5 minute poetry

[BlackMageGirl!]

"Surreal"

The past seems so unreal
Contemplative and surreal
You look back and remember
Some memories painful…
…and some so tender

Random thoughts still conflict
Mistakes or salvation, change inflict
Hide away what was, close your eyes
You will not look back to that time
…and that person you despise

Burying it down, wash yourself clean
You will forget yesterday, what has been
Everyone can start over, and better yet
Your eyes are bright with the sun’s rays
….but your cheeks are strangely wet.

Keep that picture, keep that charm
Keep it locked tight, comes no harm
Or is that your soul you hold so tight
Your back is to the sun once again
….as your face turns to the night

Can’t forget, can’t forgive
Can’t go back, can’t go live
Standing at such a crossroad
Your body is pale and warm
….but your heart is stone cold.

[Mr. Viewtiful]

Here's a Gizoogle'd version of a poem I wrote almost a yeat ago. Good luck understanding it, it sounds like a rap song...

Walkin' Tizzy

Some say you gots game among tha B-to-tha-izzest
Some T-H-to-tha-izzink you're tha same as tha rizzay
But one th'n fo` certain:
Walkin' tizzay ain't eazy as it seems.

Big Dizzle was bizzorn in Sacramento in tha late 80's
Moved ta a playa ghetto south at tha age of 3
His name wasn't always Big Dizzle
But throughout tha years he earned it

Big Dizzle was always big n tall fo` his age
He couldn't play wit anyone else his age
Dizzle played too tough you see
And when th'n gots rough
Sink dizzle n think
"This is killin' me"

Throughout school, he was picked on by tha olda guys
Called "Fat," "Ugly," n "Tub O' Lard wit Fries"
So he played tha gizzle of basketball
And he dominated just 'cause he was tall

Time passes on
And his pea G-R-to-tha-izzew poser
Big D entered hiznigh schoo`
And he seemed ta git smalla
Now lost, was his one advantage in tha gizzle
The ability ta block n rebound
While grow'n confidence came

Nowadays, whizzay Big Dizzle steps up ta tha court
Everybody picks on him,
Though it's just a spizzort
Wheneva Dizzle plays rough, otha git pissed
And tha game abruptly ends
And Po' Dizzle gets caged

It's hard fo` Dizzle ta win
'Specially wizzle tha ref is on tha playa tizzy
All fouls is called on him
While thinkin' tha otha shot calla stizzop is but a dream

D doesn't knizzay what ta do,
Whneva he steps up, someone gets capped
It's tough ta be tha gentle giant,
Wizzy you ain't tha giant no more

Whizzat wizzay he do? Put up his shoes n quit?
Or return ta tha court n hizzle playa don't throw a fit?
Whizzay you're playin' tha game, one thing stays tha same:
Walkin' T-to-tha-izzall ain't eazy as it seems.

Word.

[Technocrack]

"Live to Hate"


The blood falls freely from the severed vein,
She hurts herself to relieve the pain.
In the night, she screams.
She's going insane.

The world has driven her to this fate,
She cuts herself to relieve the hate.
Her cry for help
Is sounded too late.

In desperation, she grips the knife,
Her only intent? To end this life.
Life can be so cruel,
When you're just trying to survive.

The pain flashes like a thunderstorm,
The blood splashes, so wet and so warm.
She looks at his picture
And knows he won't mourn.

As the darkness slowly fades away
She sits, entranced by the blood spray.
She will live to hate
Another day.

[Funka Genocide]

we've lost our minds
so sad to say...
killing shadows
where light now lays

kicking small beasts
screaming gleefully
watch the rodents fly
snarling vehemently

care? why should we?
we are great, and disturbed
sorrow, empathy, humanity
all slights we can't endure

a robots life for us
smashing things that break
crumble! I am your destructor
I'll give all you can take

what gifts I give
as laser beams in movies
they sear the air and explode
I want to see your boobies

optimal levels of carbonation
have nothing to do with war
though with a glass I now contend
a liquid I abhor

eat it! eat it! damn it!
I'll not have your saucy tone!
I'll suffer only presidents
to call me on my phone!

a languid sourpuss
writhing in his grave
he can have the day off
for all the blood he gave

...at the office

ring me on my shoe
I'll be sure to wear my sandles
on days I meant to not be here
someone lights a candle

in memory of dying prose
children weep at screens
commercials kill our will to rage
though we have our violent scenes

they are cold without passion
we are old and stagnant
insanity is overrated
and drama is a pageant

for aging wives
with petty thoughts
beating children of destiny
who suffer through their lots

we have no meaning
all jokes inside
we'll kick your ass
believe us, we've tried

we are your mirrors
those kids you threw eggs at
we have guns now
bullets go where heads are at

we are fine with stabbing you
its something we'd enjoy
you really do deserve it
stupid fucking cowboy

I don't care how many touchdown runs
or cheerleading sluts you banged
I'm going to rip your heart out
and weep beneath the rain

for open skies are never clear
beyond a certain context
we see through eyes of opaque crystal
to the signs life gives us next

I'm wallowing in joy
it tastes like salt
red beneath the fingernails
just who the fuck is John Golt?

philosophy and medicine
the finer things in life
the stupid kids with passing grades
the lovely trophy wife

put that moose head on a mantle
its something that you killed
a prize born of destruction
maybe I'm in left field?

crazy crazy crazy crazy
wouldn't it be grand
if thats all I were?
now madness has a hand

...in my pocket

smile, laugh and chew my food
chopsticks, forks, spoons and cups
I'm acting out the parts of lonely gods
I'm kicking taste right in the nuts

I'm out of stuff to rant about
I'm lost in time for a few more minutes
so shake my hand, or give me h***
don't worry, its just an asterisk.


...............................................

I have no idea what that was all about, at all, if you can figure it out, call me on my shoe, my number is 867-5309.

[Demon with a Glass Hand]

And late
(it's late)
(So very late)
in the evening
(So late)
I find myself here
(Friday night)
(It's late)
Awake while it's
late
(Yes, it's late)
(So very late)
And I work in the
morn
(Work early)
(So very early)
But here I
am
(And it's late)
(Why isn't it early)
Waiting for the one
(Just one)
(only one)
I'm watching
(I'm hidden)
(So hidden)
to finally update his damn signature.
I mean, really, Funka?!
How long does it actually take, man?
Just write something! It doesn't have to be anything special!
I'm waiting to see your new sig, but
I won't
wait
all
night.
(Cause it's late)
(so very late)

- Sometimes you can be inspired by the most unimportant things when you're feeling uninspired. Not that this poem is inspired in any way. It's trite. But it's my brand of trite. And my brand is so much better than anyone elses, right?

Thought so. Glad you agree.

[BlackMageGirl!]

YELLOW! *covers eyes*

When they mean disclaimer...they don't mean a billboard. You dont' have to make it that loud, okay?

Edit: Thank you!

[Ganurath]

"Elegance"

Look at all the grandeur
and how little change it brings.
What happened to the simple acts
that did amazing things?

[BlackMageGirl!]

Simple little words
Meanings abrubt
Speak more than not
Sorrow in its simplest form

Tiny things
Love, sadness, hate
Joy, exuberance, fear
So small, so small...
Effect us so much.

Shows a different side
Change view, strange world
Cheerful one turned sad
Outgoing one turned shy

Small
Insignificant
Little
Words...

....keep us here.

Edit:

The tear drops fall
lamenting what has happened
For the best, its still there
For the worst, it guides me
Forever, I will know.

[Funka Genocide]

there are roads, so cold
of frosted hope and dying dream
beyond all desire
to be...

much too long in favor
a child of vain humanity
a child wrapped in light
to blind us

a dancing finger on a path
stark as the bitter cold
savouring the moment
of its ascension

its coming down around your head
rationalize your fear
as you did your evil
you will be dead soon

by my hand

by wills so grand they are not known
by tools as base as my soul
squeeze the trigger, end your curse
die, die, die...

and be no more a tragedy

salvation in the face of death
or by its very hand
braced against the very life
protected by my hand

a blade which speaks in thunder
no, a voice so crystal clear
die you wretched waste of life
I am your gunsmoke angel

[Squishy Cheeks]

The worm.

I warned you,
You didn't listen,
I told you truths,
you ignored me.
I showed you,
You attacked me.
A Cassandra,
That I may be,
but you are a fool.

leopard's spots don't change.
The season's regardless.
life some things are certain,
Some are unworthy of trust.

My goals are met,
My time grows shorter,
I diminish,
go into shadow,
flea the darkness,
The unworthy rule,
I wish to go,

I'm tired of drama,
manufacturing so much,
do you ever sleep now?
seeking praise in ether,

You grow fat on your undeserved worship.