Poetry Corner

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Post some poetry, you know you want to... [english finals made me do it]

just some stuff i thought of while doing an english final:

Broken Cycle-

Things just seem to repeat, like a record player surrounded by glass with a broken record playing inside.
It won't stop untill you muster up the courage to break that glass. Even then, will you know what to do with
the record? If you bought a new record would the fear of breaking it again stop you from playing it? Or would the
fact that you broke the glass to stop the never ending cycle come back to haunt you?

-------------------------------------

"I'm just another anonymous face you barley see walking down the street, and don't care enough to focus in on. You won't notice me. But I always hope you will, just hoping someone will acknowlege me, but at the same time see me for who I am and not want to change that.

I'm the kind of person who doesn't want to be the same, I want to make my own way, I don't want to take the same path that everyone else has. I will look at the mistakes everyone around me has made and apply them everyday, and hope to god that I wont make the same mistakes over and over again that I see you all make. I want to be different, but not different in the sence that you can't stand me, but that you will accept me for who I am, without intentions of a change.

No matter how hard you may try to change me, im not going to be your clay, you can't mold me. I make my own path, if you don't like it, thats just too bad. Because i'm living a life of no regrets, but still in the back of my mind I feel there is something there, it wont go away, it just wont leave me alone, but i try to compress it, i try to surpress it, I try my hardest, but somehow I always feel I have failed. But I try my hardest, to not let these small things keep me down, I wont let them, they won't control me any longer. It's time to break out of my shell, if you don't want to stand by my side as I try to change my life, then you where never there for me, what do you want from me? I have nothing to give, i'm sorry but thats just how it is. "

------------------------------------
Night Time-

Its night time, can't you tell? The sun is down, the stars are up, the sky is beautiful once again.
As you live through the day, and await the nights decent on your life again, you go throughout
your day in a rush, cought up in the struggles of everyday life. You are living your everyday life as
if you have nothing to look forward to. Then things begin to lighten up, as the outside appearence
does the exact opposite. Things are calm once again, sleep, enjoy the night time life while it lasts,
things will cycle once again, and forever....I know it sucks, but thats life, deal with it.

-----------------------------------
 
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hm...
My soul is lost like a forbidden baby who was abandoned by his mother before experiencing true life. My spirit is as if it's a bird with no wings, nowhere to soar, and wasn't meant to be. Sometimes, I wonder if "Earth" is just the first step to my natural process. But if it does not rain when i die, then I know the skies do not share feelings for me.
 
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Some people want
To say something deep
So this is a taunt
I'm going to sleep
 
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Title: The Situation (Of Our Profession)

Shattered relationships, gangstas with tattered and tainted grips
I advocate freedom and anti-materialiasm
While the "above average" remain slaves to gifts
Musical artists see the paper and can't sustain the rifts
Politicians wondering how long till the full range of danger lifts
I realize we spend too much time worrying, as the lyrical arrangement slips...
...then comes back into focus, this visual containment is simply reflective
It's easy to see, when I rhyme, I'm immediately subjective, seizing electives
Moral votes like a conservative president, selective, the "ingenius" project them
These predictions, analystic, break the word down, this "****" isn't consistant
Will Jesus protect 'em? These convictions can't be realistic, celestials contra'd resistant
To picture destiny, is to frame ammunitions mutiny'd, brutaly, and honored sadistic
Negativity outweighs even the cryptic and critically dubbed, misery eventually discussed
News reporters, or sportscasters, or a human consciousness, or palm readers, or all the above

It's the situation of our profession, the lyrics project the irony our societial enhancement is entrancing
Sitting depressed, wondering if there is positivity in standing
It's only a matter of time for the cost of death is obviously demanding
My feelings confessed, the preceeding is stressed in honesty expanding
Lost faith if succeeding nothing less is possibly animosity or a mis-understanding
A scientific hypothesis that suggests were picking up the pieces from a crash landing
I feel the media tries to brain-wash, always wondering what were planning
Paranoia revolves, evolves into wars of holocaust and suicidal soldiers constantly advancing
I don't preach stereotypes, I release what I feel the past, present, and future seems to always be commanding
It's the situation of our profession, the lyrics project the irony our societial enhancement is entrancing


---

Title: Too Focused For My Own Good

Lyrics, spontaneous creativity, gravity, spacial consistancy
Spirits, ignaramous liability, fatality, interracial exsistance fees
Adherence, to a famous liar's diabolic side is killing me, celebrity
Clearance, as they try to tame us into psychotic tides significantly
Appearence, that life's a bird, denying the right to fly without credibility
Experience, facts facing blasphemous stability, sadly but literally
Necessity wars, substitute and enflict religion
Congressional awards, constitute and admit invention
Mentally scarred from the materialistic constrictions
Play devil's advocate to get another's attention
Feel like I've been here before
Roleplay horizontal as midnights contrict ignitions
It's okay I'm on a level too glad to unrestrict and twist reality's submissions
Media hidden under sitcom subliminal ammunitions


---

Title: Rubber Soul

Rubber Soul, where do I begin?
Rubber Soul, your price made me think you were going to be there till the end
Rubber Soul, what is it your goal to pretend?
That eventually I wasn't going to tear you in the end?
My heart has lost it's touch, it's broken in disgust of thinking you were a friend

Rubber Soul, you did keep my feet snug, warm, and comfortable
Rubber Soul, for what it was... I consider your effort enough and even fortunely honorable
Rubber Soul, I remember when I bought you fresh.... that rubber soul smell... so lovable
Writing this poem I realize my selfish tendencies
You did print that infamous nike check into the ass of my enemies

Rubber Soul, my love for you has gone out of control unhesitantly
Rubber Soul, I have to hold back... in fear I'll lose you professionaly
Rubber Soul, I owe my balance to your natural ablities.. performed so elequently
Now this poem comes to it's final creed
Rubber Soul, I can't deny that your honestly all I need

-

Last one was for Opti. :D
 
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I remember that one :p.

-----
How could you?...

Why?
Why do you think your life is unrepairable?
Why?
Why do you constantly criticize your life and pull yourself down further because of past mistakes?
Why?
Why do you do this to yourself knowing it will only push you further?
Don't do it
What if you push yourself to the limit and do the unthinkable?
Don't do it
Do you know what you are leaving behind?
Don't do it
Do you honestly think it will fix anything?
Don't do it
You are a fool, I will not mourn you.
too late
You made the choice, you are the selfish one, go to hell.
too late

-----
 
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well... all the poetry ive ever written has too significant a meaning for me personally, that i cant really post it here, but i will sift through and find some :)

however, this is one of my favorite poems, by a lady called Carol Ann Duffy:

Valentine

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.




another favorite of mine, which i had to study inside and out....

Wilfred Owen

Dulce et Decorum est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! — An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. —
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, —
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.



and the final submission, another poem i studied, inside, out, round and round... but its great :)

Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
 

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