Details |
Monorhyme
|
My butt is just so damn big
10 Irish men could do a jig
5 truckers could park their rig
16 Miners could plan a dig
9 drummers could perform a gig
2 Elephants could take a swig
22 college kids could do their trig
If only I’d eat less like a pig!
*For Susan's self exaggeration contest :)
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Details |
Couplet
|
When you make your wife into a baby machine
You can’t complain there’s not enough food to eat
I mean, what were you thinking with ten kids to feed?
Food would fall from the sky? Rain eggs, bread, or meat?
You had to have known, say by three kids or four,
That you would eventually need MORE food than before
Don’t act like you’re stupid, it’s plain to see
That what you really wanted, was a sex machine
Damn the consequences, the babies that came
Who cares if they starve? Certainly you’re not to blame
10/17/11 - posted 4/4/12
Susan Burch
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Details |
Quatrain
|
Helpless puppet
Dancing on a string
Make me dance
Make me sing
I must bow deeply
So I can eat
Yes sir, okay!
May I clean your feet?
You pass your exams
You earn your degree
I’m your favorite flunky!
Pass judgement on me!
The employee consultation
Is your bone-cracking mallet
Why, I’m just a canvas
Or a color on your palette!
Your family gobbles steak
Plenty for all!
Hey, you’re rich and sassy!
Take the kids to the mall!
Your offspring are uplifted
They grow up safe and sound
Very soon one day
They’ll boss my kids around!
Bossus, you are strong
You do what you must
But playing your advantage
Doesn’t make you just!
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Details |
Free verse
|
Don't confuse love. Love is a feeling that will make you feel alive. Love is what you give, not what you get. Love is a strong word. 4 letters with a strong & beautiful definition. But what if you only feel love and the other person doesn't feel "love" for you? Would that be One-sided love? Or when he hits you & throws you in the floor after him coming home from work, Is that love? Or when you have a family & you guys are in court and she want to take your kids from you because she found you with someone else is that love? NO ITS NOT. LOVE IS WHEN YOU HAVE EACH OTHER ,LOVE IS THAT LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. LOVE IS YOU.
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Free verse
|
jsystem
you try
hummer beamer
white collar job
picket fence home
adulteries and mistresses
to strip me of pride
years of knuckle fighting
to have it by my side
badge hangs on a chain
cell keys close to your fingertips
badge reflects sin i attempt to reach for hope
blinded cursed
beat down
i try to cope
stretching for the end of the rope
attached to my kids
from my heart and sould
you aim to rid
loneliness fear i thought i hid
choose one key pandora's box
labels stigmas prejudices hate
attack me
predator to predator
lifeless motionless bait
i wait
of human rights i don't rate
will you still try
your fake fascade
crooked smile tainted touch of cell keys
to strip my pride
years of knuckle fighting
to have it by my side
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Details |
Couplet
|
It's Saturday morn and I want to sleep
When I hear that SLAM that makes me jump to my feet.
The kids are awake and know no bounds
The whole house shakes with SLAMMING door sounds.
Now I'm upset that they have ruined my rest
So I SLAM the bedroom door to show I can do it best.
"Your Dad must be awake boys..." I hear the cry
SLAM goes the door as the kids come inside.
They come charging up the stairs like the Mongol horde
SLAM goes their bedroom door as they say not a word.
I am so mad now I have criss-crossed eyes
I reach for the doorknob but am SLAMMED in surprise.
The wife came up to see how I felt
SLAMMED the door on my head which raised such a welt.
"Oh, did I hurt you?" she asked carefully
"No", said I, "but that SLAMN door bit me!"
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Lyric
|
Everyone seems happy
Everyone loves to entertain
Everyone wants to be famous
But will you make it in this world
Pick Me Pick Me yea
im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
Im nothing but a snob
A little entertainment on tv
Where you watch your kids die
The commercial reads
Need more volunteers to get shot
Pick Me Pick Me yea
Im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
please select me im hot
"It just goes to show
that all we care about
is getting famous
nomatter what we have to do
we will do it
just to get noticed"
Pick Me Pick Me yea
Im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
im being someone im not
Die die die die with me
because im famous now
Die die die die with me
because i want to be noticed
Pick Me Pick Me yea
Im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
everyone is hollow
Pick me Pick me Yea
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Details |
Blank verse
|
Little pebbles of broken glass, litter the streets, but the children run barefoot anyway.
Stubbing toes, contracting disease, playing with cigarette butts and discarded syringes.
The teens hide by the dumpsters, and quickly pump a vein.
A homeless man, jealous of the teen; instead, clenches his timeless drug of choice, a good ole' fashioned beer.
The sun still shines on the dust covered signs.
The streets crumble under the weight of America's ever increasing obese population.
Nothing has really changed, besides new acceptance of tried and true vices.
There’s always little kids causing trouble, teens using drugs, depressed old men drinking away their shame.
America is still the same great country,
Far superior than all the rest!
Despite their reduction in crime, lowered drug addiction rates, drop in homelessness, and constant upkeep of their buildings and streets.
Well besides all that... America is still Superior in Every way….
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Free verse
|
We live in a world of brainwashed morality,
A world where the assumed romantic preference is the opposite sex,
A world where we expect people to marry and have kids.
I thought about having kids as a kid,
Marrying and having a family,
But it was not set in stone, and I questioned it.
Then I grew a little bit,
The idea lost its sheen,
And I began to think “no.”
Then I went through puberty,
In which I told you “I don’t really want kids,”
To which you said, “You’ll change your mind.”
Time has passed,
I am no longer a child, and my answer is now “no, under absolutely no circumstance.”
My answer’s been final for year on end, yet you still say the same thing.
“You’ll change your mind,” “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” “You’re too young to know what you want.”
Why is is important for me to have kids, even when I don’t want them?
The world is full of unloved people, and I would only add another.
I know what I want,
I have my values,
I don’t want kids,
And that’s my final answer.
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Details |
I do not know?
|
She has no life skills.
She will never make it in the real world.
She will need caretaker for the rest of her life.
She won’t survive without me.
What kind of mother says such things
About their own child? I wonder.
Well let’s see, Mother,
What have you accomplished?
You never graduated college.
You haven’t had a job in over 25 years.
When you did you were in an entry-level position.
And you forfeited your singing career for marriage.
Then that marriage failed miserably.
You started seeing your kids’ skiing instructor.
He turned out to be a horrible drunk who became obsessed with you.
And you are afraid to be alone.
You can’t sleep in the house by yourself.
You can’t ride in an elevator by yourself.
You can’t drive in rural areas or the freeway by yourself.
You can’t leave the house without your car keys.
So I’m sorry, but who needs a caretaker, you or me?
You are a failure.
And I know I will flourish in life.
In fact, the only successful thing you did was create me and my brother.
So the next time you think you can tear me down,
Think again.
And do it to my face,
You coward.
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Free verse
|
I lose my fingers keeping count
the number of kids lost by murder count
in the eastern districts media houses dread
Patches of brown-black roofs on aerial view
Aunt hills of buildings single roomed
Shoot to kill, a governing tool
Stiff figures of teens bullet riddled
a common thing amongst those
shortlisted by fate to call home
Survival be the theme
U haven't heard of Vumilia
a small suburb rich in thugs
at least that's the word best used
by the papers you so dearly trust
To denote a group of youths
unexposed to a mastery of trades
The elderly in their twenties
those swift enough to dodge bullets
agile enough to survive the batsmen
and have caught the eyes of political dignitaries
war veterans with all due respect
Kim was almost nineteen
died graffited with bullet holes
Sarah was barely seventeen
wrong place at the wrong time
shooter: a blue boy in his fortys
We hath from a vicinity
where weakness is a rare condition
and the site of a parked car
sparks a dollar bill imagery
crowded class rooms, empty bellies
a deadbeat government
a thing called hope
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Free verse
|
The Corporate
Where did you get your ill gotten gains?
From broken backs and forgotten pains?
And will your wealth wash out the bloodstains
From the blue collars of those that came
To work for your pennies while you reign?
No matter to you, - you feel no shame...
For YOU live the life of luxury.
That is fine but you fail to see,
You garner wealth and give measly.
Then your shareholders want more from thee.
So you move the jobs to over sea.
It causes strife but
- you lack empathy .
You bend
You rend
You mend
And look
You begged
And borrowed
Bought
And took
You justify the pain that you cause,
“Just business” you say “no need to pause”
Rules don’t bind you, you just break the laws.
Your lobbyists mend by paying the pawns.
Your workers being thrown out on their front lawns!
But you don’t care to undo these wrongs...
All you’ve created is insubstantial.
Your sole purpose? to increase your financial
Needs to support your gluttonous life,
While the workers toil and suffer in strife
People are starving, their kids they can’t feed...
Where does greed end? How much wealth do YOU need?
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Details |
Rhyme
|
I've come to take a life,
and I'm searching for a certain Poetic Parasite.
Blood drips from my poetic knife,
and I'm placing him in the soup spotlight!
You know how I slice and dice,
So you can call me Michael Meyers!
Lay on my pentagram and be my sacrifice,
and feel my poetic fire!
I love how you run and hide,
chasing you on this site is such a thrill.
You better not commit suicide,
I want the satisfaction of this kill!
This site will be like Crystal Lake,
Dismembering this poet like Jason!
Talking about the Butterfly was your worst mistake -
So you better call a freemason!
You told me to burn in hell,
LOL, I'll gladly do so!
But I love having you under my spell,
So let me hit you with this TKO.
Stop cowering behind that woman's skirt.
Stick out your d#@n neck,
I swear it won't hurt,
Your head I've come to collect!
Look into my handsome face,
as I decapitate your head.
I'm placing it on my trophy case,
and this is gorier than "Night of the Living Dead!"
I want to eat out your heart,
kinda like Jeffery Dahmer!
I wanna blow your whole being apart -
So call me the una-bomber!
Remember when you called me a worm,
as you lay bleeding at my feet.
I've come to rid the soup of your germ -
So Trick - or - Treat!!!
Soup Family Happy Halloween - kids be safe!
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Details |
Free verse
|
Traffic Jam Slam
Who dresses them up and puts them in cars
gives them their keys as they leave the bars
these drivers who sit at the red light and grin
preachers out practicing Sunday’s big sin.
Somehow they think we can’t see inside
as they dig in their noses and ogle with pride
something they found that they should probably hide.
She’s putting on make-up, He’s combing his hair
the kids in the back seat wish they weren’t there.
As the light changes they make that left –SLASH
while plucking the last of their graying eyelash.
They’re texting at red lights so they tend to linger
and when you disturb them they give you the finger.
Then there are those who ride on their bikes
who haven’t matured since they fell off their trykes,
riding on sidewalks and running stop signs
dressing in outfits that require fines.
Who leaves the slow people alone on the street
stuck in the crosswalk – rush hour - dead meat.
Now we have turkeys and the Canada Goose
invading the country, just plain running loose
crossing the highways, honking at us
and if you should hit one – oh what a fuss
PETA will come with a camera and crew,
let the whole world get a good look at you.
So put on your make-up and straighten that hair
your fifteen minutes of fame is frighteningly near.
For SKAT A slam the slam contest
John G. Lawless
5/31/2014
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Details |
Free verse
|
My life is not yours to take
Your life is not my to take
Your life is not my to take
Not in the middle of the night
When you lay asleep
Not at your dinner table
Surrounded by family, wife and kids
Your life is not my to take
Not with a knife in an alleyway
While you make your way home
To a waiting mother
Little brother, sister eager to share their day
Your life is not my to take
Not a with a gun
That rips through flesh
Shattering bones and ribs
Shattering hopes and dreams
My life is not yours to take
Your life is not my to take
Your life is not my to take
Not while you are at work
Making ends meet to feed mouth depending on you
Not at your place of pleasure
Where you unwind from this stressful world
Your life is not my to take
Not with a suicide vest
While you stand unaware
Or at a moment of terror
Before light out
Your life is not my to take
Not at 36000 feet from the ground
Causing a wreck
That leaves your family no body
To mourn over or buried
My life is not yours to take
Your life is not my to take
Your life is not my to take
For your life belongs to Allah
Who created you and I
He decree in His Book
“To take a life is to kill the whole of humanity…. To save a life is to save the whole of humanity”
So my life is not yours to take
And your life is not my take
For our life belongs to our creator
Allah
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Details |
I do not know?
|
PATHETIC WHORELOCK, where in the world do I begin?
That "slam" was nothing more than an insult to "your" pen!
So, I am the focus of your "DEMONIC STARE,"
Though your rhymes needed critiquing with a little more care.
Slam DOC the Poet?! You could not slam DOCTOR SEUSS!
You could never outdo me, so what is the use.
I can match you rhyme for rhyme any time that you want,
Because that "slam" proved that you have no talent to flaunt.
Since you will never win, you need to go find a new game.
"LOSER" is the fame, that will be attached to your name.
You got beat by just about everyone that you faced,
So why brag about some contest, and where you "might" have placed!
You seem like the type, who gets off on his own words,
Inventing silly phrases that no one has ever heard.
You need to conjure up a spell that will give you some skill.
If you need inspiration, then please go and read "KILL BILL!"
Step up to the curve, or step out of the way.
Your ELEMENTARY rhymes sound more like child's play.
Calling your style ELEMENTARY is an insult to kids.
Soon, you will learn your lesson, just like the Kidster did!
Please do not lose focus of your Hocus Pocus HARRY POTTER!
I thought you were a challenge. Now, I wonder why I even bothered.
Use that electric chair to spark some creative thoughts,
Because the next time you "bring it," it better be brought!
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Details |
Free verse
|
he parlayed a condom full of nouns
in bold thrusts of the quill
for the para structuralist cadres
many of them freeway orphans
who won't even read a stoplight
on the other hand
there's a lot of other hand
upon hearing the chimes of midnight
I opened the door
another surprise party
that I knew about all along
arranged by my body building therapist
who was a notorious sadist
requiring humiliation ab astra
went in after my scenario gland
in an act of divine pity
sewed me back up real fast
couldn't handle the pixel rate
the audience shrieked and laughed
it was the great awakening
after the Treaty of Lucky Seven
in which all nations pledged
to honor their accidents and idiocies
as though they were instruments of divination
uh oh here comes my chiropractor
a known mob boss
never found the need to knock
cracked his knuckles at the door
and politely asked may I enter
he spoke 7 languages
and several materialist dialects
and could talk without
moving his lips
many were blamed for
things they never said
a hundred times a day
nothing is uncontained
archaeologists in the city dumps
using a subway map with all the stops
snorted and toiled through Winter
at their historico-revisionist comedy
piecing convex to concave
any idea past its prime is stupid
this is the unfortunate fate of all humanity
nobody really likes change
unless it’s more money
oh I know I’ll never work in this town again
but with a bankroll
the size of a chewed pencil
you get the picture
now buckle up kids
mommy's going to drive a little faster
there's a cop on my ass
and I think I can lose him
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
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Details |
Free verse
|
slam it to me punk you think you’re so cool
this bald headed old fart will take you to school
you think you’re the first generation to revolt
if you read a history book you’d know that’s a joke
yes that’s a joke
go ahead punk – take a poke
hell i was sitting down in a war protest strike
while guardsmen flexed their muscles and sticks of the night
don’t talk to me about your troubled young fate
until you’ve been through a night like at Kent State
people died there
shot by the man
four college kids killed right where they stand
go ahead shout, curse and be rude
show me your underwear and your attitude
pretend you’re real mean and ain’t scared a nuthin
brag like you think you can beat out my stuffin
i’m an old fart of fifty plus years
i’ve already shed an ocean of tears
i aint got nothing much left to loose
which is what makes me much more dangerous than yous
pain ain’t nothin when you’ve had a rectal exam
you think you can scare me more than the doctor can?
think again
young man
i’ll slam your slam
this ain’t writing
it ain’t exciting
its simply yelling and telling lies of being tough
it ain’t enough
now go write some good stuff
you think this stuff makes you a hero
you think it ain’t conforming to norms?
you’re a real zero
you aint the first
heck you might be the worst
you are just replicating
duplicating
other punks beat you to it
now write a sonnet – if you can do it
you’d be the only punk out on that island
that would make you brave
make you stand out
give you some clout
if you could do it
but you can’t can you
instead you say you’re one of a kind
don’t waste my mind
you think I’m blind
i’ve seen it before
you’re just a slam whore
easy to ignore
i’ll slam your slam
now go jam my jam
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Details |
Rhyme
|
Stormzy you aint the dogs Boris
you're just a rapper with a forest
and I promise honest son
the strongest grow an amazon
you're just a woodchuck not Norris
a man should woodchuck Boris
shouting chuck the government
undoubtedly just another chump
and it may seem very drastic
the geriatric made you plastic
because your stature factors
obtainable manufactured
that's factual
you ain't urban raw
more corporate tool.
why are you so frustrated
you made it now tagged to politics
marketing tricks get you rich
from hits you pitch to poor kids
urban representative unscented
do mentally subtracted
hoodie youths attract to this
political track diss
war the Tories with your poor peeps
they buy more your beats
talk about honesty
obvious marketing
tagged on to politics
masses see you exist
hear your hits and make you rich
you're like Tories
growing pockets fill
play poor need more
logics ill.
powerless to a long diss
like Austin Powers piss
grow your roughage
of awful I'm audacious
got pages to go all day Cuz
on your low brow go at BoJo
without mojo what a bozo
then label makers at the Guardian
the Labour paper for retarded men
report our nations a place
where racism takes place
I'll confront you straight to the face
you are racist mate works both ways
stupidity you're chatting
shouting victim
but the cause it happens
don't rally crews through false pretence
they harm and face sentence
justification accepts consequence
make sense bruv,
you gotta stage
you talk to these people
inciting them evil,
you're an idiot with it,
don't group and bigot
powers yours use it there will be unity,
I diss insult but end usefully
I write it down you do too
no race just paper me and you
*Cuz - cousin
BoJo - Boris Johnson
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Details |
Free verse
|
Renegades Foreva!
Renegade teenage rage babes
thinkin’ they all grown, all knowin’
when they seedlin’s barely sown
bleedin’ teenage angst with teenage crankst
always rhymin’ and mis-timin’ some poetry-crimin’
mis-mashin', diss-bashin'
word-clashin' song
heard on some half-sappy, sex-happy,
yap-rap, smack-attack vid
made by some brotha who’s just anotha
angry angst-ridden
wannabe gangsta kid
With a street beat
they be hummin’ or singin’ along
repeatin’ the deceit
not knowin’ curse verses
are just plain wrong and mostly maligin’
while grownups in earshot
takin’ all them swearshots
wishin’ them words had sweeter rhymin’
or that kids be more discreet
would take their claptrap,
no-class, crass-crack lyrics
and just tweet ‘em or mime ‘em
But if ‘dults could go back, meet themselves
when they was punk teens
fittin’ into pre-shrunk his or her hunk jeans
listenin’, partyin’ to poppin’ rockin’
unusual musical junk boy band scenes
and lettin’ out star-struck
super-charged
groanal hormonal
no-one-could-understand gland screams
then they’d be amused ya know,
might change their views ya know
cause remind ‘em not so pristine
when child and ‘dult they was in-between
Kids always lookin’ to find
who they are and who they be
imprisoned involuntarily
in their youthful penitentiary
no matter what century they be from you see
So if thinkin’ rap sucks cause
it’s just no-class hurls and low-class slurs
then fire-up that flux capacitor of yours,
head back to yo’ past and meet yo’ younger him or hers
see your own rebelling mis-teen-stakes
then rapping notions you might reshape
or rapping judgments remake
or least maybe now tolerate new-age teenage
rapping outbreaks and in-yo-face ear-quakes
realizin’ that come whateva or wheneva
that all teens now, before an’ where-eva
will evamore and eva be
natural renegades foreva!
© 2014 all rights reserved
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Details |
Free verse
|
The Perfectionist is Listening
the rich are committing suicide
and taking us with them
the prosthetic limbed bastards
Fort Darwin tottering on fewer stilts
once the masters of the universe
presently picking through garbage
looking for an Icarus to pilot
some way back among the clouds
their telepathic goon squads
armed with the hard on of God
squat in the darkness of doorways
lightning strikes all around
even their machines were clairvoyant
several thousand watts went up my leg
shorting out the only attention span I own
left me perforated but not lacy
wearing all my masks all the time
fragments of self are selves
in a bulemic deconstruction
where form and content
mud wrestle incessantly for attention
on the crazy train to 3 color hell
the protagonists the antagonists
fornicators masturbators liquidators
pariahs and unlicensed poets
preaching hellstone and brimfire
apparently the ancient gods still rule
in their madhouse heaven
petulant and stupid gods
thought their figures included all the angles
sword point conversions gun point perversions
now their carcasses are steppingstones
what quirk of an infinite being
makes this burning plague village
of a planet so alone and necessary
of course none of this is protection
it's psywar out there kids
better find where they hid your dossier
mesmerized of the world unite
you have nothing to lose
but your failed methods of addressing reality
said his twisting tongue
struggling for ratings like any media
the soul cannot erase it can only go sightless
a phantom trapped in melancholy
when we were built to dance
with the twinkling stars
he finally learned to undestroy memory
being an ascended master of non sequitur
carried aloft in the arms of Mother Goose
his metabolic hurricane of why
an inferno of intrigue and superstition
our embryo-headed UFO ruling class
have me inside their fence of skulls
an investment in diagram futures
the idiots
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
|
Details |
Free verse
|
ok, heres the scoop
your words
just made me recoop
i realized that you used me
i feel used.
but you shoudl feel that way too
cause i used you
and your new girl
she made me hurl
she is so ugly
she looks like a cow and a pig combined
and she is useing you
did you buy her a necklace yet?
perhaps a braclet?
i did not want your money
i did not want your gifts
i wanted you for you, supposedly
because i thought you wanted me
i guess i thought wrong.
so i wrote this song
to tell you how i feel
you make my skin crawl
with your greasy hair
and your ugly face
your freak-ish body odor
and your alcoholic mother
yea, speakin of her
she hit on my mother,
made my mom scared, never went back
same with me.
and if im such a liar,
such a cryer,
then you are gullible.
very, very, very gullible.
you believed every word of my supossed lies.
so the next time you think you can pull that card, think again.
and you are a man-Whore.
very trampy.
the nice little poem of you and your ugly cow
haveing sex
yea, you made that up.
and i think you are trying to make me jealous. so let me try that too.
when me and you where together,
Brandon Jones was enjoying my body too.
you think you used me?!
you have another thing comeing for you
i have many tales to tell about the rendevous
that Brandon and I shared.
night time romps.
fun times.
so if you think you can make me upset.
think again.
and also, you look like job of the hut.
and you look like you ate the burger bandit from Mc.Donalds.
you wanna slam me?
you wanna start World War III?
then you came to the right place honey.
so come one, start some crap
i'll tell you where to go and how to get there.
i can take the rap
so bring it on, you know me well,
you know that fighting me is not swell
so bring it on
and you will see
when i have the life you wont have, you alcoholic-to-be slob
when i have the american dream, i will rub the white picket fence and 2.5 kids in your cake
covered face
and show you that i am more of a girl than you will ever have
so have fun with yourlife,
cause you just got slammed.
so deal with it,
you jerk who belongs in the dirt.
let the war begin.
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Details |
Dramatic Verse
|
(continued from part 1)
What is innocence
that little boy
whose pulling his toy
with it’s broken wheel
Do you think he doesn’t know that the price of that crack needle
Could buy him a meal?
Do you think he doesn’t, know
that that beer bottle
Is why he bares the bruises on his skin
Is it why he has to force himself to grin?
Is that little girl sitting with her perfectly coifed dolls
Singing to herself so she doesn’t hear the screams
Doesn’t she scream in terror
as her father bursts into her dreams.
And shoves her mom crashing into her little table.
Does she have to dream, to live her fable
And even then,
is she able?
Do you wonder what she is thinking
as she struggles to push the head back on her doll
or is it a way for her to merely, ignore it all
Are you watching with 20 million other viewers
A drone in your living room, a slave to a box
A fly in a web of airwaves
Do you think your government is doing the same
Or are they filling up
Graves
is there an agenda being played
as our minds are swayed
Is this distraction as innocent as it seems?
And that epidemic….An epidemic of having too much food
Begging someone please!
stop us from eating I cant see,
my knees
like it’s the bubonic plague
like we’re dropping like flies
An epidemic!
Could we build a memorial and carve on its stone
5 million died this year
from an this epidemic alone
we could… if we replaced obesity with
starvation
Is it ironic that the fat kids stomach looks just as big
as the starving ones.
What is innocence
Is a boy who just wants to spend time with his grandpa
He doesn’t understand
As his grandpa takes him by the, hand
And leads into the bathroom
To show him the darker side of man
That in that moment he’ll have to grow up
Faster then he planned
Faster then he can
What is innocence
Does it exist in this land
From the time were born
We stripped down, bought and torn
From violence to porn
We’re watched and mimicked
Our lives just a gimmick
To get in our little kids heads
Where innocence treads
To take away their bliss
The only thing that they were born, with
What is innocence
Does it exist anymore
Or in this day and age
Have we closed that door
Forever more?
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Free verse
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I didn’t write this poem
Because I was supposed to.
I didn’t write this poem
to talk about my feelings.
I didn’t write this poem
to talk about the world.
I didn’t write this poem
to make anyone cry
or laugh
or scream
Or have a bad dream
I didn’t write this poem
To convey a message or theme.
I didn’t write this poem
To make some rhymes
I didn’t write this poem
To waste your time
I didn’t write this poem
About punishment and crime
I didn’t write this poem
So I could philosophize.
I didn’t write this poem
To give you a history lesson
I didn’t write this poem
to make you stop and listen
I didn’t write this poem
because life sucks
because people die every second
because some of those people kill themselves
because there are at least 32 ongoing wars right now
that in the end don’t solve a problem but make more
I didn’t write this poem
Because there are people who haven't eaten in days
Just waiting for the day they collapse into their grave
There are people whose life has forever changed
While rich people sit back as their life is always the same.
I didn’t write this poem
To talk about all the good getting punished
And all the bad getting rewarded
About the rich getting richer
And the poor getting poorer
The privileged gaining privilege
And the oppressed getting oppressed
About the kids getting kidnapped
By the cruel kidnappers
Or about the dying people dying
In the hands of powerful people
Who are getting more powerful.
I didn’t write this poem
So you can go out into the world
And stand up for what’s right
I didn’t write this poem
So you could feel sympathy
or guilty
Or angry
I didn’t write this poem
To make you feel any way at all and
I especially didn’t write this poem
For you to have fun.
I didn’t write this poem
For me to have fun.
I didn’t write this poem
For people to be amazed
And to want to write poems like me
I didn’t write this poem
To win the slam
I didn’t write this poem
To be a poet in the future
I didn’t write this poem
For you to do something about it.
I didn’t write this poem
To do as little work as possible
I didn’t even write this poem
to get it over with, no,
I didn’t write this poem for any of these reasons.
I wrote this poem because
if I didn’t, no one would.
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Rhyme
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Deja Vu by Andy Jarvis
History repeats itself,
Or so the saying goes.
But generations come and go,
And no ones left that knows.
All the world powers from Babylon
To the Empire of America,
Have used the sword to get their way
Not just Hitler and his swastika.
It’s the fascists that write the history
That they teach your kids in school
A sanitized version of events
They’re treating you like fools.
Some say Hitler was a good guy
He only wanted what’s best.
Germany was prospering
So why care about the rest?
He gave them all the Autobahn,
And a family car to ride
So, Hitler was a family man
He must ‘ve been good inside!
And when he burnt down his Reichstag
On a cold dark winters night
He gave them what they wished for,
Another reason for a fight.
Rid the world of the commies, they cried
The Gypsy and the Jew
But today they cry out terrorist,
And the one that’s shouting’ is you!
Where were you on that fateful day
When those towers turned to dust?
Their commander sat in 3rd grade class
Is his the face that you trust?
He says that he’s a Christian
His mission sent from heaven
I think it’s time he took a look
At Luke 6 verse 27
Slavery is alive and well,
And supporting’ your economy
In the sweat shops of the 3rd world
Tucked away where you cannot see.
And their farmers have to grow your drugs
They’re givin’ you your fix.
They’ll kill their ‘hopes’ to keep it so
The CIA and their dirty tricks.
Guns are the weapon choice of the coward
Not the heroes like they tell ya’
Billy the Kid committed homicide
Whilst his country was built on Genocide
Are these the boys you want on your side?
African American, Hispanic, Male or female
They’ll put you in their front lines
While their sons go off to Yale.
They just want to clean up the mess you see,
Put the people in their proper place
They’ll tell them their ‘America’s Finest’
And bury them in a ‘sacred’ place
When will you see the reality?
When will the light come on in your head?
When your ‘battlegrounds’ ruined beyond repair
And everyone else long dead?
What would you say to Christ on that day
If he came knocking on your door?
Would you grab your 12 gauge off the wall
And blast and scream some more?
Who’s behind things anyhow?
Who’s to blame for the things that you’ve seen?
Just open your bible and read what it says,
1st John Chapter 5 verse 19
A.Jarvis May 2005
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