Running naked into the burning flames,
shedding our fears, as we do what we must.
Life's journey always taking us to the edge,
as we push beyond into new plains of existence.
The sun and the stars mingle in our minds,
as the warmth invades our mortal flesh.
Clouds billow up to reach the flock,
as they soar searching their souls through time.
This is what we must all do throughout life,
don't layback and let it pass in the mundane.
Embrace it without shame or what others think,
cause only you bring your uniqueness to us all.
I'm not like those other girls that you see.
I'm unique I'm me.
I don't go out and about looking for hearts to break.
I look for commitment and a love,
as juicy as steak.
I don't go around paranoied careing what others think of me.
I have fun,
I do what I wann do,
make myself happy and have fun.
In my way and my day.
I don't care about fashion,
I don't care whats "in" or whats "cool".
Im not another trend,im an origional.
Im pure me even if im a weirdo,
even if it means sticking out of the croud.
i'm not ashamed to make an ass out of mself aloud.
I love being what you call "wierd"
because you know what we don't need more fakeness,
or lies in this world.
We need uniqueness,truth.
Why can't you people stop acting so fake.
and just be the most beautiful cool thing...
be YOU!
Some words I spit are pure. And others are just not clean. Let me first introduce myself. Then you will see what I mean. My name is Dineke. Better known as Poeticdreamer. Just popped up on the scene and already being hated on. I must have committed a poetic misdemeanor. They say they don't like my style. Some even say I don't write from the heart. Well I say how can you judge me. You haven't known me from the start. People notice I'm not ordinary. So they mad cause they can't define me. Well I'm more real then you'll ever be. So sorry you can't confine me. I will always speak the truth. My words break the mold. Mama always said to never lie. So I'm only doing what I am told. Now I'm not conceited. But I do consider myself the shit. It's called having a high self-esteem. Something all you hater's need to get. Now you can think what you want to. All I had to say is done. P.S: All you hater's need a new hobby other than hating on me. I'm gonna keep firing back until I stand as the last one!
When you look into my smile,
do you honestly think it's real?
Or do you see it as a mask,
hiding scars that will never heal?
When you look at my shadow,
do you see a reflection of me,
Or do you see what I see?
The infinite imperfections of me?
When you look into my face,
can you honestly tell
if I'm and angel of Heaven
or a demon form Hell?
When you look into my face
and look into my eyes,
do you see a happy little boy
or a happy little disguise?
When you look into my smile
what do you see?
Do you see the pretend,
or perhaps the real me?
When you look at me,
do you see the lamb or lion?
Do you see me laughing,
or truthfully crying?
Have you ever seen a tear on my face?
Have you ever wondered why?
Is it because I'm always happy?
Or is it becuase I smile when I want to cry?
When you're hanging out with me
am I crazier than the rest?
Or do I really show you
that I'm hopelessly depressed?
When you're around me
do you think I'm honest and true?
Or do you see I'm acting
just to please you?
Admit what you really think
Say what you're afraid to say
You don't care how or what it takes
You wan to see me happy and no other way.
- February 23/ 2001
Sitting in something akin to serenity
Always has this effect
The inducement of a feeling
The evocation of a purpose
For the pen to imprint on paper
The memory, musings and essence
Of he who wields it
In his hands
To inflict his pleasures and pains
His losses and gains
Across the stage we call a page
For all and sundry
Or one (or none) to see
The effervescence of his thought
The life less sought
Tantalises him
Dancing across the corridors of his mind
With the abandon and vigour
Of a much younger self
In its incessant questing, thirsting, yearning
For truth and knowledge
In a world of lies
One easy to despise
A world controlled by the onset
Of venomous sties
Can his body follow his mind?
Break his self-imposed bind?
A constructed constriction
A false protection
From the prodding, pierced, sharpened tongues
The filthy ejaculations and emissions
Of a cursed cabal of cock-faced cunts
Mired in the cum & quim juice of conformity
Yet he takes pleasure, takes solace
In the fact that the STDs
Of stupidity and society
Serve to submerge them
In the swill of shame and servitude
Still he knows that
The battle lines are firmly etched
Cleanly sketched
So, wielding his weapons
Singularity his shield; sagacity his sword
He steels himself to fight
This war of art, truth and right
And sets out across the plain
Toward his goal
His purpose?
The replenishment of his reservoir
Of pride
Under the sun the path before me is hidden
but i know its there
under the hills ive ridden
walking alone, listening for calls
behind the silence you hear it too
listen to the falls
Once the sun is down and the stars have risen
i can see my path ever so clear
i glare down the horizon without fear
i feel like a seer
I know what awaits me down this road
What if? I longer ask
it isnt my code
Nothing is eternal
the things you truly love
seems to be the one thing taken away
but i stand here today
i will not sway
ill continue down this road
the road ive chosen
It feels as if ive awoken...
I don't feel like pretending
i'm not five anymore,
I'm not going to change for you
or live up to your expectations
my indivuality is mine
not yours, and i want it back
I crave to succede
but all i see is faliure
because nothing is never good enough for you,
I seek revenge on myself
because i see you in me
and its everything i told myself i dont want to be.
People fall apart all the time
Some cry themselves to sleep everynight
Some people hurt inside all the time
I'm no different
People fall in love all the time
Some are up all night long sometimes
Some people hide away there dark side
I'm no different
People read and write all the time
Some are all alone sometimes
Some people are insecure at time
I'm no different
So why do I feel so different?
This freestyling spoken word buffoon
says I'm making mockery of poetry--
he is a word revolutionary, you see,
and I don't see the great movement
that his message is trying to convey--
he is out to liberate, to infiltrate,
while I'm just this Russian who tells
him that he just masturbates and
his bullshit message is not about art,
not about being real, it's about word abuse,
Pete said he used to write for Village Voice
but quit when they were going to send him
as a reporter to Iraq, now he writes all this
phony crap about society, injustice and oppression--
look at me, I'm real, I'm humanity--
and I'm really sick of it all,
so I read my "The World Is Full of Bastards" poem,
and they all started laughing, except this guy
who got really uncomfortable--
says I'm not being serious--
but I don't want to be serious,
I just want to play around,
and these people are all so uptight,
they wouldn't even get a microphone
because it's against the city ordinance--
revolutionaries, my ass,
they can't even say "fuck" in a poem--
Allen Ginsberg would laugh at all these
spoken word clowns--
liberation is masturbation,
why not? You people, are all so fucking
uptight with your politically correct bullshit,
that you call "freestyling"--what the fuck are
you talking about?
Pete wants me to read again, but I might just
blow it off--he says I have to read something
really serious, nothing raunchy, something
lyrical and profound, or this spoken word buffoon
will call it quits and they will no longer
invite me to read--
I feel so stifled there, but then I remember
those kids laughing when I read--
this whole world is fucking uptight--
I remember this Jordanian guy Tony Samander--
very religious guy he was, used to write novels
about holy cities and prophets,