5 minute poetry

[RaiRai]

Take aim and fire
object that desire
You don't want that flurry
you don't need that flame
for it's only a game
speed without hurry
as the troops conspire
with the army for hire.

[Tyrazial]

Here I sit, a mockery
a glimpse of who I used to be
I am nothing now, no more to live
I have nothing left, no more to give

Beaten, broken, left for dead
The last few thoughts rattle thru my head
All I feel is my regret
But soon even that, I will forget

Blood and loss and suffering
These are what my life did bring
For everyone I ever knew
Were dead 'fore I knew what to do

Now I join them, in slumber deep
Closing my eyes, forever to sleep
My one last wish, my true desire
to protect the child my wife did sire

Cradled round his infant form,
As I grow cold, I keep him warm
The last thing I hear before I die
Is his sweet cooing lullaby

Now I leave him, all alone
I will not be there when he's grown
Yet I do not worry, nor do I grieve
In his future I do believe

He will live on, after I am done
My only child, my only son
I pray to God here as I lay,
In his safety, my son will stay

He'll grow up and he'll grow old
He'll feel the warmth, he'll feel the cold
He'll know joy, and he'll know tears
He'll be happy, and he'll have fears

The darkness grows, It closes in
As I suffer, results of my sin
Yet I thank God for the gift he gave
For through my death, my son he saved

[Fifthfiend]

Someone to look good with and light your cigarette
Pepperoni and green peppers mushrooms olives chives
With the children you abandoned and the wife I saw you beat
As thousands they grieve as the Black Friday rule

We had just one night but it lingers on and on and on
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Metronome, I want out
The flowers that I gave to you have withered all away

The inflection of your enamel made no reflection in my mirror
I'm into what you do but I'd leave you nowhere
Listen where ever you may be
And noone will know my name until it's on a stone

And noone will know my name until it's on a stone

[Fifthfiend]

Grasping groggy gatlings gander groggily on geldingshire
Gillians of good intent do misdirect our mourning fire
Wanderlust does wander lost the millions of missile-toes
As villeinous viturpritude does conjugate our cappel-code

[Funka Genocide]

And they sang the most beautiful of songs a fish may sing/ for in their youth they once had wings/ a flight, a drive, a keening true/ and all these things they’ve left to you.

That once beheld to hold no more/ a chance and key for unlocked doors/ and while the stingers sting through cloth/ this helm you wear, must don and doth

And fireflies with firelights/ that take their ease in plain delights/ they only cry and weep in vain/ for someday soon it rains again

And arms abound that were not cold/ before they had your hand to hold/ and in your grasp you’ve culled the last/ those ghosts of feelings from the past

But take not hurt, nor harm nor jest/ for near your heart inside your chest/ are things of sorts that can’t be tamed/ a wild charge of thrills unnamed

The lions apt to circle high/ oh how they swoop, glide and dive/ that for their’ might a simple breeze/ might take their wings and pleasantries

For in the sky the truths do hide/ obscured and airy, floating by/ like diamonds set adrift in vain/ that shift the shore as sure as rain

Or pigeon’s wrath and elder grudge/ that for it’s penance left a smudge/ oh great and feeble will of man/ atop which pillar shall you stand?

And from which tunnel do these draughts/ of fetid air and moldy rot/ seep into this fearsome light/ and in which might sleep the night?

Oh glory’s vein or vainglories/ the false disdain of memories/ that creep as jackals in their prime/ that miss the meaning so sublime

That all we’ve held, or loved or lost/ that all those hearts we’ve craved or tossed/ are sitting just off to the west/ where eyes may roam yet never rest

Where hearts may drown or buoy on/ and tunes are crooned to sing along/ where fish do chant and twirl mid-flight/ and everything will be all right




And they danced a dance of flaming veils/ that singed the hearts in callous tales/ they crooked and shook and carried on/ as ancient truths; as paragons

Oh nimble were the words intent/ and stalwartly they’d not relent/ in face of cause or purpose clear/ they’d rather rest than disappear

That stolen were the levities/ of bygone pest divinities/ was perhaps the startling fact/ that corn could grow without an act

And for their stakes they could enjoy/ the fiercest and most paranoid/ the stricken and the mad belief/ in harbingers of false relief

But taken all as given in/ were shadow covered dividends/ that majesty of ruined shame/ was nowhere left to lay the blame

So travel on and stillness rent!/ oh made to speak without comment/ your story through and over with/ and huddled near, your kit and kith

Part and parcel, come as one/ that only one not have the fun/ of tumbling down the rabbits hole/ of finding what the rabbit stole

A sense, a mark a distant view/ a word in kind to bluster through/ the sound, the taste of winters brew/ isn’t all that’ troubling you

No, fairies list and twist and spill/ the openings of darting quills/ that form and face are fortunate/ to have a place proportionate

To meaning meant, I meant to say/ or keep this tempest still at bay/ and bar bar bar the wand’rer says/ it means as much inside his head

For coasts and lakes the wind is true/ as shores and pools may likely fool/ your tired eyes on evenings tides/ must break and dash through rocky lies

Yet for all this we only pay/ the sweetest price in come-what-may/ and stormy is the clouded night/ though everything will be all right




Now follow first the faltered step/ for in it’s path were notions kept/ were faults endured and stumbled on/ while simply knowing all along

That worse than this is everywhere/ that in the kiss of heavy air/ is passion penned by trembling hands/ that fortune weeps while triumph stands

That beasts and bogeymen alight/ amidst our paltry human fright/ and while they stare and grumble loud/ alone is man, the cowed yet proud

Then listen close to broken things/ to hearts and vows and dethroned kings/ for in their wake is more than years/ the price we pay for mortal tears

Is burnt upon the seething flame/ that what we were at once became/ that which we are in all but name/ that waited long for fleeting fame

And forget not the first caress/ though mothers touch or lovers breast/ they wither slow, to age and go/ the ways which only gods may know

But for these darks it seems all right/ to proffer up a little light/ for in our haste we oft mistake/ the things we leave for those we take

That every day is something new/ that for her hand, the things you’d do/ that fierce as days the nights may be/ but fiercer still is apathy

And in your head their beats this drum/ what gods and devils tests may come/ shall forge this noise into a man/ that hands will do as mountains can

For all we are is precious few/ for all we must is all we do/ for those we’ve left obscure and bleak/ for those who left the stewards meek

We prance and prattle ceaselessly/ and so it seems quite needlessly/ yet taken for or taken by/ the rest of us who live and die

See a sight in oddest tones/ that past the dirt and pain and bones/ is fire warm and fire light/ and everything will be all right

[QueenQeeko]

We are born and raised as people to be
And there isn't that much to me
I laugh and I cry
I live and I'll die
I heal and bleed and drink and feed
But every now and then I feel this need

To be not someone else, see
But another version that is still me
Someone different and interesting
Wild, exotic, strange or testing
I can be me one day before
I change the next day to be me some more
And as I change I'm still me and never not
To be remembered and to be forgot

So I say hello to you, I am me
What type of me would you like to see?

[Nikose Tyris]

Valentine's Day

The raindrops as they're falling, tell me a story
About a girl and a boy and all the falling rain
And I realize such a tale you might find a little boring
But it's a story about happiness and sadness and pain.

The little girl had a flower that she brought to school
Her mother grew flowers in a little flower patch
And she found it floating in the little wading pool
And now she walked with it delicately in her grasp.

the little girl came across a little boy, crying in the road.
He had fallen down, dropped his books and had scraped his knee.
The girl walked over, to help the boy with his load-
But she quickly saw he had fallen more than physically.

The little boy was crying from a broken heart.
************************************************** *
The little boy walked quickly home in the rain
He had found a baby kitten, mewling weakly.
He took it to his mother, and cried at the kitten's pain.
He begged his mother's help, desperately.

His mother's eyes filled with tears, and she told the boy the truth-
The kitten was too far gone and it did not have long to live.
the boy cried and tried to deny it, but slowly felt the proof
As the kitten in his hands, slowly gave up all it had to give.

The boy felt the kitten slowly stop breathing,
Clutching it close to his chest, he ran outside
heading for school, he ran, crying, screaming,
He wanted to beg God to fix it, the kitten that died.

He ran too hard for his little legs and collapsed in the street
He dropped his books and the kitten as he fell to his knees.
He sat and cried, denied, begged, prayed, to not see it-
Then came a hushed whisper, "oh, jeez."
************************************************** ************
The little girl held the little boy, as the little boy cried.
The little girl let him cry with her, and tried to understand.
The little boy didn't know who the kitten was, just that it had died.
The little boy just needed someone to help him stand.

The girl quietly handed the boy the flower,
As the rose to walk to school together.
they were very late, but their need was a greater power
As she kissed his little cheek softly and said, "Remember."

[Kambria]

The parts are cast,
The stage is set,
And so the play must begin...

He steps forward,
The lead actor;
The lights dim; the music quiets.
He is singled out by a light, of which no one controls;
He begins his monologue,
Which falls on deaf ears
Only to be revived in the mind of one, far away from the show...

This man, driven by the thoughts of a new beginning, goes to view this show;
Upon seeing it,
He remembers all that he had done.
He wrote the play,
He cast the parts.
All he needed to do was to direct;
Direct them all to the ending,
An infamous ending...

And in this ending, the cast revealed themselves;
They were no different,
No more changed.
But the man,
The one who saw this,
Had changed.
He was no longer who he was.
All he could do was try to prove that he had not changed;
But all that was seen,
Was the damage done...

And when they saw, that he had not changed, they applauded;
Gave rise to a new reason.
They had hated the show,
Hated it all,
But to them,
He had tried,
Succeeded,
And that was what mattered;
Not the lighting, nor the props,
But the intent behind it all...

He put forth the effort.
In the beginning,
Nothing more than a facade as to the real performance;
When it was shown,
It was poorly played;
The set would crumble away,
Leaving the bare floors,
The dusty rafters.

He had only tried once,
He had not done well;
But he had still tried.
And in doing so, the first step was set;
It would only get better from now...

[handofpwn]

Emo grass, a haiku

i wish grass was emo
it would cut itself instead
i wish my grass were emo.

[The Kneumatic Pnight]

Steamborn clouds play on smooth mountains.
Deep brownbronze,
Treetops splay against the sky.
Here, a timeworn gash.
The wind whistles through.

Bright-toothed children, small and large, dance ‘round.
So close—
Whirling tightly together
In the small spaces
Beneath the trees.

An earthy thrum plays luxuriously at the edge of hearing.
Undulating
It rolls through the forest.
A determined flow—
Dreaming beneath black iron shadows.

The sun’s head lies at the horizon’s edge
Crackling contentedly.
The blazing light rests sleepily
Gorged on food.
Leaden eyes close.