"mundanes" poems
I’ve made a promise have to complete
thee a loser never to compete
my soul tattered that’s how i’ll bleed
diminish all shalt rid
mundanes with fine talent make perfect stead
as i’m gone who would take the lead
night wind howling as pain licks
hollow through my core once i wear of heat
on the cliff of valhalla i oath our only creed
flipping through minds in present
not anyone can cheat
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 6:44 AM UTC
underground held a slam poetry contest.
they drew me from the crowd,
"wanna be the judge? hold your score cards,
the poets would soon get here."
I was sitting on one of those chairs,
front row, facing the competitors.
oh how young they were, glasses and what not,
distressed jeans, leather boots,
some had strange bracelets and weird tattoos.
and some looked just like me,
eager for a show of the best of arts.
"this is exciting" "no **** a friend brought me here,
never been to a slam show."
that guy next to me was even more excited than I,
he frantically slipped through his stack of cards, asking me,
"how picky are you? you like poetry? how do you decide on a ten?"
I said, "a ten is one that makes me **** my pants",
to which he shut up.
slam
the performance of the words, the rhythm, the rhymes,
metaphors and the like were dropped like fire,
I tried to catch them but a few I missed.
didn't need to make sense,
for they were so good.
I just sat there and kept drawing my ten's.
I could hear the guy next to me mumbling,
"now that starts to smell real bad."
I gracefully turned to him and said, "thank you."
have you been to a slam poetry contest?
it is like a festival of ********** except
you could only use your mouth, and some
body gestures perhaps. it became good,
when one poet started to create illusions and reality
with a story about one guy waking up constantly
like me, who kept running into the vicious circle
of daily mundanes and forgettable details.
to listen and watch him was to see poetry at its rawest best
posing itself ****
underground poets, here I came to give you
my stack of ten's. for you have created
such lively, dedicated
recollections of my world.
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 11:49 PM UTC
*
***the only way
to be happy anyway
is to "cut"
yes
cut the train of thoughts
cut the expectations down
cut the ties of attachments
cut the calories
cut the unnecessary interactions
cut the mundanes.....***
*
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 10:04 PM UTC
We are all untitled
We Amy have jobs
Or go to school
But we are all untitled
Yes we have a name
An a date
Be we are all untitled
Yes but we are all mundanes who look for a title that dosent exist
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
Your eyes were my own private river, bathing in the ring of blue around your iris. Enamored with the greenery protected by your eyelashes.
November to February not long enough to drown beneath them
I am plagued by the ghost of your reassuring caress
Your breath during nighttime a missing comfort
For alone I am surrounded by darkness.
Moments spent cradling cobwebs of each-others limbs
Intricate designs casting from our bodies as we felt like one in the same.
Our allure as a couple outshone the mundanes of just a ****** attraction
My soul felt yours
but I am alone,
with the overbearing grief of love lost.
March 16th, 2020
Darling,
please find your way back home.
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 3:05 AM UTC