Poets- you all think your good,
So unique- I call *******.
Trying to say your ideas are original,
When in reality they are just a bunch of regurgitated words from another visionary before.
That's right, your spewing of words once were, makes your breath  reak.
You taste someone else's thought,
Think if you chew it up and spit it back on a plate you can call it lunch.
When in reality, your serving warmed over left overs.
Unique? I think not.
Poets? Really are non existing
Dreamers, trying to pretend their situations are unique, maybe.
Or martyrs who think their lives should be the next big movie?
Now that's  more like it.
Tell me tour boring story, of your boring town. Wait!
Let me light a smoke and open a bottle first.
(I'm  gonna need it.)
There is nothing unique of love.
There is nothing  unique  of hate.
Oh, you had a rough life?
Well whoopty  doo!
Here, I present  the golden tear award for you.
Unique, *******!
Poetry- a cheap mask for the jokers ball.
A bunch of hand downs,
Washed and pressed.
So we can call them new threads
And try to impress one another.

You know man, living the life of an artist
it's not an easy thing to do, it's true
what they say, there's so much pain
entering in conflict with your soul
no matter how much you desire it, it'll never be whole
You try and try to escape the cruelty of your fate
you can't, it's all been decided before
So you suffer, hoping one day the veil shall be lifted

Come on now little man, you can do better than that

I've lived a thousand lives under the empire
of my pen
I've seen a million deaths unfold before my eyes
on a screen
I die every passing day, I lead my thoughts astray
further and further away from reality
To justify the notion of how my emotions
give birth to stars painting scars on the veil
of time and the cosmos

That's a little bit better, you're getting there
go on, tell us more

I wear a thousand mask for a thousand personalities
each interesting in their own way
to protect the boy I selfishly
locked away in a corner of my mind
A boy tormented by visions of Hell,
darkness, fears and insecurities
to give myself a sense of security
I write lines furiously and cry to my muse
hoping she'll have pity and fuel my addiction of words
I writes lines haphazardly to try and make
sense of the Universe which is life
I write lines to justify my meaningless existence
because broken promises of Heaven and
afterlife won't satisfy my unending thirst
for freedom of mind
I write lines to deny the existence of a ******
reality that crumbles down every day and to
prove to everyone I am my own God
if not over everything that is, was, will be
than over this tiny little world encompassed
in a tiny little brain

Good, we're almost there, do go on
loving the anger

I want to be understood
that's not to much to ask for, is it
I don't want to be forgotten
rotting in a coffin as time consumes my rhymes
until inadvertently no one will know of my existence
no children, no family to carry on my legacy
of broken thoughts and badly written lines
Remember me, remember us
That's how this odyssey should have ended,
an extended ode dedicated to the random
stranger living his/her life
A testimony to the gruesome beauty
of our ultimate God, time.

Ah, poo soul tormented by pain
don't worry your efforts are not in vain
You're far more than the plain
simple-minded folk running around doing
their menial and petty tasks
Look at you, only 26 years old and already
so wise,
It must be gut wrenching to live with
your parents while not being able to maintain
a job
Oh, how I pity your tormented soul
when you do nothing at all, sitting in front of your PC
lamenting about the absence of your muse

But, but I have personality issues, I suffered
from depression and had suicidal thoughts

Whoopty ******' do, poor you
you're a ******* disgrace to the human species
watching your own mother work from 8 to 8
just to support your sorry white ***
Oh, but don't stop now, tell us more
about your extremely difficult life
charm our intellects with your witty rhymes,
your view changing, ground breaking, mind shaking
life altering poetry

What are we...

If not leafs blown by time
brave soldiers fighting crime
in the empire of life
all the never-ending strife
carving our skins with a knife
forged by scars worn and memories torn
from our darkest fears
So on and so forth, see?
It's easy spewing **** out of your ***
when clearly you have no understanding
on how to live, on what life really is
Don't you think it's about **** time
you take your head out of your own ***
and start using your brain?
Heaven forbid someone dares to upset your all so
fragile balance
Heaven forbid you spread your wings for a little
while and experience flight before
you come crashing down
You deserve no sympathy at all, self righteous,
money ******* pseudo-intellectual ****** leech
Go now, cry to your muse and girlfriends about
how cruel the life of an artist is
Sniveling little **** -

That's it, I'm putting my pen down
I don't need to listen to all this hateful
mind destroying *******

There we go, the root of your essence
the core of your soul, this is who you are
a coward.
Whenever someone, God forbid, decides
to challenge your foolish ideals and talk some
******* sense into you, you flee faster than a
rabbit scared of its own shadow
Go on then, shoo
back to your exploding pixels, locked away in front
of a box where your toon is a hero
back to your wanking and occasional girlfriend
you'll eventually get bored with, get bored of how
she dares demanding you open up a little bit
back to your castle in the sky
where there's no one but you, and who can confront you?
No one!

**** son, you just got wrecked, bahahahahahaha

Now that I'm stripped of all the masks
standing naked in front of you
do you still value me?
I imagine it would be childish to play
"Oh, I'm just another human being
filled with flaws, I'm in no way perfect
but can't you see, that's what makes us
so beautiful? Our imperfections" card

I found out something true,
there's some things I would rather not do
but when they happen whoopty doo,
******* happy and all is good ,

'Twas evening and the sneaky snakes
Did sneak and snake in the yard:
All thick were the shakes,
And the fat man ate lard.

"Beware the arabs my son!
The turbans that smell, the gas they sell!
Beware the taliban clan, not fun
The infamous Bin Laden form hell!"

He took his nuclear bomb in hand;
Long time the evil man he sought—
So passed out he in the desert land
From those killer shrooms he bought.

And as in deep thought he stood,
The arabs with their eyes of flame,
Came riding through the hood,
And babbled as they came!

One, two! One, two! And Through And Through
The nuclear bombs went Bang!
While chewing chew, that man he slew
And he cut off his ****.

"And hast thou slain thy evil man?
Come to my house my cheerfull boy!
Oh whoopty doo and Peter pan!"
He Chuckled in his joy.

'Twas evening and the sneaky snakes
Did sneak and snake in the yard:
All thick were the shakes,
And the fat man ate lard.