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When It Starts To Get Tense May 22, 2011

Filed under: Poetry — poetrybee @ 7:56 pm

You can’t understand a poet till you learn what’s in their heart

You can’t brighten your day till you walk among the dark

Till you mend it back together and tear it all apart

Tend to a broken heart

Be too clever for an idiots smarts

Be too sweet for a sour tart

Everything gets broken

Before you know it ice is on fire

Ice is smokin

Nothing is understandable

Nothing makes sense

How can you relax when it starts to get tense?

Too much money spent

But this is priceless

I live for this

But I’d die for this

I laugh for this

I cry for this

How can you relax when it starts to get tense?


Tell you So

Filed under: Poetry — poetrybee @ 7:53 pm

The man is pissed

More ticked than a clock

He’s too upset to talk

He has no legs to walk

Cause they’re his mouth

Because he doesn’t know what he’s talking about

He ate his words

His birds, flew the wrong direction

Too busy with the invisible mirror and their reflection

Getting distracted, so he reacted in the wrong way

Thinking the villain would save the day

Eating these sweet words will give you tooth decay

And as you sit the in your own despair

Pretending that you don’t care

That you don’t want to hear it

Then don’t go near it

I’ll bring my words closer

You play like you’re a composer

A fake a poser

The harsh wind of a leaf blower

So tell me that you didn’t know

Look me in the eyes and say

I didn’t tell you so


Realistic Fantasies

Filed under: Poetry — poetrybee @ 7:53 pm

I sleep with my glasses on

So I can see my dreams

Near and crystal clear

Like a movie theater screen

So welcome to my realistic fantasies

My mind must be a mission because you’re on it all the time

I’m trying to find, what I never lost

Fire me, boss

Toss my papers

The ones next to the stapler

On your desk

I’m your best worker

So tell me what’s next

Let’s take a guess on how much you mean to be

Let’s take a peek in my realistic fantasies

They seem so real, I barely know they are fake

I feel like I’m living them they keep me awake

For goodness sake, take me

Abduct me, make me think

Make me sink to my fantasies

I know they’re fake, but they’re real to me

So force me into the world

Into the world of realistic fantasies


Don’t always make Sense

Filed under: Poetry — poetrybee @ 7:52 pm

What’s the point of living when you have nothing to die for?

What’s the point of succeeding if you have nothing to try for?

I’m actually happy that I have things I would cry for

I have things I would die for

And that’s good, you should have them

Don’t doubt them

Look at your life; take a bite out of it

Get the worth out of it

Get something, or you’ll end up with nothing

I was on track, and then I messed around

I’m now trying to build the buildings I knocked down

You can turn the volume up; I still can’t hear a sound

What’s a happy face? And upside down frown

What are citizens without a town?

It’s nothing

Like two things pressed against each other but still not touching

It’s bluffing

The volcano is erupting

Better run, before the police get to hand cuffing

For the crime you didn’t commit

The things that matter, don’t always make sense



Filed under: Poetry — poetrybee @ 7:51 pm

I have been diagnosed with poetitious

Stay back or who’ll catch it

It’s inside me

I can’t detached it

You can’t buy it, you can’t hide it

You can’t deny it

It’s embarrassing to let others know

It’s obvious, it shows

Constantly writing down rhymes

From time to time, others get curious

It makes me furious

Are they serious?

I’m a poet, that’s what I do

Get over it

I can’t believe it even bothers you

I don’t complain about what others like

Everyone is different

I give everything 100 percent

I actually start before I say I’m finished

Get to know yourself, like I did

High-five it, but stay back

I have poetitious


Same old Song

Filed under: Poetry — poetrybee @ 7:49 pm

I’m sick of this; I need to get out of this place

I’m ill, but the only medicine around is that one that I want them to taste

You need to original, not a substitute

This substance is too thick to dilute

Loud and obnoxious, dangerous and toxic

Repeats everything, annoying and robotic

Contains bacteria, fill of antibiotics

Why sit and lie when you can stand and be modest?

We don’t get along, everyone has an attitude

There’s no respect or gratitude

So what can I do?

I wish I could fix it, but it’s been broken for too long

The days still go on

But it feels like we’re dancing to the same old song



Filed under: Poetry — poetrybee @ 7:48 pm

The frog legs of poetry are not dissectible

The rhymes in my mind walk on all fours like an animal

My poetry is flammable

The words are getting so hot it doesn’t even matter though

And just to let you know

Poetry is an illegal park truck that I wouldn’t tow

I can’t just make up these words

I just let them flow

I lay my rhymes on the surface

Let them sink in and get deep

While the audience is on the edge of their seat

With a clenched cheek

Cold feet

Poetry is the beauty and the poet is the beast

Poetry is the pit bull and yes it’s off its leash

Poetry is the carnivore and the punch line is the beef

Vampires, sink your teeth

In to the flesh of poetry

There are no words for me to use

To tell you how much this means to me

Poetry itself, unlike anything else

From the old books laying by themselves on the shelf

Almost unreadable

They are just too strong

Too fast, too unbeatable

So I’ll tell you what it means to me

Look me in the eye, let’s talk about poetry