Individuality

Run into the Flames

Folder: 
2004 Poetry

Image hosted by Photobucket.com



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.

View phil_carcione's Full Portfolio

Stop being fake...

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!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Being the same as everyone else isnt cool...its boreing!So be the coolest thing..urself!

View toxickittyn's Full Portfolio

Just So Hater's Know

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!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Something I wrote out of anger towards people who dis my poetry.

View poeticdreamer150's Full Portfolio

Do You See Me?

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

View jerry_joseph_huggins's Full Portfolio

Pride

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

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The creative process and its overall effect on my person, I guess...

View mrda's Full Portfolio

Loner (The Awakening)

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...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The 2nd Loner poem.

View kitez's Full Portfolio

Untitled -- 4.8.2004

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.

View idk's Full Portfolio

No Different

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?

View twilightcaress's Full Portfolio

Spoken Word Revolutionary

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,

View ashaumyan's Full Portfolio