"sega" poems
I live in the birth of Nintendo vs Sony vs Sega
Trying to beat that high score in the Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat
Combat with a K
That innovative ****
I survived the destruction of Sega Dreamcast
As they became third party
And Microsoft took their place with Xbox and Ninja Gaiden
Alive from that old arcade
I live in the awing of the interactive Wii
And internet friendly Playstation 3
I also live in the original Mario Bros and Pac Man and...
Terminator vs. Robo-Cop
Yea
I bet you don't remember that one
Or Galaga or Excitebike
Or even that good old
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Spacce Invaders!
Yea, I'm from Nintendoland
No... Segaworld
Nah... Sony City
Nu uhn... Microsoft...
Can't even think of a place for that
I am from that video gamer nation
That fight, hack, slash, race, create, explore, role-play
Even play those insane sports
See I'm from that...
See, I am from that...
I am from that
Video gamer heaven descended
That has that powerful curiosity and love for that
Space Invaders!
No
That love for all video games
And that memory of the ****** game graveyard
Where E.T. now resides...
See, I'm part of the new gen
Trying to play Street Fighter 4, Final Fantasy XIII, Star Ocean
Saying "I go harder than you young bloods cause I played
Space Invaders!"
So, what era am I from?
I'm from the era of all gamers
Playing Space Invaders
Space Invaders!
I'm from the
"Game of the Year goes to..."
Mario, Tekken, Metal Slug
Namco, Sega, Bandai, Konami
All those companies that started as something else
But realized their calling was for our nation
Cause you see
I'm from that
Old school Nintendo
New School Wii
Old school Playstation
New school PS3
Old school Sega
New school Microsoft 360
I'm from a legacy that always succeeds in giving us dreams
That always seem to revert back to that
Old school
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Space Invaders!!!!!
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
“T'was the night before Christmas ...”
and Santa was busy.
The reindeer were antsy
the elves in a tizzy.
The missus was tending
the ovens like mad
And turning out cookies
to make children glad.
The wood chips were flying
the sawdust was thick
The workshop was bulging
with toys from St. Nick.
Contractors from Sega,
Nintendo and Sony
Were working on games
(and a robotic pony).
Iphones and Ipads
(with virus removal)
Were packed in their boxes
and stamped "Elf Approval".
Last minute touches
were added with flair
While elf stylists tended
to Santa's white hair.
Elf tailors were making
some last alterations
To Santa's red coat
and his waist tribulations.
The weather was fair
as the weather-elf stated
The routes were approved
and departure was slated.
Bells had been polished
and harnesses buffed
While repairs were addressed
for the hoofs that were scuffed.
The antlers were festooned
with ribbons and bells
And the reindeer were covered
with elf flying spells.
The clock approached
midnight as Santa was seated.
The countdown began
as the flight crew was greeted.
H-hour neared
and the tension was growing.
Outside it grew cloudy
and then, began snowing.
But Santa just grinned
as the weather-elf winced.
"Don't worry, my friend.
Our time has commenced."
For the weather was nothing
to Santa's conveyance.
His reindeer and sleigh
were immune to"delay-ance".
With a whirl of his whiskers
and a flick of his wrist
The reindeer were launched
in a flash of white mist.
And I heard him exclaim
through his teleport ray:
"ALERT TSA. Tell 'em
I'm on my WAY!"
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC
(To my sisters and brother)
I will always miss …
Our sunset ending quarrels
Our never-ending teases
Christmas’ shared carols
Warm hugs
Through sweet gazes
The sarcastic smiling faces
The growing-up races
Revenge taking chases
Greed over goodies to be hidden
In unpredictable places
And I will always miss …
Competitions and crazy bets
Singing hilarious duets
Of made-up songs in the shower
This innocence
Of our childish humor
Screamed from a room to another
That art of tricking eachother
To cleverly stay in control
Or wrestling over the remote control
And I will always miss …
Decades of shared history
Amplified joy and divided misery
Bursts of laughter on old tapes
Creatively imagined games
Of whirlpools in drapes
And goalkeeper leaps
Random costume parties
Daily role-play stories
Sega sagas from dusk to dawn
Alliances and conspiracies
Sisters, my lovely sisters
Wise, you have become
Loving wives, caring mothers
Soon, you will become
Make sure your kids relive
What we used to live
Their uncle will make you proud
Just like you fill him with pride
Brother, dear brother
I secretly looked up to you
As I grew older
I kept resembling you
It doesn’t matter
If you’re a little far
Brotherhood’s a matter
Of unbreakable bond
And I will always admire, respect, love and cherish …
Every single one of you
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Where I’m From
I am from wires,
from electricity and TV screens.
I am from the dust covering the console.
(Piled high, thick,
It made me sneeze)
I am from the Sega Genesis
the Nintendo
Who has long been forgotten
amongst the shiny new games.
I am from controllers and memory cards,
From Mario and Sonic.
I’m from the hard core gamers,
And the once-in-a-whiles,
From You win! And Game over!
I’m from Thou saveth the princess
With Donkey and Diddy
And 10 cheats I know by heart.
I’m from GameStop and Best Buy,
brand new plastic and overheating console.
From the controller thrown across the room
To the memories,
bonding brother and sister.
In my closet is a box,
filled with old games,
scratched up discs
that will never again work
I am from these games
created before I was born,
born from the tree of electronics.
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 4:33 PM UTC
Born heavy as adorned many: objectivity lifts ready existance carried more steady with the fist than a switchblade as to fist crave: yall just manisfest id shame when you spit back like all my family here to spit crack bone in been gripped back when at grown taught to **** Macks;
I'm the R to the Mack Marck M heavy to my fam born carried since Nas dropped the bomb that Eminem levied in so to spit back, like ghost spittin the **** shittin at all emcees here to spit back:
only time you'd get a note outta me relative is when i'm posing for death: like tupac menacing his pelvis still for the ****** levy in neglection in pics wack;
i spit bone quick when it comes to being notorious in a jacuzzi playing sega and super nintendo **** be in disrespect to ever understand that i don't spit thick back.
i flow sick that before i flow spit that between to post ****
I pose **** to even to boast fits forgotten what the Ohmegaus finds the rest as undereducated life in being in the sun.
Ghost spittin future written past to see all the conjugatives relative like ****** games on the run:
games on the fun like extension big sides as big sizes like chasing dreams again straight to the the sun is what we've become.
unfinished...
this ain't motherfucken games, and you know id through wish-epic
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC
The violet sky stood bashful against the dimming horizon. Stark trees sprang from the ground, flourishing in dots midst the blushing stars.
Street lights flicker on, reminding me of how mom didn't have to yell for me to come home, the lights whispered it to me, carried in the caressing breeze.
I'm reminded in the spring, of the day me and my friend ran into the pelting rain and jumped through puddles, soaking our bodies in high pitched laughter and impending colds.
I'm always reminded in the summer months, how everyone including myself, preferred water from the hose over water from the tap. Or how we'd run rampant through the field behind my house, screaming against the heat.
The broken sidewalk reminds me of the time when we all thought we were cool for trying to smoke cigarettes we stole from our parents.
I fell in love with patches of clovers more than that of a boy's selfish smile. I was more in love with the act of collecting lady bugs as pets rather than holding a hand pushed into mud.
I preferred shallow swimming pools over the small voice of a boy asking me if i had other friends like them. Or how the beam of the sun was better than the beam of a slender, pale face with blue eyes.
Blind and innocent children, we fell in love with things we could touch or splash in. We fell in love with the beautiful colors and characters in our favorite Saturday morning cartoons. When we weren't playing cops and robbers, we were lost in a world of SEGA and Super Nintendo 64. We were infatuated with a world that never altered, but our vision cleared of.
We were saturated in a time where our only big worry was making sure we got our recess time. And when the smog cleared we realized our biggest worry was making our parents proud.
And it seems that it should be the other way. We should be proud of the kid our parents raised.
But ultimately, the monsters under our beds became the demons in our heads.
And the kid your parents raised
slowly became the kid you wish your parents never had.
There won't be a day in my life where i wish i could fall in love with the sound of an ice cream truck, or the animals at the end of my bed again.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
the skull and spine of seventy seven men, extracted.
retribution far past putrefaction.
a pile of bones in the center of town, at the corner of washington
& rochambeau.
gather around.
do you believe in the boogeyman?
a glitch in the darkness.
an echo of rage, high chroma bacteriophage.
every faithless father,
every sister spared,
every ritual sung just right, a brief blackout,
reconfigured pixels of outer night.
[bobby’s sega genesis awakens on its own]
thirty three years to the day, he
died on that suncrest boulevard, returned today just to say “hey.”
graveyard family tree and the moon.
first as a manifestation of electromagnetic phenomena
in a videogame’s cpu. 1993.
second as a fully-fledged entity materialized via videocassette,
hungry for pizza and pure vengeance. 2001.
third from beneath bedrock, the quarry belly baste,
a body buried thrice, undead toxic tumescence,
a walking corpse heaving black plasma. 2020.
the sequel.
the son.
the spectral chosen one, he
rips out a throat or two, quite fashionably so,
a man about town throttled and disemboweled,
as friends and neighbors stumble and sprint to escape with their own godforsaken skin.
let the bone collection begin.
emerged in afterschool hallways to **** old classmates turned teachers.
emerged in afterhours offices to devour old buddies turned bankers.
emerged in the quiet dark homes of neighborhood flesh and folk.
blood soaked socks.
why? you ask, must all these people die?
vengeance? no.
that was a lie.
he killed those people for a laugh
& that’s that.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
La donzelletta vien dalla campagna,
In sul calar del sole,
Col suo fascio dell'erba; e reca in mano
Un mazzolin di rose e di viole,
Onde, siccome suole,
Ornare ella si appresta
Dimani, al dì di festa, il petto e il crine.
Siede con le vicine
Su la scala a filar la vecchierella,
Incontro là dove si perde il giorno;
E novellando vien del suo buon tempo,
Quando ai dì della festa ella si ornava,
Ed ancor sana e snella
Solea danzar la sera intra di quei
Ch'ebbe compagni dell'età più bella.
Già tutta l'aria imbruna,
Torna azzurro il sereno, e tornan l'ombre
Giù dà colli e dà tetti,
Al biancheggiar della recente luna.
Or la squilla dà segno
Della festa che viene;
Ed a quel suon diresti
Che il cor si riconforta.
I fanciulli gridando
Su la piazzuola in frotta,
E qua e là saltando,
Fanno un lieto romore:
E intanto riede alla sua parca mensa,
Fischiando, il zappatore,
E seco pensa al dì del suo riposo.
Poi quando intorno è spenta ogni altra face,
E tutto l'altro tace,
Odi il martel picchiare, odi la sega
Del legnaiuol, che veglia
Nella chiusa bottega alla lucerna,
E s'affretta, e s'adopra
Di fornir l'opra anzi il chiarir dell'alba.
Questo di sette è il più gradito giorno,
Pien di speme e di gioia:
Diman tristezza e noia
Recheran l'ore, ed al travaglio usato
Ciascuno in suo pensier farà ritorno.
Garzoncello scherzoso,
Cotesta età fiorita
È come un giorno d'allegrezza pieno,
Giorno chiaro, sereno,
Che precorre alla festa di tua vita.
Godi, fanciullo mio; stato soave,
Stagion lieta è cotesta.
Altro dirti non vò; ma la tua festa
Ch'anco tardi a venir non ti sia grave.
2.1k
I never wanna tell u
What I really wanna say
I'm just here too help u no need to runaway
My words are my best friends
That I won't ever chase
Wont beg for attention dont need u too stay
If you dont want
Break up that bond
Got it all wrong now u wake up all gone ..
Nothing is permanent
Just take my word for it
You'll be returning quick thinkin you learned new tricks
Not here to disappoint u but I have no choice
Notice destruction you cannot avoid
Lost in the noise flanted my voice
Traded my toys for songs I enjoyed
No one will help u until ur heart stops
Wat ever u know prove ur heart is on top
Ignoring the news while my art hopes for props showed u the thruth and u started too pause
Look at the view like a portrait that's rare
Looking at u becuz ur unware
Too late for mistakes no need too compare
Living day by day fully prepared
I'm not here too force
I just wanna help
Get lost in the course I keep hurting myself
Mission abort give it too someone else
Lying in court Dont know how I felt
This is what happens when your way too passive
Notice the damage no need 2 panic
Took off the bandage locked in the attic
Just like an addict look how I had it
On Automatic till it fell off a cliff
Last cigarette
Before hell gets dim
Hilighted the meaning
Gave u full emphasis
Lucidly dreaming
Dont need too remenis
Super nintendo sega genesis
When I was younger I couldn't picture this
Random world in tabu why keep
Locking eyes
One bite 2 her lip just too start up the ride ...
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
I had this notion of wanting
to be more like oldself–
not more like myself, because myself
has become too sad and too hurt;
I remember oldself being so much more.
But where does one look for one's oldself?
It's not like I just hanged it out to dry
or hung it up on the wall next to a poster.
No, oldself has been scattered and beaten,
tossed along the path of nostalgia.
Bits of oldself linger among
sketchpads and sneakers, SEGA
and Lego sets and Star Wars.
It's back there with s'mores and scouts
and bonfires and books and
the belief that the big, blue world
was a place where dreams came true.
Oldself thinks that optimism
is the only option, myself makes a
note to self: that matter mostly
isn't true, as a matter of fact.
I can't always see oldself, it's buried
beneath six feet of dirt, gossip and rumors;
there's tons of stress and anxiety weighing
on its chest, dressed in a halcyon suit.
Oldself never used to worry
like myself does so often nowadays
but he also couldn't sing like myself can.
He had a wilder imagination than
myself could ever conceptualize,
yet I've exceeded so many of the dreams
that oldself had for my future self.
I often think to myself: what would
Oldself think if Oldself met myself?
And although I may not have turned out
exactly how Oldself envisioned myself,
I've grown and learned from Oldself
and now I'm proud of myself– a place
that my old self never thought I would be.
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
aiyo i stay with more muscle
than schwarzenegger
alpha and omega still play sega
high as ****
roll chocolate thai dutch
push a lexus manual clutch
what?
the **** is all the hate about ?
is it because i got clout
and i watch the birds fly
in the sky high as muthafucka
enticin' cluckas
to my **** cuz it hits
harder than mauseberg wear baggy jabos and iceberg
yea im half human half cyborg
and if you hater you can embrace the morge
curious as george
hear a knock on my cells door?
who could it be could it be?
my conscious layin' prophecy
to me true emcee
last of the Mohegans don corelone of this rap ****
and i aint gone stop gettin' lit
switch roll.another one
stay blazed stronger than sun beam rays
and shake my head but the high still stays
as i get. ..high! !!!
h im seeing illusion
got my brain in confusion
almost had a contusion abusin'
my brains cells is lit oh ****
i envision of me in a casket
though a *******
i stay true to the game lite my flame who got game?
my shot vicious as Ray Allen
this aint no love ballad
toss my girls salad no ranch dressin' while yall stressin'
i sin but still catch blessin'
my smith n wesson
stays by my pillow
paranoid as ****
every after ya bucks cant clutch
on the realness my skills
puff puff pass then i hit the gas
on the highway speed out
round my homies cuz we about
to get our chips in **** in
end all foul ****** that was never down from the beginning
win some lose some far from dumb
and if ya wanna test yo manhood
we'll make ya body numb
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
I remember the “reset” button
on my Sega Genesis
and my N64 as a child.
With a quick **** of my hand,
all my mistakes, and problems
could be solved.
I’d get a fresh start,
a new chance to win what I lost.
Almost every single day
I wish for a “reset” button on life.
Instead, I’ll have to settle
for an incomplete game
with achievements unlocked,
with no extra content,
and the lowest of low scores.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 9:30 AM UTC
Like Sonic to rings, the lord in Genesis, Sega eclipse
Casting dreams brings menacing Revelations, Omegas list
Hatching schemes late in the game, levitation's a *****
Matching extremes, screams pleasure in pain. Yes sadists exist
Exits bared and shackled, your gana take these hits.
The bars twisted contraptions you'll loose your dignity in
Sacrifice you to the gods, a Christians virginity sin
Mage practice in the dark, art is this Magik. Black eyes are raised.
Raised are eyes, Black Magik, this is art dark in the practice of a mage.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
The sweat soaked pillow keeps me awake
Insomnia is a disease
"You're not wasting it all,"
"you haven't wasted it here,"
You repeat them over and over
but the song doesn't catch
not even you believe it anymore
not even you think the joke is funny
not even you can fix this mess
A part of you wants to watch it burn
And if you could speak with sober you he'd agree
Getting clean is easy
staying clean is something else
And you can't hit bottom
if you can't get off the floor
I've become a mess of a dream
a series of moments that don't make sense
and always leave me confused.
These tired eyes have seen so much already
some days I wanna close them for good.
You know it's the right choice when it hurts
Each step away stings a hundred times
The higher you go, the slippery it gets
The crown is always heavy,
whether its gold or lead
one just looks prettier
both will sink you to the bottom,
both will dent your head
neither sets you free
Freedom lies within they say
but even freedom costs too much
I'm not living paycheck to paycheck,
I'm suffocating in between
drowning in an ocean of freedom
the world's a slave trade
chained to a roller coaster,
with no seat belt
the ride is broken
and you knew it getting on
And if you can't come up with the money?
don't you worry, they'll just charge you more lol
This world is a rabid dog
that forgot what you look like
And the key to your dreams
is tied to its collar.
And this is as good as it gets?
We're the lucky ones?
Jesus.
If there (is)was a god(s)
What ****** up sega game are they playing?
And why are you still a fan of it?
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
Smooth is the name I go by
F to e to the s o to the Y
Spelled it backwards now flip it forward
You get Yosef the most explosive
As a land mind in contact get off the bozack
Emcees these days so wack they lack
The skills to pay the bills and in the high hills
Got girls from USA Peru Somoa and Brazil
So haters chill as I lay a cut to another mill
Made while y'all played I keep it slayed
To a ****** ya never heard of a
Brother silky as me next to the BIG
Daddy Kane
Blessin' ya with lyrics cuz I be the originator
A Smooth operator
Grindin lyrics from the factories of my mind
That flash like a nine fast time no rewind
As I incline others decline smooth the line
Count ya steps carefully when you approach the bassline
The sweet taboo like Sade ya love me
Soldier of love all of the above
No haters allowed seek out in the crowd
Once the Microphone touches my hand watch em get loud
No party poopers quick to scoop ya
Out the scene where's my vanilla chocolate ice cream o yea
Slide ya like a fader the operator
The flavors looking good and there I stood
Between all the honies different tastes of the beauties
Shakin' bootys got the style so ya know they won't loose me
Lyrics soft as silk but cut like a ribbon
As make the mental incision
Shadow of a glare no truth or dare
Its big Yosef coming from the rear
The extraordinaire
My dear the one and only real playa
Others is custom so they downgrade ya
Classic as Sega clawed like Vega
Cuz I be a Smooth operator
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
I’m not sure if Mercury was in retrograde or if Sega was in genesis, but you slipped an unwelcome touch into my orbit & I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.
The Proclaimers hummed in the background as the aunties shrugged…
“Some people are born with tragedy in their blood.”
The nooseman approaches & with surrender on my lips, I say: “Sew me into the creases of your hemlocked hood.”
Tiny holes cut for beady gapes.
Do. Not. Look. Away.
The moon is wailing in chorus with mothers & brothers in hidden crypts over mountains of headless children born into snake pits.
800-588-2300…EMPIRE…today is the day we set you on fire. More cobra with desire until you suffocate on centuries of soul weight.
The ground opens up & the universe obliterates.
A spare bedroom tea set gathers dust in shadow of craven lust for more & more & more. The **** of a boy & the **** of the world. Holy rage steeped to liberation. Comrades healing together with blades unfurled.
No longer will we cower & beg for a piece of what’s already ours. The serpent’s spine rotting on concrete.
All hail the death of tyranny.
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 10:11 AM UTC
hum this is it then it is one off those days when i feel like i m the happiest man alive that is what a family,,,,,, ps emulators ,,,, Nintendo,, sega,,,, andd linux ,,,,, andd a room off your own can do to you
Jan 24, 2023
Jan 24, 2023 at 11:47 PM UTC
I stack poems high
Past the sky so why lie
I braille third eye
No need to take a sigh
Never was down the evol Messiah
Put out the fire
Once I became replenished with water defintion of slaughter
I'm bound to nature styles create a
Soul sound debater slow cruise like an elevator
Sniff out spectators they advance me greater
Play you all like classic Sega
Genesis the new nemesis sending this
Poem in ya ear so don't dismiss
Or diss cause you might miss
The rhymes of a great lyricist
The poems that light up like a Christmas
I got writes to rite ritual it's habitual
Prime Animal far from a cannibal
Cold blooded mammals
Got ya back arched harder than a camel
We got ammo to go so sit back enjoy the show
Cold as snow mixed with nitro
I got sixty seconds on the floor
Raise eyebrows so you know how
My styles be similar to Owls
Head twistin' got ya own spirit kissin'
Pay attention and listen
I toast to christening but then again
Stay close to enemies
I feed em well ***** So they tell
On themselves swell
Their heads til it goes stale
Sips of holy grail so I don't fail
We ship more posts than mail
Gang of cartels who livin well?
Yo it ain't hard to tell
My poems you love 'em
Wait that's evol but that's the words told paying toll
I didn't want to do it you blew it
Rap Super Saiyan
Ignore ya rhymes like what you sayin'
Poetic slayin'
Til the day that I die
I'll be spittin' multi's
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
Some question my tactics
Cuz I react quick
Leave critics with open backs split
Now you in deep ****
Fuckin' wit a soldier
Been trained for combat
I'll never back back
Down smackin' rounds
In the adversary
Of a clown I get around
Can you me comin
Naw but you see them techs hummin'
My verbal arsenal take it personal
So don't be a sucka
Or else be digged like a shovel
Still beatin' devils outlaw immortal known rebel
So they wanna silence
Me but can't touch me
Cuz of my lyrical artillery
Adversaries see the cemetery
Can't stop watch ya can't see
I be the born leader of the century
Rap revolution pistol in place shootin'
Hearts I'm lootin' and bootin'
Out spectators to haters
Ain't none greater a genesis like sega
Alpha to omega
Soon to break ya gats shake ya
Into a cold corpse of course
Check the quotas
I leave minds sizzlin' like sodas
Fools thought i was demised
But don't know
I been trained a combat soldier
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 1:41 AM UTC