5 minute poetry

[Sephiroth_22]

Ehh...read my sig.

[bluestarultor]

"I'll End Up Going, Anyway":

I can't go in to work
And I'm not one to shirk
Could someone kindly switch?
'Cause getting sick's a bitch


"I Told You I Would":

Picked my shift up anyway
Wasn't feeling great
Boss gave me the flipperoo
And sent me home at eight
Normally I would have thanked him
Getting out ahead of time
But for the fact my scheduled shift
Was three o' clock to nine

[Lord of Joshelplex]

Are Apples Communist?
Apples are red
Red is a color
The color red can represent anger...
Or Communism
Are apples the fruit of the revolution!?
Maybe they're just fruit
Whatever

Whadya think? Totally bitchin or what?

And yes, I was fucking bored.

[RagnarofBurland]

Ha, I can see you!
I am an expert ninja,
Oh. right. Webcam off.

[Demon with a Glass Hand]

Stressing, mumbles.
Formless, tumbles.
Words across a page.

Unresponsive, sluggish.
Misconstrued ... muggish?
Slowing due to age.

Pistons firing.
Braincells tiring.
Everything so trite.

Forcing, struggles.
Effort ... muggles?
Harder now to write.

[icythaco]

Requiem for a Thread

Before me lies a bloated corpse,
Its beauty faded like a dream
Its limbs succumbed to rigour mort's,
Its skin the hue of curdled cream.

And so I heave aloft a prayer--
For all these voices now forgot.
Few alive can fain compare
T'the tapestry their tongues have wrought.


- In memorium for 5-minute poetry, now sadly gone quiet for over a month.

[RickZarber]

Yeah, how come this ain't a sticky anymore?

Anyways, here's something that I've been meaning to do for a long time:



A few years have passed
but I give you at last
Zombie Poem the Third.
So spare me the time
to put into rhyme
the new information I've heard.

The end could be near
so face up to your fear
and listen to what I have to say.
There's no need to be scared,
if you're well prepared
you may live to see a New Day.

Zombies abound,
there's fear all around
oppressive as the undead.
If you want to survive
and keep your loved ones alive,
today's tip is Don't Lose Your Head.

Though their vigil's unceasing,
their numbers increasing,
their brainpower's pretty much crap.
And zombies can run
(if you'll forgive me the pun)
about as well as Dick Clark can rap.

So I'm sorry to say
what stands in your way
will mostly be human beings;
their faults and pride,
human nature in stride,
might make you want to keep fleeing.

But in numbers you'll find,
p'raps not peace of mind,
but at least there is strength and support.
In groups you can band
as you defend your land
and build an impregnable fort.

But if you do as I bed
you'd do best to lie hid
and shut fast every entrance.
Seal tight all the doors
and block off the floors.
(Tip: Zombies can break down a fence.)

If someone's a dick,
then c'est la vie, prick,
they'll get what's coming to them.
But try as you might
to stave off a fight,
your odds for that are grim.

So where is the hope
in this fucked up soap
of hubris and despair?
It's all up to you
and how well you do,
so buck up--and grow a pair.

(Zombie Poem)
(Zombie Poem II: The Revenge)

[bluestarultor]

Some old haiku:


In Arizona
Atop the Superstitions
City lights meet stars


Down in the garden
My mother crouches picking
Bee-Balm leaves for tea


Blue light in the sky
It flickers like a candle
It's the aurora

[Funka Genocide]

in love
to fall or flounder
like beef
in quarter pounders

in love
so fit and able
she said
it's on the table

in love
or simply smitten
at least
it's here, it's written

in love
there's nothing sacred
but this
it's best when naked

[PyrosNine]

Red, the car
Red, the car
hit the idle men
while playing in the rod
Not an accident,
hated loitering
liked it so much
he brought drinks
to slake thirst
While he burned,
the fire drank too.
Too much gas, when
he met the pole
and the telephone threw
him a line
they pulled him out
full of heroic rage
and he was soaked Red.

Ochiba
How like the fallen leaves
I am, if not buried under
brown muddy-red on the filthy earth
I am an autumn bloom
Not like the brilliant spring bursting
of a rosebud in perfect white
or even a sensual crimson
Either scattered by the winds
or clinging to withered branches
my work lies in heaps
Still, in the proper perspective
Am I not glorious?

I can't feel no better
I can't feel no better
Not the drugs, not the old habits, not even a joke
Hot and angry in me
been feeling it for some time
Not so loudly, just quakes in the eye,
bad dreams, silent mutter (Silent Mother?)
But it grows till the glass breaks, dishes too,
yelling and screaming
I want to hurt her, it's true.
She ain't no better
No mess, no worth, nothing positive, No no no
Not angry, but viciously upset
lashing out to all and her mother
stifling loud, days after those days,
pruning flowers and weeds.
Clean freak but full of clutter,
HYPOCRITE
She don't feel no better than I do, only gets more upset
So then I can never ever feel no better.

Do the right thing
Do the right thing
This is what I heard
As a small child
from god the father
Do the right thing.

What is the right thing
I asked, simple minded
And to this,
god remained silent.
And from then I wondered
What is the right thing?

I sought, I searched
Found words but
Found them meaningless
Found actions but
Found them in short supply
Nothing that I thought
I sought, I searched for.

Charity smacks too much of pity
Generosity is not always compassion
If I do something good
for want of being good,
Is that not hubris?

The right thing is complicated
Strewn between things
that seem right
Or for the wrong reason
Saints are villainous heroes because
The right thing is complicated.

God the father
left words for what is right
But his son left an abbreviation:
Right is impossible.
Solomon said
Therefore, life is short
Be merry.
At least I got more than
god, the father.

I got something from nothing
done, or ventured
Watched as people fell into pits
Walked into walls
Walked over water
And Learned what not
To do but not
what to do
I got something from nothing

got my money's worth.

So when speaking to god,
the mother
I will shamefacedly
Fashion goodness
out of things found
in the street
like a beggar
And god will be silent
And God will be silent
But god will say
I'm doing a good job
For trying.