"ranked" poems
I'm a lonely sailor, down four pitchers,
I'm high and low, how often I don't know.
I'm to take commands, I'm not on my own,
Days with bacchanals, nights with dark.
A deserted sailor, with a salient dream.
Whom I'm to speak with? The sea?
I've lost my tongue, I've lost me.
A pure path leading to the moon,
I hear the echolocation of whales,
It's the only company I can think of.
Threats passing within miles, with sharp red lines,
A twisted fate, I dream dancing on my grave.
I get old, I'm ranked high, my pockets are full.
My heart is dry, and smiles are wry.
Whom I'm to speak with? The sea?
I've lost my tongue, I've lost me.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
We are, THE Ohio State Buckeyes
*Those Oregon ducks look flashy
With pretty feathers made for flight
But The Ohio State Buckeyes
We will clip their wings tonight
Our Buckeye team beat Bama
They were ranked at number one
Now we get to go Duck hunting
With Cardale and his shotgun
The Ducks they did look good
Lets give credit where credit's due
They beat undefeated Florida State
So they deserve to be there too
With Ezekiel Elliott making runs
And Urban Meyer making calls
A quarterback known as twelve guage
The Buckeyes will win it all
So now we get to go duck hunting
And as a team we hunt as one
We are the Buckeye Nation
And Duck Season has begun*
**We Are
THE Ohio State Buckeyes**
Game score
FINAL
OHIO STATE 42 Oregon 20
The Ohio State Buckeyes are College Footballs First Playoff National Champions
Poem by:
Carl Joseph Roberts
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
Korean fashion experts have shared their know-how with Malaysia.
At the "K-Fashion Conference for Malaysia" in Kuala Lumpur on Feb. 16, a group of Korean professionals gave lectures under the topics "K-Fashion Design Trend Transition & Forecast," "Digital & Online Marketing Strategies," "Power Brand and Concept Development Strategies" and "How to enter the global market."
The Korea Fashion Association, the Malaysia External Trade Development Corporation (MATRADE) and the ASEAN-Korea Centre organized the event to strengthen the competitiveness of Malaysian fashion brands by improving the added value of the industry through brand development.
About 50 Malaysian fashion industry companies and related government officials attended.
"There is growing interest in K-fashion, along with the high popularity of Korean dramas and entertainment shows, making this workshop even more timely and meaningful," ASEAN-Korea Centre Secretary General Kim Young-sun said. "The Malaysian fashion industry has huge potential as it is currently ranked in the top five in the ASEAN fashion industry."
On Feb. 15 and 17, Korean experts visited local fashion merchandisers for market research and consultations.
According to the ASEAN-Korea Centre, the Malaysian fashion industry has had massive growth with the expansion of Islamic fashion markets.
MATRADE aims to boost the industry as the nation's leading exporter. It has been organizing Malaysia Fashion Week (MFW) since 2014 to make the capital a fashion destination in Asia.
The second MFW in 2015 featured designers from more than 15 countries, and over 300 booths showcased the quality products of Malaysian fashion brands to the domestic and foreign trade, accodring to the organization.
The ASEAN-Korea Centre is an intergovernmental organization established in 2009 with an aim to promote exchanges among Korea and the 10 ASEAN member states.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
In society,
Women are always told they are too much.
Too angry, too calm
Too quiet, too loud
Too big, too small
And we are all of these things
We are angry.
Angry about the internalized oppression that still flows on a day to day basis. We are angry about our predefined roles of what girl is, what girl should be.
And we are too calm.
Calm about the man that called you a name in the street and all you wanted to do was cry
Or the teacher that told you you couldn't do what you wanted because it was a mans place, not a woman's
You should have yelled, but you didn't. Because we are too calm.
We are too quiet.
We are silenced.
Our opinions are ranked of worthiness by our physical features, our body types. Our intelligence is last to our ****** appeal. We can not be heard through the babble of social media judging and critiquing and pointing out our flaws. So we are quiet.
And we are loud.
We have the ability to speak for the world. To weave the revolution out of the words of women. We have the voice to speak to our sisters globally, teach women that we are loud. We can drown out prejudice with the power of voice and bring down the barrier of how a girl should be.
We are small.
Told that our personalities are preset by the gender normalities that the patriarchy has placed, we are shrunk to fit our predefined roles. They cut us into shapes so we can not realize that we are so much bigger.
Because we are big.
We are huge. We have global impact. While we are cut down, I would like to see us glue each other back together. I want to see women take back our voices. I want to hear women all over the world speak how they feel, bust through the barriers of what the patriarchy has told them. Fight back against their rapists, abusers, silencers. When someone tells you that you are being too much, say "I am. And I am becoming so much more."
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
You swell some strain on me,
You, middle kingdom!
Eradicating small detachments,
Of both sailors and marines.
They were ranked on islets and reefs,
With an integer of nine –
There in the island next to me,
I’m sure, you know who Spratly is.
Always wanting such detachment
To be eradicated by your own;
Now stationed
On a World War II era landing ship.
Your toy-ships came near me,
With 9-kilometer of the LST.
“It’s there illegally,”
How adamant that be!
I’ve tipped you off already,
Surely will I stand firm!
Then, you’ve countered me on! –
Opting for the ******** of more skyscrapers;
Those that are on stilts;
Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? –
Nearby my darling Palawan Island!
“There is no room at all,”
For the negotiation on some point,
You’ve declared.
Oh, here’s my friend, U.S.
Left us with course of action to try;
Everyone calm down,
Be less provocative.
For often, he flies over;
Probing some stuffs.
You are the biggest offender, my friend;
In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing;
Or backing, down.
But hey, I won’t give up!
(9/9/13)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Well crap, game is over and they beat us.
I write these words with sadness as Michigan State wins the game fair and square, no tricks, no bad calls just man on man beat us.
___________________________________________________
My Team, My Dream, My Buckeyes
The Ohio State Buckeyes
Each year their games I view
My team still undefeated
And ranked at number two
We now must play a team up north
But not the maize and blue
We beat that rival of our school
Now we'll beat the green ones too
With the game this week that we must play
We know one team must fall
With Buckeye Pride and heads held high
We will sing our victory song
The champion who will win this game
Will wear the Big Ten crown
They will give to them a trophy
And a parade for all in town
Then one more game that we must play
To be the number one of all
As college football champions
We will raise that Chrystal Ball
Go Bucks.... O. H. __. __.
THE Ohio State University
Carl Joseph Roberts
December 2013
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
“O lonely workman, standing there
In a dream, why do you stare and stare
At her grave, as no other grave where there?”
“If your great gaunt eyes so importune
Her soul by the shine of this corpse-cold moon,
Maybe you’ll raise her phantom soon!”
“Why, fool, it is what I would rather see
Than all the living folk there be;
But alas, there is no such joy for me!”
“Ah—she was one you loved, no doubt,
Through good and evil, through rain and drought,
And when she passed, all your sun went out?”
“Nay: she was the woman I did not love,
Whom all the other were ranked above,
Whom during her life I thought nothing of.”
2.1k
Remember our high school finals-
the proctors, attentive, alert.
They roamed the aisles like policemen;
on the lookout for cheaters and flirts.
I was an enigma to them;
in some classes, first honors, hands down.
In others I ranked near the bottom;
acting, you’d say, the class clown.
I mention those long ago days
as I’m facing a final of sorts.
I’ve taken the medical tests-
Now I wait in my robe and my shorts.
This new proctor gives me the creeps
with his scythe and his hooded black gown,
but he’s sure to command my attention
when he tells me to put my pen down
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 9:59 AM UTC
O indiginous tuber to Peru,
Now in nations' daily stews,
From the Polar South to Timbuktu,
Ranked with rice, wheat and maize,
Oh staple potatoe
You grace our table.
We plant seed spuds,
Red, yellow or brown,
Harvest the new ones,
The remainder mound
To thrive in leisure,
As buried treasure.
Heel the spud *****
Unearth your trove,
A gatherer's surprise
To woo true love.
We slice, dice and mash,
Roast, deep-fry and bake.
It's not an egg,
It'll never break.
***Medium-rare, please.
And make mine a baked.
Oh, and don't forget the butter,
Oh, and sour-cream, just in case.”***
It hasn't got *** appeal,
What you see is true,
But make no mistake,
I swear by what's holy in taste,
It only has eyes for you.
Pharmaceutically,
It soothes,
Burns, itches, puffy eyes,
Migraines and headaches.
Make a stamp,
Make silver shine,
Clean your windows with its brine.
And potatoe muffins are simply divine.
When blight strikes,
When crops don't thrive,
Many starve,
Many have died.
So, I raise this toast
To the lofty Tuber,
And I dedicate this Ode,
To the one,
The only:
***Mr. Potatoe,
This bud's for you.***
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 6:04 PM UTC
The hollow truth carried on the wind
Budding asphodels wilted upon the pyre of paradise
Erst the rusted gates of Heaven
Deleing corrupt realm deliverance salting
The rivers of Eden,
Ananta, contemner of dawn
Stealing Levannah breaking Sol.
Without brethren kith, treading the tide
Of redemption thitherto
A tear in the fabric of the universe
Another drop in the ocean aflame
So that that fire humanity could be set
Broken vessels as like sunken ships
Eclipsing their own elan;
Fraying equilibrium averred officers of Hell
No more angels standing yet ranked still
In offices most high despairing
Purities ruination conjunctively
As with the same stride sought in
Pitched battle- touchable caste
Derelict of kin.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 5:59 AM UTC
I walked into Walgreen’s that night
absorbed in my own little world.
Soon after entering,
I made my way to the line.
My eyes
d a n c e d
to the crescent-moon shaped scar
adorning the young clerk’s neck.
With the gentleman in front of me,
he spoke of
camouflage and machine guns.
Earlier times when he
could only see his
family through
the lens of
a
webcam.
When he first learned what it took
to be a man.
And when he learned what true loss
really felt like.
It’s my turn.
I step f o r w ard
and stare directly into his eyes
and wonder
how he ended up here.
His face doesn’t give away much,
he’s painted on a cordial smile
and the air between us seeps
with the remnants
of small talk.
But I can’t help wondering.
I wonder, if he knows
he’s more than he’s been told.
more than he’s settled for.
more than the orders he was commanded to obey.
more than the lines he was expected to cross.
more than the monster he had to become.
To survive.
I can’t help but wonder
how he’s ended up here.
Overseas— he’s ranked
but now that he’s home
on friendly soil, he’s thrown into department store
positions and temporary jobs.
I can only hope he’s better off than some of his friends
tossed into
psychiatrists offices.
But I wonder,
I wonder what memories might decide to plague his dreams.
While he tries to figure out
which pill alleviates which painful recollection.
Which part of his past will come back to haunt him today
and which of his friends lives will flash before his eyes while he tries to sleep.
Norepinephrine firing through his brain
like the gunshots he had to deliver.
The U.S government is so quick to draft,
but hasn’t learned how to welcome home.
They hide their veterans in the dark corners of psych wards,
allow them to get lost in the depths of their own minds,
while the PTSD
eats away whatever is left.
These men fight for countries who don’t know what to do with them afterwards.
What they both need to learn:
There is life after war.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
Some recite distant waves of their time lines in a scatter
Repressed memories that come and go and fluculate with chaos
Mine are in order, like a precise file cabinet of a New York court house A through Z
1 to a million plus more filed in rigid manor
The room they lie in remains untouched on most occasions
It’s rare for me to make a visit,
But the grey cast of pulverous dust keeps people away
Including myself
Oddly enough, I wish I had the time to extinguish those files,
And completely erase everything that exists
And co-exists together within label
To revive and produce anew set of secrets
That bask in a solar energy structured room
With windows of 8 feet in height or more
So that the sun can give off a plentiful suppelment of vitamins
To keep the energy alive
To have nothing to hide
And showcase my pieces elegantly
For everyday shoppers to stop and glance,
A few applauds here and there as well
To jazz the setting up a tad
But unlike like most
I place the past so far back
It’s like the Rossetta Stone
Before she was found
All over again
When it’s finally discovered, I warn,
It will be rickety and impassible for any eyes,
News papers,
Or media to surpass
Almost as if a high ranked prison
Has just unshackled it’s most dangerous inmate
Set free on good behavior
How unfair the system can be, let alone unnerving
For now my files stay clouded and sunk
Farther than the Marianas Trench
With thousands of species undiscovered
Inaccessible to even think about attaining
So don’t worry about my inner demon being unleashed
Good behavior on good,
It's always on it’s worst.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 1:41 PM UTC
I've done lots of damage being sober is me resting my ego
I do get the courage urge to drink but I'm stronger than this addiction
It's for the weak so I don't want to be submissive
I can't and won't go back dealing with anger and frustration is hard but able to cope with makes life easy
I get the urge to fight but in the spirit of competition I want to get better and be better at the sport. I do the conditioning and training I want to be a ranked contender. I hate training for no reason to me there's a reason for everything.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
He’d been close to the big time,
If not a god of the fight game, perhaps a demigod;
He’d been possessed of considerable brute strength
And the ability to shut out concern for the well-being of others,
But there had been the odd ***** in his armor:
An overhand right which announced itself too early,
And arrived just a smidgen too late,
Plus an unhappy tendency to lose focus,
To stray from those plans his corner had set up chapter and verse,
Choosing the forbidden fruit of the quick knockout.
He had, after losing a bout to a top-ranked fighter
(He was eighth in the world, he would chuckle ruefully,
And I fought him like I was eight years old.)
Decided to chuck it all in,
Enrolling in a scruffy little bible college
Sitting just off an interstate on-ramp,
Cheek-to-jowl with a Wendy’s and 7-11,
In order to facilitate the transition from mayhem to ministry.
He’d soured on the process in fairly short order;
He understood instinctually that he, like all men,
Was a sinner, and likely unworthy of salvation,
And the faculty accentuated the notion daily, if not hourly,
Like so many jabs to the midsection.
He’d inquired, gently, as to the approach one should take
To addressing the worrisome paradox
That all men were imperfect beings
Marooned on an imperfect world,
Yet their fallibility was all they had to build on,
(A rickety ladder to scramble upwards, for sure,
But the only way to reach that golden fruit
Held out for him, though just beyond his grasp.)
The responses varied, from sputtering and vague parries
To the suggestion that such notions were heresy,
And so he’d returned to the club-and-casino circuit
Makin’ the best use of the gifts I have, he would sigh,
Before heading out once more,
Hoping there was one more short right at least one more time.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 4:11 PM UTC
I stand just beside you
unseen in your frame
How much ever I try anew
People identify me with your name.
We both have the same talent
but I'm ranked with the boors.
You are a famous gallant
As victory is always yours
We are still together
Smile, laugh and enjoy
But Deep inside I wither
Like Achilles in the war of troy
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 1:11 PM UTC
I come from Kashmir
where land is green & white snow bed
and I come from Kashmir
where roads aren’t black but are red.
I come from Kashmir
where Daughter Tajamul brought Gold
and I come from Kashmir
where daughter Nafiya craves for her father’s body and lost his soul.
I come from Kashmir
where journalists get Peter Mackler & Pulitzer awards
and yet I come from Kashmir
where journalists get charged under UAPA as a reward.
I come from Kashmir
where Thekedar gets benefits under the Roshni Act
and I come from Kashmir
where an internet shutdown of 551 days was for every sect.
I come from Kashmir
where Gupta g ranked 1st in the country
and yet I come from Kashmir
where youth have to carry ID’s to prove their identity.
I come from Kashmir
which was known for its cultural dress Pheran
and I come from Kashmir
which now has more business in selling Kaffan.
I come from Kashmir
which Allama called the valley of braves
and I come from Kashmir
which now is the valley of Graves.
I come from Kashmir
which was called Earth’s Heaven
and yet I come from Kashmir
which now is the World’s Biggest Prison.
I come from Kashmir
where Chinars paint the autumn gold
and I come from Kashmir
where every spring, new tombstones unfold.
I come from Kashmir
where Dal Lake mirrors the moon’s glow
and I come from Kashmir
where blood taints the rivers’ flow.
I come from Kashmir
where children dream of books and play
and I come from Kashmir
where childhoods vanish in smoke and clay.
I come from Kashmir
where lovers once whispered in gardens wide
and yet I come from Kashmir
where silence now walks side by side.
I come from Kashmir
where poets wrote of love and fate
and yet I come from Kashmir
where verses now carry only weight.
I come from Kashmir
which history books fail to define
and I come from Kashmir
which lives between the headlines’ lines.
Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 10:36 PM UTC
A myriad of views from the window pane
sparks buried memories.
August has always been that Augural Month
the time of Achromatic colours,
painted as crumbling stone walls
from a bygone Age.
Ice wine drank from the rind of the gourd
ranked sour, a season's poor worth -
nature's tithe ?
The colour of the meandering smoke
discernible from my window,
will count for more promises
like a laden Kaleidoscope apart.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
Marjan Asi worked super hard to get her Ph.D.
And now she can celebrate with her really happy and proud family
A graduation party with a piece of cake and a cup of Persian or Arab tea
Allah hu Akbar, Rah-rah, Woo-hoo, Way To Go
for the one and only
Independent and determined,
Marjan by herself moved to a new land
leaving behind her beloved parents,
Mr. and Mrs. Asi
What a fantastic job they did grooming she
Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies is what she precisely chose to study
With a goal in mind and Allah in her heart,
she pursued it to the end
for the betterment of we
Marjan Asi with a Ph.D.
Oh my God, Unbelievable, I knooow, I'll say it to many
Asking at Eid prayer,
wondering how she's doing it with a toddler son and a new baby
My husband,
He's over there,
He helps a lot, she said to me
Like with everything,
it took cooperation
walking and working together,
she and her family tree
Marjan Asi with a Ph.D.
From a top world ranked university
In a subject area regarded supreme
by The Highest Deity
You did it, my friend,
Marjan, Dr. Asi
Shukran Lillah, Shukran Jazilan,
Al hamdulilah,
I've said it to THE/thee
By: Najwa Kareem
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 3:23 PM UTC
in Honor of my father
He was born in Isle La Monte
In nineteen twenty six
Son of a plot farmer
The soil to plant and mix
He was a good student
A good lad as a rule
In the winter he would trek
Twelve miles to go to school
An IQ test was given
I will not debate
My father came in second
For the record of the state!
He did achieve much excellence
I think you will agree
He paid his own way
To go to MIT
He served his country loyally
He was a navel man
Was ranked at RT-4
On a LST landing craft
He manned the radio towers
And handed up the shells
The Kamakazi dove to ****
In Okinawa's hell...
He is a faithful husband
And a father who's bar none
If my father'd been on the other side
I believe they would have won!
Now he's on the Dream Flight
To Washington DC
And I tell you that his daughter
Is as proud as proud can be!!!
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
Oh my estranged lover,
What is my mistake?
To care about you,
And to suggest?
That too,
For your own good?
I never wanted any control.
Oh my sweetest lover,
What is my crime?
To selflessly love you,
And to support?
That as well,
For yourself?
I only wanted a lifelong friend.
Perhaps, a friend has an end,
But I wanted you as my lover,
And a lover is for forever?
I started to suggest,
At your own request,
Have you forgotten?
I just wanted to care about you.
Then you say that you have parents,
And they care for you as well,
You are their first born.
And you have two siblings,
Then why do you put up strange demands,
Have you forgotten Manya & Atharv too?
I tell you the rudest words because these are the crudest truth.
Do you know when your father will take a loan,
Supposedly from one of the private banks,
What he will have to pledge against it?
Maybe his car or more,
Perhaps his business office,
Or maybe the home?
I will suggest you against going overseas to study.
Do not you know India has the best education,
Ranked number one since ages long ago,
Where you transpire to go leaving it?
Trust me you do not,
I know that,
But what about your family?
Will you surely repay your loan by yourself?
Baby, you are immature and a control freak,
Controlling me was almost acceptable then,
But why do you control your father?
I love you like anything,
Your father loves you too,
But do you love anyone but yourself?
Wake up from your fantasies and face the reality.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
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Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
He wants to be an engineer. He's talking about Newton and Hooke and I can't really keep up. He spits out equations and formulas, numbers and letters, my head hurts just thinking of it. His eyes are getting wider, brighter. It almost hurts to look at him when he gets like this. I know people are confused when they see us. He is math I am words. He is a top ranked school I am community college. He's filled with equations, formulas, and theories. I am filled with poetry, books, and literary devices. And in the fall we will part and despite the promises of keeping in touch I'll be just another thing he's left behind.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Protesting, I, rise, e-raising my hand,
in ranked row,
three from the front, in the middle,
a glance,
and nothing more, and another,
Aseneth was her name, and she hated it.
She said.
Many were the flirty glances, unrestrained
wonder
what is different,
is this ink, or scar tissue?
Eight billion essentially identical minds, in use,
being tuned to consume elemental mental
as we form from base material, mother stuff.
We think in single words, letters let us do this,
that which formerly prevented, lets us do this now,
do you read me is not valid protocol on a voxnet.
You know. Five by five, is not valid either, listen.
Does your memed mind hear me now, Brown Cow,
Dao a do nothing dues paid note, this is business,
this is what the messenger in charge,
special agent,
secret agencies allowed, in my mind, baby, listening
constantly, no time,
silent,
only imagining Major Tom.
Waking spacy Sunday Morning, unre-tied to the strand
of faith that wound the core hard ball of pure rubber,
vulcanized, for bounce,
CRACK of the bat, where once, no, each once ever,
the feeling
one side, then the other, being mentally cognoscente,
cognoscenti, either way,
we both know, we both take knowing duty as demanded
of the code
we obey. At the command. We pay proper attention,
not too much of any thing,
take your own measure,
remember, certainty is bad mad solid state, bricked.
Mar 5, 2023
Mar 5, 2023 at 1:06 PM UTC
Who are we? we ask, always asking ourselves the same questions...
We are the world.
We are brothers and sisters. Sons and daughters.
We are friends, cousins, acquaintances...
We are lovers and enemies, and also, strangers.
We are anyone and everyone, all at once.
We are, despite all else, connected.
That must mean something to us. Shouldn't it?
We are 7.5 billion bodies, each alike in enough ways that might make our differences invisible. (But are they?)
We are the same, in so many ways. Enough that our similarities should outweigh our inevitable differences. Our similarities should be enough to prove that our differences are not worth fighting about. Yet, somehow, they aren't. Because we do fight. We fight without any known rhyme or reason, and without genuine purpose. Without empathy. We fight over our differences with enough audacity to claim that they should be ranked. With the belief that each of our differences should be sorted, allowing some of us to be valued as less than others, and also, some of us valued so much more. So, we fight. Like siblings or old lovers. Every single day. Probably have since the beginning of time, or, rather, when we created the concept of time. Perhaps the fighting began when we became a we. And since, the fighting has been constant. It's the only thing that really brings us together. And the one thing tearing us apart.
We find any excuse we can that will bring us closer to division rather than unity. Somehow, we are still far too concerned with the qualities that make us different rather than with those that which we share. And for so many of us, it seems easier to choose not to share. We are selfish and we rarely share. We are all in this together however we behave as though we are unaware the other exists. Mindlessly we share similar DNA but we act like we don't care. It must be easier to behave as though we are unaware. We do whatever it takes to ignore the facts that lie right before our eyes and we build walls around them. We look the other way, in any direction that might lead us into misdirection. We pretend we don't see, that we don't know, that we don't care.
We the people, of the world. We the hopeless, the reckless, the desperate... We the lost.
*We are time-wasters, dream-chasers and we are all ******* fakers.* We are figments of our own imaginations. We are alternate versions of ourselves living in realities of our own creation. Realities that aren't real at all, just like us. We hide beneath our fake faces and our fake words. Our fabricated worlds are all we have to show for. We live in pretty, little bubbles as an escape from our invisible reality, in an effort to shield ourselves from the dangers of the world. We're supposed to be in this together, though somehow we'd all rather be alone. We've forgotten the meaning of we, and we've doomed ourselves to eternal loneliness. We are, if nothing else at all, inherently lonely.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC
Well here i am, done being victim
Of thicker than bricks people who just won't listen
This is me letting go, final words
This is me breaking this ******* curse
When you try to help like the Fox to the Snake
Trust misplaced realising too late
Turned around and bit me like wait
I knew it all along now i know the game
Play on your mind and run it over
Like they always drunk driving don't know sober
Hopeless when again he told me so
I never learn coz i hold out hope!
Curtain calls I'm releasing the rope
Turned it into a noose this crow could choke
Liked to hear my pain when i turn insane
Over the fact that neither of us can really let go
I know you know i dont make mistakes twice
Reinforced by the fact that he wished suicide
Except I'm smart don't be a ******
Eminems words become something that hits real hard!
Asking for advice and i try to play nice
You played ***** and i tried that thrice
Told him about how i tried the knife
Can't keep your mouth shut so you run it like strife
Is all you cause my pain cause and effect
The effect you had slowly turned negative
Now we're back to strangers, these words are saviours
And steer me clear of **** these top notch sailors!
Well the streets are flowing with slick spilled blood
Tsunami on the road causing a flood
You can't see at all you'd probably run
Into it like you do with drama for fun!
Well this **** is over, twas a good game
Insane you brought out but huh well played
Made me doubt my reasons to stay
Made me doubt twice now I've run away
All i ever did never once said thanks
Smelt the poison a mile off that **** smells rank
Ranked among the stupid that had such faith
Can't stop you sinking i came too late
I did so much for what little it was worth
Like Linkin Park I'm breaking this curse
Smash old habits, rap like a rabbit
Reach for the door, turn this handle I'm grabbing!
Huh, but i guess you'll never learn
That my mind is energy that makes me burn
So these fireproof gloves handle flaming doves
I'm a Phoenix ************ and you get no love
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 4:38 AM UTC