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The Rhyme Thread (Lyricists and Poets)


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#81 ams1992

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Posted 29 May 2013 - 05:52 PM

Wander:

I hate the taste of death but I love its embrace.
Like a mother bird teaching the creation of a nest.
Which came first the Man or Machine?
Or is it simple evolution of those who lost humanity?
Always the choice of which path to follow,
but sundown in the forest has no direction.
You can wander and you can wallow but you know the place,
The emptiness of time and it's bitter memory.
I lay in my crypt waiting for the door to shut,
because my vision is monochrome and the plants have died.
When the curtains close and the lights fade out,
I hate the taste of death but I love its embrace.

Dreamiosis:

The issue with touching the sky is that clipped wings weren't made to fly
Towards the light is what they always said but curiosity always got the best
From lost to found like the caterpillar within cocoon
I held hope that someday soon
I'd crack my shell and be the black bouquet
A cracked marble portrait and a plate extended
It's what we become that shows our true face,
when the frame is blacked out and blurred


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#82 ams1992

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Posted 29 May 2013 - 10:01 PM

Oh can't you see, can't you see
It isn't you it's always me
My trigger fingers got an itch
but it's far too much a mess
Hopefully someday the skies will lift
After this heart continues its skip
I love you all, oh I love you dear
It's such a pain to fall for fear
Her clutches strangle and asphyxiate
She won't let go until it's far too late
My hopes in time we'll all forgive
But as fate has it clocks stop their tick


Oh come rescue
Oh come trial
Oh come sentence
Executioner

http://youtu.be/wsjDpNogAwM


Edited by ams1992, 29 May 2013 - 10:13 PM.

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#83 ams1992

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Posted 10 June 2013 - 03:49 AM

"Mirror mirror on the wall, what is it that shattered that reflection?
Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm the same,
tell me I'm the same.
Different time, different place.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
tell me what cracked that smile,
aged that face.
Different time, different place.
Never be the same,
Never be the same.
heaven is a flavor that burns.
It's but a sweet fire, a burning wisp."

A poem about a boy who looked in the mirror at one point excited about a new life. A boy who months later allowed his past back in. A boy who lost control. Hurt those he loved. Severed relationships he valued. A boy who years later broke down his personal 'never do' list one by one trying to obtain happiness in all the wrong ways. A boy who became a broken man. A boy who sees his reflection and it scares him how far he's come. A boy who feels ancient but is young. A boy who found responsibility. A boy who'd love simply to live delusional and in denial. Brick by brick rebuilding reality, rebuilding reflection.

I'll be back, but enough of my sad poems. I'll be rebuilding. Hope some others would like to contribute here. I feel I've posted far too many in recent weeks.


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#84 wildedibles

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Posted 11 June 2013 - 07:30 AM

Very nice buddy ;)
I love reading your stuff
I havent wrote any new poetry since high school
but had to share a big hug ;)

#85 Stoned Angel

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Posted 14 June 2013 - 11:08 AM

THE MAD FARMER REVOLUTION: being a fragment of the natural history of new eden, in homage to Mr. Ed McClanahan, one of the locals.

The mad farmer, the thirsty one, went dry.
When he had time he threw a visionary high lonesome on the holy communion wine.
"it is an awesome event when an earthen man has drunk his fill of the blood of a god,"
People said, and got out of his way.
He plowed the churchyard, the minister's wife, three graveyards and a golf course.
In a parking lot he planted a forest of little pines.
He sanctified the groves,
dancing at night in the oak shades with goddesses. He led a field of corn to creep up and tassel like an Indian tribe on the courthouse lawn. Pumpkins ran out to the ends of their vines to follow him. Ripe plums and peaches reached into his pockets. Flowers sprang up in his tracks everywhere he stepped. And then his planter's eye fell on that parson's fair fine lady again. "O holy plowman," cried she,
"I am all grown up in weeds. Pray, bring me back into good tilth."
He tilled her carefully
and laid her by, and she did bring forth others of her kind;
and others, and some more.
They sowed and reaped till all the country was filled with farmers and their brides sowing and reaping. When they died they became two spirits of the woods.

On their graves were written
these words without sound;
"Here lies Saint Plowman.
Here lies Saint fertile Ground."

#86 ams1992

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Posted 15 June 2013 - 02:18 AM

THE MAD FARMER REVOLUTION:

This is deep. Definitely good writing here. I'll be back to check it out again when I can and write more in response.
I'm going to read this in the day when I can truly appreciate it (comprehend it.) Well... You'll see what I mean.

"Fingers like spiders spell out messages
Heard through the tin can transmission
They recite what they're told
It isn't space if you aren't shot through a straw"

There wasn't a way I could think of how to put the Cow licking the moon, or the endless Subway tunnel, or the Cheese Grater and ball of yarn... Not yet. Not smoothly. Poetry is art. Can't just be writing "The Cow made out with the Moon." I suppose I could be. I don't know. I just did I guess. I love life.

Man, everything I wrote just reminds me of Mother Goose. She was pretty good at rhymes herself.

Was Mother Goose real?... I'll be back here later. Researching Mother Goose right now. Much love everyone.

#87 wildedibles

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Posted 15 June 2013 - 05:23 AM

lol ;) after 2 boys and babysitting 2 girls they are all grown up now but I still remember mother goose ;) lmao

#88 wildedibles

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Posted 15 June 2013 - 05:42 AM

A caged spirit tries to flee,
held by control,
stumbling on reality.

I want to be free
but never to be free
I want to fly with the true wisdom
of love and life

Love is never lost,
it only grows.

but a dream it can only be
because of my stoned body
and only walking feet

Ok I am missing a whole bunch here but this is part of my fave poem I wrote in high school if I remember the whole thing I will write it all out ;) I think this one I do have it wrote out somewhere but I still don't think it was the whole thing for some reason .... this is a kind of poem that changes all the time for me anyway ;)

#89 Stoned Angel

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Posted 16 June 2013 - 12:32 PM

but know that's not the rightful place for this. I just started a painting, and wanted to write a poem to help inspire me. This is what came out...

As too see the life as you do. though baby eye's.
A new bright, shinny place. You coo. As I do.
I die.
Then they pack me in a case. See wonder erupting out from that space.
Draped in lace. Lay, and let me be. I never wanted anything to do with you. Ever since the day I was born. I knew you were as fake as can be. You caught up with me. Everywhere I turn, you're right there hurting everyone I see. Can't you just let us be?
We all hate you, you can see. I've never seen you do good or Love. Where did you even come from?
Wearing a mask of peace, and racism is under your skin. You kill and destroy everything under the Sun.
You follow, and sneak, spy on us un-done. Weathered from hiding from Fun. Go now leave us alone. We hate you.
Go eat your steak you stole from our table. Eat it, eat it you hog of hope and freedom....

#90 wildedibles

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Posted 17 June 2013 - 06:45 AM

That's a beauty hun ;)

peace trust respect love safe lmao that is just a mask they put on so they can sneak and hurt

#91 ams1992

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Posted 28 June 2013 - 11:58 PM

I had a bout with addiction awhile back. Still fighting. I wrote some things though. Feelings I was going through, thoughts I was having. They aren't poems, but they are literature, and I know some people here have gone through this in some form and some people may be on the brink of it thinking they're invincible like I did at one point (to an extent.)
--------------

"She tried to kill me and I miss her. Her forceful departure was met with sorrows untold, and for weeks her memory lingered as the sole thought within my mind. I forgave her as I laid breathless, and in a way I wished she could understand I truly was grateful. I finally understood. The horrors of mortality dangled on a short thread of the waking and the land of subconscious but I remained. Holding onto the slight amount of life I still had all I thought of was you. The good in you, if there truly is any. Now fully conscious, fully alive, stuck without her and realizing all of the sacrifice I have made for you, all of the lies you have guided me to believe. I miss her greatly. She may be the end of me but she is an ally, a gift from death. The memories of opportunity passed by, of futures dreamt, of choices made; They haunt the very soul that lies within the caverns of this deserted being. This being that has become a lifeless automaton. Why I still remain is beyond reason and even I am confused. I'm not supposed to be here. Not now, nor was I ever. I don't know how to leave, there is no easy escape, no safe route. The danger is clear, but like a forcefully caged animal the will has swiftly evacuated. Perhaps in time the imaginings of days past, the hopes, the dreams, perhaps they will return. Along with the life that once shone through these eyes in a vibrant glimmer. Until then, the fight remains until it can be fought no more. If that fated day ever occurs, the sincerest apologies will be left unsaid. They will be known though, after the haze. All of our demons have a rage that if left unkempt and untamed will damn us all to the pits we have created."

"The only peace that lasts is detrimental, it'll kill you slowly. The beauty of it is apathy, a gift from death to maintain your solace as the life slips through your fingertips. He'll whisper to you gently, he'll tell you it's alright. The reaper is a gentleman, a kind and calm soul, he'll comfort you as your breath stops and he'll care for you as you progress on your journey. He will take you from your pains in whatever way he can. He'll grant you medicine and solitude, or company if need be. We fear him for we don't know what's beyond, but with such a caregiver why be concerned?"

"The problem is when you don't recognize the problem, when you think life is better without being life, when you're stuck existing in non-existence and it's exponentially better than truly living. The problem is the realization that you're okay with that. When it doesn't scare you to poison yourself beyond belief and rationalization simply because it brings you happiness that you can't find elsewhere and you're too stuck in your own solitary confines to look. From the outside life without living seems disgusting, unnatural, and directionless, but when within it truly shows its better sides even if it is just a beautiful lie. As the walls of reservation crumble down one by one the reflection becomes more bitter until eventually the reflection doesn't even matter. Existing with this synthetic contentment does. The days grow long, the thoughts linger, the horrible truth stares you in the face, but it's okay, it'll always be okay. You've rationalized the irrational, you've found beauty in ugliness. Either you'll find that ugliness again or you'll retain the beauty."


--------------
I love you all and I hope you're well and not suffering.
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#92 ams1992

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Posted 09 July 2013 - 10:57 PM

Only lasted 4 days sober.. Anyways. Here's a short story I wrote recently:

"As his decayed face menacefully smirked, I assumed my position. He was the one. The all powerful. He could end life just as easy as it was created. He was the delegate. The universe chose him above all to end depravity, to end peace, he was the being that was the end. There simply was no more when you experience his grimace. With his tantalizing smirk we both raised our glasses.

We sat amongst a marble table, for when you sit with Death everything must be cold. He never spoke, but his eyes had conversation and all of it I understood.Every regret, every sorrow, every happy moment in my life played through his eyes as though he was a projecting mirror. He aimed to break me down, to frighten me. This was his test, and I was sure I would be capable to pass it. He showed me all harm I have ever caused. All I have ever missed. He showed me what I could be, and what I turned out to be. He was being manipulative in the highest form of the word, but in some ways I felt the need to revere and respect this being. Afterall, who sips fine wine with Death but those privileged enough to have reasoning behind it? Not every human was treated this way.

This was just a checkpoint so to speak, a progression. A failed test would land me either where I was, or worse. These lessons I must come to learn, and he was tempting me to crumble under what he thought weakened me. In fact they did. I was terrified, hurting, and wishing for it all to end. Yet, I maintained composure. I held onto my sanity, my self respect, and I knew I'd be within better places if I continued. Death became frustrated as the test went on. Only the truly tormented are pulled through his clutches into the lower realms of living. As tormented as I was, I had perspective, empathy, and a strong hope and drive for something better. I had love. Something many lacked.

Death picked up on this rather quickly and he knew he had met his check-mate, yet for his own amusement in hopes of collapsing my inner psyche, he continued the reel of memory. I would not buckle, I would not break. Death stood from his place at the table and beckoned me to stand. He extended his long dishuman fingers and I shook his hand. I had not made a deal with death, no. I had instead learned that the fear of death is only the unfinshed suffering we have on this earth. When I understood that, I progressed in my second life to become wealthy, recognized, truly happy, and in the end I found someone I truly loved. In every meeting with Death, one must learn. They must glean what they can."

Death.jpg

Picture credit to MistaBobby on DeviantArt


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#93 Justintime

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Posted 09 July 2013 - 11:16 PM

Well I came down to Mycotopia
Started writing rhymes thats dope for ya
Lived in the city where life was crazy
Traffic so slow its like Miss Daisy
Moved to the country where life is gentle
Fuck I think I'm going mental
The people round here are so stuck Up
They walk around drinking from a golden cup
But thats okay cause Ive got my own
Fill it love cause thats my bone
I just chew it and suck it and leave it alone
Hey wheres the weed and wheres the shrooms
Nothing to be had you fucking goons
Life is grand and life is cool
Im at mycotopia just gettin schooled
I look at cool pics and funny shit
Wish I had all or none of it
Im a greedy prick for all these drugs
Just gimme gimme gimme dialation
I need these drugs and conversation
Interesting things to say and do
Like growing these shrooms and some weed too
This has been fun this has been cool
think Im gonna go back to School
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#94 I_am_me

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Posted 17 July 2013 - 02:50 AM

If anyone wants their words put over music, record it and I'll create something and integrate your lyrics/poem into the music. The better the recording, the more I have to work with though. You would easily upload the sample somewhere like sendspace and share the download link here!

#95 Stoned Angel

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Posted 27 July 2013 - 11:41 PM

Didn't recognize that old tune until nothing else played thou.
You all left me too soon.
Turning me into a complete lune.
I knew this ancient feeling would leave me off key, can't sing along with me.
So smoke streams up among the air, touching my hair. Makes me smell so you can't tell.
Holding my face, hands don't feel what's really real.
Feel shakey breath is what's really in touch.
Not much flows thou like unspoken word.
Read your mind because I've seen your kind. It's okay you will find.
I understand, but not so harsh next time.
You all left me, you were my key, the hole, hell the hole door to more. Left me stale, and a total fail.
Each of you dropped off the Planet that I know, one after the other, after the other, then some more. Leaving me with no Mother or Lover, no one for cover.
Please say your with me, keys to my door. I keep you in that tear that dropped down to the floor. All I want is to hug you once more.

:heart:

#96 Stoned Angel

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Posted 28 July 2013 - 09:39 AM

Taking open toe shoe's along, just for air.
I want to find what's under there.
Unspoken, I hear it calling. Tiptoeing around in sloppy words, not enough to resuse you. Words don't save you. Maybe comfort would have.
Even when your skipping around the mind flied in sandles, you're going to hit at lest one bomb attack.
When I go flying up in the air, you'll be there.
Catch me with your wings and bring me to safety.
My shoe's will be gone, along with you I belong.
Missing will never be over, that's what we live thou.
Trying to find our four leave'd clover. I gave up on that when I was quite young.
Sitting outside in the Sun, never found one. Chasing around bare foot, so you can feel the Earth, our Mother who we stomple on. My graditude for you will never have words. Maybe you can see it in my eyes. When I explode you'll see it in the sky's. I Love you, I Love you, and missing will always be here holding my hand but that's okay because you make me comfortable and uncomfortable and that's what it's suppose to feel like. For today I'll wear shoe's to keep me warm on this cold, sad day of missing you.

#97 kingcrimson

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Posted 30 July 2013 - 05:50 PM

-the color of hope-

Ashes dance above the fire
Ascending with the wind
Rising up to greet the sun
Descending once again

Depressions left amidst
Departures of my love
Gather tears from yesterday
As rain gathers above

Stranded now beyond the dawn
i barter with the wind
To carry you despite the rain
Back to me again

.......that poem is my gift to all of you..
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#98 onediadem

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Posted 09 August 2013 - 02:50 PM

The trodden path is easy to find,
if short of wit, and short of mind
So many travel with nose to rear
that consciousness is lost I fear
I want to be the rogue in field
make my own way, and not yield
many eager to follow the pack
finding they've lost their way back
looking to their leader to advise
finding he cannot apprise
they are now the trodden calves

Stand tall my long lost friend
For there is an end
to this misery you endure
yes, I say there is a cure
Its simple, and yet hardly known
Its off the path to new grass grown


And be not the trodden calf.



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#99 onediadem

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Posted 09 August 2013 - 03:32 PM

I sit staring at this screen. I wonder why the eighth chromosone has to be so fucked up. Why people do the things they choose to do without thought to the lives that lay destroyed and fragmented in the aftermath of their wake. I spiral out of control at this very moment. I see visions of doom, of blood, of madness. I went to the dark side of the moon, and found, there is nothing behind it but an eerie darkness. The psychotic whispers in my head did try to warn me. I have to pay homage to that at the very least. I laugh at the irony of ones mind knowing something, and how deseprately it tries to make my eyes see what is so clearly presented for all to see. Suffer the children, as you are their keeper. I try with an effort afforded only those with an infinate amount of patience to not tear my hair out or destroy myself for passing on the madness that lays just beneath the surface of the core of who I am.

The Oubliette is a one way ticket whose price is total. Whom has ever escaped its depths? None that I can possibly speak of. Falling down its dark opening, the terrors that lay below are only in the imagination of ones mind, until you actually land on its crusted dusty floor. Looking up, the eyes can see the path, the path that actually led to the fall, shining as beacon of light, but now unreachable, as there is only an entrance. Exit denied. Looking around in the dark, slithering demons not seen by the naked eye can be heard. Hissing whispers, drops of water, and smells too foul to describe awaken fear of the unknown. Yes, this oubliette offers chilling nightmares as one would offer a warm blanket to someone coming in from the rain. I am a prisoner now. Held by invisible chains that bind. Forever. In my hell, I try to visualize serenity and send it through my mind. The question is whether it will reach her in time to save her from the oubliette.



#100 onediadem

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Posted 09 August 2013 - 03:35 PM

Frightened Eastern people cry
Making for a border run,
Larger than life the guards appear
With hand grenades and gun

Turn back, turn back, they hear the shouts
However, better life does call
Brave they continue on their course
No concern for death, at all

The guards square off and then take aim
Dropping people with their might
This is the only course you see
This is their only plight

Yet frightened Eastern people charge
Their destiny at hand
Would rather die a horrid death
Than be on captured land

In freedom they do live and seek
Be it live or dead
Their destiny has better plans
They fought for life and bled

Kill them if you feel you must
This will not change their course
I only hope that in the end
We are filled with just remorse

I wish a better life for all
No matter what the cost
I only wish that what is gained
Does not feel like its lost.





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