Best Slam Poems
I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl,
And when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one-size-fits-all
Who and what I want comes from being strong
Classy and fabulous, this is my song!
I've been told, cut to size
The world is dark and gray when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind,
I am tough, outstanding, and beautiful!
Move ahead --- say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
As a woman, everything about me is hidden
Magic and alluring are the only joy you'll need
I'm empowered at this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sorta mystique
I deliver an independent will,
Don't ever underestimate my physique
I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A Girl
Wearing heels breaking the sounds of Wedding Bells
I am, Mona's unforgettable smile, standing tall Like Miss Liberty
I am, Betsy America's #1 designer, I am you and full of life.
The sound in your eyes isn't listening!
You imagine I am weak -- not strong enough -- brave enough,
You call me different and difficult!
Still, you want my warmth -- my love -- my attention
I am not less, I am more
I am a woman -- I frown -- I cry -- I hurt and yell at the universe
Nevertheless, I make a difference, like a girl, I smile
A smile, never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more
Like a girl, I'll drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self-confidence comes from who I am deep inside
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood
At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL
Wouldn't you rather~
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Maybe shoot yourself in the head?
Over my dead heart, I'd never want to be a zombie like you.
The sight of your limbs are rotten all the time.
All synonyms say of you looks like a 3 legged swine.
Go ahead and do us all a favor,
hide and stash yourself away from all your neighbor.
I think I'd rather have my eyes stuck with glue
So I won't have to look at you
When it comes to family friends, you ain't got none.
You're always gonna be called the lonely retarded one.
Who could ever love a face like yours.
not even your mother see's pass your gores
No need for privacy when you pee
Go ahead and take a leak and drown yourself in the sea.
Don't think for one second you are irresistible
Love making with a zombie is impossible.
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head
The time to kill yourself is at hand.
Slicing your wrist is what we recommend.
Cut your tongue off, don't want to hear you squeal.
Blood all over, your face is no big deal
A sword or machete will only pick up the pace
I wanna see your guts pop out your mid-waist
Contaminated objects is a must
Anything to remove your face of disgust.
The easy part is the best
Once you are gone we will all feel blessed,
The flaw of your existence
Is what keeps us all in distance
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head
Close your eyes and die
No one wants to hear you cry
You said you wanted to be loved
believe me~ you're better off unloved
I say do yourself off
Anyways you've always had it rough...
Go ahead and scream
This is not a dream
Now see how you make me feel
All I want is for you to end your ugly ordeal.
I will praise this day of course
Knowing soon you'll be a rotting corpse.
happy valentine ~ TO: All My DEADBEAT X-es from Texas.
I woke up that day with tears in my eyes,
after I heard about your father's demise.
Guess you've never understood,
the point of being his blood.
I remember when your mother left,
how he was totally bereft.
Ran off with the man next door,
not once did he call her a whore.
Not once did your mother call,
too busy having a ball.
Forgot about her only child,
to live a life fun and wild.
He knew he had to be strong,
so the world would do you no wrong.
Every night he held you tight,
his eyes your guiding light.
Every time you would cry,
he would kiss those tears dry.
Worked three jobs so you had the best,
not once did he fail in your request.
He suppressed all his sorrows deep inside,
he was broken but never did he subside.
Single he remained for the rest of his life,
dedicated to you, so you would not face strife.
Yet you too, decided to walk away,
tell me what led you astray?
You called him a religious bore,
when you ran out of that door.
He had your best interests at heart,
but you belittled him for not being smart.
Then you wonder why he finally broke,
all that stress gave him a deadly stroke.
Now you stand there with your unfaithful mother,
with someone who is young enough to be your brother.
Crocodile tears stream from your artificial face,
as his coffin is lowered into his final resting place.
How ironic it has started to pour with rain,
maybe it's God washing away all of his pain.
Don't come running to me for sympathy,
I have no time for those with no dignity.
All his sacrifices now you seem to realise,
but he can't hear you, it's too late to apologise.
Because of you he lived a life heartbroken,
forever you will regret those words unspoken.
P.S
If you think his inheritance will help your austerity,
he wasn't that stupid, he left it all to charity!
The Silent One
16 February 2018
Based on a true story
"La Voz"
La Noche sin agua --- I spill my loving lips
Dancing, laughing, and celebrating life
I am his queen, aka' dulce Nina
A night he must not forget
Lunesta ... Suave ...
He savors every moment;
Then questions my capabilities
Suddenly I feel like a refugee in my own house!
History and bad company, repeating itself
He wants to ruin the beauty of leadership
America on top, Latinos on the bottom
"Legally," he says, he'll welcome me
Law-abiding, I pass the proper speech
Stereotyped every time I share my race
Casting my poor nationality under the Rio Grand,
A wall too tall, in which my people continue to build
After I give him my all
Children, love, support
The best tortillas in the house
He offends a lifetime of memories
I'm a skillful woman, I dance with no music
I love to work, I take the field
Picking cotton, like there's no tomorrow
I will continue to paint rainbows
And enjoy every color in my garden.
Today, I've forgotten what Mexico looks like
However, that does not cut him from
accusing my race of planting too many trees
Calculating, calling Latinos criminals,
Forgetting his sin, he wants to win
Insinuating we're robbing the American Dream
This is where I belong!!!
Go ahead and build more republicans
I'm already on the side I want to be
Born and raised in the USA
~*~
"A Broken Demo"
In a desperate cry for help
She hires every jeweler
A cheap sheep crying, Wolf!
Using old repeating politic
utilizing lies * manipulation
To cover the Glass Paste on her face
Diamond-like - Stonecold and Crooked!
Her true shape -- unveiled -- predictable
A Thief Among The Mines
In a world where certainties are few---
Promises! Promises!
A shallow cut - with high class
no shape --- no spark, a dark mass
Smashing success when opportunity hits
The worst gem in disguise
The diamonds in her eyes -- gone -- expired
If you look, you will see
A twisted reflection in her evil grin
A sinister smile -- waiting to win
Her Vice - a victim --- her puppet
blind * believing her lies
Cutting light performance -
-Without realizing most see past her history
We the people are more than a cubic step
Lighting the madness of her soul
Just remember, every day she sits on her pedestal
Without a twinkle --- she stares into the night
Knowing nothing she stands for is right
Innovation - incomplete
A man-made she-demon trying to wear white
Like the swan, dying every night
She refused to hear the trumpet play
A new moon soon will open our eyes
EXPOSED --- Diamond CUT
Hillary Will Not Be President
#The Poet Destroyer
Floccinaucinihilipilification And Very Little Bread
( First of Three Poem Trilogy )
I
I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.
Nor do I fancy to become a bichon frise,
beholding to those with comminatory ways.
Finding some will cut you off at the knees
as a criticaster dariole for fugacious pay.
Floccinaucinihilipilification,
judged by Flews that chatter in morbid tune.
Give me saudade and a sandy beach vacation
with very little scrippage in the month of June.
Aye, no snollygoster soucouyant will do,
for my heart and soul begs sun-grazing songs.
Not a superbious umbriferous critic or two,
with the poet's soul this body truly belongs.
Seeking no uroboros legacy my ink doth stain
as a soulcatcher with a selkie as a muse.
Alone, in this rawky terrain my life will remain
for solitude and honor my poet's heart doth choose.
I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit,
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-21-2018
Rhyme
Note:
Make of this what you will,
I give thus and surely shall send no bill
Yet in my poet's heart my soul oft grieves
for the Autumn colors not the decaying leaves
For the heart that yearns to write and truly give
and the mortal soul that writes to live
With inked symbols and a mind tired of toil
wading through worlds filled with pride and hidden turmoil
I write with purpose to give to others, not to take
tho' oft my poet's heart over burning coals some gladly rake.
Where Have All The Pretty Poets Gone?
A real poet are you, charismatic over everything you serve
Showcasing, a rainbow that folds the perfect worldwide perspective
I'm talking about flawless literature at its best no typos, no muss
Just a page full of boredom and rust
Thank you for having Lunesta all up in my head
It's like reading a poetry lesson, from the extras of The Walking Dead
An image frozen cold, waiting for inspiration to hit like Al Capone
I'm bored of your flora flamboyant language rocking me like stones
A psychedelic trip, into the odyssey of a blind man's tale
A home where I am pushed to open a dictionary & thesaurus with Braille
Wondering what you just said, --Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful day!
The best rocket pen poet in the USA Today,
Launching words like no tomorrow, a fool of wordplay and sorrow
A godlike guinea-pig genius, delegating poetry politician-style
Perhaps, one day you will become a famous writer
Burning books, like a cigarette lighter
Until then, enjoy pushing your pen as if it were cocaine,
Snorting up and cutting up the food chain in vain
Patronizing and ignoring those, for better or worse
A solo cup stuck up another cup, -won't even look my way
Correct me if you will, it's no big deal
Just don't forget to give me the same respect I offer you
Until then my pretty poetic friend, I kneel before no one
By: ME
5-25-14
Simply unaware....or perhaps I don't care
what others say or do
It's partially true
I'm through
Used to care what they think
of my words, of my ink
not anymore....
So much more is in store
you see...rhymes keep knocking at my door
I write and you explore
I won't be intimidated
slated or hated
my thoughts confiscated
by he said she said judgement calls
and so the mic falls
Applause reverberates
and oh how it sates
this little heart of mine
it sounds almost...divine
approval affixed
on my lines, on the mix
of these thoughts and these scribbles
gone is the dribble
of inconsistent scales
yes, it all pales
for I blossom, yes I strive
here in my poetic tribe
the true and the tried
the ones who remain
the ones who refrain
from unkind jabs
drawing blood, leaving scabs
wounds remain...
sad refrain
Yet, tranquility is my gain
I'm stronger
I've stayed here longer
and I will thrive
"staying alive"
for the select few
people like you
and people like me
who love poetry
Pseudonyms, pseudogames
I've seen them come and go
and this much I know
truth is tenacious
staying power's for the gracious
weathering the storm
an exception, not the norm
this much I can tell you:
rhymes remain resplendid
all the way through time
poetry
will
shine
Eileen Manassian
Haven’t you heard
Didn’t they caution
I make haters
Why they exist
Why they envy
Didn’t you smell
their burning flesh
Did they not warn you tread lightly
This place was a shelter
where they sought me
hoping for my warmth
I turned it to winter
encased fake words
froze vacant minds
Emanating ability
scorching paths
Ignorant ashes
melted in heat
Not warmth
was found
but fire
As the
sun
am
I
I fell asleep one dreary day
I lost my will, I lost my way
I ran from all I ever knew
And feared the call I was supposed to pursue.
I drank from wells set on fire
And filled my voids with unholy desires.
I dressed the part to play the role
And slowly began to lose my soul.
But, when your down and
Shadows grow
And you finally have nowhere else to go
The only way to rise again
Is from the power of an eternal friend.
Many leave when you’re at your worst
When your hearts so heavy, it’s about to burst
Many claim so many titles
Their efforts are futile and their time is idle
Their promises bleed through the incisions
For they can’t possibly understand the mission.
Battles have been the hardest at times
And memories have played with my mind
But, I keep marching like any good solider would
Even though most of the time I am misunderstood.
I keep on fighting the forces and the fears,
Knowing one day he will wipe away every tear.
I keep on giving it my best even when it’s not enough
For only one holds my heart when the waves get too rough.
I keep on believing that one magnificent day
I will see true glory wash away my yesterdays
I keep on believing that one marvelous day,
I will see the gates of my destiny enrapture my today.
By: Sabina Nicole
-Dear, Mr & Mrs Poet-
Do you ever question where it comes from?
This poem's about you, sit down and get a load off
Tranquilize your pen, take heed to the ecstatic applause
The things in life we take for granting, in time get worse
From WHICH' our lives transverse, ascends a deep poetic curse
You write almost everything, rehearsing every living verse
Embezzling words, like Martha Stewart, ---NOT YOURS!
Withdrawing from your substance,
--yielding it to others, who aren't devoted lovers
Spacing your lines, ready for reader's digest,
Educating the mind, like Albert Einstein
You paint a different horizon for the color blind,
Drop a note, forecasting the news, that brings, Spring to mind
Your adrenaline, leaves people with a feel good faint.
At this level, Poet you're better than high speed Internet,
Anything that makes you feel this is the real deal,
Today, you write like there's no tomorrow, borrowing yesterday's clay
Inspiring ink, left to right, feeding the need to breed a poetic degree
Your dramatic dialogue, deserve 'The Peoples Choice award."
I love the sweet audio, when you lowercase every word
It's done so well, hell, let's never capitalize another word
Reaching a point across, when capitalizing every letter,
This is your world, take it, manipulate it, with the perfect stanza
Produce it like a poetic film, imagery, action, CUT it like Jerry Bruckheimer
One day Hollywood will incite a roll, looking for the best poetry soup rhymer
Your tears and affection, you pour on partial paper,
Showing every word you want to enunciate
A SHOULDER-- gone cold, drowning, forgetting the normal way
Writing about the pure religion that meets your light,
A beautiful flower under the moonlight
Hear the bells, Poe wrote about, adding sprinkles to the twinkle in your eyes,
A redolent scent not meant to be forgotten, from Eden's garden
Taking nature, by course, granting her a crown, before slamming us down
I will call her out --The evil and the fury of a goddess, a beast
This is my feast, I welcome you to my jungle, and the outer bounds of time.
If you ever question where it comes from?
Sit down and get a load off, listen---Where's the ecstatic applause?
I'm not afraid to say, -----I'm Proud to be A Poet Without A Cause
by;PD
I do it for fun
Toilet Bowl Committee (aka: Uptown Hood)
A lavatory confinement
my$h!tdontstinkcomode.com
---
If you want to moderate this place, pick up the pace
From the mouth down to the @$$
Your so called kind has no class,
Fed by these political rejects, never elected for what was!
No matter,
They wipe their assets clean with our dreams
Forgetting to wipe their own toilet seats clean
Trying to make us feel dirtier than scat
Feeding off our paper when their toilet bowl water level is low
Toilet bowl PO-poes, wiping without dental floss
Missing everything in between reality
Trying to be kind, saying "One Day We'll Be Good Enough!"
Offering their Golden Plunger,
straight from the Home Depot shelves
No Thank You! My plunger a true gift from Mr. Wal-Mart himself
Next time you feel the need to offer a reference point
Please caption your name when you drop by,
Rinse thoroughly when speaking my name,
Then I will listen when you talk civilized
Correct my punctuations and spelling errors
The weakest trait you wear
You are no Prophet, just white tissue turning brown
Your Justification comes from old dry grapes falling from the vines
Ridicule will never give you the respect, for what you are!
We, the few poets from the hood,
overpower any change you offer Goodwill
Crumbling and flushing what does not meet your standards
Trying hard to force feed us soup, without giving us bibs
Thank you
Toilet Bowl Committee
For clogging up my drain with your bull$h!T
By: Keeping it Real (The Downtown Hood)
Date: 12-15-13
~*~
Who was that masked man?!?
Brian Williams, rides again.
He was in Amilia Earhart's plane;
even rode with the Dalton Gang.
The day the Titanic went down;
In the rescue boat when Rose was found.
He went on expeditions with Louis and Clark.
Once gave his seat to Rosa Parks.
He was actually the first man in space.
That shadow on the moon........ It's his face!
The earliest woman, they deemed to be
bones in the desert they named Lucy.
She was his niece, tho she drug her knuckles,
so he really is a monkey's uncle!
He walked miles and miles on the Trail of Tears;
wondered the desert with Hebrews for forty years.
He dated Cleopatra; drank wine with Moses;
gave the Queen of Sheba a camel and roses.
He's walked with Bigfoot in the hills;
been bitten by vampires, but magically heals.
He has had great adventures of every kind.
He's Brian Williams; a legend in his own mind.
Maybe I can be one of those news cast stars.
This is Arlene, reporting from mars........
Couldn't resist this little tribute to the wild stories of reporter Brian Williams who was fired for seemingly padding up his stories....
-"x+2 = 4"-
Enigmas of the soul
Do you know how it feels?
Never tasted before
Invisible Sun
PD
Pierced by shards of shattered glass
Deeper and deeper you stab me
With lies and venomous words
Dissecting my heart piece by piece
Crushed like the petals of a withered rose
I’m dying …
Scarlet blood seeps into my very soul
Drip
Drip
Drip
Into pieces and a bloody mess
I scarified secrets;
Secrets you tore and tore,
Gracing a fake friendship,
Trust tossed like a sweaty towel
Now karma a poisonous snake
You plea ...
To be on death row, decomposing
Dripping into the night -- Silently
fading and fading
Stung by my viper lips,
smiling
grinning
laughing
Until you are no more
A Poet Destroyer Collaboration
Collaboration Celebration Contest
7th August 2015