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Criss Tripp Poem
Grown men today will always complain
About how much their paid a wage
When the same men in their lane are paid
At the same rate but dont say anyway.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
Im laying in my bed
Staring at the ceiling
Looking at the lines
From the blinds
Derived from outside
Lights through my window
Into my room
And though i cant sleep
I remain in wait
While a state of awake
Permeates my minds eye
And the darkness
Envelops me whole
But the sounds of
The night remain
My clock ticks
My clock tocks
The seconds turn
The minutes burn
The fan shakes
The blades spin
My heart beats
My mind races
My eyes swell
Im growing....
Im living....
Im thinking....
Im dying inside.
I am awake.
Yet i am alive.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
I once knew a man named red
Who had a really big head
If not for the thinking,
And all of the winking,
He knew you'd always be dead.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
As long as its right in line with the knights
hindsight of the plight during the frightful night
of the fight thats not justified
to the blinded divines cry for the swines wine
While writing a fine sign trying to be kind
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
In the land of Eden,
In the land of Nod.
I once was a man,
That had a plot.
The black eye derived from fratricide,
Reprised in time despite;
the denies of delight.
Fight or flight, Its just not right;
To take your brothers life for strife.
I'm enviable as I'm labeled in a fable.
I've killed my brother, by the name of Able.
I'm trying not to lie this time;
As I'm dying on the inside.
My God has sighed, as he asked me why;
Why have I felt so deprived?
Lied and beguiled by the deity in the sky;
Like I'm supposed to be reconciled,
At least awhile to defile a smile.
Subside in exile for being menial;
When I get denied a sign on trial.
By my offering a sacrifice,
From the land and greens I provide.
While my brother is venerated, with fire.
Makes me look like a degenerate, I'm crying;
On the inside, it seems I'm not good enough.
A misinterpreted touch, from up above.
I just want to be accepted with success;
But now i sit as a disappointment, and the only son left.
His blood is screaming from the ground,
As I laid his bloody body down.
Not a single soul is found,
The only sound around surrounds;
profoundly and astoundingly loud.
As god allows the sun to drown out,
The day is done and my brother's gone.
The only ones left, have each wronged god.
We make mistakes, then gravely pay;
Contemplating why they were made,
In the first place.
As we test fate, and play the game;
Restless days decide our face.
I've spilled my brothers blood for what;
A lust for what I wanted to become.
Now I'll never know his love or trust,
It must be tough to be a judge.
I just wish this could of been discussed,
Before I went and messed things up.
I gave an offering from land,
But now I carry a mark, a brand.
A reprimanded hand by a candid man,
Disdained and suffering for a life span.
The age of creation lies only in the mistakable,
As I've slain and disabled my stable brother Able.
Am I my brothers keeper,
Or am I deceitfully the reaper?
I carry a burden, from the very first murder.
Is it as absurd as words, or a tad further?
I'm sure I've been lured, but then why am i this hurt?
My yearns are burns never to be heard of,
Feasibly beset indirectly as a disease.
I'm freed unbound, regretfully on both knees;
Much like my parents, by an apple off of a tree.
I shall refrain and abstain from making a claim for gain.
Though I have slain, my name stays the same.
My Lord I've dismayed; I've bathed, still I'm tainted and stained.
My mark is my bane, forever I am Cain.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2016
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Criss Tripp Poem
Theres a party
So i do hear,
If you want to
It will be near
My friends
Are your friends
Just for one night,
You are all welcome
To drop on by.
Come one, two
three or four
You know where
To find my door
We will all be
Scattered about
I apologize in advance
If someone does shout.
If the noise
goes up too high
You can find us
By the sky.
By the Pool
Grilling some meat
We are always
Here to greet.
We all are friendly
And help out each other,
That way you never
Have to worry
About getting punched
By your brother.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
In the land of no remorse,
No return, no purpose.
There is a man with sympathy,
For those of few, the more to bleed.
He stands among the lot of many,
To those with sin, won't be let in,
And in the end they will hope,
But to find, there isn't any.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
You may be saying
Theres profit from pain
But What do you wage
When theres no gain
From this game
Would it be the same
If you were being weighed
Twisted insane
Tortured for shame
Paying the price
For somebody else
Who ever said
There isn't a hell
If your living a debt
That's not your own
What do you say
When it's not your home
It's not your life
It's not your toll
But you owe it all
To some other fool
You got put and thrown
Deep Into this skin
Now this time
You need to win
It never was
This way before
But this time around
You want it more
The results the same
Your paying the price
Now your saying
This isnt right
So the game
Must change
For your sake?
It stays the same
Stuck inside
Bound and tied
Your web of lies
Bereft your plight
Your still engaged
Masochist
Under paid
Without a way
To plot your revenge
Or claim a head
No way to save
Your altered state
Unwind your web
Or break your fate
Now you wish
You change your mind
The tides have swayed
But you still died.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
Money isn't everything
You earn it just to use it
Do whatever you want with it
Just try not to lose it
The more you have
The more you spend
A simple rule
To tell a friend
In order to avoid
Getting broke
You stretch your dollar
With so much hope
Eat ramon noodles
Once too much
You pinch a penny
While have a lunch
Take a walk
Instead of a bus
Dont wave the cab
You'll save a bunch
If you save a dollar
Put one away everyday
You'll have one more
At a later date
Get paid the same
While work for wage
In due time any job
You can learn to save
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015
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Criss Tripp Poem
He lets the monster, out to play;
He's killed so many, in different ways.
He likes to wrap them, up in sheets;
He likes to make them, realize their feats.
Not because the job was good;
But because their inner demons could.
The victims that fall, right by his hand;
They're the ones, who do what they can.
In order to fulfill, that inner need;
They'll go about, their dirty deed.
Never to suspect a final bet;
He injects m99, right into their neck.
As his victims fall unconscious;
Lifeless, Into his arms.
A small little voice echoes;
"Don't get caught".
The monster welcomes;
Their final embrace.
As he takes one small cut;
On the side of their face.
With one drop of blood,
And one glass slide;
His one sharp knife,
Takes their life as they die.
With knife buried deep,
Into their chest;
They close their eyes,
For their final rest.
As another body,
Gets cut into pieces;
Theres plenty of glad bags,
To go through the seasons.
As the monster takes,
Another victim;
He boards his boat,
While they come with him.
After alls said and done,
And a body drops to the sea;
He turns around smiling,
For he too fulfilled his need.
As he cracks a beer,
Relieved, it's on ice;
He raises his drink,
To one hell of a night.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2016
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