Poem about life

[InsidiousNstinct]

I know this might sound AFC to yall I dunno. I was settin around and I began to think about life and other things and started typing. I thought I'd share with yall....

I'm trying to find myself, in this desert we call a world,

So many different ways and so many different doors,

Some lead to happiness and others to sorrow,

Sometimes I wish I knew what was on the morrow,

I awake every morning to get ready for school,

To go to a building where were told what to do,

Conformity is what they preach,

and obeying is their highest standard,

and to disobey and to be an outkast is slander,

Sometimes I feel like Im just putting on an act,

I feel as though Im the major character in this leading role,

Goin down this road where no script I have to hold,

Choices are set before me and the outcome I do not know,

I just want to have a happy life and be closest to the ones I know,

But what happens when those you love cast you away into the deep dark river,

And everytime you try to come nearer the only thing they do is snicker,

It feels as though your heart has been ripped out when someone cast's you out,

Everyone wants to fit in and be loved, but just like everything else love can be mugged,

Stole right away from you and giving to somebody else.....

 

[Capi Crimini]

Pretty good.Put some though into it

Every day I question what to say wear and do.but I see what I see wether I want to see it or not because I've only got one choice and path and no voice except to sit back and scream silently "Damnit She.. Why'd it BE, Why not Me," If only I had eyes to see but all I have is flies where the eyes used to be. My body might be standing bold tall, But souls old and dull, IN a new abode, Called heaven or hell, An afterlife cause the knife slit my wrist till the blood flowed, till the blood slowed, an I started to lisp and teh darkness curled around, and the sound went out, Then stoppped and hip-hop possesed the cess-dead brain and made it insane until I couldn't come back,Possesed by rap, Sure I was wack, No MAck would stop that, But the crap I spit was **** till I spit till I finally ripped and blew a hole in these Emcees. *****es the only thing You'll never be is me, no matter how hard you wanna be, I'm the original abindiginal, Emcee of Milwaukee, To KC, n a lil' bit of Chicago City in da mix, NOt Ghetto, But mY Belly Ain't Yellow, Pull a MAck on me and I'll strike back, NO crap, This is not a JEst,

The process of hip-hop,
Is a lil sex,cess, and rock,
An a few too many trials till your minds violated by the violence,
And on top the Presidents Erect in your rectum but you can't unelect him, An Swarts is causing all sorts of trouble and poppin the Califoni bublle, A solutions a demolution of our Government, Anarchy till our ears bleed from this Hip-Hop popping Evil words of Democracy, And we can't see, Cause Our sights blurred from teh slurred points of view From me constantly saying **** You,
And Where's teh courus going, cause I think its slowing, So we should be going, back to the verse, and I can't remeber how to curse,

Lifes a ***** and Schools a Witch, Wit sandwiches, an wishes of death and blood wit a lil violence in the middle, YOu want Danger give a teenager a dager let a lone a gun and you'll se more flares then the sun, Light bright like stobe lights, But the frights to big to feel, Its too real, This ain't no lame video game when you can hear the screams and the beams that support you world collapse, and you laspe into a coma, from fright, GO into the light, Its better in heaven, I wish I was there, But for some reason I'm still here, God what do you want me to do, All I am is a fancy Jew, wit an extra book or two, I ain' deserve to service you, An Outcast, Cast out, even though he's good, there's no doubt about it, The hood, just didn't like him, Neither did his family or friends, All he hopes for is the end,

You see once a lil' boy played wit toys and lived in joy, But underneath the picture frame was guilt and shame, a torn family, shattered till the boy was left with nothing to matter, Shattered peices and no thesis or theroy, Boys mind was leary from though,

GOD.. I look up to you, I gotta get through, I need a sign on what to do wit my mind, So many ways to go, So many answers untold, My minds on memory overload, overloading the answers I ain't got, Doing things I ain't taught, If A lots to much, then I got so much you can't even touch the number, Stoped sawing lumber cause the time needed for dreaming wasn't plausible,

OH I'm to o tired to finish. I have an audio version . Its all a frestyle not too good, but hell I'm bored, Gotta go to sleep now. K. NIGht., Alkklkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkj /,sosrrry fell lsleep. PIlllllds effcting now..

But Who knew a tear in my heart could part the happiness

from sadniss till only the sad was left, with a chest out of breath

 

[tracy Jaks]

what is this ****.

You live you,you breathe,you die.

dont ****ing worry about it.

 

[InsidiousNstinct]

"what is this ****."

"You live you,you breathe,you die."

"dont ****ing worry about it."

LoL...don't be hatin on my mad poem skillz not everyone can be as talented as I. just kiddin

But whats with "don't ****ing worry about it"

If thats the case, then why do you have a membership to this place?

 

[TonyTheTigerOI]

The english language is a beautiful thing:

There is
No choice
No chance
No chase.

Maybe
You already know
You feel it
You believe it.

Breathe
Just sit back
Just relax
Just smile.

Baby
You're not perfect.

Don't worry
Neither am I.

Then what else could we be
If not perfect for each other?

There is more to life.
Maybe this is we've been waiting for.
Breathe for me.

 

[TonyTheTigerOI]

I don’t know what to say, really. It all comes down to today. Either we heal, now, together, or we’re going to crumble: inch-by-inch, moment-by-moment, ‘till we’re finished. We’re in hell right now, baby... believe me. And we can stay here, drift apart, or we can fight out way back, into the light. We can climb out of hell, one inch at a time. Now, I can’t do it for the both of us. I’m just not built that way. I look into your eyes, and I think, I mean, I’ve made every wrong choice a teenager can make. I, ah, pissed away all my money, believe it or not. I chased off anyone who’s ever loved me. And lately, I can’t even stand the face I see in the mirror. You know, as you get older in life, things get taken from you. I mean, that’s just part of life. But you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out: life’s this game of inches. Because in life, the margin for error is so small, I mean, on half a step too late or too early and you don’t quite make it. One half a second too slow or too fast and you miss your chance. The inches we need, are everywhere around us. They’re in every moment we’re together, every minute, every second. Together, we fight for that inch. We search our souls and our hearts, for that inch. We shed blood and tears, for that inch. Because we know when we add up all those inches, that’s going to make the ****ing difference between living and dying! I’ll tell you this, in any fight, it’s the guy who’s willing to die who’s going to get that inch. And I know, if I’m going to have any life anymore, it’s because I’m willing to fight, and die, for that inch. Because that’s what living is, the six inches in front of your face! Now, I can’t make you do it. You’ve got to look at me, look into my eyes. I think you’re going to see a guy who’s willing to go that inch with you. You’re going to see a guy who will sacrifice himself for you, because he knows when it comes down to it, your going to do the same for him. And either we heal now, together, or we will die, as individuals. That’s life, baby, that’s all it is. Now, what are you going to do?

 

[TonyTheTigerOI]

A beast lies within...
Without tongue to taste,
Without nose to smell.

The beast finds truth...
It hears the unspoken,
It sees the invisible.

My beast knows no illusion...
He feels with our heart,
He lights our darkest hour.

.

.

.

Damn you Moon,
I’ll find my way!
To hell with you Stars,
I’ll travel by day!

Victory is mine,
Can’t you see!?
Give love a chance,
Hear my plea!

I create my fate,
My destiny!
I fear no Moon,
No Stars scare me.

Love will find a way,
Can’t you see?
Love will live without you,
We will all be free.

 

[Zoso]

This doesn't have anything to do with DJing, but I read this yesterday and thought it was cool, although pretty depressing.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops" because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of X's and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paint
And the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad when he cried for him to do it

Once on paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question" because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed or even talked
And the girl around the corner wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed, his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn't think he could reach the kitchen.

 

[punkrockpylot]

Originally posted by Zoso
This doesn't have anything to do with DJing, but I read this yesterday and thought it was cool, although pretty depressing.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops" because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of X's and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paint
And the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad when he cried for him to do it

Once on paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question" because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed or even talked
And the girl around the corner wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed, his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn't think he could reach the kitchen.

the perks of being a wallflower is the baddest ass book ever...thanx for bringing this up...i hadnt heard it in a long time...

 

[God Of War]

**** da world
It's we alone who witness furious deeds, unanswered questions
Keeps us all guessing, curious g's
Back stabbed and bleeding
crooked thoughts laced wit weed
learning
Ducking stray shots, bullets be hot, they burning
Inhale the sherm smoke
Vizualize the flames
Will I be smothered by my own pain.

 

[tracy Jaks]

ok then worry about it. life is hard sometimes.

 

[Salacious D]

Poetry is stupid

Especially when teenagers try to make poetry that rhymes. I liked Tony's non-rhyming stuff, but, still, anything that hasn't been written by Longfellow, Poe, or Shelley is probably stupid useless metaphorical garbage.

Or anything written by the Beatles, Harrison in particular--

(If you drive a car car) I'll tax the street
(If you try to sit sit) I'll tax your seat
(If you get too cold cold) I'll tax the heat
(If you take a walk walk) I'll tax your feet

Taxman!

'Cause I'm the taxman
Yeah, I'm the taxman

Then there's Longfellow:

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac* of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time

For Poe, read either the Raven or the Telltale Heart

As for Percy Bysshe Shelley--

Another Athens shall arise,
And to remoter time
Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,
The splendour of its prime;
And leave, if naught so bright may live,
All earth can take or Heaven can give.

--"Hellas"

So in my opinion these are examples of the best poetry that has ever been written. Chances are pretty good that no one alive today will come near to these guys, they all lived at around the same time, about one or two hundred years ago. But if you are trying to rhyme, these guys are the ones to read before starting a poem you're about to write, for language, meter, tone, ad infinitum. Look up the words you don't know on dictionary.com, you might learn something.

*See here

 

[TonyTheTigerOI]

Great post... but poetry isn't always about your audience. When you write for yourself, it's NEVER stupid. Anyways... how could you not have shakespear in your list of good writers? At least you mentioned the raven... such a brilliant poem.

 

[Capi Crimini]

There are also a lot of different types of poetry.
Pretty much all your choices are from freestyle poems.
Freestyle Poems are always great but they require less talent then a Blank Verse poem. I always enjoy freestyle poems but they aren't the same as a real poetry. Anyone can write a good freestyle. Not everyone can write a good Poem that makes sense. Becuase your word choice is limited. Imagine the Oddesy if al of it had to ryme.

 

[Salacious D]

When you write for yourself, it's NEVER stupid

I guess that's true. I'm trying to write for a living, so when I write I'm doing it not only as a hobby but also as a means for worldly (as opposed to spiritual) profit.

Shakespeare, don't get me started on Shakespeare. I think the stuff is brilliant, but there's a slight problem to it. The English language has changed somewhat in the five hundred years that has passed since he wrote his plays. I had to read Romeo and Juliet a few years ago for class, it seemed like half the words and half the sentences were starred because they meant the opposite of what they sounded like they meant. They would have sounded normal to him, but they make no sense to us. It's all written in a different language, and that's the problem. The examples I provided were written in Modern English as opposed to Middle English, or Old English, of which Beowulf is a prime example. They don't have us reading Beowulf in the original text. We did the Heaney translation.

And I bet the Odyssey does rhyme in ancient Greek, or whatever it was written in.

 

[Smooth as Anything]

I don’t believe in anything that’s real
My hope is porcelain and it helps me not to feel

Keep my feet off the ground
When I’m too scared to stand by you
I’m preaching words with vulgarities
Trying hard not to hear you

I am the lump on your breast
Making you feel ugly
I’m the burden that is killing you madly

I regret all the times I could’ve made you smile
Though you are just like me
Maybe I could’ve made things easier
Instead of staring at your back with a knife happily

I regret all the times I’ve lost my dignity
In an effort to see you laugh
My hope made of porcelain present
Standing behind my back

From my high horse
Things seem clear
I make everything backwards
I have nothing to fear

I’m sorry if I made you cry
I’d do it again if I make you too
Did you believe it when you heard the news?
Your heart open on the floor? There was nothing you could do
I hope it was bleeding everywhere with you
The fault rests in my arms, the blood is in yours
I’ll never get a chance to see you smile
But maybe in awhile

 

[Capi Crimini]

The Oddesy dosn't ryme in Greek. The Illiad dosn't ryme either. They wern't supposed to either. They were freestyle poems. The Oddesy was the first poem ever in fact. Way before poems were supposed to ryme.

 

[Salacious D]

The Odyssey + The Iliad were originally songs. They were probably not the first poems, they were just some of the first poems to be written down. They also had some luck on their side, considering that they've been around for a few thousand years or so.