"ryme" poems
I have no time for politics,
talkings heads,
heads of state,
stately hats,
manly gaites.
And on, and on, and on.
With resent for only money,
those jokes so half *** funny,
and sad sack bleeding harts.
Dime store smarts
and trollop tarts,
that do not claim there farts.
Yet i hear were full of ****
So i've no patience for.....
The hiding of the gore.
The hit and run
the watered down
fake news we abore.
And mostly i've no time,
so I will make a ryme.
For the outside is a gauntlet.
And with pen i post my crime.
So lock me up,
I'm but a blip.
The news will sup and Sip,
and **** there heads
with lock and step.
And find my hate for all.
They are cheating of there proof,
and I have had enough.
Not enough for giving up,
enough for that i tried.
I did,
you see,
It wasn't me,
But you that made this mess.
I only watched.
I only cared.
And now I've little less.
To your regard,
The mass ******
Of all that could be swell.
It was your head
That doubled size.
And I hope ya burn in hell.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 11:56 PM UTC
The sound of the wind is empty,
When you are gone,
And I cannot hear the joy,
I know exist in the sparrows song,
The sky of blue is hidden,
It's beauty I cannot see,
The earth is dark and barren,
The trees they bare no leaves,
The stars that should shine at night,
They have lost their flame,
The moon has disappeared ,
And the sun has done the same,
The words in the book I read,
They have no ryme or reason,
All in the world is odd and strange,
It is to me an unknown season,
I can feel the wind so haunting,
It is freezing upon my skin,
And the sun it cannot warm me,
Till my love returns again.
RLB
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC
walkn these walls
lookn for eggs
that the bunny has laid
wait thats the
easter time ryme
christmas is not
God its hot
kids are all gone
its a lonely ole song
wifes at work
boss is a ****
my friend
wordvango
is having a gran time
i wish i was with him
an six gallons of cold red wine
we could drink it all night
til saint nic comes into sight
we'd stagger away
and he'd say to all
a good night
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
There is no subject
no process of mind
to assist my thoughts
in writing this ryme
No direction for the words
for my thoughts are locked
in this curse for writers
the minds writer's block
Maybe this will help
maybe a good sign
this little nonsense poem
will help my next ryme
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 6:30 PM UTC
Blood
Rivers coursing through my veins
Torrents
of wave after wave of life beyond life
Take it
**** it
Make it your own
delicious forbidden it bleeds so sweetly
Like pleasure to drink
Don't stop to think
Just take it in
Blend within
Become the enemy
Becoming a part of me
(it tastes so good)
Rending and tearing and ripping through flesh
I create my world as reality, fantasy, mesh
Into the cohesive w(hole)
Without a soul
Without a doubt
Don't pout,
baby,
it's time
no rheason for ryme
sic(k) twisted ****
like a bit of the rest
put to the test
like cattle...
don't rattle my cage
I'm free
I'm just looking
For where you've been hiding
And how you've been dying
to get here
sit here
and tell me
tell me
tell me more
they don't don't understand?
I understand
Come with me
down into the dark
And we'll find
the time
to fall into the w(hole)
and find your soul
within...
deep within...
like a current
inside
you've died
but I can bring you back
yes I can bring you back
for another taste
don't waste it
the chance to
breathe again
and embrace your sin
Come with me
Down into the dark
And we'll find
Just where the truth lies
and it does
Lie
Like a *****
like the door you knew
you never should have opened
summoned
the dark one
the ***** behind the black
she wants you
she wants me
obscenity
(sur)reality
Where demon's blood and heaven's fire meet
At the feet of the altar you kneel to greet
the Fallen
demise
your god
your self
your reflection
Dissected
like a million voices screaming for betrayal
Through the ****** of a nail
through the heart of a spoken word
not yet broken
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
A life we live that chose us
People that breaks in with none to give
A heart that beats and stops thus
Control is a myth to make life barable to live
Try to say what you think
And make it ryme with what you feel
From the depth of what seems thik
To all the hearts that only sees what's seen
A tag of war and reciprocal sways
My heart and head floating questions stains
Innocent, will it be the clouds that rains
Or hell ,will it be the future days
A soul is the only item to bribe time
Death is the solonel freind of fate
Life is a fortune worth only a dime
And the only beaable with a final date
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC
We love to hate them
Politicians who engrave love into our hearts
By promising us promises that we love to be promised
He said, it ain't my fault that am rich
Because your ignorant
He said, your poor
And you love stories about being rich
And am rich
And I have stories for poor, about being rich
Mediocre
So you used to go school get yourself educated
Information is all that matters, but too late for you.
You'd rather be home and watch movies and ****
Impressing nobody,Vibin, old school and ****
Untill one day you wake up, your life wasted
Bulding companies that you'll never own and ****
You realize your just a laborer in this chain of life
And your the right guy for promises and ****
Evolution
I like poems that rhyme
A symphony, the ultimate beauty of ryme scheme
Like a sad pathetic story, that suddenly made it
A perfect song that touches the soul, and the lyrics,
Blend with your everything
From your failing ralations and weight of the universe
Choking your existence
........ And the lyrics, blend with your everything
Except the reality that your probably stuck in a maze,
And humans are always depsrate to be lead.
So we selected an enticing promise and we collectively
Elect it
And we feel happy
And We toast to our independence, or evolution or whatever you call this type of ****
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 10:04 AM UTC
I was planning to
I really wanted to
I wanted her to know
I wanted to be able to tell her
About why I bleed
And about my father
But my mouths betrays me
It refuses to say these things outloud
Why?
Just say it
I tell myself
You describe it so well in your head
Why can't you speak it?
Why did you stay silent?
Now the moment is over
Once again
You said nothing
And still
No one knows
Not even your closest of friends
Why?
You want them to know
You want to lighten the load
They can speak it so well outloud
They trusted me
Why can't I trust them?
I can
But I won't
Tears roll down my cheeks
She's asleep
She doesn't see
And if she would
I wouldn't even be able to tell her why
How sad is that?
Die
Hmm
Am I putting it in this poem just so it will ryme?
Or because that's what I want to do
But no
I don't
I can't
And I won't
I shouldn't let myself think such thoughts
I missed my chance to be open
I missed my chance to Infront of people
For what feels like the first time in a long time
I missed my chance to show them
All the reasons why
Because my mouth can't express
All that I need to express
Like poetry
Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 1:42 AM UTC
There was once a man who worked
Who used neither hammer nor chisel nor clay
Yet, worked from mornings early hours
Till evenings close of day
Creating works of art
For his fellow man to see
A legacy to leave behind
For all of eternity
His tool is the rounded wood
That holds the darkened lead
This is the tool he chose
To create the words we've read
He would work and mold and shape
His art into a ryme
As he etched it upon the paper
To be read by all through time
These works of art he made
Held meaning as he would sow them
And when his piece was done
He called his art a poem
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
Rap is hard
You have to nail the ascent
As it ascends keep the rythm
Ryme but with meaning
Spitting splitting their minds
Into thinking wat you seeing
Wear your eyes for a second
Not forgeting reason
Not **** about the ******* u spent the season kissing
Dissing a disease in every verse
In each case
An issue of whose ggetting more paper
Famous feature, who gives a **** who was witchya
I like to believe rap is art
Poetry, painting a picture of your perspective
Respective enough Ts you who holds the bigger share
In music I hope u use it to dare
These kids who believe in you to make a change
Not messages of disorder and rage
Flip that page forget it
Skip, cut , merge into a better clean version of bars
Educate relate heal scars
Cries of sorrow are wiped through you
Dies and a little turn of mood
As I plug in these phones in my ears
Fears should race
Trace back myself to belief
Pace back to relief, relive
Hope in me
See I nid to be told um gonna make it
That's rap music
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 2:16 AM UTC
some\\thing\\hap\\pen\\s;
when I speak _ your _ name....
It'snotquitepleasure
and it's not. quite. pain
your face. those eyes.
those L. iP. s.
Stab a primal lo _ng ___ing....
And 》》speed》》 me to quips
slimfingersandneck;,..Every inch...
how - I - long and #i need
;it's a sc^rat^^ch I mus^t it^^^ch
But you. don't..... ||| concede |||
your voice like gravel
undermyshoe
never sounded s₩€€t€r
our words {{failed}} the truth
me, some~pied~piper~~~
reduced to this sniv. el. ing/idiot/poser
my mel°od°y play°ed to d _eaf ears
left > alone > to > spit >> out >>
......pretentious/....little/.....poems....
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
Waiting Room.
It seemed as though I could
be there quite a while and
in anticipation, I began to write.
A poem would have been far
too short, unless that is, it
was something like, Ryme
Of The Ancient Mariner or
Barbara Freitche.
Just then I heard a voice,
Ryan, you are always punctual
but you are a day early, your
appointment is not until tomorrow ' !
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 3:08 AM UTC
I am not a poet
But I will make these words flow as tho I am
I will write it like a sonnet
I will do it as best I can
I am not a poet
I haven’t the mind of one
I will take a boat and I will row it
And point it straight towards the sun
What is a poet I ask
The likes of Edgar Allan Poe?
A battle with words is the task
Who will deliver the final blow?
Poems don’t always ryme
They just have to flow
Like the rhythmical beat of a wind chime
Sounding nice and sweet,
Maybe slow
Already I have failed
The sonnet objective
I have not nailed
It is all however ok
For
I am not a poet
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
Nobody is what I feel like
just a nobody
Somebody all alone
all alone inside my head
There's a void inside my gut
no rhyme or reason
My heart is closed shut
and I can feel the changing seasons
Looking for something real
it isn't as easy as I thought
The past lays waste to how I feel
and the hollowness is my cross
I bear it...
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC