioned pirate ship, but void of lamps, candles, or any other means of illumination.
Questions flowed to the surface of my disjointed mind in a stream, a river, an oceanic current of molten rock and sloppy second guesses.
(Will one hurt? Half? Just one puff? Why? Why? Why?)
And as I turned to stone, I finally found the courage to answer one of the questions that my brain shot itself with, injected into its own blood stream. The question was the sole bullet in a revolving, high-stakes betting game, the answer, the fourth trigger pull, with only two chances left anyway.
(Because... I don't know why...)
So stand up, go to the place you have thought about two-million times, and, yes, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette.
As my friend rose from the dead, pushing aside the boulder blocking the entrance to its tomb, which everyone knew was just a temporary tenement, and we were reunited, we spoke of fascists. Well, I spoke of fascists, it listened. I spoke of the kind of fascists that exist in grayscale television commercials, spewing ingnorant words about the untimely deaths of beloved family members, who give me ***** looks in public, and have forced me into alleyways, across streets, out of sight, out of mind, to the back of the bus, as if non-smokers live forever, as if everyone can accomplish said impossible feat, if not for the evil plant, the evil spiritual plant that poses a threat to the well-ordered religious structures, pyres built for martyrs and long-dead saviors.
I have only begged for eternity once, and I was very young, with years of rocks and hard places ahead, only pink clouds behind, and eyes incapable of foresight. This boy ate apples, and drew on his arms with black pen every Sunday. Go into the church clean, bathed, come out with temorary full-sleeve tattoos. This boy was made of wonder, myth, and blind acceptance. No longer.
I have now gazed into an eternity made of open graves, lost loves, and harsh, barbed-wire truths, punctuated with sharp, jabbing exclamation points of brief pleasure that only seem to make the reality of eternity worse. I am a *******, and even I don't want that. A body can only function for so long without sleep before the motor wears out, the radiator breaks, the gasket leaks, and the marbles flee from the growing insanity of their owner. We all need to rest eventually, and in my secret mind - the one that grimaces with sick pleasure and only shows its teeth in the lines of a poem, slightly blurred by metaphor - I long for that sleep. I am tired, but the day is only half done. But each sun sets, and we can not deny it that truth, that sensation of finality that settles upon senile eyes like a cataract, that snuggles against warm, pink lungs in all its black, tar-like splendor.
Truth, like so many other things in this solar system, only takes shape when under the eye of a microscope, with a passive viewer sewn to the end of it, with the sole intention of passing judgement before shouting "NEXT," and repeating the process untill they either run out of things to judge (blame, think, guilt-trip) or die.
So, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette. Puff, puff, puff it and let us hope they never get to either of us, old friend.
Lorraine Floyd Dec 2011
i cant keep up with what i should have done yesterday.
there is no gold at the end of the rainbow.
just the tomorrow youve been waiting for.
im lazy and tired and broke and sad.
i should have fixed that yesterday
but tomorrow. i promise
i will eat better, excersise more
i will get to sleep before 11
i will save my money and stop buying things i dont need
i will quit smoking
i will give back to everybody who has given to me
i will let go of things i cant hold on to
i will be patient and kind
i will be happy with what i have
i will do everything i need to do
everything i should do, want to do, hope to do
tomorrow

tomorrow i will live like nothing is holding me down
i will forget old hurts and forgive the new ones
i will show the people i love that i really do love them
i will quit making the same mistakes
tomorrow
its too tough to do today
im too lazy and broke and tired and sad to do it
i should have fixed it yesterday
but ill wait till tomorrow
Sirenes Feb 2018
Who do you want to be when you grow up*

What a strange question...
who would I want to be
But just simply who I am?
What should I want to be
But simply just me?
Just one problem...
I can’t remember me?
Every dream of becoming better
And the process of getting there,
Led me to one thing?
Just me.
It turned out that Just Me
Is burned out.
And all the things that I dreamed of
The simple things
Like being able to get lost in a book
Or cooking three meals a day
And getting some excersise,
Were just there to be done
But how could I,
When all these things
Remind me of me?
If I did all that, I’d own up to myself
And I’d remember me
And everything I’m made of.
But somehow I became it anyway...
There are herbs growing by the window
And my sleep needs less of me,
The excuses to get fit
Have been silenced
And there’s a long list
Of fun things to do
All by myself
There’s a long lost voice saying
“Go for Sunday coffee with a friend”
The will to smoke has left me
And the things I always wanted to do
And always stalled infinitely
Are so close, I can feel them.
There’s still work to be done
But the view you get
Half way up the mountain
Is priceless and I’m grateful.
my last year's New Year's resolution was to become better than I was before.
I just became more of myself and it's paying off. yay
Mike Hauser Dec 2017
This years resolution
With much considered thought
After all this time find that I
Will give it all to God

Because this world to me means nothing
And holds onto even less
Than what I see I could ever need
Or even care to have

With the aging of this eyesight
The more I tend to see
What is important to my walk
And this tender heart in me

This year I'll get more excersise
But this time of the spiritual kind
Learn to love the Lord much more
With all my heart, my soul, and mind

To wake up each morning early
Feeding on the Bread of Life
Share the cleansing blood of the chosen one
To other souls in kind

I will learn to love my fellow man
Unconditionally
That what will shine will be Jesus' light
When they see or think of me

I will pray to God without ceasing
In every circumstance
And take each day along the way
For the blessing that it is

This years resolution
With much considered thought
After all this time find that I
Will this time give it all to God

— The End —