i am not a poet but i write poetry

[Bess.]

I sit and observe the darkness

Shrouding the hair

Of the intellectuals near the front

Necks craned liked suckling calves

Features half shaded beneath

The angled stage lights

Young features, toned skin and whitened teeth

Wide eyes and wider ears,

Listening to lessons

From false teachers

Reading his poetry into a mic

His voice, words, and life distilled by an artificial echo

He answers questions

With rambling answers tattooed by metaphors

Too deep for understanding

The intellectuals compete to agree

I watch as each puppy asks for the meanings

Behind certain "inspired" words in the performed poem

They are poets

They are poets; this to the world is known

Because they wear scarves

And spectacles like a wise owl

Carrying "Homer" and "Joyce" in the crook of an elbow makes them a poet

Because they tilt their head while they listen

Because they rub their chins into a point as they think they are a poet

I sink into my chair

My eyes are too bright beneath my glasses

My contempt hidden behind clear lenses

It is clear my heart is too unbroken for me to speak

About the real meaning of love

I am too young and unhurt to question what is above

I am too formal, to inartistic, too "normal"

To write poetry about society

I am scarved but apparently in the wrong way and too sighted to be really a deep soul

and what the hell is a deep soul anyways?

I see, and I write

I am not a poet

But I write poetry....

so go figure....

[J.Lee]

My toes curled at the thought

of drawing in my last breath

As I sat in a corner at this

little Cafe down 23rd and Jackson

 

My toes couldn't help it really, frankly

these "poets" bored me to death

as they slammed poetry, Truly

I wished I could slam them off this planet

Dammit.

 

The first poet sucked like liposuction

The second I mistook for a cow

For the thought of Butchering her

Wouldn't leave my mind.

I do adore beef you see like any Emcee

But I wanted to become a friggin Veg Head

 

Things did improve as the 3rd came

on the stage.

Tough and Stuff with his Afro Puffs

He rolled in, muscle so thick he looked Swollen

As if 100 bees decided to feast on his skin (Yum.)

 

like bared C-cups He was an Eyeful, and handful,

Well I wished I could fill my hands with him

but as soon as he opened his mouth

I took that wish back,

even ran to recover the friggin' dime

that I threw at him, well his back, and what a back!

 

He said: "Hey Mother Truckers

I’m gon’ see y’all in hell cuz we rented the same motel in there,Ha Ha!"

After a minute of a Silence that lasted a second

I laughed.

I know it wasn't right

Laughing at the mentally challanged

Deranged I must be, but must I be?

He was too Friggin' weird if you ask me.

Hell doesn't have motels retard.

I wanted to shout but I restrained myself.

 

It then dawned on me, That I'd be next.

I looked to the mirror on my left

I patted my Pixie cut, making sure my curls

were curled just right

They gleamed too, so I gave them a Smile.

I could have sworn they smiled back.

I was proud my hair was polite.

 

The MC announced my name

and before people could see

that I was smilling at my hair

I guided myself around the chairs

Bumped into many people but I didn't care

I guess I'm careless.

I stoped.

and I stared at the stairs

that were to take me to the stage.

They were quite lazy

Motionless like a paraplegic

"Move, B!tch" I shouted

Then I remembered, these stairs weren't

an escalator.

so I climbed them.

 

Finally I was on stage.

I looked around at the Audience

My eyes scanned them

like my 19 years of life

I summed them up like a simple addition.

This crowd would love me, I silently vowed.

 

I cleared my throat: Ahem.

and I said: "I live to die and I'd die to live.

To live is to love for Loving is lving.

If everything goes back to its origin.

then Life is Death. Death is life for After life is death. and after death is Life.

To die is to live,To live is to love

So Would you Bast!ards live to die for me? "

 

Surprisingly, Nobody wanted to.

I can't Imagine Why? I'm a decent person.

I may not be a poet but I do write poetry.

 

P.s Ms.F. It's 5 am, just got done studying for a final so sue me I was quite bored. Wish me Luck though.

[Midnight]

lool nice rhythum u two....and missy get off the damn pc and study...and u will do good too...or am i too late hope not..

[Pujah]

We have mad talent in da house... maansha allah

[J.Lee]

Chicken Breyani, Iska Waran?

 

Yep as usual you're too late but thanks anyway.

 

Holler.

[Tuujiye]

Ms and basbaaso..maaaasha allllllaaaaaaaah!!

 

Basbaaso you should become a poet

 

Ms..good luck abaayo iinsha allah you will do good. I write poetry some times but I don't like sharing it this way. But that poem was really good!!!

 

Keep it up y'all

 

Wareer Badanaa!!!

[Mafia_Gal]

talented the both of u