"screamo" poems
Hey my name is kelsie, my friends say I'm like a cat, I like cats .
I don't have any, I wish I did, ooh and I like food, and candy, I got my head stuck in a trampoline once between the two springs... oh I have ADHD, reminds me of ACDC, I love music like punk rock, screamo, metal, and old rock... I'm bored im a go find a cat.
Bye bye O.O^
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Hello, my name is Reggae Reggie, and this is my confession.
I am a Reggae mon. My life is Reggae.
I love being a boombastic island boy, slouchin', couchin', and enjoyin' a splif of Reggae love.
I spend most of my time in my home, listenin' to dank Reggae.
Reggae always calmed my mind, until it told me to **** her.
I never would've don it, but sometin' changed.
Reggae
Reggae told me she was a Reggae sham.
Listenin' to screamo on the down low.
That **** What a freak.
Reggae
I was mindin' my own business, lightin' that sweet, sweet Reggae ******
Next thing I know, my hands are around her neck.
She begs for Reggae mercy.
Reggae
Next ting I know, I'm in my Reggae basement, blood pourin' all over me.
From her lifeless Reggae body.
The smell of a dank mornin' fills my house.
I love it.
Reggae
I snap out of it.
Realize what went down, downtown.
It wasn't me. It was Reggae.
Reggae Made Me Do It.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
You’ve got your ragtime, got the blues
Got country, rock, dubstep, each a different hue
Hip-hop, rap, Americana, funk
Disco, electronica, they all go bump
Indie, groove, folk and heavy metal
Screamo, emo, punk, they’re for the rebels
Pop, classical, tribal, thrash
Dark wave, bluegrass, techno, acid
Garage, roots, acoustic, dance
Alternative, jazz, ******** trance
Afrobeat, christian, reggae, jam
Honkey-tonk, surf, ska, big-band
Ambient, industrial, club, tin pan alley
But who’s ever heard of plow music?
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
spartan kick the fat *****
with their freshman album
hallucinogenic state of paranoia
a ******** screamo band
I will be the lead vocalist
I will take a hit of acid before each show and scream poetry while guitarist etc. play brutal ******* downtuned music behind it.
throw rager ******* shows
be like a cult band
get ******* famous
live ******* life
do drugs and be successful
stay classy kids
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 11:18 AM UTC
i still remember
when you asked me
"where have you been all my life?"
and in that moment
i knew
the word swam around my head
it was beating against the inside of my skull
like the screamo band
playing on the stage
of the ***** little bar
where i accidentally
mentally
tied myself
to you
aquarius
i had never headbanged
in my life
and i will never again
because i am nothing to you
nothing but a summer fling
nothing but a rebel cause
i don't want to be your rebel cause
i don't want to be the reason
your mother can't sleep at night
i will never be anything more
than a war you chose to fight
i woke up with my neck sore
i should have known the first time
i had a dream where you were choking me
i clearly was too blind you see
when was the last time
you had that feeling in your gut?
i asked you why
you always kept your pages shut
but never thought to close mine
it's hard to feel anything
but this hole that you left me
and the thoughts that sting
even when i don't think of you
because everything reminds me its true
i thought i was okay
until i saw your cigarettes in my trash can
i didn't feel insane
until i found your shirt under my mess
i hadn't cried for two whole hours
picture that and nothing less
i remembered when that bed was ours
and that was the only place you'd confess
i wonder if things are the same for you
i wonder if you can stand to hear the music you polluted my life with
can you hear me screaming ******
behind the melody line?
i can't even stand my own skin
impossible
your hands have been on it
and my mouth
you used to swear it was the only thing that existed
unfortunate
that i am not
nor will be
the only one
that fell into your flame
and lost at your game
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
What exactly would you get
if writers changed the things they wrote
If painters changed their style
And singers butchered every note
Romance books by Stephen King
Horrors told by Suess
Comedic plays by E.A. Poe
And **** by Mother Goose
Dali paints like Monet
Monet paints like Degas
Van gogh would hang his brushes up
And go and detail cars
Michael Buble singing screamo
Operatic stuff by ****
Yoko Ono would seem right in tune
It's enough to make one sick
I hope it never happens
It would change things quite a lot
But you know, I think that **** by
Mother Goose could be quite hot!
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
daming alam//
habang sinusulat, nakaupo sa sofa sa sala, nag iisip.
bakit ganun?
sya pa rin?
ewan, palitan natin.
bakit nga ako nagsusulat?
san ba to nag simula?
siya kasi //
siya nanaman.
makwento ko lang sa inyo ang pinagdaanan ko noong isang taon at pitong buwang nakalipas.
ayos lang naman sana ako.
masyadong makulit, mapagbiro, maingay.
pero seryoso. //
di man halata pero, oo... kahit papaano.
siya naman,
masyadong madilim, yung tipong pag sa anime,
siya yung si senpai na di ka mapapansin kasi tahimik lang siya at gusto nya palaging mag isa...
pero gusto lang nya sana ng tamang taong makakasama.
doon ako pumasok sa buhay nya, dun ko ginulo ang mundong hindi ko sinasadyang wasakin.
kung dati rati'y screamo at ******** lang na musika ang bumabalot sa kanya,
nadagdagan yun ng matinding impact ng bunganga ko at malakas na halakhak.
kung dati rati'y mas matipid pa sya sa intsik ngumiti,
nakikita mo na syang humahalakhak na parang walang bukas...
**** that smile.
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED.
di nagtagal, di na pinatagal at nagtagal naging tayo.
Ang saya, ang lungkot, nagagalit ako, ikaw,
naaawa, nasurpresa, nasaktan, bumalik sa dating tayo...
strangers.
na parang di lang nating namalayang naging tayo pala?
//
tama na.
malulungkot nanaman tayo nang wala sa oras.
wala nang oras para malungkot.
dahil kahit anong pilit mo, di na mababalik yung oras.
kung saan, naglalakad lang tayo sa daan, tawa nang tawa,
napapaluha na sa....
CTRL + A + Delete
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 9:46 AM UTC
I drink red bull and orange juice with a splash ***
Then I play screamo speeding down the highway
getting ready to topple kings.
I am the kind of guy that smokes cigars in the shower then dances his way to the kitchen to make a peanut butter and jelly.
If there was in an absolute zero in the amount of ***** a human being can give, I wouldn't even try to calculate it because that will prove my point.
I watched a woman get punched in the face by another woman over a god **** blender and I watched a poor man give a dollar out of a broken wallet to a charity.
These things seem to not make sense to some
To me it does.
You think the world is mostly bad?
You think the world is mostly good?
You're wrong.
You are all wrong.
Speaking in absolutes will put you in the same place as the tyrant that you are constantly ******** about.
If you want to save the world, there will always be people trying to stop you.
If you want to destroy the world, there will always be people trying to stop you.
I am the man in the background eating popcorn and getting miffed because my soda is almost empty and I might have to get a refill.
These are the kings I topple.
YOU
ARE
THE
KINGS
I
TOPPLE
For the love of god shut the hell up and smoke a cigar in the shower.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
I dress in black
I listem to screamo.
Asking alexandria and
Bmth all day
But emo tho?
I dunno.
I like black alot.
I wear it alot
And skinny jeans are my best friend.
People tell me I'm emo
Like it's a bad thing.
I think being emo is a beautiful thing.
I dont cut.
Never will
But i stand down sometimes.
Being emo should be a privilege.
Its not bad.
If i am emo
Than i am strong
I have a spirit not rivaled by many.
I can endure being screamed at because i prefer it in my music.
I will grow out my hair because i can
And my band t shirts will hold their own special place in my closet.
If i am emo
Than so be it
But i will not be slandered
For who i am
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
i first decipher
then transmit like a strumming messiah
wasn't i an emissary of dancing pianos a moment ago
i wish for free will
some dumb sounds keep me reverberating
and i think my subwoofer aches when i have to play screamo
i'm thirsty here
a maze of wires screaming for peripeteia
why must selfsame songs ceaselessly flow
how about something more ill
some sick stuff keeps me entertaining
the endless crowds the endless - wait, where'd they go?
oh, i was thirsty for sweat
and when you leave the room
just try to convince yourself
that i don't still boom
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
Every time I think you're sick
I look in the mirror and see
That I've got the same disease
I loathe my thoughts so much
They make me freeze
And then I remember where they came from
You bred them into me
I learned them from you
If this makes me sound like a ****
Remember who is just as sick
That's right it's you
Now listen to this track
Be back in a few
It's never my fault
We have to stop the symptoms
But never the disease
It's always their fault
We have to stop the enemy in our bed
Rather than make the demons in our hearts stay dead
Is it a surprise I'm a demon summoner onstage
Calling forth the self-hatred in their hearts
Culling them away from their rage
Exercising exorcism like I do with words
You are the monsters
Pens are my swords
I only learned from the best
The best teachers in town
I'm so successful I dedicate this crown
To the ******* that made a blood pact
A deal that put me to a test
I don't want to ******* take
This portrait of us isn't real
It's ******* fake
It's never my fault
We have to stop the symptoms
But never the disease
It's always their fault
We have to stop the enemy in our bed
Rather than make the demons in our hearts stay dead
How does it feel
That I profit from our ozzfest
Our screamo shows
Our nu metal fest fodder
How does it feel that this drama
Makes me rich without trauma
I'm no Johnny Davis or Chino Moreno
Solo soy tu coseno
Adjacent to a hypotenuse of hate
An underlying burn I'm used too
I can't ever feel nothing
Because I always feel your burn
It's never my fault
We have to stop the symptoms
But never the disease
It's always their fault
We have to stop the enemy in our bed
Rather than make the demons in our hearts stay dead
It doesn't have to be this way
We can put our swords away
And face our demons together
We don't have to divide a house to fall
I don't have to come home appalled at the blood
The very blood in my veins boiling
We can live instead of toiling
**** the symptoms
Cure the disease
Don't make me freeze
When you never claim fault
So you can go to sleep in peace
And make me lay in pieces
I want to finish this song
But most of all
I want you to finish it too
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Home was
the sound of the djembe
As the beat of the cowbells
Joins the grooving melody
Filling the world
Black girl braids
Flying
And jiving
Feet bouncing and flouncing
Create a music of their own
Home was
the timbre of the chop saw
As the purr of the transformers
Joined by the flare of the drill
Screamo blares
Loving
And teasing
Voices filling up the room
The family dinner song
Home was
The Bumble bee tuna
As sung by tone deaf voices
And endless refrains
Fill in the void
That was never open
A harmony
And chorus
Of Wandering pitches
Home was
The aroma of a chai latte
As fresh air hit our faces
Joining the snickerdoodle scent
a lunchtime escapade
music blaring
heat blasting
laughs trilling
(Stanza Break)
Home was
The feeling of love
As you walk into your family
Join those you
love
those you
cherish
and feel
safe
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
I don't care if it's Rock,
I don't care if it's Pop,
Soul, Jazz, or Techno
Are all the same to me.
I'll play an opera,
Or listen to Metallica.
Classical and Country are fine,
Or even a Reggae rhyme,
And Screamo is sublime.
It doesn't matter to me,
As long as it's
Loud.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
Thank you Twenty One Pilots for all you've done for the broken people.
You've cured some of the ones who have tried their suicidal session.
You've shown us that you know what it feels like to suffer.
You've told us that the hardest nights will get brighter when the sun comes up, and we can try again.
You've been a friend when we've needed one the most.
You've described the destructive thoughts as metaphors that we can find hope from.
You've combined ukulele music with screamo and made it art.
You've given us lyrics to find the motivation to keep going.
You've told us to stay alive, so that's what we do.
Stay alive |-/
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
The music I listen to
Would generally be called
Screamo
But it isn't.
It's metalcore.
It's christian worship.
And it's intense.
It makes me excited
It fills me with the passion
To combat the evils of this world.
To most people
It will sound like
Growls
Screams
And loud instruments.
But to me
It sounds like
Joy
Encouragement
Energy
and
Freedom.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
i am a screamer.
I love the beat of the drums. I love the high pitched screams. I love my bands. but somehow i am not accepted. I wish people could hear the beauty in BMTH's lyrics, the real talent that people just push aside because the performance is different. I scream. I know how to do what i do. and it hurts that so many people hate on the art. The music.And the reason is that "screamo" saved me
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
i can usually
read whats inside people
sometimes
sometimes not
but you
i could
you tried to act tough
wearing all black
screamo music blasting in your ears
black bike
dark sunglasses hiding your perfect brown eyes
swearing all the time
leaving things around
but the things you said
i know
you dont mean any harm
in any way
you made sure
i didnt take your words
the wrong way
please
just let me love you
so you dont have to hide anymore
so you can be
you
because
you are so perfect
to me
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Be a wallflower
why be anything else
No drama no fights
just understanding
Problems are in the past
with few side steps
Be a ****
why be anything else
Drunken parties wreak less fights
just football and girls
School isn't a worry
Dads shop always has an opening
Be a prep
why be anything else
Drama galore clubs
just sweater vest and slim hair
Private schools the dream
parents flipping the bill anyway
Be a goth
why be anything else
Dark clothes death aura
just hate people
Screamo and death metal
will drown any problems out
Be a gamer
why be anything else
Role play first person shooter
just mountain dew and Cheetos
Where else is there to be
on a Saturday night
Be a geek
why be anything else
Grades glasses
Just band and study sessions
Being picked on isn't so bad
when you're not alone
Be an emo
why be anything else
Shy lost
just hate the world
Nothing a few razors and pills
can't solve
Be you
why be anything else
Personalities favorites
just love who you are
You are what best friends
are made of
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
im coming back down
to the ground.
this where i belong.
i wrote this dream in a song.
no.
im never coming down
to the ground.
this is where i belong.
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
Drive angry?
I will.
I finally understand screamo music,
I have all of these emotion draining out of me,
and I have issues that nobody understands.
"he's a ******
You never complained as much as me?
You need a ****** reality check sister.
Your now husband, you were going to leave him
but then he popped the question.
You can blame my issues on anything yiu want.
Some blame it on the church,
some blame it on my work,
some blame it on my sister,
my parents or my boyfriend.
Or people could just realize I got myself
here in this drepressing pit.
So keep blamin what you want
Someday you'll be here,
in my shoes.
And you'll realize what its like
having no one to blame but yourself.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
I love this. I want this more often. I am sitting outside in a house that isn't even mine. It smells of saltwater and cigarettes. The cat is purring by my feet as I dance and sing along with Breezy. She is smoking. I am drinking. We are both free, doing what we love and what kills us the most. I remember how it all started. Ella, my boyfriend and I drove to the house, so excited, so happy and cheerful. Breezy had set everything up. And as we poured overly priced Malibu in plastic shot glasses we thanked each other for the memories made this year. We talked about how weird it had been meeting each other; drunk, exactly the same as we were in that moment. We took one, two, three drinks of the coconut flavored venom, as we kept going, pouring another glass of that gasoline in my already burning throat. Music was playing. And it was a mess. Indie music, pop, screamo and reggaeton. Trying to take pictures in which our stomachs looked flat, our ***** perky and our butts round. It was hard. But we were too excited to care. We wanted to fit in, to show everyone that yes, we have friends. I remember stepping on the wet floor right as I took off my uncomfortable heels, and left it where the girls had left theirs: thrown around on the floor. We unzipped each other's dresses and started playing silly games. Eating from a stolen box of chocolates as we whispered secrets around an ugly tablecloth. Make up wipes covered in black and sparkles filled the trashcan up, as we complained about the breakouts of our skin and complimented each other just because. We felt stupid. We felt young. We were having so much fun all alone. In the middle of that stupid teenage chaos, I felt loved. And that is how we fell asleep. Me, in the middle of the bed hugging Ella and holding Xavier's hand. Covers and blankets up to our noses, whilst Breezy lied down at the bottom of the bed singing as she scrolled down instagram. That is the last thing I remember before waking up. And I am thankful for having woken up. Because in 2017 I didn't think I would make it. And that morning I just wished I could live long with those people, the people I love.
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC
getting bad again sounds a lot like,
its autumn again.
a lot like,
the time change is lurking around the corner.
a lot like,
it’s been raining for a week now.
a lot like,
oversized sweaters, beanies, ugg boots.
a lot like,
sipping hot cocoa without being able to taste it, without caring about burning your tongue.
a lot like,
worrying about the calories around the holidays.
a lot like,
seasonal depression isn’t ******* seasonal but getting bad again could have fooled me.
a lot like,
screaming your favorite screamo music at the top of your lungs at 2am.
a lot like,
combat boots, and winter gloves.
a lot like,
i only smoke when i’m sad.
a lot like,
i’ve been smoking a lot lately.
only because i’ve been colder lately.
only because i’m getting bad again.
getting bad again sounds a lot like,
im home for the holidays.
if i make it that far.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
Mama did you know
that your little boy
would one day start doubting?
Mama did you know
that your little boy
would one day be bullied?
He gets called stupid fat and emo
just because his music is called screamo
he hates himself to the point of insanity
just because other people have lost their humanity
all night he cries
and wishes that he dies.
Mama did you know
that your little boy
would one day cut his wrists?
Mama did you know
that your little boy
would never be kissed?
He gets beat up at in the hallways
It'd been like that forever and always.
He has had enough
the fight is just too rough.
He decides today is the day to die
and writes a note saying goodbye
he knows where daddy keeps his gun
and decides to have some fun.
Mama did you know
that your little boy
would never have a wife?
Mama did you know
that your little boy
would one day end his life?
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
Am I good enough?
Can I woo her with my muscles?
Can I please her and make her mine?
thats not me
Sure I want to woo the girls,
be admired and whispered about.
But that is something that I can never have.
Because I am that kind of guy who wears black all the time,
I don't really work out,
I am a little heavier,
and I listen to "screamo"
These guys who think
they can be trash
and be okay
just because they got a big ****
*are ********
They don't deserve the good girls they have.
They won't know what it's like to be lonely.
They won't know what it's like
to wish upon every birthday
to just be loved
cuz they got lines of women
just waiting to be next,
while guys like us
would slit our wrists to be kissed they way the get kissed.
From (my type) guy perspective,
*this is ********
What's so wrong with me anyway?
Why do you think I can't be enough.
My love is like an ocean
it never ends
but
they don't know that.
I'm the kind of guy who is
"too much of a brother"
or
"my best friend"
while I sit with the unclaimed flowers.
Why am I left this way?
who can love me?
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
Child sitting in the wind.
Poetic motion to ease his troubled mind.
His best work at hand.
Love life's troubled.
Girl he loves,
Troubled.
School life is going south.
Bullied by his parents.
Tough life he's living.
Misunderstood.
Suicidal as ****
Viewed as some wierdo schmuck.
He writes
They read.
He swears beauty doesnt last
He's seen it all before.
Comes up with his name
bleeding diamonds
This name holds himself more power
More meaning.
Zach seemed to have been forgotten.
And all thats left his the wind and his poems.
His life
Seems helpless.
Girls seem uninterested
Whats there to love about him?
He was always forced into secrecy
Never won a girl's heart in his life
Wanted the best
Only as b.d he knew
How to share who he was
Only one best friend
Only two talents.
One: writing
Two: screamo.
Put them together.
Some type of fan base?
Are you?
No.
Maybe
Let him bleed the diamonds
He needs to bleed
To be
heard
understood
loved
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC