Baron Mynd - Old Open mics / Poems

Discussion in 'Emcee Hookups' started by Calibre, Jun 15, 2012.

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  1. Calibre

    Calibre Peoples Champ

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    Whats good man,

    u used to write some of the best poetry ive ever seen g, where can i find that stuff again.

    It aint in poetry realm no more i dont think.
    test
  2. Brown Jesus

    Brown Jesus Menso is for Dummies

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    test
  3. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
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    I haven't wrote for a looooonggggggg time, been busy trying to build this Wolverhampton scene tbh. Here's some you may not have read:



    N-E-T-C-E-E-S-.-C-O-M

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    The ticking time bomb with an IPod attachment. Living rhyme God. A savage when I switch the mind off. Average if I try jotting patterns into fine blocks of multisyllabics while lost zigzagging through my thoughts. This happens. I sign off. Quit rapping and I'm gone. Til I sit scratching at my noggin and I think back to when time was that I did actually try logging in to diss faggots like "Why not?" So I'm sat click-clacking at my comp and before I know it, I've already clicked back on the icon.


    TOPIC: A cliche war story, that's secretly not really about war at all - Kannon





    Words were exchanged at a terminal rate.
    But neither side could agree to find or reach a time for further debate.
    So with murmured disdain,
    Dividing lines were drawn in the trenches.
    The words said out of vengeful spite will
    become potential minefields.
    So both tread carefully when forming a sentence.
    Wars are often won by the smallest percentage,
    and they're experts at turning inches into miles.
    Beneath the warpaint on their taut faces,
    an inkling of revile lingers in their smiles.
    As stringently they file back to their vast barracks and fast,
    While full of scorn and rage,
    they formulate their next plans of attack.
    With military manner intact
    they each bark orders, but then what happens,
    is they stomp their feet & march around the issue in regimental fashion.
    Their fierce tempers clashing
    continually throughout the night and the day,
    As their opposing half explodes right in their face
    like the livest grenade.
    Yet both kindly remain wildly unscathed
    as machine-gunned accusations go bang, BANG!
    and their ineptitudes feel lost in the middle of no man's land.
    But they don't back stab.
    And would never let the other know a target's been hit
    knowing one marginal slip could leave the oppositions arsenal equipped.
    They may find it hard to admit,
    but when two inimical forces often clash,
    The guns are drawn.
    The knives are out.
    And you'd do well to watch your back.
    However, heat-seeking missiles are not a match
    for the competitions cold exterior.
    The warring factions called to action will soldier, wearier,
    through the warzones hysteria.
    Until with both appearing to surrender their roles
    they had fought before bed.
    One waved the white flag of her thong upon a finger up above her warhead.
    This of course meant the soldier stood, direct, to attention
    with his baying bayonet pressed up against him.
    The bedroom had become a battlefield where sex was a weapon
    and both culprits victors.
    Maybe they should have used a silencer.
    His gun was cocked.
    She pulled the trigger.
    With all considered, the melancholy, division and woe
    would be forgiven you know.
    See they were never tyrants engaged in war...
    ...just an engaged couple quibbling over who was in control
    of the television remote!


    [​IMG]
    test
  4. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
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    img]http://cartophilia.com/blog/images/applemap.jpg[/img]


    It would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten.
    All too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
    With their ethos built tall on softened beds of timely tradition,
    The sizeable schisms you find that are missing,
    Help create only divide and division.
    So then why have we bitten off more than we can physically chew,
    To then stare at the apple of our eye with such severely limited views?
    We live to consume from the pith to the roots we duly source,
    Which proves of course that through discourse this requires serious food for thought.
    The hour will come when our devouring gums will bite down on our own misfortune,
    If we fail to behold the warnings to the grown importance of Global Warming.
    We'll see the icecaps slowly thawing as the temperature rises,
    Then as it heightens each ocean will be swallowed up, leaving a desert behind it.
    The apples resemblance is frightening, seeing how its former seas have emerged left...
    ...with dry, barren, troughs surrounding continents scorched a deep and burnt red.
    And even worse yet, it's too late to peel back this globally grave intrusion.
    But it's state has proven the apples gravitas hasn't been observed since the days of Newton.
    The fruits of our labour sustained a bruising which blackened the world economy,
    And cast an ominous shadow over the darkest fears of the concerned majority.
    Politicians searched to assert authority with
    downtrodden souls beneath their gleaming shoes.
    As they were presented with this fruitful subject -
    One they could all sink their teeth into.
    But the medias view has grown tedious through the worlds economic state,
    So this modest break wont be served to them on silver platters -
    But on the worlds tectonic plates.
    What a waste of the vast creative juices our rich planet has secreted in soil,
    As Russian billionaires needlessly toil deeper for oil -
    Just to keep on reaping the spoils.
    Which keeps us embroiled in a fruitless farce to help ease our sudden thirst,
    While the seeds of change become seeds of doubt in the ripened ovaries of Mother Earth.
    To look at first it would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten
    But all too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
    We're always watching when the world's a stage where EVERYBODY has a part to produce,
    And whoever said we have the whole world in our hands, wasn't far from the truth...
    What once started with few whole-heartedly grew to billions in density,
    And while an apple scoffed in a day keeps the doctor away -
    An eco-friendly planet offers your grand-children prosperity.
    With a little will and integrity we can help to restore the world we bestowed,
    And see it flourish under our watchful gaze as we nurture it's growth.
    If we worked as a whole purposefully though without neglect,
    Then we could finally give new meaning to the term greenhouse effect...



    ----

    She may of had the broken nose and blackened eyes of a boxer,
    But there was a courageous self-belief and pride in her posture.
    And she carried those attributes until the day that something snapped...
    And daddy’s old faithful punching bag came lunging back...


    Farley was an ill-tempered, cantankerous old bastard,
    His own master,
    And the man of the house... that very seldom would show laughter.
    So one would suppose after the beatings he'd bludgeoned her with...
    ...That his wife had become numb to the hits,
    From his thunderous fists.
    But not numb in the sense she no longer felt his hands...
    ...More numb in the sense she'd turn away those who tried to help her stand.
    And not numb in the sense that she never yelped or sang,
    Over the welts that stang...
    ...But his consummate efforts devoured her -
    In the clutches of this rabid wolf she became a helpless lamb,
    Without a leg to stand.
    A mere fallen star that glowed in the distance,
    As her world was transformed from technicolor to monochrome in an instant.
    But that first time he struck her,
    It also choked her of the only pride she felt.
    And that night she fell, but refused to retreat inside her shell...
    ...and issue any cries for help,
    Instead she waited, to make sure this tyrant dwelled in a life of hell...


    ...So beside herself, she plotted and planned,
    To greet his rotten demands,
    With the firm riposte of her hands.
    And unbeknown to this villainous raptor, she was filling with rapture...
    ...at the sheer thought me killing this bastard.
    She tried for weeks,
    Until eventually he was resigned to sleep...
    ...and mesmerised so deep,
    He didn't even notice her dive to reach,
    A hacksaw that’s pristine silver blade shines with each,
    And every thrusting stroke against his flesh in the nights deceit.
    An evil smile wryly creeps, across Alice's smiling features...
    ...As with the hacksaw held firmly,
    She cuts through the limbs of this violent creature.
    In the kitchen she sits and wickedly picks through flesh and bone,
    With his head mounted upright on the table,
    She had kept it cold, refusing to let him go...
    Then suddenly, she thought she heard his booming footsteps cascading the stairs,
    It was the way he had always done,
    Its distinct sound had now made her aware,
    So from her quaint worktop in the kitchen, Alice patiently stared...
    ...again clutching the hacksaw tightly, as she was unstable and scared.
    The looming shadow grew closer,
    And she felt the first signs of passing guilt...
    ...but as it drew towards the light,
    She realised it was their boy, Ryan, only wrapped in quilts.
    He dropped his glass of milk instantly,
    Upon exposing his mother's confounding secret...
    ...the tumble glass was fumbled and smashed into more than a thousand pieces.
    And Ryan burst into tears after confronting her with stark dismay,
    As his eyes bled the words only his heart could say.
    In the darkness lay his Father,
    Decapitated of his limbs and his head,
    But "Don't cry over spilt milk..." was the only thing that she said.
    So one would suppose after the beatings he'd bludgeoned her with...
    ...That his wife had become numb to the hits,
    From his thunderous fists.
    But not numb in the sense she no longer felt his hands...
    ...More numb in the sense she'd turn away those who tried to help her stand.
    And not numb in the sense that she never yelped or sang,
    Over the welts that stang...
    ...But his consummate efforts devoured her -
    In the clutches of this rabid wolf she became a helpless lamb.
    She may of had the broken nose and blackened eyes of a boxer,
    But there was a courageous self-belief and pride in her posture.
    And she carried those attributes until the day that something snapped...
    And daddy’s old faithful punching bag came lunging back...
    test
  5. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
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    Messages:
    10,366
    ---


    Black D put up a piece called "A Thousand Faces". I felt inspired. Here you go:

    "A Thousand AND ONE Faces!"

    iAm,

    The government AIDS, belligerence in the blood of a slave,
    The child in Haiti that could only watch while others were saved -
    from the rubble then cradled, cuddled and praised
    ...The guttural quake havin' devoured all that stood in its way.
    I'm the dream that crumbled away along with the place,
    She rhapsodicly called home before its summit was razed...
    The punishin' gaze of the sun that broke the camel's back,
    Lifeless hand of Charles de Menezes as it holds his haversack.
    The lowly camera flash blamed when Diana was murdered.
    Change of name to Windsor at unrest the Royal Family was German...
    I planned the diversion, I'm the bullet the force and the gun
    The outpouring of blood that deprived Afeni Shakur of her son.
    The warden in Scum...
    As brutalised by the system inside as the prisoners.
    The attempts to silence his wisdom and Litvinenko's defiant resilience...
    those who die of attrition, the west's reluctance to stop 'em from starvin'
    - Both Robert Mugabe and every last one of his army.
    I'm the shot of Bacardi that pushed Andrew Curwell over the edge,
    The scalpel probin' the death of Heath Ledger before his global success...
    I'm opium fresh from the poppy fields of Afghanistan,
    And those who made heroes of the Mujahiddin, now fearing the Taliban -
    concealed within Pakistani borders plotting at will...
    The corpse of Madeline McCann rotting in filth on top of a hill.
    The hospital bill to fight superbugs their cleaners created,
    syringe that gleamed with the painless resolve Harold Shipman metered to patients.
    I'm the Indonesian faces the tsunami had wiped out,
    A thousand eyes blinking in unison ..
    and I'm watching you right now.



    ----


    "Unstoppable" Feat. Iglos and NinjaMic

    -((Ninja))-
    ...in the back of my mind I think had an epiphany
    so I had to pioneer originality and master it instantly
    I've seen everything that will happen after infinity
    the afterlife is the only place to channel me spiritually
    only Achilles had the agility and a natural ability
    to have a half a chance of surpassing me physically
    pass me a symphony to see it massacred lyrically
    inspire artists to paint after they imagine my imagery
    it can't be reproduced, like a man lacking fertility
    reengineer genetics to alter anatomy's fragile stability
    a fanatical madman, Mengele's answer to mystery
    never allowed my evil twin to advance past his infancy
    salivate PH levels that perfectly balance acidity
    no serotonin inhibitors will help to handle your misery
    trying to practice humility but I laugh at stupidity
    I answer any amateur's audacity with ample artillery
    in all actuality, this animosity acts as the epitome
    of the massive amount of vernacular I pack in a simile
    economic bankruptcy cannot cancel or limit me
    long as I send verses in a properly packaged delivery
    my family tree still standing, sanctioned in Sicily
    only bitch could carry my seed is the Statue of Liberty

    -((Baron))-
    These rappers are killing me! Sounding wacker on finished fea-
    tures than the instrumentals they happen to spit and speak
    on with vapid deliveries. Clad in their skinny jeans,
    hat that's been fitted teamed for swagger with Timbs. It seems
    they lack the affinity which rapping would give to me
    back in my infancy. Now every albums a swift release
    pre-packaged with mimicry and tracks with no synergy.
    They've sold the last of their dignity and mastered it digitally.
    Now they're a fad in an industry that acts as a big machine
    they're contracted to sit and feed, but sacked if they disagree.
    Their plastic humility having landed them inbetween
    the path to timidity and the back of a limosine.
    They're lambs to the guillotine.
    Only management intervenes when matters turn bittersweet.
    Then it's back to the little leagues.
    Having sold the last of their dignity and mastered it digitally...

    -((Iglos))-
    Say what you want but the sun'll still shine
    always raw like Thor bring thunder in rhymes
    I swear to fuckin' god men are dumb an' all blind
    unaware of the depth that is under my lines
    witty an' gritty style, call it slummy with grime
    I laugh at the naive who are stunned by our crimes
    lyrical magic, my flow is summoned with chimes
    adapt an' move on, become one with the times
    or don't cope an' smoke dope getting' numb off of wine
    so sick of politicians, and their gluttonous pride
    It's like I'm shackled down up in a dungeon inside
    ..stuck at a stand-still, wont run or abide
    test my with a flow and you'll get hung while you cry
    most stay in poverty, but some will get by
    and very few care, they just wanna' get high
    I make beats all day, on the drums I get live
    writing is my drug, I get strung out on mics
    you better than 'glos.. phst.. fuckin' yeah right
    each word is like sword, so come get swung on with might
    line up 1,000 emcees, I'll leave none in ya sight
    the youth today are raised, by scum it's a plight
    but I really don't care... 'cuz all I want is to write
    test
  6. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
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    Messages:
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    ---


    "Affair Of The Heart"


    "Adrian, there's something I need to ask you...
    ...Are you having an affair?"
    "What? No, of course no, how could you even say that?"
    "Adrian, wait, it's just that things have been..."

    * Door slams shut *


    Slowly you pick up the broken, jagged, pieces of your heart from the floor. And it's hard to ignore the silent sobs your partner deplores. As tumbling tears travel her weary wrinkles. Leaving scars of remorse. You pause for a second as the ball lands hard in your court. "Adrian, wait!" the woman cries "please give it another try,". And you gulp anxiously as you stare into your ex-lovers eyes. Their pale, sullen, guise seems to trick you again. As you stand their helplessly, hoping the howling winds will whisk you away. Because you're a man, and your too proud to admit your mistakes. That's when it hits you. The soft, sobering, kiss of the rain. Droplets are hitting the pavement as you lock lips with Lorraine. And the thought of make-up sex is all that sticks in your brain. As you count down the hours until you can see her sister again...


    Heh.



    ----


    [​IMG]

    .
    .
    .

    Do you remember when you would call me yours?
    When I was the savvy sailor navigating those stormy shores;
    And you were the burlesque barmaid we all adored,
    The first female that I’d fallen for...


    “...All aboard!”


    ...I guess I’d always been too afraid of letting go;
    ‘Cos you never know what can happen when you’re caught in the ebb and flow.
    But I was carried away by the current and swept to the side;
    Where I found myself drowning in the deepest, dark, depths of your eyes.
    As their replenishing grace lashed over me,
    I embraced it strong,
    And with a sharp intake of breath, I would gladly take the plunge.
    You were the mermaid on the barnacled buttresses I braved collision,
    As I courageously steered my stern vessel on its maiden mission.
    But simultaneously I found myself in a strange position;
    Because I’d always been careful not to go overboard with inane decisions.
    Yet our relationship was as open and free as the oceans and seas;
    From the moment you seized my heart,
    Gone were my loneliest needs.
    And I was thrown in the deep end where you left me amazed;
    Where I leapt in elation while riding on the crest of that wave.
    I was so desperate to make a splash, I kid you not, I did the lot...
    ...As you were the beacon up in the lighthouse,
    That guided my ship to dock.
    But I soon found it wasn’t all plain sailing attached to you;
    Even though I’d gladly choose to do what you asked me too...
    ...And sometimes I’d call you a “Beach” behind your back, it’s true.
    But much like the incoming tide,
    I’d come crawling back to you.
    Yet there was a lot more to me than the guy you’d always see;
    Beneath the calm surface lay a cold, scathing, storm at sea...
    ...You’d drifted into the arms of another as I watched you float;
    And up fecal firth with no paddle,
    I decided to rock the boat.
    But my emotions turned like the tides, and I fostered regrets...
    ...As you probed my turbulent mind, for what had got me upset.
    And then I watched as you wept, on the docks with the jetty;
    Before dragging your body down to those same rocks where you met me...
    And waves of anger crashed over me alone where we stood;
    As I thought to myself “If I couldn’t have you, then nobody would.”
    But I was already in too deep,
    And that much I’d admit.
    I tried pushing her onto the rocks, but during the struggle – I slipped!
    And I fell backwards, hearing her gasping screams suddenly stop,
    As I hit the ground –The true meaning of Love On The Rocks.
    Now I’m just deadwood,
    Tossed and thrown around these stormy shores...
    ...And you’ll forever be the only female I’ve fallen for.
    But you’ll never wash my blood from your hands,
    No matter what you pass them through.
    And much like the incoming tide,
    I’ll come crawling back for you...


    Beach.
    test
  7. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
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    Messages:
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    ----


    "A Misguided Youth"

    Born to a Jordanian town, that while quaintly profound and not greatly renowned ..
    .. was rich in resolve,
    Ahmed watched as his city evolved.
    Often he'd cast a gaze over the vast array of placid grey ..
    .. building's that masqueraded, as the al-Ma'ssoum slum he had fast became -
    Accustomed to.
    Before he'd thrust his new, books into, ..
    .. his carry-bag, and began the mile long journey on foot to school.
    Ahmed was an indifferent student,
    Who often would sit alone ..
    .. His playground; The municipal cemetery opposite his home.
    When mother found him kicking stones- "There's nothing to do," he would report,
    .. Before she smacked him for scuffing the only shoes we could afford.
    Ahmed hankered purpose,
    His rebellious streak began to surface ..
    .. and he turned juvenile delinquent, with intentions to leave this languid circus.
    His gambit earnest,
    At least up til his arrest where its proven -
    An adult Ahmed was influenced by the Salafist-Jihadist Movement.
    Captivated by the stories portrayed, in glorious ways ..
    .. and local mosques, preaching radical Islam to all us who prayed.
    Ahmed left for Kandahar, where he then made a pact ..
    .. with bin Laden. The maniac, offering him a training camp.
    It was here Ahmed changed his name, to one more common to you and me ..
    Calling himself "Abu Musab al-Zarqawi".
    A name that strikes fear in our hearts to the beat of a taut drum,
    "Abu Musab" meaning "Father of Musab" - His fourth son ..
    .. "al-Zarqawi" because Zarqa's the city he's spawned from,
    And from his Training Camp in Herat, his leadership was forth run.
    With the invasion of Iraq,
    And allied tanks roaming forth, in droves and hordes ..
    .. al-Zarqawi chose to pour, his gross support, into igniting Holy War.
    The primarial reason Zarqawi was known to state, over tapes ..
    .. was that "The great lie known as democracy," diametrically opposed his faith.
    When his ultimatums weren't met, he would stick to his word ..
    .. which led most noteably to the cruel be-heading of Nicholas Berg.
    The U.S stripped and searched the Middle East's continued plight ..
    .. until finally,
    they succeeded in killing him on June the ninth.

    A tragic tale of misguided youth, yet those who do not know the past are doomed to repeat it.

    Abu-Musab al-Zarqawi
    October 22nd 1967 - June 9th 2006
    Rest In Peace




    ---


    ”What Makes A Man?”


    "Being entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise."
    - Sigmund Freud



    Before I had this shitty job that barely pays its way;
    And working for a frickin’ slob who does nothing from day to day.
    Before I wrote this city off as no more than a place to stay,
    Back then I was pretty soft, but my temperaments stayed the same...
    ...As when I would sit and watch my Father with great distain;
    And observe how he’d hit the scotch to help him escape his pain.
    Then line up the whiskey shots to ensure he’d not wake again,
    This was before his kidneys stopped, while unable to take the strain.
    Before I’d the jist of what the term “Alcoholic” may contain,
    And way before I was kicking rocks with a heavy face of shame...
    Before I was picking spots after someone to take the blame;
    And daddy I kid you not... I’m too stubborn to change my ways.
    It took me all the grit I’d got, but I think now it’s safe to say;
    That when my everything was lost, there was then just a vacant space...
    ...Before I’d took a single drop of that liquor you laid to waste;
    When I was just a little toddler, despised of its hateful taste.
    But equipped with my building blocks and an ever-creative grace;
    I would stack them until they toppled, while trying to make a base.
    And then with careful skill I plotted toy soldiers to take up place;
    But not even their million bodies could render this haven safe...
    Before my first pimple popped, before adulthood raised the stakes;
    When I had my bicycle robbed, and disheartened, I gave up chase...
    Before the dimples dotted my cheeks to taunts of “Hey crater face!”
    Before I heard that BIG was shot, back when music was laid to tapes.
    Back when I thought Slick Rick was hot and we parted with “Later days!”
    Before I’d even dig The Lox, before Jigga would change the game.
    ...Before what Suge did to Pac, before martyrdom came his way;
    And long before I’d considered what career path I would take today...
    Back when I would hit the block as a pasty faced waste of space;
    This was before my lips were locked to the woman I’d later date.
    Before I got my ship to dock, and the months that she made me wait;
    Back when I couldn’t give a FUCK less about what the neighbours say.
    While they were busy kissing butts, I would call a spade a spade;
    I just wanted to live it up, and I’m sure that mistakes were made...
    ...but goddammit I rid my luck, and refused to embrace the change.
    Although our up-bringing was tough, I believe that it shaped my fate,
    From living in a rut I can safely say with no great malaise;
    That all this inner-suffering MADE ME the man that you face today.

    From me having that shitty job that barely paid its way;
    To working for some frickin’ slob who does NOTHING FROM DAY TO DAY.
    From me writing this city off as no more than a place to stay;
    To seeing my Father hit the scotch, JUST TO HELP HIM ESCAPE HIS PAIN.
    I can safely say with no great malaise that it shaped my fate;
    AND ALL THIS INNER-SUFFERINGS WHAT MADE ME THE MAN THAT YOU FACE TODAY.
    Yes, I can safely say with no great malaise that it shaped my fate;
    AND ALL THIS INNER-SUFFERINGS WHAT MADE ME THE MAN THAT YOU FACE TODAY.
    test
  8. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
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    Messages:
    10,366
    ---


    Quick Fore-note:

    Not so much a change in style, it just reads and flows 100% better without having to break up the lines for a 'conventional' text verse format. With these style verses I tried to nail the word-placement so that it was spot on. The content still being there, but the rhymes have to fall into place at exact intervals to keep the meter going. The title explains it all, just me experimenting with meter and spot-on rhyme placement. Try it yourselves and you'll fully appreciate the difficultybehind it...


    "Experiment #1


    We never had much in the way of duckets or change, just the occasional pudding made for our cousins who stayed a couple of days. When our cupboard’s contained less than Old Mother Hubbard’s, lets say. But you would never hear our Mother complain! No matter how often we struggled to pay the bills, or budget, and save. No matter how often, or emphatically, she tried to juggle her day. No matter how hard she’d just worked to serve a hot meal up on our plates, you would never hear our Mother complain. Not even through the ruction we made! But maybe us being so dysfunctional gave us that strong, solid, structural base. That sense of family values and well-being you just couldn’t replace. And when you have nothing to lose, you start looking to gain. This is how me and my brothers were raised. We were told to go for the jugular vein, to give back as good as they gave, but that good things come to those who have the gumption to wait. Sure there will be punishing days, where you’ll have taken just as much as you’ll take. Where you’ll feel like a blundering great lummox that makes a hundred mistakes. But these testing times are where Mother’s are humbly made! In our multiple roles as a chauffeur, a housewife, a cook and a slave. And you’ll stumble or stray asunder some days under the strain. But you’ll do anything to see a smile on that childs wonderful face, no matter how laborious the task or how long that it takes. This is a full-time job with no time to be squandered on breaks, and could even result in you taking a cut in your pay. Sometimes it’s all too easy to shovel the blame, but these testing times are where Mother’s are humbly made, and so I’m asking, if the roles were reversed – Could a man really stomach the same!?

    I doubt it.

    I love you mom, you’re one in a million. Thank you.

    ----


    Just a sort-of follow-up. I had this in my notebook but never actually developed it into anything more. I must have hundreads like this of just free-writing filling my notepads with ideas and carry-over rhymes. Just adding this for the archive so people have more an idea of what I intended with this "style".

    Untitled

    I was born to this city and sojourned in probity, at least until the mornings would hit me. But I never lauded for pity; With a jaundiced acuity formed from a gritty background, I sought a comity. She wasn’t always this pretty, this town was once a mess. A redundant wretch, long neglected by the abundant fledglings that expunged her depths. The local Government under-spent on maintaining her wonderment, and this blunder meant hundreds vested in a prolonged attempt, to right their wrongs instead. I hung my head wishing I could invest more than just blood and sweat. The resulting debts had halted yet still the bulk was left. And in her lifetime, many a man had come and went, while failing to see her garden of opportune for the wooden fence. Failing to see her inner-beauty for the repugnant stench. And failing to see her vast expanses for the blankest canvas on which they could invent. And I was puzzled then but I discovered that quickly, these politicians were always too busy, to help our my mother – The city!
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  9. Calibre

    Calibre Peoples Champ

    Joined:
    Jun 4, 2003
    Messages:
    5,907
    Do you remember when you would call me yours?
    When I was the savvy sailor navigating those stormy shores;
    And you were the burlesque barmaid we all adored,
    The first female that I’d fallen for...


    “...All aboard!”


    ...I guess I’d always been too afraid of letting go;
    ‘Cos you never know what can happen when you’re caught in the ebb and flow.
    But I was carried away by the current and swept to the side;
    Where I found myself drowning in the deepest, dark, depths of your eyes.
    As their replenishing grace lashed over me,
    I embraced it strong,
    And with a sharp intake of breath, I would gladly take the plunge.
    You were the mermaid on the barnacled buttresses I braved collision,
    As I courageously steered my stern vessel on its maiden mission.
    But simultaneously I found myself in a strange position;
    Because I’d always been careful not to go overboard with inane decisions.
    Yet our relationship was as open and free as the oceans and seas;
    From the moment you seized my heart,
    Gone were my loneliest needs.
    And I was thrown in the deep end where you left me amazed;
    Where I leapt in elation while riding on the crest of that wave.
    I was so desperate to make a splash, I kid you not, I did the lot...
    ...As you were the beacon up in the lighthouse,
    That guided my ship to dock.
    But I soon found it wasn’t all plain sailing attached to you;
    Even though I’d gladly choose to do what you asked me too...
    ...And sometimes I’d call you a “Beach” behind your back, it’s true.
    But much like the incoming tide,
    I’d come crawling back to you.
    Yet there was a lot more to me than the guy you’d always see;
    Beneath the calm surface lay a cold, scathing, storm at sea...
    ...You’d drifted into the arms of another as I watched you float;
    And up fecal firth with no paddle,
    I decided to rock the boat.
    But my emotions turned like the tides, and I fostered regrets...
    ...As you probed my turbulent mind, for what had got me upset.
    And then I watched as you wept, on the docks with the jetty;
    Before dragging your body down to those same rocks where you met me...
    And waves of anger crashed over me alone where we stood;
    As I thought to myself “If I couldn’t have you, then nobody would.”
    But I was already in too deep,
    And that much I’d admit.
    I tried pushing her onto the rocks, but during the struggle – I slipped!
    And I fell backwards, hearing her gasping screams suddenly stop,
    As I hit the ground –The true meaning of Love On The Rocks.
    Now I’m just deadwood,
    Tossed and thrown around these stormy shores...
    ...And you’ll forever be the only female I’ve fallen for.
    But you’ll never wash my blood from your hands,
    No matter what you pass them through.
    And much like the incoming tide,
    I’ll come crawling back for you...


    Beach.



    HARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD, too sick g
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  10. Resilient.

    Resilient. .. . ..

    Joined:
    Sep 9, 2001
    Messages:
    29,663
    Baron Mynd - Why do I not recall you having THAT MUCH talent?
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  11. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
    Jul 16, 2003
    Messages:
    10,366
    We weren't around at the same time periods I don't think? When I first joined up in the RSTL, I obviously wasn't as 'known', then when I had won a few battles and titles - You were more on an RBL run. I could be wrong.

    I appreciate the peepage though. It's good to know people remember my writing.
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  12. Baron Mynd

    Baron Mynd Swaggersaurus Rex

    Joined:
    Jul 16, 2003
    Messages:
    10,366
    You've always liked that one haha!
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  13. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    [​IMG]

    "Welcome To Megamerica!"

    Some say that America's finest hour,
    Would be enough to turn the milk of human kindness sour.
    And with the kind of power they wield,
    They seemed to think the Middle East would cower and kneel.
    ‘Til dark skies showered the fields with debris,
    ...Call me a cynic...
    But dying over patriotism was never appealing to me.
    Why wont Bush fight in the war?
    I refuse to die for a cause, based on the lies they purport.
    We invaded Iraq, taking the fight to its shores,
    When the REAL tyrant we sought, stood right at our door.
    In corporate America,
    Where our silence is bought.
    But fighting a dead man’s campaign wasn’t worth signing up for.
    And it will be YOUR children primed for the forces,
    When the Government can no longer find the resources.
    The respite was enormous when we invaded the East,
    Expecting to emerge victorious with parades in the streets.
    But continued insurgent factions congregated to beat,
    The threat of the Bush Administration and its hated regime.
    When Saddam was found, unmistakably weak,
    We were told that day was the key, to making them free.
    But since then the situation has grown gravely oblique,
    And the Iraqi people still haven’t maintained or achieved…
    …The fable of peace they were promised,
    Now the country is locked in a Civil War keeping them from it.
    How can a country so rich with oil, leave its people impoverished,
    And rule with an iron fist,
    While keeping it hands deep in its pockets?
    Bush is nothing but a condescending liar,
    Who tried to stop the release of tapes showing those killed in ‘friendly’ fire.
    And on his word we lost scores of our people,
    Yet he would much rather us forget that - this war is illegal.
    How does the man sleep at night in his bed,
    Knowing we’re no better than those same factions were fighting against?
    And in effect George Bush is a killer too,
    The only real difference is that he’s a terrorist in a suit.
    And the bloodshed is such that I cant ignore,
    The simple fact that this is a boy, finishing his father’s war.
    See we invaded Iraq, taking the fight to its shores,
    When the REAL tyrant we sought, was stood right at our door.
    In corporate America,
    Where our silence is bought.
    But fighting a dead man’s campaign wasn’t worth signing up for.
    And it will be YOUR children primed for the forces,
    When the Government can no longer find the resources…
    Now picture a world without war;
    The safest of lands.
    In a world free of the many incarcerations of man.
    Just sit and picture the scenery,
    Swathes littered with greenery ..
    And the clearest skies covering a gracious expanse.
    In a tranquillic, joy-driven state...
    ..****void of the hate -
    And often moronic, esoteric, choices we make.
    Where no voices are raised,
    And yet equality reigns…
    …The realisation of a dream, where our children frolic and play.
    Regardless of race, creed, or religion -
    Free from tradition ..
    And the many ties that bind and try our belief in the system.
    I picture a world flush with colour,
    Forever majestic ..
    But then I foresee us attacking that world…

    …Simply because they'd never expect it.

    Heh.

    Welcome To Megamerica!
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  14. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    "Out Of Sight!"
    05-20-2007

    Some close, unintelligible, noise had awoke her from sleep ..
    .. A faint tenacious tapping,
    That forced Charlotte to grope for the sheets.
    And peering out from above the covers,
    She then studied her watch ..
    As the incessant tack, tack, tacking... suddenly stopped!
    She listened to the still silence,
    That had the young girl consumed ..
    .. As moonlight spilled through the frosted window-pane and pearled her room.
    "Go away!" She hushed in a whisper,
    "Can't you give me a moments peace?"
    With that her free-spirited freckles dove beneath the folded sheets.
    But her darting eyes start to pry,
    From this fashioned fortress when ..
    The steady tacking sound grows louder... Closer... and more intense!
    Goosebumps pebble her arms,
    As Charlotte writhes in her sweat ..
    .. While huddling deeper into the blanket now clutched tight to her chest.
    The silence had stretched out,
    Long before she decided to move ..
    .. Towards the closet that menaced from the opposite side of her room.
    Her pallid face was fraught,
    As Charlotte paced the floor with great furore ..
    .. Wedging her sturdy wooden desk-chair up firmly against its door.
    And the twilight traced,
    A sprawling series of scabs that would run ..
    .. From the inner-bend of her elbow,
    To the thick, fleshed, pad of her thumb.
    Her nimble fingers trembled,
    And Charlotte fought to resist alarm ..
    .. After peering down to find -
    A tiny black-mottled hand that had gripped her arm!
    Thick tentative talons sprawled her wrists,
    As she balled her fists ..
    .. In an attempt to free herself from it's rabid, palsied, grip.
    Her feeble arms flailed,
    And escaped its sordid grasp them fought it back ..
    .. But her all was matched, only with the creatures shrieking raucous laugh!
    It's exuberant scream resounded,
    With an eerie, caustic, rasp ..
    .. As her arm became a morbid rash -
    Daubed and spattered in orbs of black.
    "What HAVE you done to me!"
    The young Charlotte paused to ask ..
    .. Before she thrashed, tore, and scratched at the dermal wall of scabs.
    Her light fingers coursed and latched,
    At the specks that plagued her skin ..
    .. Before the critter disappeared,
    With a broadened flash of its hellacious grin.
    She gave a whimsical sigh,
    Before tearfully proceeding to bed ..
    .. Where she sat upright, with back rigid, and hugged her knees to her chest.
    This room was once her safe haven,
    But now the faintest rustle meant ..
    .. That she observed the source,
    While her nerves were taut and muscles tensed.
    Only her racing heartbeat,
    Interrupted the maddening silence ..
    .. As Charlotte lacked the power to move,
    And scoured the room - Without once batting an eyelid!
    She buried her head,
    Beneath a soft pillow that covered her ears ..
    .. And offered surveillance over the shifting shadows, should it appear.
    This vantage point,
    Also granted her a spectacular view ..
    .. But through the pillows thin fabric -
    Charlotte had heard the tepid tacking resume!
    It's resonance was one,
    She felt almost compelled and beckoned by ..
    .. As she made her way towards it,
    Half-expecting to feel those claws a second time.
    Charlotte removed the pillow,
    Bundled an alarm clock back in its case ..
    .. Then clutched at this innovated flail with its unsatisfactory weight.
    When suddenly, the floorboards creaked,
    And something seemed to scuttle ..
    .. The black hand shot out -
    Bearing three sharp claws between its knuckles!
    And sheer terror strangled her voice,
    As Charlotte stood stunned and surprised ..
    .. With her bloodless skin forming two pale crescents under her eyes.
    Her arms stung in remembered pain,
    And each word she tried to evoke ..
    .. Would remain right in her throat,
    'Til her panic weakened and finally broke.
    Charlotte swung wildly,
    At the jaundiced yellow eyes down on the floor ..
    .. And she heard her older brother, Jake,
    Cry out her name while pounding her door.
    But as causal clouds,
    Swept across the cold stint of the moon ..
    .. Jake managed to force the door from its hinges,
    And lunged into her room!
    Sweeping his sister out of harms way,
    Before he killed the tyrant ..
    .. And except for the moaning of Charlotte's sobs,
    Her room lay still and silent.
    Though Jake was still asleep in his room,
    He had the patience of a saint ..
    .. And would listen to it ALL again tomorrow -

    Knowing only Charlotte and her young imagination were awake...



    Peace!
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  15. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    "Colin's Diner"
    05-13-2007

    Behind the dirty, white, counter of Colin's Diner stands a young ..
    .. Twenty-something year old woman,
    Over the dishes her hands have sponged.
    Her brown eyes,
    Caress the coffee-stained counter stridently wiped ..
    .. Both many times on this shift,
    And countless times in her life...
    Her pasty fleshed salacious breasts fill out a spacious dress ..
    With a name-tag reading "Sarah",
    Pinned firmly against the chest.
    As her sable mane is swept behind a small, crescent, ear ..
    .. Revealing a face untouched by the blemishes,
    Of her adolescent years.
    She stares down at the paunch of her stomach,
    And with pride, mettle, and grit ..
    Sarah promises her unborn child a life better than this...
    She earns a wage,
    Serving plates up in this lousy retreat ..
    .. Where the taste of success,
    Has all the flavour of a quarter-pounder with cheese.
    And the floundering dreams,
    Of this once bashful youth are snatched from view ..
    .. Tumbling down the sinks dirty plug hole,
    Over remnant scraps of food.
    She casts a gloomy gaze,
    At the room allayed with empty plastic seats ..
    .. The little make-up she wears,
    Failing to mask her tired eyes and lack of sleep ..
    From worries about her husband, Tucker,
    Who drives for a haulage base ..
    .. And the mountain of mounting bills they can never afford to pay.
    Tucker braces himself,
    While driving home as quick as he can ..
    .. The steering wheel of his eighteen-wheeler,
    Thick with a sweat that sticks to his hands.
    His blue eyes are steeled and determined,
    As his face contorts at the wheel ..
    .. And Tucker races home to beat the growing exhaustion he feels.
    His thoughts wander to his baby,
    The two of them as his line is steadied ..
    .. The one he married straight out of school, and one growing inside her belly.
    Though his eyes are heavy,
    And the suns scorching heat leaves him famished ..
    .. He finds comfort in knowing that -
    When he gets home, all his worries seem to vanish...
    With this Tucker recalls,
    The many times he stood and watched her sleep ..
    .. When his lean, towering, build soared high above her butterscotch physique.
    She looked so beautiful.
    A pure image of radiant grace.
    Save for the stray, strands of mahogany...
    ...Which he lovingly pulled away from her face.
    And after travelling the same barren strip he had coursed for miles ..
    .. There was nothing he hankered more,
    Than her gentle touch and re-assuring smile.
    "I'm coming home to you babe," Tucker laughed as he sped ..
    .. Swearing he could almost feel her lips, pressing against the back of his neck.
    He looked to the photograph he had kept of her,
    To see him through better days ..
    .. Stuck to the cracked rear-view mirror,
    By the lone piece of tape he'd never changed.
    When something metallic under the cab snapped,
    With exceptional force ..
    .. He slammed on the brakes, close to the turn -
    Only to find his foot met with the floor!
    The brakes were gone.
    He was now powerless as the truck snaked and swerved ..
    .. His corpulent fingers wrenched at the wheel,
    Still hoping to make the turn.
    But the gimcrack metal railings,
    That turned with the edge of the road ..
    .. Proved no match for the heavy vehicle now shedding its load.
    Tucker screams with wild-eyed terror,
    With beads of sweat taunting his brow ..
    .. As he feels a sudden shift in gravity, and the cab falls to the ground.
    He can do nothing more than brace himself, attempt to sound composed ..
    .. And stare at the picture of his soulmate,
    Before hitting the ground below.
    He feels only a moment of pain,
    The wreck crushes his spinal cord ..
    Death comes for him almost instantly,
    Leaving time for just one final thought:

    "I'm coming home to you, babe. I'm coming home to you."

    Peace.
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  16. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    "AinT GoT No How WhaTchumacalliT!" (Kurt Cobain Tribute)
    04-19-2007





    To those who had known him a while, the jovial smile bestowed by this child...
    ...Was thrown to beguile, masking the one thing he'd hold in revile -
    His parent's divorce!
    An unbearably fraught event which left him fairly distraught...
    ...And it was there in the courts, where he was taught to avoid sharing his thoughts.
    The air of remorse, shrouding the issue...
    ...Made it one he'd never dare to discourse.
    Kurt became reclusive, and remained secluded in the bedroom where he played his music.
    He'e tape acoustic sets from each of his favourite acts, to play them back...
    ...holding a great attachment, to what each sixty-minute tape would capture.
    Elated rapture beamed from his face, as Kurt embarked...
    ...To purchase his first guitar, which played a major factor in his change of stature.
    He strangled the strings, and sang with a grimace as the anger within him...
    ...Was channeled and driven, through those amateur hands with precision.
    And Kurt roared with angst long before the chance had arisen...
    ...To pour his vast lyricism over coarse clamorous rhythms!
    The rasping emission of his howling vocal chords, evoked applause...
    ...And of his own accord, Kurt was shown a warmth he'd never known before.
    His well honed performance soon pertained a slew of rave reviews...
    ...As on stage he moved, in a way attuned to captivate the room.
    The dreary basement proved of great refuge to one so hate consumed...
    ...A place removed of all the tasteless rumours that shaped his mood.
    And here Kurt became marooned with papers strewn around his desk...
    ...He found it kept him grounded nestling down in his surrounding mess.
    But inside the basement, Kurt's eyes awakened with wide elation...
    ...As they fell on the pine encasement aligned adjacent that tried his patience.
    In there he would find an ancient shotgun that was primed and waiting...
    ...For Kurt to pen his final statements, in a song with no rhyme or cadence.
    How could one so silent natured, of grown so tortured in measure?
    To those who had known him a while,

    That jovial smile will haunt us forever.

    [​IMG]
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  17. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    "Do You Remember YOUR First Time?!"
    04-28-2007


    [​IMG]

    Do you remember YOUR first time?

    You were probably as nervous as me,
    But determined to see, what your words could achieve ..
    .. Once you’d emerged on the scene,
    And could turn a serene, canvas into something worthy of dreams.
    Graffiti served as the means,
    To which I applied my stirgent belief ..
    .. And I pursued the matter ‘til my shoes were splattered -
    With more paint than ANY amount of detergent could bleach!
    For years I’d nurtured a deep yearn for release ..
    .. And so these turbulent streets,
    Spurred me to keep, trying and further my reach.
    With earnest I seized upon a resplendent urge to be seen,
    Skirting the reams of this fervent retreat -
    Where me and the walls coarse naked surface would meet!
    It's massive girth would intrigue me to turn up my sleeves ..
    .. And stir from beneath,
    The girders that keep it supported from the scourge of the heat.
    These walls deserved to be teemed with a certain prestige,
    And so I sternly besieged, it's heights...
    ...With a piece of chalk held firm in my teeth.
    Concerned with its each and every line being perfectly pieced ..
    .. I furnished its featureless plains,
    Until my work was complete.
    And for years I’d nurtured a deep yearn for release ..
    .. Skirting the reams of this fervent retreat,
    With an urge to be seen.
    As these walls deserved to be teemed with a certain prestige ..
    .. And I was determined to see, just how my work was perceived.
    Now gone are the perfectly pieced, works that served as my dreams -
    Lost in the rain that washed them away,
    So the naked walls surface could gleam.

    Peace.​
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  18. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    "Elephants Never Forget: The Elephant Never Forgot


    "What a splendid head, yet no brain."
    Aesop



    From the age of five,
    My face comprised, of distinct growths that ranged in size ..
    .. and plagued my mind,
    When I’d hear the hateful jibes, my classmates devised.
    The torrential torment was often initiated by,
    Bullies that would take the time ..
    .. To state unkind, spates and lies, until they had made me cry.
    Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
    .. And with grace they slide,
    Over my shapeless guises grey confines.
    The great despise I faced at times, would duly strip away my pride ..
    .. But Mother often told me,
    “Beauty’s nothing but a state of mind,”
    And I held her sweet words with me, up until the day she died ..
    .. As they were right,
    And I was stronger than the pain I faced inside.
    My father would later find,
    A stately sprite, to make his wife ..
    .. Who placed her spiteful talons, well in view of his grateful sights.
    Her waves of white,
    And ageing lines, had made her face refined ..
    .. But she was as cold and calculated, as a sculpture made of ice.
    Her severe disgust was noted,
    Through each of her weighted sighs ..
    .. And she’d leave the room at the faintest sight, of my heinous plight.
    For months she gamely tried,
    To exploit this great divide ..
    .. Culminating in the deft ultimatum that came to light,
    “It’s either I go, or he goes!” she’d proclaim with spite ..
    .. And I raged inside,
    When asked to leave our estate that night.
    I found myself out in the cold world,
    With no place to hide.
    Followed by the japes and snipes, of children that raced me by.
    My deformity meant,
    Looking for work was a waste of time ..
    .. As nowhere would accept such a disfigured face as mine.
    Then to my ornate surprise,
    A fly-poster graced my eyes ..
    .. About a travelling freak show that sought my distasteful kind.
    The pay was trite,
    But so were most jobs in these days and times ..
    .. And I felt somewhat insubordinate as they caged my hind.
    The steel curtain was raised in time,
    To meet the publics scathing pries ..
    They never saw me, just the disfigured mask I’m portrayed behind.
    When one day a saintly guide,
    Would enter to change my life ..
    .. “Dr. Treves” he stated quite, profoundly. I remained uptight.
    His gaping eyes,
    Fell on my hideous growths that had stabilized ..
    .. And he informed me,
    He could help to investigate their rise.
    So I moved to Whitechapel Hospital, where I’d the greatest time ..
    .. And Doctor Treves,
    Removed pockets of flesh from my face and spine.
    I yearned to be ‘normal’ again -
    To sleep as I faced the sky ..
    .. A comfort I hadn’t known in years, due to my heads weight and size.
    It was during my attempt in the dawn of one fateful night,
    That upon my own stupidity,
    I would suffocate and die.
    Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
    .. And with grace they slide,
    Over my shapeless guises’ grey confines.
    The great despise I’d faced at times, had duly stripped away my pride ..
    .. And Mother had told me,
    Beauty was nothing but a state of mind.
    I held those true words with me, up until the day I’d died ..
    .. But these people never saw me,

    Just the disfigured mask I was portrayed behind.

    - Joseph Carey Merrick
    5th August 1862 – 11th April, 1890



    TOPICS: "Human Freakshow"
    "Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in."
    Amy Lowell
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  19. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    "The Nightmare Before Christmas"
    11-25-2006

    ”The Nightmare Before Christmas”



    Don’t you just fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives?
    That meticulous time,
    When soft mittens comprise, snowmen of formidable size ..
    .. From the thickets of white,
    Sitting astride, the distant horizon.
    The winds cold, briskly respite, navigates deciduous pines ..
    .. Whistling by,
    On its mission-less guide, where with pure intuition it finds ..
    .. A lonesome snowman,
    That glistens with pride, deep in the dark midst of the night.
    Abandoned by his creator,
    The young girl was forced to kiss him goodbye ..
    .. Leaving him cruelly exposed,
    To the adoration of which he despised.
    His movements restricted,
    By the barren branches that stick from his sides ..
    .. And so he sits in the silence,
    Bitterly frightened, with his pummelled face missing an eye.

    I used to love it.
    Christmas had always been a favoured fixture of mine ..
    .. And often I reminisce on the times,
    When anticipation meant the hairs on my neck would bristle and rise.
    Mother was quick to surmise,
    That I had to be asleep before Saint Nick would arrive ..
    .. But I’d sit with my eyes,
    Firmly affixed to the blinds, awaiting the glorious gifts he provided.
    I awoke, both betwixt with surprise, and of startled relief ..
    .. Heading downstairs,
    Where my father would be, clutching the star for the tree.
    With his assistance,
    I’d place it on top as he marvelled at me ..
    .. Then open up my presents as I sat perched on the arc of his knee.
    I made a metropolis,
    From our laminate flooring that was sparkling clean ..
    .. My remote control car,
    Traversing the length of our house and all parts in between.
    Elated rapture exuded,
    From my smile in the most ardent of beams ..
    But one year in particular,
    I could sense the pretence in her parlance of glee.
    It was only when I witnessed,
    My dear Mother starting to weep ..
    .. That I realised,
    She was harbouring me, from the darkest of secrets…

    And I guess this is where my hate of Christmas derives,
    I was six at the time,
    When it broke my heart into pieces.
    My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
    She proved hard to crack,
    And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
    All that me and Mommy could then do,
    Was start from scratch,
    The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
    And this is why I fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives,
    Cause now I’M the lonesome snowman,
    Out in the dark midst of the night.
    That puerile pile you’ll find out on the distant horizon,
    Cold
    Heartless
    Unable to move on, and sitting in silence.
    Abandoned by my creator,
    But with his memory’s still rich in my mind,
    I was six at the time,
    And it broke my heart into pieces.
    My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
    She proved hard to crack,
    And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
    All that me and her could then do,
    Was start from scratch,
    The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
    My father had died from a multiple heart attack,
    And that’s why all I want for Christmas THIS year is my father back.

    Peace.



    TOPICS: I Have Nothing Else
    Find Your Happiest Memory
    “You Cannot escape The Responsibility Of Tomorrow By Evading It Today”
    Abraham Lincoln
    test
  20. The Old Man

    The Old Man ★★★★★★★★★★★

    Joined:
    Jul 20, 2008
    Messages:
    190
    “Naked: My Soul Laid Bare”


    You fuel the fire, of this fools desire.
    You provide the warmth, when I’m frozen by the storm.
    You’re the rock of empathy, attending to my every need.
    You’re my ray of hope when I feel life’s got the best of me.
    You’re the recipe, behind my success - My ecstasy.
    My armour,
    My weaponry,
    My strength from harm or jeopardy.
    You’re the karmic energy, to balance my own ..
    .. the calming melody, when I can’t cope with matters at home.
    The balm and remedy, that soothes my pain -
    Yes, it’s you again.
    My unsung muse,
    My heart,
    My every dream come true.


    I loved you.


    But we’ve been back to square one more times than I care to count.
    You stare and pout, intensely ..
    .. Questioning my whereabouts.
    Those enigmatic eyes greet my every whim with an air of doubt,
    Ready to tear and pounce,
    If I so much as make a mistake.
    So you wait and you wait, with a grimace kept upon that fairest mouth ..
    .. Spewing venom my direction,
    In no spared amount.
    You’d labelled me a liar before I’d even decided to speak,
    Claiming that I was a cheat ..
    .. With nothing but lies and deceit. escaping through the whites of my teeth.
    I try to compete,
    Without having my every statement unfairly trounced ..
    .. before you dare announce,
    That we no longer share the house.
    You rarely shout, but your stern silence strikes a chord ..
    .. that speaks volumes,
    On this over-possessive side of yours.
    You’re always inciting wars,
    Our once-glowing trust has waned ..
    .. in much the same, way we’ve found our very ideals brushed away.
    And though it’s cruel to admit accusations of me cheating are true ..
    .. It would be crueller still,
    If I had chosen to keep them from you.
    Now I’m the vile creature consumed, by a shade deeper than blue ..
    .. It’s not the fact that I cheated -
    More that I was caught and each of us knew.
    I rose from the shell of the man,
    Over which this secret had loomed ..
    .. and prised away my silent gaze, from the walls of this featureless room.
    The unease of my mood,
    Prolongs each and every tedious movement ..
    .. as I work towards a time, where you and me can reach a solution.
    And though it’s cruel to admit,
    That accusations of me cheating are true ..
    .. It would be crueller still if I had chosen to keep them from you.
    Now I’m the vile creature consumed, by a shade deeper than blue ..
    .. It’s not the fact that I cheated -
    More that I was caught, and each of us knew.
    I rose from the shell of the man,
    Over which this secret had loomed ..
    .. and prised away, my silent gaze, from the walls of this featureless room.
    The new dawn seeps,
    Through my broken blinds as I lie in a sprawled heap ..
    Call me a bastard.
    Call me a liar.
    Call me what you will ..


    .. Just call me.
    test
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