Have you heard the one about sheeren?
Sold out, Macklemore, so deciev'n !
At (one blast from kraft ')
That friendships now past
He's so rich' with dystiopian leanings !
When I painted this poster of my life
There was so much black and so much red
There was no yellow or blue
Just tan and blain
When the rainbow was cast
The shadows of what has been were colored
But what type of color was it
You see when darkness lurks all around
The grays seemed attractive to me
So what I saw as beauty was really ugly
How my life was then was no climb only falls
How do I fall if I won't climb that is the question that I needed to answer
When you step on those around it may seem you climb
You seem to reach the highest peak but the illusion is you really fall
Farther away from reality
It's a curse a self destruct button
It can only take you so far then the void locks you in
To put a poster out there of my life you would think it is no masterpiece but what is a masterpiece to you
To me it is what I try to color now
Life now as a canvas for change you see the blacker the canvas the whiter the reality could be
So take that brush the thoughts in you mind and search out for what a real work of art could look like in your own eyes because in the end that is all that really matters.
Does he really think about us, God?
When Lyhanna is murdered,
When the earth shakes in Caracas,
When JOHNNY suffers from cancer,
Does he want to make us doubt?
Yet the stars continue to shine,
Galaxies are rams
Who strike the unfathomable void,
Yet the sun, burns us,
Makes us see the light, from Hercules
Yet a pope prays alone
For the salvation of all sinners
Does he really think about us, God?
Pense t-il à nous vraiment, Dieu ?
Quand Lyhanna est assassinée,
Quand la terre tremble à Caracas,
Quand JOHNNY souffre d’un cancer,
Veut il nous faire douter ?
Pourtant les étoiles continuent de briller,
Les galaxies sont des béliers
Qui frappent le vide insondable,
Pourtant le soleil, nous brûle,
Nous fait voir la lumière, d’Hercule
Pourtant un pape prie seul
Pour le salut de tous les pêcheurs
Pense t-il à nous vraiment, Dieu ?
A young man stabbed, runs for police,
but his attacker was a Sikh,
who claimed ‘racism,’ and these cops
cuffed the poor victim as he dropped,
much more concerned with brownish skin
than murder, the quite worst of sins,
more fearful of the word ‘racist’
than life which no longer exists,
and then try to hide their disgrace,
let killers walk just to save face,
stopped only by a loud outcry,
not the fact they let a man die,
as leftist filth fear ‘the backlash,’
when the die is already cast.
The same scum who excused rape gangs,
their own daughters in vile hands,
ravaged by cruel Mohammedans…
rapists should swing from the tree limbs.
Another attack in Belfast,
we all know it won’t be the last,
the leftists despise their own kind,
think foreigners can’t be malign,
think they can bring in failed cultures,
and from them somehow be inured,
wrapped in their lazy, Marxist faith,
that only teaches to self-hate,
arrest folks for having wrong thoughts,
a tyranny wrapped up in rot,
all loyalty to you they spurned…
perhaps it’s right to make it burn.
I see out there, besides the pond,
a quartet of Canada geese,
picking through the manicured lawn,
hunting for some insects to eat.
Two adults and two little ones,
necks outstretched and probing the ground,
something about the silhouettes
just seems to tear the eons down…
I know that birds are therapods,
but when that long neck ducks I see
the outline of a Brontosaur,
albeit one that stands two feet…
And when it’s walking straight at me,
the head and neck up towards the sky,
it looks just like a sauropod,
at least until it starts to fly.
A weird thought, given on most days
they paddle around in the drink,
but change the place and back in time
the whole animal seems to sink.
Perhaps that’s why they’re ill-tempered,
hissing at you like a sinner,
since once they used to rule this earth,
but now they’re just Christmas dinner…
You say you think the earth is flat.
Please let me have your proof?
When they fly to the moon and look back,
They can see for sure that it’s round.
But I forgot; that won’t convince you,
For space flight’s a conspiracy too.
So tell me, if the earth is flat,
What stops the oceans from running away?
If you walk to the edge, what keeps you safe?
Did somebody build a retaining wall?
No, science has proved you have it wrong
And though I don’t wish to cause offence,
When I think of your Flat Earth Society,
I have serious doubts about your sobriety.
Ten caged apes eat grapes
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
I am oversaturated with a single emotion
When in truth I really had none
To begin with
Do I really know what is love
Or am I just blinded
To have someone
With only me to think of
Is timeless devotion what I feel
Or "unsought" adoration ?
Do you feel the same
Or was it just me all along?
Should I scream from the pain
You tore me up
Piece by piece
Left me on my own to collect them
And the pathways of my mind
Are forever scratched with your name
Is it really love
Have I turned blind from your pain?
Do I really mean something
Have you thought about our future
Or was it just me
All along
Daring to dream of us together
Should I feel wrong?
You made me heart feel like it's back home
You condemned my soul
To feel what it's like to be known
And at the end
You left all of it alone
Is it okay to feel shaken
Okay to feel wronged?
I'm not really questioning us
I'm just asking
Was there really enough of us
To actually begin?
Squiggles the striped pony with floozy hair
Woke up this morning with nary a care
He fluffed out his mane and headed to the stables
Uh-oh; it seems he had spent the night with the Mables
The Mables are two old maids, both in love with Squiggles.
I asked him about this, and heard some neigh-like-giggles.
He is a character, this striped pony with the floozy hair.
I hear the old maids calling, which gives him a scare
Don’t tell them you saw me, he tells me in a happy way
This pony does not know how to have a half-way bad day.
I see he is heading for another stall, housing a filly, Gray.
The rest of the barnyard rolls their eyes and gets out of the way
heard some one saying
humans are powerful
indeed they are powerful, capturing mountain lands,sky,even animals bigger then them
but are they powerful enough to hold onto the one they love?
are they powerful enough to hold there heart when someone they love breaks it into pieces
are they really powerful enough to get the one they loved ?
and the question still remains
are humans really powerful enough?
the one that stands so powerful how come become powerless in love ?
If you really love her
Let her go
Confused me
For years
Many many
Recently I concluded
That it's
For the best
And I see it now
Micky Haller and
Wife number 1
She's leaving him
Again
And
He should let her
Leave.
As I see it now, you see,
It's like this
And its simple
So simple
I wonder why, how,
It took so long,
It took those many many years
My advice to Mickey is this
If you really love her
Let her go
And if she loves you,
Simple,
She'll come back.
And tell me Joseph,
This has
What to do with me?
And who's Mickey Haller
Anyway?
Should I care a bit?
And as I ascended the stairs Wendy,
Wondering why
I had written that,
Nothing to do with you at all,
How'd I work Wendy into that poem???
I couldn't.
Until, of course,
I could.
I
And we,
Of course,
Had finally, finally,
To let you
Go.
We all love you, you see...
And we had to let you
Go,
But
With a twist,
We
Had to let you go,
Not
So you could return to us.
The truth is different.
You
Never left.
We
Had to let you go,
And you
Would prepare the way for us,
Until we meet again.
Yesterday I was
in my early teens,
cute Irene was my first girl,
she hardly smiled
I hope she would
create that bond
stronger than the coldest iron:
ah. did all go well?
They should have seen me
pulling her arm, telling her
to follow me and chase
the sunset's big rainbow...
until it would disappear
was she excited to kiss me?
Days went by,
I felt alone,
Irene was daydreaming,
denying my feeling,
avoiding all the fun;
a flame not really born.
We never saw each other again,
our paths never met;
a flame not really born
wanted to burn
in sunlight,
in moonlight
feeling great...
declaring our joy to the air.
No space or even time
can separate me from what was,
just an impossible thought that hurts
pulling me down.
Give me a syllable count,
I don’t do meter (or math, forsooth),
don’t ask for a rhyme
it might be a little off ~
as am I, just a bit crazy
(or so I’m told).
Oh, me ~oh, my,
I’ll kiss the girls to make them cry,
jiggety-jig, jiggety-jog~
home again, home again,
we’ll eat pumpkin pie,
kiss the frog and say goodbye.
Yesterday I was
in my early teens,
cute Irene was my first girl,
she hardly smiled;
I hoped she would
create that bond
stronger than the coldest iron:
ah, did it all go well?
They should have seen me
pulling her arm, telling her
to follow me and chase
the sunset's big rainbow...
until it would disappear:
was she excited to kiss me?
Days went by, I felt alone;
Irene was daydreaming,
denying me my feeling,
avoiding all the fun:
a flame not really born!
We never saw each other
again, our paths never met;
a flame not really born
wanted to burn in sunlight,
in moonlight feeling great,
declaring our joy to the air!
No space or even
time can separate me
from what it was, just
an impossible thought
that hurts, pulling me down!
Do you get that feeling that you just can not shake?
Do you stop and wonder if you have made a mistake?
Do you walk faster in the dark on your way home?
Do you think you hear foot steps and your not alone?
Do you imagine people talk about you in the street?
And are you suspicious of strangers you might meet?
Will you ring a friend on your mobile phone?
Just to feel safe and your not alone
Do you get frightened in a dark strange place?
Do you think your being followed and pick up your pace?
You see to our imagination our mind is a slave
On the inside we are scared but we pretend we are brave.
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