charlee
February 8th, 2009, 09:59 PM
here's a bit of shit i've wrote in the past couple months. I know it should be in the literature forum but seriously who the fuck goes in there? I'd just like a couple reads and comments on these. Its worth your five minutes.
Number one.
blood was splattered,
shit had happened,
things were shattered,
but im still askin,
i need not know the reasons why,
ive felt before,
so i curse the sky,
why oh why does it persist,
intenetions good,
but still i miss,
maybe its that ive been cursed,
as soon as shit gets better,
it all turns for the worst,
if at all i dont go berserk,
through the trials i get less hurt,
effort i put, time was wasted,
is this how i face it,
writing poems, waste more time,
idly sit and waste my life,
if it truley is a mate i need,
i cannot go on and let my anger feed,
because one damn day,
on one poor soul,
my seal will break,
and ill lose control,
but to this soul i will debt,
they've freed my from my life of stress,
fresh ill start,
a new life begin,
i can't gauruntee,
i wont choose the path again
but if i do,
ill tell you this,
for those who cross me,
they will wish,
they'd never met a person like thee,
cuz you can only hurt one part of me,
after hes been damaged so many times,
he turns for worse inside these rhymes,
for once was two, can turn to one,
the evil half, of his righteous son,
though he tried, it was constant war,
for control of a being who's never pure,
victory for now, it shall not remain,
when evil turns to pity and shame,
i will rise and i will reign,
Number Two.
beatin bloody broken and bruised,
washed up broke dick worthless and used,
feel my pain no you wont i deal with it all,
i got a fifth of vodka and hand full of adderal,
am i hungry for love or am i starving for hate,
throw me in my prison and lock the gate,
who am i, im certainly not sane,
cuz i grab the sleigh by the horns and the bull by the reins,
if you didnt get the last line try the other way around,
now if only i had a rhythm and beat that pounds,
I'd be sittin like a king high on my throne,
homies galore but personally still alone,
my mind wanders from subject ranging from this and to that,
when will i die, will i be famous, will i be better then that,
i know i am but the world treats me wrong,
maybe if had talent enough to write this mother fuckin song,
maybe i do and maybe i dont, irregaurdless this shit has been wrote,
but all of which is meaningless with a knife at your throat,
if you like what im writin ask for your own,
if you hate what im doin then ill burn down your home,
I'm a little bit crazy and a little bit stoned,
but i can open your eyes to what has never been shown,
lemme tell you somethin bout this world today,
if you've a little dick, fat, have acne or your gay,
you'll be looked down upon like your were somethin else,
and they'll never have to go through the shit that you've felt,
lucky for them there lives are already made,
like when a dude walks in the room talkin bout how he gots game,
how he can fuck any bitch and constantly get laid,
well guess what mother fucker some of us dont,
not that i cant but its better that i wont,
cuz when your 25 and lieing in a hospital bed,
ill be 40 mother fucker laughin at you cuz your dead,
and if you think that its harsh stupid open your eyes,
its all a fucking illusion, a glasses and mustache disguise,
and i know the subject changes randomly at will,
but i do this shit sober no weed drink or pills,
you can do anything at any fuckin time,
set your mind to it and soon you will find,
that a little bit of effort goes a long way,
hopfully you took something from what i said here today.
Number Three.
i dont know where to start or how to begin,
i dont know where im at or how i got in,
though familiar strange and vacant,
a ship i voyaged til i sank it,
sword in hand i serenade,
as i pull the pin on my last grenade,
i wont go down until they fall,
if i take myself ill take them all,
they have drown and ive escaped,
i swam the ocean at a steady pace,
my arms are weak and legs are limp,
find an island or lay with the shrimp,
my bayonet weigh twenty pounds,
but i cannot leave her as she never let me down,
swim and swim i long for a sound,
of a coming ship before i drown,
a pirates life is the life indeed,
until your stranded in the belov'ed sea,
the wrath of waves and the beating sun,
what i'd give for a little fun,
but as i swim ive made a game,
try and recount the men ive slain,
what is this an island i see,
or has my mind got the best of me,
probability turns to doubt,
but theres only one way to find out...
it feels so warm inside my hand,
as i lay face up on top the sand,
i open my eyes to my suprise,
i have new robes and my hair is dry,
i take a second look i cannot believe,
who it is that stands in front of me,
he died in my arms from a bullet wound
my old best friend from the 331st platoon,
jaw wide open i was still astound,
he offered his hand to help me from the ground,
where was i how what when and why,
he chuckled as he said that we both lived in the sky,
he said you put forth effort for you life,
just to see your dog your kids and wife,
though not now soon enough,
they'll find there way to the rest of us,
til then brother grab a beer
a life times as fast as you can drink up here.
Number four. This was written about a bong that was smashed by the owners dad when he was very drunk and angry. R.i.p. chief.
Way back when around the age of fifteen,
We had just began sellin on route to be come kings,
We were oh so high, we couldn't be seen,
Sittin atop the clouds, smokin on chief,
Til one sad day, Chief got broke,
& for the moment that it happend, No need to toke,
No urge to drink those fifth's in my coat,
Dead silence like there was a rock in my throat,
This is what happens, When a tru homie dies,
When they leave our world to go live in the sky,
The hardest thing ive ever done is too see my best friend cry,
In our hearts your memory lies,
R.I.P
ill post more later.
Number one.
blood was splattered,
shit had happened,
things were shattered,
but im still askin,
i need not know the reasons why,
ive felt before,
so i curse the sky,
why oh why does it persist,
intenetions good,
but still i miss,
maybe its that ive been cursed,
as soon as shit gets better,
it all turns for the worst,
if at all i dont go berserk,
through the trials i get less hurt,
effort i put, time was wasted,
is this how i face it,
writing poems, waste more time,
idly sit and waste my life,
if it truley is a mate i need,
i cannot go on and let my anger feed,
because one damn day,
on one poor soul,
my seal will break,
and ill lose control,
but to this soul i will debt,
they've freed my from my life of stress,
fresh ill start,
a new life begin,
i can't gauruntee,
i wont choose the path again
but if i do,
ill tell you this,
for those who cross me,
they will wish,
they'd never met a person like thee,
cuz you can only hurt one part of me,
after hes been damaged so many times,
he turns for worse inside these rhymes,
for once was two, can turn to one,
the evil half, of his righteous son,
though he tried, it was constant war,
for control of a being who's never pure,
victory for now, it shall not remain,
when evil turns to pity and shame,
i will rise and i will reign,
Number Two.
beatin bloody broken and bruised,
washed up broke dick worthless and used,
feel my pain no you wont i deal with it all,
i got a fifth of vodka and hand full of adderal,
am i hungry for love or am i starving for hate,
throw me in my prison and lock the gate,
who am i, im certainly not sane,
cuz i grab the sleigh by the horns and the bull by the reins,
if you didnt get the last line try the other way around,
now if only i had a rhythm and beat that pounds,
I'd be sittin like a king high on my throne,
homies galore but personally still alone,
my mind wanders from subject ranging from this and to that,
when will i die, will i be famous, will i be better then that,
i know i am but the world treats me wrong,
maybe if had talent enough to write this mother fuckin song,
maybe i do and maybe i dont, irregaurdless this shit has been wrote,
but all of which is meaningless with a knife at your throat,
if you like what im writin ask for your own,
if you hate what im doin then ill burn down your home,
I'm a little bit crazy and a little bit stoned,
but i can open your eyes to what has never been shown,
lemme tell you somethin bout this world today,
if you've a little dick, fat, have acne or your gay,
you'll be looked down upon like your were somethin else,
and they'll never have to go through the shit that you've felt,
lucky for them there lives are already made,
like when a dude walks in the room talkin bout how he gots game,
how he can fuck any bitch and constantly get laid,
well guess what mother fucker some of us dont,
not that i cant but its better that i wont,
cuz when your 25 and lieing in a hospital bed,
ill be 40 mother fucker laughin at you cuz your dead,
and if you think that its harsh stupid open your eyes,
its all a fucking illusion, a glasses and mustache disguise,
and i know the subject changes randomly at will,
but i do this shit sober no weed drink or pills,
you can do anything at any fuckin time,
set your mind to it and soon you will find,
that a little bit of effort goes a long way,
hopfully you took something from what i said here today.
Number Three.
i dont know where to start or how to begin,
i dont know where im at or how i got in,
though familiar strange and vacant,
a ship i voyaged til i sank it,
sword in hand i serenade,
as i pull the pin on my last grenade,
i wont go down until they fall,
if i take myself ill take them all,
they have drown and ive escaped,
i swam the ocean at a steady pace,
my arms are weak and legs are limp,
find an island or lay with the shrimp,
my bayonet weigh twenty pounds,
but i cannot leave her as she never let me down,
swim and swim i long for a sound,
of a coming ship before i drown,
a pirates life is the life indeed,
until your stranded in the belov'ed sea,
the wrath of waves and the beating sun,
what i'd give for a little fun,
but as i swim ive made a game,
try and recount the men ive slain,
what is this an island i see,
or has my mind got the best of me,
probability turns to doubt,
but theres only one way to find out...
it feels so warm inside my hand,
as i lay face up on top the sand,
i open my eyes to my suprise,
i have new robes and my hair is dry,
i take a second look i cannot believe,
who it is that stands in front of me,
he died in my arms from a bullet wound
my old best friend from the 331st platoon,
jaw wide open i was still astound,
he offered his hand to help me from the ground,
where was i how what when and why,
he chuckled as he said that we both lived in the sky,
he said you put forth effort for you life,
just to see your dog your kids and wife,
though not now soon enough,
they'll find there way to the rest of us,
til then brother grab a beer
a life times as fast as you can drink up here.
Number four. This was written about a bong that was smashed by the owners dad when he was very drunk and angry. R.i.p. chief.
Way back when around the age of fifteen,
We had just began sellin on route to be come kings,
We were oh so high, we couldn't be seen,
Sittin atop the clouds, smokin on chief,
Til one sad day, Chief got broke,
& for the moment that it happend, No need to toke,
No urge to drink those fifth's in my coat,
Dead silence like there was a rock in my throat,
This is what happens, When a tru homie dies,
When they leave our world to go live in the sky,
The hardest thing ive ever done is too see my best friend cry,
In our hearts your memory lies,
R.I.P
ill post more later.