Post your poems

Media Outlet Street Writer
1

I thought that we should have a thread for poems that aren’t about street fighter or anything. Serious poems.

I’ll start it off with a few, some I already posted.

Behind The Walls

Never know what’s behind the walls
Wonder about the feelings, the thoughts, the dreams
Not sure what will happen when the curtain falls
Haven’t met someone you knew for a thousand years, it seems

Need to see their whole painting
Special people that you will meet
How they mix colours, when you discover you feel yourself fainting
Love them, wanting them to stand beside your feet

The heart of time will beat forever
Never knew being so happy could make you cry
So you and me will share speech together
Wishing that this feeling will never die

The Prisoners

What happens when nobody knows
The thought in the shadows
The owner of the thought is not alone
The thoughts will scream and moan
Thought’s haunt the minds of the millions who see
What they will never amount to be

Life in the shambles of a dark alley
The thoughts are trapped and the guards take the tally
The prisoners will try to escape
To escape, they will have to reshape
Through the bars few will go leaving the rest behind
So lucky to finally leave the owners mind

The Story of a Feeling

The life that we livin
The things we arent givin
You can die when your livin
For things you arent givin

Every day that I walk down the corridor
Wondrin just what will happen when I see her more
Holdin my breath, just about to choke
Waiting for the time when she awoke
Mind workin all night without a breather
All i could think was how i want to see her
Time ticking like a clock with a broken arm
Just wish she would see my attempt to charm

I find a time to confess my feeling
In the moment, heart quickly beating
It pounds so that the thoughts escape
Want to soar out with a superman cape
The feelings are as real as the air we breathing
Cause the feelings coming out, of their sheathing
No thinking needed cause it comes from the heart
My mind walkin aside to make way for the start

The feelings are out, I feel the pride
Knowing, that you will always be at my side
It’s not something that can be described, no definition to the word
Happiness talking over and just wanting to be heard
I feel like holding you tightly, whispering in you ear
There is no longer anything, that i could fear
I want to jump up and go past the ceiling
Addicted to the drug you’re dealing, the story of feeling

There are 3 of mine. Post yours and comment on others!

EDIT 2 more:

Do not walk away
Cause your shadow will catch you
The darkness follows

Words are crying out
The noises are distracting
Falling off the page

2

www.mightierpen.net

I’m posting more and more of my shit on there as the days go by. I still have a lot of shit to move onto here.

3

(Wrote this a couple of years ago)

Old Hunger

Reminisce with the sages of ages to make sense

of these dark corroded alleys full of nickels to pay rent.

Cause it’s the same old same, stagnant vision remains

We keep the heart on the sleeve until it’s dirtied with stains.

I want more than a penny per thought to absorb pain.

Continue to play in the illusions and manage to stay sane.

What truth can be seen hidden by the vandals and animals?

Looking within we can see it was never intangible.

I sit in silence but I all I hear is the clacking mandibles.

Waiting to engulf whatever is tangible.

4

Mmmm it needs more rhombus

5

LOL, I didn’t want to induce nightmares :sweat:.

6

Don’t fear the rhombus, embrace it

7

First, you’ll have to tell me how to activate Godmode.

8

A,B,A,C,A,B,B

Ok it’s the MK1 blood activation code on Sega Genesis but that’s good enough

9

Do you know how dead I could have been if I entered that code? I hear for Terminator 5 the machines are going to send a rhombus back in time to kill Sean Connor.

10

I heard its cpu is a neural net processor, a learning computer

11

The Librarian

There were so many books
So many shelves
So many rows
And so many cases
That they towered beyond sight
And stretched in each direction

On those leather-bound spines
Names could be read
The names of the authors
But no two were alike
And try as you might to look
There was never anything
But a name as the title

From between the isles
With a pen in his hand
A smirk on his face
And beauty that would make
Anyone faint
Came a man who carried a book
Under his arm

On the table it was set
Pages flipped to the spot
Where the words were writing freely
Of their own accord
Capturing history
As it unfolded

Then the man
With his hand
Long fingers so deadly
Cut off the words
With scribbles of ink
And controlled the tale
Filling it with hatred
Loss
And sorrow

But he got too greedy
Stepped over the line
With lust in his eyes
He wrote down a word
A single word
The single word
Death

And the sad book glowed
As did the words
The word that was wrote
Was erased and replaced
With those that follow
"You have gone too far!"

So the miserable man
With the pen in his hand
Was thrust out the door
As the gates were shut
For all eternity
Because all the other words
When placed next to Death
Meant nothing at all

12

Bushido X, your poem, “The Librarian” is beautifully haunting; especially the last three lines.

13

Sexy Tears

There is a girl standing
She is very beautiful
A tear rolled down her cheek
Then another on her other cheek
More tears streamed down her face
Little streams of tears flowing down her cheeks
They drip off her eyelashes
Whenever she blinks big amounts of tears pour out
They trickle and drip off her nose
Her tears touch her lips and she licks them
She feels so relaxed by the taste of her tears
More tears start dripping off her lips
They flow down through the bottom of her face
They drip of her chin rapidly
The tears now trickle down her neck
Now they flow down to her cleavage
Then they stream onto her chest
She makes no effort to wipe away he tears
She just lets them stream on
Her tears touch all parts of her face
Streaming like little rivers
Dripping like little raindrops
They drip ftom all parts of her face at once
They aren’t even close to stopping
Just an ongoing series of streaming tears
She never enjoyed shedding so much silent tears
She’ll always enjoy doing it time and time again
She let out a sigh

14

It’s a rap/poem/song.

The life story/Le biografe dejour della ressureccion!

?Pain leads to suffering. Suffering leads to anger. Anger leads to hatred. Hatred leads… To sorrow? And destruction.?

Happy ain’t always stuck on your true face, take off that mask and let’s see the dirty side b, to the record of your life story. Smile and frown, up and down let’s see what you’ve made of it all in that head of yours, killing yourself for a new beginning but missing the piece that will make it all whole, eternally broken gotta start anew but can’t describe the place inside that’s shattered an torn. Hope far off like a long lost memory, light above but no ladder to reach, pray for the cure, a happy overture and the strength to describe this life’s story. It’s all fun and games they say until someone gets hurt, then the real comes out, and honesty slaps you in the face, breaking the mask and beholding your shame, hey, life ain’t no game, don’t kill the truth it?ll come back to haunt you, striking you out wearing your scalp to flaunt you.

?Don’t ignore me, can’t you see I hurt? ?
?No that smile of yours tells me you’re happy??
But the truth comes out tears start to flow and god almighty reminds you of his life story.
The pain on the cross you feel yourself blossom the death above becomes the light
Curse the cure you deny it all but the pain you both felt was real
Everything you feel
He felt
The death of a god for each man?s sin

(Tu que estas en alto cielo!)

What other sacrifice did you have to give?
None, dead to the world time to rise anew even though you still don?t know who you are
Or where you goin?
Ha! Familiar ain?t it?

(Echa me tu bendacion!)

Lost in a new world,
With new struggles
Trapped in a book with words that are hard to muscle
Out of your way, reborn denial
Caught in the circle
Stuck in a trial
Where?s the answer
?Gloria in ecselsias Deo!"
They reply, but you still carryin that pain inside.
They can tell you what they want
But you?ve got something to hide
Those smiling faces, they just don?t get it
You?re trapped in a new world trying to forget
And they don?t have anything to remember
A man of lonesome travel has no place among saints
A saved sinner still full of his own regrets and complaints
To find happy, where must I look?
I?m shaken and tired, tired of this land that?s so goddamn forsaken
Wrong looks as freedom but even so you know it?s a lie
Let the circle be unbroken, the ties that bind
Return to the circle, it holds you
Still hold you, but you got the key,
Keep moving forward find the place you got to be
Stuck between a child and maturity?
Who will lead the way?
?Nobody, you?re a young man now. Forge your own path?
Still the darkness, the silence the maddening
When there?s no answer on the other side
Where?s anything happening
Kill yourself, kill the pride
?Thou shalt not kill?
Sleep alone but find strength in numbers
Sleep alone and be silent, speak when spoken too
?And blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth?
But in need of a companion
Trying to fall but denying it all
Multitudes come but I deny them all, hell, so does my country
?Bring me your poor, your tired, your wretched huddled masses?
?GOD HATES *** ENABLERS, THANK GOD FOR DEAD SOLDIERS?
What was taught has been burned in through it all
Even though some twist the truth
?Thou shalt not commit adultery?
But afraid of the truth, can?t separate from the lies
Where is he up in those skies?

Musical break

I?m so worried about my favor with him that down below
My life is torn; sociology looks at me with scorn
?And one day, this nation will rise up!?
Trying to rise
?Do not ask fro who the bell tolls?
As long as I have legs I can run from the executioner
?I am the greatest?
Gotta get up be quick about it
No time to pout nothing to figure about it
Even the Julian and MLK had their doubts.
?Gloria in exselsius Deo!"
Time to face the truth, open a new chapter
Of an old book, my life and humanity?s intertwined
Evolution from apes or to not be left behind
Science and religion may converge one day
But as for now Earth is my home to stay
?But only the fool denies the true god!?
Make the best of what I have been given that?s what I say, or better
There?s always a way. God?s there for me, but understanding him has many fetters.
Life may be screwed up, fucked up, but you can be better
Time to go in waist deep
Get a little wetter
Get the skills so you can be better
Fall in love be brave be smitten
With a woman and this earth above the stars
The clock that keeps ticking
Got to keep swinging, gotta keep hittin, this life maybe Joe Frasier, but you are Ali
?FLOAT LIKE A BUTTERFLY, AND STING LIKE A BEE!?
?FLOAT LIKE A BUTTERFLY AND STING LIKE A// AND STING LIKE A BEE!?
Even if we miss the target it?s still ?unwritten?
Death to the pain, hail the glory
That is the phoenix, the holy revival
Still dead to the world THIS IS YOUR LIFE STORY!

15

Ozone

To taste the crisp air. How I desire to ascend.
Deep in the atmosphere without a care. Why must we pretend?
Soaring into the heavens. Devoid of terrestrial concerns. How I envy the avian.
I hunger for such ability. To evolve beyond this curse.
Parched without divinity. The clouds shall quench my thirst.
Natural flight. Not meant to recline amongst the stars. Not meant to glide.
Clear is my plight. Endeavors illuminated by scars. To spread figmental wings wide.
A forbidden realm. Shielded by evolution’s barrier. Reflecting envious sorrow.
Deeper I delve. To fly with joy like the infant’s carrier. Such wishes are hollow.
The ailerons of freedom, of exemption, of liberty. Bestowed upon subjacent life.
Someone please heed them. Pleads of redemption. None can offer me. Clasped by internal strife.
Only in dreams do I ascend. Aloof in finite visions. Trapped in this body. Sapien.
Existence with which I cannot contend. Confused by obscure decisions. Such reasons are alien.
My eyes gaze upon the sky. Jealous of what is perceived. Unable to follow. So be it then.
Illequiped to fly. Divinity unacheived. How I envy the avian.

16

Perhaps too much free time, or rather too much love for the game ^ ^

Fire isn’t hot till it flames over your head like a rrod.
Fat ain’t fast till its diving, crossing and bouncing toward your face.
The strong, quick, and oh so sexy balanced
like a yun yang.
The world waits,
as we,
the true hardcore practice our cross ups and baits.
amen sf amen

17

Throw your life away jump! do it! shoryuken.

How many times is it going 2 take. No continues. Now I have to wait.

The line is long should have done it right. I’m sick of going in my pockets. I can’t lose, before psn and x-box live I used to get it in. St,3s,cvs2, old school arcade cab if you couldn’t play stick just stand and watch how’s my execution? Better than my reaction time. I hate playing online. Lags is for scrubs I want a money match.

18

Poetry, I hate
How haikus don’t make no sense
I just don’t get it.

19

Back when I was at the University of Hawaii, in a Form and Theory of Poetry class, we had an assignment to write a Haiku. This was mine, submitted via email:

Heads, I go to class.
Tails, I stay home and get drunk.
Heads. Shit. This coin lies.

The teacher loved it. Said that it was the first time she had ever read a student-written poem that she was jealous of.

20

The Seasons of Life

This one is off the top of the head and a gift to you: Fellow Fight Fans

Who are these brave ones who devote such time to a video game as Cantor did with Mathematics?
A path fraught with stigma,
Those who measure 'frame data’
as a madman measures pitter-patter?

They draw ire and admiration by simply following their passion,
as I sit in this 6X9 right now, without foe, friend or fiancé
wondering when my time will come.

Why did I never make it in this place?
The Allure of this great America. An America that’s never been
America to me but will nonetheless be.
To all the greats who made it the great country it is. I ask with
teary eyes Why in this America was being
American never in the cards for me?

I sold my fighting game collection to see a girl who fell in love with me.
Just as well, while playing I was as free as any American.
But If upon my leave I don’t return,
this effigy of what I might have been may burn.

My dream is Academia;
but often I find myself propelled to defend against conformist mania,
the merits of Arcadia; as I would Zorbing, Xtreme Ironing,
The World Rock-Paper-Scissors Championships et al.

On the road to the apex of knowledge, I will continue my strange
habit of watching tournament videos to the bewilderment of new family.
Without a scene but a nice screen, plugging away at combos and points.
A henpecked husband, at least I’ll be scoring.

Thank you!