"turnt" poems
We're just a bunch of 90s babies, sniffing coke like it's the 1980s
In the night we're popping Molly like we're the ones that made it
Calling it a new summer of love, like this time was always fated
Making fun of everyone that isn't turnt, because we never waited
Leave the club with ratchet girls when the sun goes down much later
I'm just having my fun, why do you have to be a player hater?
The greatest generation has gone, do we have what it takes to be greater?
When the weekend romance ends, return to love thy mater and thy pater
xoxo, imagine being strung out on dank bud with the grand creator
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
i dreamt of you
you warmed me in
your callused hands
and sighed as if
i were a hummingbird
out your gran'pa's cabin
lovely an' quick
but i wailed until
my throat was grit
your eyes had turnt'
to green
and the hummingbirds
flew south
to be warmed by
more faithful things
than the rasp of your callused flesh
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
tight juicy yumness
this crack huge
game’s on point
you had me at that bass
**** homie,
u r too good wit it
run the sick trap
my dude doin work
loving the awesome switch
so paralyzed make love
nicee smooth as buttah
you went in dreamy
way too dope
swoop feels mane
nice flip
caught up on point
my dawg’s cramming
dem hats smoove
fresh cream zonin
fire float’n like puddin
my dude always killin
way too good sir
bro so sophisticated
**** can’t get enough
stunning blend
dope ******* sick
turnt up atmosphere
in that ending tho
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
There's this feeling of irrepressible despair that I can no longer keep inside.
I need to know where you are, and where you've been, why do you hide?
I'm sitting here wondering why I told you to go.
Why I pushed you away, why we said no.
I see you through a screen full of lies and deception.
Depression's setting in, like screams of infections.
You were my protection, for the longest, the one I leaned on,
but by the selection of my words, you broke away clean, gone.
The pain I feel is surreal, I can't explain nor can I deal,
You were something of a thrill,
I needed you then, I need you still,
You're the only thing in life that ever seemed real,
but now I'm back to dreaming,
killing my mind to conceal.
Thoughts bleeding, mind breaching.
Heavy breathing.
Now all apart of my past,
I trap it all in a mask I wear,
my voice raspy,
I tear the wrist, bombing my heart,
Fear passed me.
Blood and bone, ******** on my own.
I found my home and another,
who loves me more than my mother,
I love you but I love her more and furthermore,
she's glorious, I'm never bored,
Notorious, but not a bore,
losing her I can't afford, so sorry baby here's the door...
Leave me be.
Can't you see?
Your memory is killing me.
At ease, I am calm,
Agreed I'm angry and I'm,
not really stable,
Turnt tables,
Look at me now,
Oh, you aren't able...
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
The way your eyes shine makes me glad I'm not blind. Actually, I think about it all the time.
Even Stevie wouldn't wonder, I mean lightning looks good but it's the feeling of the thunder, ya know?
Why are we always so reckless? Broken hearts on your checklist.
I'm thinking I want more than that. I'm all turnt, how'd I end up in this cul-de-sac?
Someone flipped the light switch. I'm like thank you Mr. Edison.
I want more than just a side stitch. Shout out to Lilo, Disney mention.
Did I mention? I always pay attention. That's why your boy can always tell when you're not yourself.
I just want the real you. I'm sick of chicks with scripts baby tell the truth.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
It doesn't matter what color you'd bleed if you'd cut yourself.
It doesn't matter what you did last Friday or what you've already got planned
for the weekend after that,
how much rage you're going to make with the best
of so called buddies,
or even how many times you came "this close" to almost dying.
But I fell for that **** because it was scary and because
it was everything I taught myself to never want in anything
that meant it could fill me
but I used you to feel full and not so empty and tempted
to engage myself in something that would worry my mother if she knew all the secrets.
It doesn't matter what you've done before and how good that makes you now
at what you tricked me into doing.
It doesn't matter how fast you talk or how many people
you can choose to falsely idolize because of a stereotype or a media buildup.
No one was ever crowned king because of self proclamation.
You have to earn a rule like that.
It doesn't matter, to you, who you hurt as long as you gain something when you get there.
And that was me, sadly, who you got in between some bad timing
and a little self loathing.
I just wanted to feel good and you let me do that in the most wrong,
disgusting, abusive way.
And it doesn't matter what people say to you in the morning,
how many high five's you get or how long it'll be remembered.
All that matters
is that when you're drunk at the creek on another "turnt up" night
of losing yourself in illusions your insecurities lead you to believe
you're thinking of me.
You're thinking of how good something so real like me could be
if you only gave up your blinded trust for one second so you could see
what you're turning into and what I guess I thought
you always could be.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
Hypocrite tournament
put the hippos in a
tourniquet
Turnt a bit
too turned up
Two ton tummies
summo wrestling,
who will win?
Mounted champion
munching on
mountains:
A hypo-hippo-perbole
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
2014, a year where 90s and late 80s babies are happy hyper turnt up not turnt down are swaggerific vs Brillitelegerent. Everyday we live is a commercial Just because we see many commercials Young fly and flashy is what we all want to be but what about those that just want to be "young wild and free"
Free to speak, free to act, free to stand, free to move, free to sing, free to dance, free to read, free to eat and more importantly free to choose how and what we want things to be like Females: I see we got swag of soul urban sophisticated finesse then theres those of us who are preps that are chic may be geeks. Lastly the girls that love to twerk alot plus cover themselves in thick make up and hair dye or is it a weave or a bob (Bob)
They say we sweet cuz we got that "bubblegum" question is what is your flavor something like K Michelle? Nicki Minaj? Rihanna? Miley Cyrus? In that case so do we all skirts and crop tops and bikinis and short shorts or is it galaxy leggings or perhaps jeggings.
Fellas they say you are pimps and players dons and brothas that be like "Forget the haters" they say you are cool with swagger as Kesha said something like that Nick Jagger. Urban dominance, fitteds and suits glasses and high fades what about those high grades Yasssss my brotha ooh I cant forget about those gorgeous dread heads now Ayeeee
Alright I mentioned alot about the guys but which are you...chris brown? Drake? That boy Meek milli or Justin Beiber well whichever it is Ladies and Gentlemen Just remember your place and Destination our Generation peace
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
down by the sea,
you'll find me down by the sea
i'm not a live nor can i breathe
just a simple spirit lost with out most memories
how did i come to be? well i fell for a boy who hurt me
i drowned on the day i the turnt sixteen,now i wait for my day to see the light
but what i want more than anything is REVENGE there is nothing sweeter
i'll give him the pain he gave to me and show him what it's like to lose everything
so i'll be here by the sea waiting to bring him misery
his life will turn into a tragedy
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
Mother is tending the garden
leaving no thirsting plant-child
parched
in her slow moving
up the rows.
From vines she draws,
from thickets,
broad-leaf greens
and red-gem tomatoes.
Fruit of labor and patience,
these she’s turnt from the soil,
now set over fire
to boil.
Mother’s love in
tin
bowls and cups.
No silver platter flattery.
Necessity here,
and the fragrance steaming
burns the lip.
It comes too hot
but in waiting taste
the thick of sauce,
salt and nutrient,
the savor of warm gifted
herbs
bitter,
medicinal.
“When you finish you meal,
wash your bowl.”
Full-fleshed flavor
on dancing pallet comes
often later,
in the tending of ones own gardens,
in the turning of soil
and the redolence of ones own workings
does the meal truly feed you.
ah! The reality in us!
ah! The loving,
thanks-giving
back to Earth,
Greatest, Grandest Mother.
The warmth of food flowing
down hands,
fingers,
into the fruits
and the thirsting plant-children.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
Of all things sentimental.
She came through the door wearing a suit of armor.
The door closed behind her with a rattle and tick of swaying arms.
With rust around her eyes she longed to be melted down.
A drop left in her can of oil.
The metal on her chest plate dull, full of dents.
She explained that her heart stopped working.
That the gears and springs just won't turn.
With a screwdriver jammed in the middle and a bolt or two missing.
I heard the man behind the counter say that he could repair it but she too insisted in a louder voice.
Its not worth the trouble, that she'd rather be melted down.
Too much time has passed, she wants to finally feel the warmth of something genuine.
I watched her as she walked into the welder's shop.
Some people laughed. Others wore a look of wrinkled eyebrows.
Revealing their defect. Noses turnt sharp in the air.
Beauty comes in all shapes and form.
A beautiful shape molded into tin to protect how precious she was.
Dings and dents from the rocks they'd throw.
The world is a cruel place.
Her operator forgetting her name, A reflection of alzheimer's not done intentionally.
The damage of watching everything around you slowly change.
The insecurities of home no longer being home.
She pierced a hole over her heart with a screwdriver.
Jamming the gears. Causing nuts bolts and springs to bounce everywhere in a buildup of steam.
Rust composites in the duct of her eyes.
I watched her walk through the door.
Making brief eye contact before walking through the door myself.
When I walked in there was no sign of her.
Just the man behind the counter setting out a new watch stained in rust
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
Pillowtalk
Unraveling my mentality i stick to a thought and feel a motive,
Feeling in my throat...i speak with conviction,
Tough to swallow,Too thick to be shallow i think and speak to hear my tune,
Slow lip movement to accompany the steady feelings of love in the rain drops.
I speak with no emotion but i think of my evoked preferences,
At times i’m guilty of what i said and i lay beside the pillow in my bed,
My speakers are turnt up to drown my thoughts before i fall asleep,
My phone stays on vibrate as the sound of communication is too much,
I don’t want to speak, i don’t want to think and i don’t want to feel.
In the mornings it’s been hard getting out of bed,
My bed is warm but my pillow is wet from the sweat made by my nightmares,
Sunlight dangles instead of the curtains and the glass of water from midnight condensed,
Just like the in the past when the great depression occurred...i survived to make it here,
A new anti-climatic chapter in feeling regret but patient in my future,
Nothing really ends in my mind,
Infinite loops and passions just sit within me,
Lazy realizations are factored within these. These?
These revelation and emphasis on mental instability,
Strange as it sounds I'm ok today.
Last night... it rained last night,
The air was cool but not quite right,
My speaker made a low hum I tried to imitate,
I tried to comfort myself from the chills I felt.
I looked at my phone and mouthed the words I saw,
I was upset so I played my playlist called pillowtalk,
The speaker began to speak again,
This time I drowned in my own thoughts.
I fell asleep but I didn't wake up again...like ever,
Though this is true I was always ‘woke’ in the memories I spoke.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 11:19 PM UTC
I remember when I first saw you
in such a state,
shifting with the direction of light,
viola shaped,
the boudoir door slightly ajar.
Rings exchanged,
veil removed,
the bells had chimed for us,
and then for
ships in safe harbor.
The pitter patter of
surf cascading in
from an open window,
otherwise hushed,
turnt and *****
dimples showing
whether you smiled or not.
Turnabout was fair play
--azure hues in moonlit pastel
caressing the folds and ties
around midnight’s chemise
--the lure of velveteen
and vast soft canvas of pearl
--areolae circles and quaint triangles
in the thick of things,
gift-wrapped in elegant fur.
Belle-chose, under
the waxing, waning crescent
of dainty omphalos, yawning in chiaroscuro,
red-faced and piqued,
quite shy coming out of the shadows.
The batting of lashes,
the lingering scent of bouquet
--like the seduction of flute song,
I followed and followed
until thoroughly lost within you.
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC
Selectively mines, on conditions that I don't step out of line, don't dare ask too many questions because it makes you answer with more questions where I'm turnt into the bad guy,
the one who doesn't understand, it's all my fault somehow, it's because of me, I failed to give into to ridicules accusations or allow defeat, I was pushed past the point of breaking ,
I even lost me a few times, I've been insane for as long as I can remember but this time it's completely different, I wake to walk in fear every hours of the day,
I'm made to feel ashamed for loving you, told I'll never be as good as the one you're faithfully into someone whose not even known you not the real you not as I do,
seed after useless seeds polluted a once healthy womb, drop after drop tears fell hard on shadows passing me up,
leaving me for what may become a happy ending to this fairytale nightmare,screaming myself away flinging covers off of me, laughing as I cry out darkness, so dark and the scents nostalgically unpleasant, the many times her scents lingered on you
even in thought I conjure up the smell of lies, the musty deceit, the filthy metallic accusations thrown at me
Selectively mines when it suites your ego and when it's not inconveniencing you, I'm turnt into the bad one the person whose always to blame,
the one who
doesn't understand,
it's all my fault
somehow,
it's because of me,
I failed to give into
to ridicules accusations
or allow defeat,
I was pushed
past the point of breaking
the reason you need her - where I no longer have a place, I had no choice too, I had to move on.
Hardest things to do when your reaching for a hand but end up with straws, darkness and no help, dreams unpleasantly real, craving a touch a kiss, to be notice.
**Knock knock,
whose there?**
*No one....
Just your
Wife of 11 years.*
Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
Yes ***** I am an angel, I am the devil, I've been through hell, so get on my level. I'm forward bound and goal oriented, but the block is where I can be found, turnt up and disoriented. We've all got our vices, we all have a crutch, whatever to suffice, especially splittin a Dutch. It can come as a powder, it can be in a pill, just never lose the power of your freewill. Furthermore, it's best to never assume, that your grip on reality can't be taken, cause at that moment you've been consumed, the altered thoughts induced hinder bein awaken. A powdered perception precipitates self resent, leaves the future in question, but a powdered past reciprocates repent, by revealing itself as a blessin. God works in a mysterious way, acceptin of your flaws, I don't fear judgment day, I lived with a cause
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
another slip
of the tongue
and it's a world of hell.
tasted purification
elongated salutations
to the people; dead
and walking shells.
burnt out
turnt about
for display purposes only.
and you're not allowed to look.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
Check it,
I wreck it,
On the mic I get hectic;
I'm like a broken mirror, look, I'm bad luck reflectin.
When I'm drunk I see in two's,
I smoke the skunk to find my muse,
Lysdexic con-, I'm real -fused,
And though you have to pick and choose,
I'm both the tortoise and the hare: I never lose;
I'm real smoothe,
But I can cruise.
New thoughts,
I lay em down,
From the top,
I'm breaking ground.
Faucet runnin,
Hot new flow,
Thoughts is stunnin,
Here we go:
Preferred fuel is butane,
Lyrical spark ignites flame,
And yes my rhymes is insane,
Never premeditate game.
And here's another,
No really, you can have it for free:
We all started out white,
As a ***** turned to seed;
And my my,
How I've grown,
And turnt thoughts into gold,
Just call me new school alchemist,
My methods be fresh and untold.
Not a bad little verse,
From the old t-o-p,
Now Imma finish shapooin,
Cause I'm so fresh and so clean.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
I know I could come up with better poetic lies,
but I'm turnt up on sins,
and
I love you
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 9:46 PM UTC
Finally this week is through,
What is there to do?
I think I will hit a party or two.
Ready to get turnt up,
Grab a red solo cup,
Sure as hell won't throw up.
*** ***** Beer,
Wait is that Everclear?
It's about to get crazy in here!
Mixing ***** with tea,
Oh **** gotta ***
Hey, hold this for me?
Walk into the hall,
Trying not to fall,
Let me hold onto the wall.
Make my way to the dance floor,
All the boys lookin' to score,
Tryin' not to be a *****
2 am time to go,
Probably should've said no,
But home with him I go.
You call from out of the blue,
I was tryin' to forget you,
The only way I knew how to.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
you ripped my heart out
with out a doubt you knew I liked you
but you turnt around and spat in my face
I'm done! trying to chase
you in this stupid game
it drove me insane but now
im done! I'm done always being down
I'm done being funny
I'm done trying to make money
to pay my friend back
I loved you and you made me have a heart attack
if my heart goes black
remember how i was before
when I loved you and you hated me back
now im trying to hack
past this wall
to find my way back in your heart
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
Just because its called a blunt,
Doesn't mean it dulls the edges.
It keeps everything turnt,
Giving a sparkle to the senses.
It gives you joy.
Whilst fading away your tensing.
Trips, it takes you on.
Just inhale. Take flight, take off. . .
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 1:17 AM UTC
Casual brush of friction wrought felsh
Causing metallic sparks of the rusty kind.
Red cups.
Shuffling feet.
Dry tear ducts.
Unnecessary screaming.
It's only midnight.
It's only one.
It's only four.
The party's not done.
Take a shot.
Take a bow.
Keep your thoughts inside
Let the ***** out.
Not in the street.
How much did you drink?
What the **** is all over your shirt?
Go home.
Rest up.
Let's do this again real soon.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
as kids we used to go out in
the cold holding pretzels
between our fingers and pretend
our frozen breath was smoke
*(funny how
kids grow up)*
we rang in this new year
with a half gallon of last
year's apple cider just turnt
enough to bite and fizz
half glasses of
questionable mango juice
mixed with a stranger's
thick cream ***
and a full season of
mash but after
this year i know
suicide is not painless
*(it burns and stings
chokes and screams
leaves friends
crying at five a.m.)*
stood on some kitchen steps
cat-scratched hands red
from hot dishwater and icy air
stomping cold feet
*(the plan is to get me addicted
for just a couple years while you
*** them off me until i prove
i'm strong enough to quit)*
and you held out the zippo
lighter you got for christmas
i handed you a cigarette
and you held it between your
fingers and tapped away the
ashes like richard dawson would
*(there's something poetic about
historical self destruction)*
it burned my lungs
enough that i coughed
but then again it
felt right
natural
like we had been
practicing for this
new year all our lives.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 9:17 PM UTC
Blasphemy, blasphemy in the city of Rhapsody
Casualties, casualties increased in number, they plunder
Gold chains, gold rings, and hoes
******* up on their nose
Knives and bullet holes
Liquor fumes run out there pores
Another round it's time to pour
Ball, and steal the ones you love
Grim, like reapers, scythe laying in the trunk
So rowdy, you getting punked
Get out the house, get on the funk
I am, I am the kid who is stacking dollars
I be, I be the one they call the POWER
Stealing from yall' what is no ones
So I came to ball and unfold them
Ace of spades, I be rubbing on the jin
So dam turnt I do now know how it can be sin
She is fire, infernos desire, my mind admires, her waterfall I acquire
I just want that hot verse and that choir
Encore, encore I think I want more
Just like Ceasar, man's brain gets distorted
Because they hoeing, because the gold and drugs that come, people change when you got that dolla huh?
People change, People change, when you got that dolla huh?
Huh?
I be, I be a one man choir
Look at all these ******* in the game. 'Bout to grab that empire
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC