Poetry Running Contest - Submissions Thread

  • #457
    Submissions for PRC Round 150 are now over. Make sure to vote and join us for PRC Round 151!

    Rush_Clasic's submission was withheld due to failure to vote in PRC Round 149.

    Poems withheld:
    your eyes by Rush_Clasic
  • #458
    Jacket

    she tells me
    she's cold
    staring at
    my clothes
    avoiding
    my face

    whatever, here's my jacket
    guys don't get cold
  • #459
    The Isolation;
    Cold; repressed; condemned
    Lost; cast adrift anon

    Outcast’s salvation;
    Warm; expressed; accepted
    Found; cast adrift anon


    Join the Poetry Running Contest!

    Quote from BlippyTheSlug
    Poetry is the tampon for my mental menstruation.
  • #460
    Ode to a Booger

    I love it when I pick my nose
    And the booger has a string
    A long, thick, gnarly mucous hose
    Reaching almost to the brain
    It feels so cool when it comes out
    Sliding slowly along the sinus
    Leaving me with little doubt
    This was one of the the finest
    When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. - Raoul Duke
  • #461
    HEAT DEATH (Amory McKeever - IcecreamMan80) 2/22/12

    Now we started out as friends
    in close proximity
    unbreakables can only bend
    and fall in love with gravity
    but when the two became a crowd
    we pushed heavenly bodies away
    took to the skies like rocketships
    blasting off into the fray
    However massively attracted
    explosions of emotions sent me
    the force of course redacted
    my light too distant to see
    by the time it reaches out to you
    I'll be a memories polaroid
    don't matter now that I shined true
    my former self is just a void

    Thanks to Xenphire @ Inkfox for the amazing new sig

    “Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments
    are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”

    ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
  • #462

    The first five lines are taken from The Story of Thugnificent episode from The Boondocks. The material belongs to Aaron McGruder and the owners of The Boondocks. The rest of this poem is original. This is intended to be a bad and stupid rap, as Grandad from the Boondocks does not "spit hot fire"


    Eff Thugnificent (Rap Beef)
    Old punk ass nificent never went to high school
    that's where he's a mother mother mother mother fool
    momma was a fool, daddy was too
    Wanna be like thugnificent, don't go to school fool.
    yeah. yeah.

    Thugnificent got a bit to learn about bitches.
    Ballin' hard in Do It Big trip, they call me Mr. Bitches
    Thunificent rappin' about butt cheeks
    After that, all he has is itches.
    Squeak Squeak Squeak
    Mouse mother ****er.
    Silly ******.
    now my finger's on the trigger
    blastin' your punk ass back
    back to the stone age
    you ain't ever gettin' paid.

    You just mad cause your ass is dumb
    First thing you do is pick up the gum
    you should just go back to the slum
    Thugnif Thugnif thugnif

    Dorthy
    You ain't even worthy
    of being in my neighborhood
    so get out for good.
    yeah. yeah. yhea.

    You just mad cause your ass is dumb
    First thing you do is pick up the gum
    you should just go back to the slum
    Thugnif Thugnif thugnif

    You dick riding Obama
    but you ain't know ****
    all I was doing was getting lit
    and the cops ran up my house
    took my loase
    cause Obama didn't legalize the ****.
    yeah yeah yeah.
    Last edited by Yanni: 2/25/2012 8:37:58 PM
    Originally Posted by Arcadic View Post
    scumbag
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  • #463
    Image removed due to its file extension: http://www.fliprap.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=855&d=1325570163&thumb=1


    Behind the Veil


    Behind the veil, I could watch your shadow
    dance all night long to the music of my heartbeat,
    and when morning invades,
    when the sunlight washes the shades of your silhouette,
    I will tear the veil down like a wolf,
    so I could see the beauty
    that will wash the shades of my silhouette

    Chapter 2- Tearing the Veil
  • #464
    your eyes

    this troubled heart and troubled mind
    with dedication ate away
    the very thoughts of their design,
    the sweet insides that made them fine.

    such dismal depths they've come to tread,
    lost through the rot of night and day.
    a dream they begged of me instead,
    but no such joy i knew to shed.

    so labored on those mangled things
    formed not of hope, but wasted clay.
    to what end, still they plucked their strings
    but failed to rouse a voice that sings.

    the world i had come to despise
    then suddenly became anew.
    i tore apart my sad disguise
    the moment that i saw your eyes.

    electric! formed of love and life,
    they invaded my armor through.
    the shock of beauty conquered strife
    where in my bones had been so rife.

    forgotten joy was mine to share,
    and as you know, i shared with you.
    that hope untaught, that hidden care,
    i found again within your stare.
  • #465
    Submissions for PRC Round 151 are now over. Make sure to vote and join us for PRC Round 152!
  • #466
    [AN: This isn't true. Let's call it an experiment.]
    Closet

    pretend, distend, and bend the light,
    but prisms can't ever be right.
    Deny, or fight?

    professed allies?
    self-centered lies.

    The same: not-same. a different name,
    the years of blame,
    exquisite shame.
    new self, new start;
    fake self, true heart.
    Last edited by echoe: 2/29/2012 2:10:53 AM
    my mouth is full of lies -
    and eyes are full of death besides
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCqzd-gYJXE
  • #467
    Southerndellic

    I'm a progeny of ****ing prodigies,
    listen up this how hip-hop aughtta be,
    spittin visuals audibly, bout to insert this hard part of me,
    and do it in your earhole, rhymes beatin through the heart of me,
    Yeah I'm a swag storm, bout to end this swag drought.
    Your ****ing *** born, now homie what're you about?
    The fearless surrealist shaved my stache' but I'm still tha rap Dali,
    turnin phones into lobsters when i make soup outta molly,
    don't stress on me don't flex on me i'm Ivy league out of your league,
    yo dumbass nastier to think about than siamese jodeci,
    hopefully, yeah hopefully,
    yo bitch will keep approachin me,
    cause i'm supposed to be unquestionably the hottest star your eyes can see,
    Listen up bruh, yeah listen good,
    best keep your mouth shut, walking through my hood,
    spit so hard best call this drool,
    act a fool, dawg I wish you would!
    I'll have a banquet with your face, use my fork to pull your eyes out,
    eat your tounge with some bbq, don't speak, No Doubt.
    That's what I'm about. Straight bout it bout it.
    Master P life philospohy you best believe i'm rowdy rowdy.
    Howdy, howdy........
    to all you ****ing hicks.
    Hide behind your camo bruh I know you stay attached to that dick.
    Hatin on my swag when yo oil gettin checked, dip stick,
    yo ass is lower than grass bruh, i'm talkin dog ****.
    So when I rap you best get wit it cause i'm sick wit it,
    straight digits to yo face when you get get hit wit it,
    i'm quick wit it and quick witted,
    slick wit it and da **** wit it,
    so hide your kids and yo wife before yo life gets ended.
    Official Moderator of The [Gutter]

  • #468
    Cold Steel

    His gun is all he knows
    These streets are what he calls home
    Moving from one block to the next,
    Whatever the night may bring, another test
    He's got no one to love, no one to call his own
    The feel of the Beretta in his hand is the only sign he's not alone
    Some call him a jack of all trades
    Killing hits just to get paid
    He prefers the term "mercenary"
    Living without sanctuary
    His life is the standard tragic story
    Of a thug who found his peers deploring
    He had to raise himself, his momma was no good
    And his daddy ran off, he just another hood
    Then momma died and he was all alone
    The needles in her arm scattered all around the home
    Her path deterred him from going the same way
    He vowed to never be a dope fiend, he decided to play the game
    And so the game he joined was crooked as could be
    But if it weren't, then could I tell you this story?
    Of a man who went from nothing to naught
    Did you really think he wasn't gonna get shot?
    It was a cold, dark night like not too long ago
    Windows down, fingers running through his afro
    He shot the wrong person's brother, a regular old G
    "Mother****er, don't you know you messin' with ME?"
    He leapt out the car, his Beretta drawn close
    But then came the hail of bullets, he could only dodge most of 'em
    He died alone that night, hot lead in his chest
    And he never would have guessed that that night would've been his test
    The test to see if he would survive beyond then
    But most of us don't expect death because we don't know when
    Our times are near, but if we did?
    Would we live our lives differently instead of like his?
    But we're not the focus of this tale, it's him
    The cold moon looked down, the stars seemed dim
    And in the last breath of frosty-aired night
    This man looked down at his hand, gripping tight
    His Beretta was the only friend that he ever knew
    So how suiting that its cold steel bid him adieu.
    Last edited by Iso: 3/3/2012 7:52:18 AM
    (W: 45-3-20) (L: 30-1-11)
    [The Family] - <Helpdesk> - {Мы, темноте}
  • #469
    Senility

    I swear I just rolled a cigarette
    It's nowhere to be found
    Lately it seems I always forget
    Absentmindedness abounds

    They say that memory is the second thing to go
    I forget the first
    So now I try to make words about senility flow
    And uhhh... uhhh... uhhh... yeah
    When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. - Raoul Duke
  • #470
    My lucid dream carresses reality
    from the far corners of memory
    drifting like petals of rain
    in soft dappled sunlight

    I live in a time of never
    the ifs and fancies dance silent
    like so many bitter wasn'ts
    on a concrete floor
  • #471
    Working Title
    You say you hate Shiria Law
    But you love Rick Santorum
    You say you're pro-life
    but you support the death penalty
    You say you love small government
    but you regulate the bedroom
    You say you're a Christian
    but you want to bomb the Middle East
    So what do you believe?
    Or do you even believe anything say?
    Because I certainly don't.
    Originally Posted by Arcadic View Post
    scumbag
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  • #472
    how must I measure hate;
    in a passing of years
    with daily a wish
    that fastly I'm passing away.
    far be it boasted length;
    this volume of salt
    seeping caves I collapse
    over minute hand nicks of the blade.
    weightless like promises given;
    dense as my own destiny.
    bury me down in an answer
    to a question the sphinx never gave.
    Last edited by Kaitscralt: 3/5/2012 8:47:22 PM
  • #473
    Submissions for PRC Round 152 are now over. Make sure to vote and join us for PRC Round 153!
  • #474
    Poppin' The Cherry
    of PRC
    153


    I think it needs to be said
    For experience in bed
    An older woman teaching a younger man
    Before he becomes wed
    Makes the union come out ahead
    A stable catamaran

    For young women as well
    Each innocent belle
    Could be taught by an older gent
    So the first time could be swell
    Instead of going through hell
    And coming out twisted and bent

    Just think what would happen
    Newlyweds in their cabin
    Both knowing full well what to do
    Instead of one or both being saddened
    Both become quite gladdened
    And able to see all the years through
    When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. - Raoul Duke
  • #475
    Inspired

    Her fair face, painted like a clown,
    bears milky cheeks that tears run down
    Her full and supple crimson lips
    fall at each end in sullen dips:
    an exaggerated cheerful frown

    Sable silk robes, the finest made,
    are pierced at chest by protruding blade
    From deepest wound, escapes a flood,
    her case and core both stained in blood:
    a pious price profanely paid

    She bears the true essence of art,
    a beauty, when she is apart
    Her hands each hold a heavy mass:
    in one, shards of reflective glass,
    in other, fragments of her heart

    Now her return, it does confuse
    what once could only be good news
    For mud must cover the terrain,
    since rivers can't flow without rain
    And still, I welcome home my muse
  • #476
    i stare, yonder at the Mountains;
    a dance-hall for the Sun and Sky;
    each Peak draped in Red and Violet and Gold and Love-
    and the Hours slip,
    slip,
    slip, away;
    and the Night
    is forced
    in
    to Day


    Join the Poetry Running Contest!

    Quote from BlippyTheSlug
    Poetry is the tampon for my mental menstruation.
  • #477
    Twas harrowed in the fall
    and sprouted in the spring
    surely the center of it all
    such a spoiled little thing
    now mash under his feet
    till it becomes the pulp
    never will it taste complete
    still we gulp gulp gulp
    and stumble drunkenly along
    making senseless talk
    singing worthless songs
    yet claim we walked the walk
    more important we should know
    like chardonnay before the wine
    that grapes are meant to grow
    not wilt along the vine

    Come rain or come shine
    the digger dug a new sprout
    with patience and love devine
    but we worked and wore him out
    so wrenched his tired hands
    broken calloused over skin
    whom pulled the soil over man
    to sow the seeds again
    and again and again no more
    will he try to make it right
    the most bitter chablis to pour
    is the one that ends a life
    so what will he cork and cask
    if it's all of rotten fruit
    not even worthy of a flask
    tucked into satans boot



    Burgundy - Amory McKeever (IcecreamMan80) March 2012

    Thanks to Xenphire @ Inkfox for the amazing new sig

    “Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments
    are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”

    ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
  • #478
    I’ve asked a forest or two to bare their roots,
    many shook their leaves, more inclined to show their rings,
    to brag of where they were and how they survived the harshest winters.
    None knew how they got there.

    But I’ve met an exception; a tree identifying more with a rolling stone,
    with roots exposed and buried in several states’ soil. With beginnings and endings
    dictated by a three year difference. Greenville. San Antonio. Phoenix.
    Each a story leading to a definition perplexing that simple question;
    “Where are you from?”

    Her branches extended and invited to anyone willing to partake of the shade,
    harnessing no preference except their company in this Midwestern heat;
    Unashamed to eagerly hang with the black oaks, dogwoods or maples.

    Taught as a sapling to find those roots and hold on.
    Floods are frequent and unpredictable,
    at some point you’ll have to follow them home.
    "I'm not your friend, I'm just a man who knows how to feel."- Brand New
  • #479
    Nowebowdee nowes aneething
  • #480
    Submissions for PRC Round 153 are now over. Make sure to vote and join us for PRC Round 154!
  • #481
    Plastic

    "One for the car
    One for the house"
    West Coast rapper Game
    On The R.E.D. Album

    You can play it to your guests
    and they will enjoy it
    and they will sip their tea
    and they will talk smalltalk
    and they will talk about how smalltalk is plastic
    in the most smalltalk possible way.
    Last edited by Rubin: 3/17/2012 11:39:30 PM
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