Mic Poems - Poems about Mic

FOR ALL THAT IT’S WORTH – BY HAMID SINCLAIR In God… we find the godless. So-called transformers of faith— Neo-Decepticons, New Age ravers, Ravenous sheep… in wolf’s clothing. Hapless victims—bitten by the serpent. They entered humanity’s paradise… and robbed him. No—her. Wait… is it her/him? Everyone catching the vapors of...

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Black And White We are given all the pieces to play and indulge in life’s great feast outrageous fortunes be dammed! Given full reign to Ego’s unfettered beast and the moves we make shall establish our legacy Why are we here? We can either dazzle with brilliance or baffle with bulls*it Shameless are unleashings of doubt only makes a lesser us grow inhibits our...

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these are only musings, musing on her and the grace she moved with and I wonder did it come with age, a self-assured wisdom after the growing ache of a man looking through her crumbled to ashes? did she bloom beneath that disposition undisturbed, unflattened by Invisible Woman Syndrome? ...

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It was open mic nite or maybe ladies night no matter, wasn’t my scene so I ordered a beer and took my seat The show was amatuer night for sure everyone laughed drum roll curtains left my glass with the waitress and my tip caught a guy out in the front lot hocking CD’s at ten bucks a pop says hes a musician, I should hear his stuff its gangster...

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#Pass_me_the_mic Pass me the mic, my left ear itches, there's an ink transiting. Clear the podium, I speak in reverberations, hope the far too catches the frequency, lick my libs, this can't walk on dry grounds, clears my throat a rumble for a worthy art, I speak in codes, artistic codes. Lend me the ear, maybe the...

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Dusk marks stygian depths of this eldritch eve quay grim specter beneath the moon's silvery sheath surf cleaves with a hiss as the banshees keen weave lure to the thicket where shadows deceive yet beckoning thy breast beat. Chains of ghostly twilight night's tapestry entwine if thou doth believe in such things so they say but...

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You must taste just like urban art, all that swag dripping from your smirk; Contours of tag lines show your heart, a masterpiece with skilled brushwork; So stylish with that nouveau quirk, your scent won’t abide dilution; With a word you drive crowds berserk; On the mic you’re revolution....

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Nervous poets come and read poetry and sing songs accepting applause and feel welcomed...

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Does my posture hint who I am At open mic poetry slam I prefer to hide behind lime winged words On my pc or tablet or pen paper if I have it Will my message get loosely lost As you notice the style of hair I toss If I am short tall fat or thin Do YOU hear my message or take...

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She plays her love for me on strings, And I, a lucky soul, am still, And listen as she sings her heart— A prize no other man can keep....

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She takes the stage, Her mic in her hand She tries her best to make them all understand It's like a feeling that takes control, Deep within her soul begging her to let go A voice comes from within Explaining to her its ok to be whole again What if she falls down or stumbles? Will she still be able to stand...

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Carly Simon Songstress, big hair, and a huge smile Cheshire cat teeth you can see across the Nile You’re So Vain—Just might be about Jagger Love her—Itsy-Bitsy Spider—and all her swagger...

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i can't say i'm a meat puppet because i'm not in the band but i'll allow you to put your hand stuff it in and with fingers do as you co mm and...

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There is an anagram in this line....

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A man named Disney drew a mouse named Mickey Now Disney's gone, but Mickey still goes strong In cartoons and parks from Spain to New York City Across the globe all kids can sing his song A melody you simply can't get wrong Though Disney only lived to sixty-five That mouse he drew is very much alive...

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