The "Official" Poetry/Freestyle/Remix Thread

Oh alright. It goes like this.

First question for mothafuckers that's spittin' this "I'ma thug shit"

You claim you blew out a nigga's brain, well what color was it?

A) Reddish like the dark shade of oxygenated blood

B) Brownish like water that's mixed with dirt to make mud

C) Whitish like the man that created the virus to slay us or is it

D) Grayish like the gloomy or rainy day is

then it keeps doing that for the rest of the song.
 
ya thats legit,

mine was more geared like

a gun on the waist of a highschool student

be like john lennon in the grave singin dear prudence

see the people walking with nothing but their coffins

the other people watching with no intent to stops them

i know the last isnt that great but what the fuck do you do with d?
 
i got mad packs

throw backs

puffin on some cap'n blacks

i spit tracks so fat

it makes micheal jackson look black

o you like that?

its a known fact

i hit back with a gat

you fucked when i attack

im up to bat

so you betta run when you hear a crack

you think i aint got flow cause im not from the streets

yeah im white but i know some nice beats

think im bad cause i can spell

cause i didnt drop out to sell

didnt get some easy green

from sellin some cream

you think its a dream

but when you in for life

fucked n shanked with a knife

deep cut to your rips

just for sellin some kife

so i think i made the right choice

a good life choice

cause i aint goin to jail

aint gotta spend money on bail

no street life for me

so il be laughing in a year

whell your in jail and im free
 
here's what happens when i have nothing to do in photo class

180 days gone right out of the year,

i can do the math the statistics are clear.

almost half of each year gone, wasted away,

if you only live for the weekends and don't enjoy each day.

sure school can be hard but it ain't that tough,

12 years of it you'd think i've had enough.

but i don't fret, don't complain a lot,

hate to admit, but a good education i got.

so why not enjoy everyday cause it might be your last,

there's a reason weekdays go slow and weekends fast.

it's true what they say- time flies when you're having fun,

i wish i could have more time, but you can't buy none.

so why waste half a year when there's so much more,

there's a whole world out there but limited time to explore.

so why you always down, you should be living it up,

looking at the water as it fills half the cup.

or is it half empty, you gotta decide,

choose your own path, instructions i can't provide.

pessimist or optomist you gotta make your own choice,

but while we have time, in life we gotta rejoice.
 
if the wind cries mary im going to sigh back

because her words are poluted by smoke stacks

she chokes back anoth cigarette and sees a face in the smoke

the face spoke, a whisper, mary escaped as it's lips broke

love and freedom and hope you can still see them behind tyhe dark cloak

but can't pull back the curtains because there is no rope

we can still poke holes to let some light shine through

to cut our shadows and bring us closer to something bright and new

but we still can't see on the level of 20/20 justice

we don't have time anymore - passion, love, lust, kiss

nothing is black and white and there are no either ors

the wind blows in dark bulging clouds and when it rains it pours

and i can see the patches of blue turn to gray
 
that sounds good. i've tried playing around with a few beat making system things, and it was like impossible for me, so i know how hard it is.
 
i just use acid pro 6.0. other than that i just find samples and cut em up. no drum machine or anything so i gotta just put kicks snares and all that in. one kick and one snare at a time. it's not too hard it mostly just thinking it in your head
 
As i walk down this path,

covered in blood,

i wonder if im a psychopath

i wonder if it;s good

I wonder why i hate

I wonder why i cry

I wonder why im late

And why I want to die

Why can't i find solace,

In this blind populace

Whys the sky red?

why arent i dead?

When will i say goodbye,

No page left unturned.

When will I die?

When will I be burned?

Where will I see you?

You elusive spectre

When will I begin anew?

And no longer a prospector?

How do you do it?

Leave me alone

Were you slit?

Did you moan?

If I find red

How will you deal?

If I am dead

How will you feel?

If i should smile

If I should wake

If im in denial

Why should I shake?

The veins are still there

The red has not come

O I wish you could hear

You are Welcome

any time is fine

To hear my call

To hear my plea

To break my fall

To let me flee

To death do us part

On a midsummer's eve

Im in my cart

To a great bloody tree

Just let me lie

Just let me die

Just let me cry

Just leave me to weap

these tears of dread

let me sleep

wish me dead
 
damn. all the posts in this thread are so illin.

foodisfun... i dig

i wish i had something to contribute, but i have no lyrical talent or creativity. but everyone, keep writing, cuz i like to read your stuff
 
Please allow me a moment to break down,

a few of these things making the world shake down,

a few of the things we gotta take down,

i'm not talkin' bout the ghetto like some fake clown.

The injustices suffered and served,

and the worse part about is how nobody heard,

Not a news report, press release or even a whisper,

As silent as the words from his lips when he kissed her,

Nobody would mourn, notice or miss her,

Till her body showed up with blood, bruise and blisters.

The story unraveled, her life revealed,

She worked the streets and no longer peeled,

She couldn't shake the habit that made her his home,

Pushin' off one last time, blow straight to the dome.

But this shit was rotten, must've been tainted,

The story cut short, an ending repainted,

She died alone on her floor at 6 in the evening,

Funny how close friends, can turn out so decieving.
 
this is one of my favorite rymes that ive ever heard...i completely agree with you on this. you have some sick poems/rhymes.. and twix182, your shit is so sick. winn all yours are dope too, i think im gonna use one of yours for a class assigment if thats aight.

this is just some poem i wrote for english once, it didnt really have to do with anything i just started writing and my mind took it.

i rolled out of bed about and hour ago,

took a shower, brushed my teeth i was ready to show

for i wanted something good, potatoes and bacon you know

but my fridge didnt have it so i had to go

i made up my mind, to the market i went

so i could pursue my goal with money well spent

there i found my desire, you know what i meant

gave the vendor my money and off for the food i sent

and to my suprise, it jumped right out of the crate

walked down the street and sat down on a plate

in the middle of the street as a car made its fate

it ran over my food and the plate as of late

i was very unhappy at this unruly sight

for the food i loved was gone, this isnt right

to hold back from eating it took all my might

but i gave in, and proceeded to bite

the fact that i did this must have been bad

for a bird swooped down and took the fork from my hand

so i stayed in the street because i was sad

and proceeded to get hit by a car

(please excuse the horrid ending but i didnt know how to end it)

here's one i whipped out because my spanish teacher is rediculous

i sit bored in espanol one day

listening to the teacher but knowing no way

to do all the work assigned to us

because she doesnt teach all she does is fuss

and whine about how hard her work is

but none of us care because its none of our buisness

so i guess i'll just have to deal with it

but fuck it this class is shit

 
^thanks for the props. it's really great to see that im not the only one constantly making stuff up. thanks to everyone for keeping this going
 
here is one that i wrote recently about the vt attacks in relation to iraq, everyone goes nuts over the vt shootings but it happens in iraq everyday and no one makes a big deal about it, its not quite down but whatever..

no one couldve dreamed of what happend that day

a fool with a gun began to make his way

onto campus with wreaking havoc on his mind

after three hours, its horror that we'd find

"Crazy loner leaves 33 dead!"

this is what all the headlines said

throughout the class was all spattered red

becasuse death was what was in this guys head

yes it was tragic but it makes me think

here in america, they say "were on the brink

of destruction" and shit all like that

but then what the fuck goes on in IRAQ?

people overlook because it doesnt hit them home

since its overseas, they choose to leave it alone

wahts up with that? what about iraq?

what about the soldiers being attacked?

yeah yeah its not my problem, so it dont worry me

but, these problems here do, in the land of the free...(not really finished)
 
^i like that and im sure it could be even better if u keep going. i'll try to put something up soon on a less serious note. i might have to write something about the stock market crash of 1929, so i'll post it if i do it.
 
^your stuff sounds really nice.

here's my stock market crash one. each part was to be read in bewteen "acts" of a little skit so w/e.

The 1920’s were looking up, and all was going well,

Devastation coming soon but no one could really tell.

Stock Prices were rising quickly, and reached a record high,

Investors didn’t think much, all they wanted to do was buy.



Only a few knew what was coming, they tried to warn the rest,

Most others disagreed though, said the market was at its best.

Wise investors sold their stocks while they were at their very peak,

Many kept on buying though, quick fortune what they seek.



Soon all fell apart, and the stock market quickly declined,

And the words “Wall Street Crash,” were printed - bold and clearly headlined.

Destruction, devastation - chaos, and despair,

The only hope for the victims now, was continuous prayer.



All felt the pressure when the bubble had finally burst,

Millionaires turned to paupers, their lives were quickly reversed.

Many jobs had been lost as unemployment increased,

No money to spend, economic production near ceased.

So many felt hopeless, the fabric of their lives undone,

The “Roaring 20’s” were over, the Great Depression had begun.
 
yea it was for a global project and no one in my group did any work so i just wrote some rhymes and added a skript to go with it. sorry about the line spacing to, it was from a word document
 
i listened to a man's confession of undying love

paid attention to his lesson about the feel of a higher power above

"already knew the deal, i lit one up and walked"

I idle down the street and play these concrete keys, see if i can make the talk

i sail on the breeze for the peace and relief that comes

whiles life's a crisis for the middle east's daughters and sons

and though we walk under the same daylight, their paths

take them past slaughter and the blood as it runs

africa's wars are fought by children with guns for every seven-eleven i pass there's an AK 47 in the hands of someone young

and another one falls everytime i breath fresh air in my lungs

misdirection is no more perfected by any country that the african ones

because the worth of life is no less a sum than the price of a gun

peace, stabilty, freedom! presidents exclaim

thier word is their bond but those words cross the thin line between bonds and chains

i cross the street and stroll down the lane where i can enjoy a few drops of pure rain

the blues and grays in the sky hold no premonition of pain

relatively my position is tame, i can listen to the natural pitter patter rhythm i have no freedom to gain

the sun breaks clouds in the afternoon sky

makes me wonder why there's not enough love for all of the lives

hungry and desperate for the sound of a new tune and a new sight for their eyes

for a more profound meaning a peaceful street is a disguise

so im totally a hippy and all i can write about is how fucked up the world is

here is a poem (warning it has no ryhmmes, but those who loke spoken word may enjoy it):

p.s pay really close attention to the last line and the number of letters after "the morning of..."

in case nobody gets it i'll explain it at the end

the lights in his eyes long liberated to the skies his mother's paroxysms of despair churning the air of sadness around her into writhing vibrations of agony

blood and tears filled thier independent atmosphere

sounds could not permeate - only the wind

dust caked their sweat and blood soaked corpses - mother and son - one cold body with a spirit alive and one warn- afire with passion but spirit doused

33 bodies cold this morning

since being laid down by an object of explicit hatred wielded by frustration and immiturity - it's only state

the morning of fray, wasted redemption, 32 screams

ok about that last line...

fray = 4 letters

wasted redemption = 16 letters

32 = 0

srceams = 7

...put it all together and you get 4/16/07, the day of that shooting.

another: (it's called today tomorrow yesterday)

tired, locked in a haze behind my eyes

head weighed down, a general feeling of deprived

that fatigue in your limbs, every labor is tenfold

that turn of the stomach, that turn from fresh to old

my style is greasy hair and ink-stained hands

headache in my head and some paint on my pants

gray skies outside feelings so forlorn

gentle breezes coax golden grasses to quiver with the foreboding of a storm

rain pounds the windows with the force of the wind threatens to rip our flags from their poles

like nature saying "america's delusion of grandure is nothing compared to what i hold"

though her role is old our world holds vengence storiesthe rapture hasn't told

half-ass-backward we stumble into the mold of the perfect armagheddon, blind and deaf and dumb we still will feel what unfolds

lengths of dark hair fell upon her shoulders

pours like waterfalls over mossy boulders

rivers flowed out of the valleys between her toes

so it goes... the humans scrape her surface and ascend buildings to wonder at her from concrete windows

woe is me to say

today, tommorow, yesterday
 
oh i'd like to add another. it's pretty spiritual, i think i was high when i wrote it and it's more spoken word geared

art is lines, whether they are scribled illegibly inbetween this page's blue constraints

or gently sketched on endless canvasses with brushes and paints

whether it's notes are carefully writeen on a staff or notes played on strings in a melodic path

rythm flows along these contours and creates the profile of the soul

our ink and paint stained hands with calloused fingertips

our imaginations molding our creativity into twhat we are and subsequently vice versa in our control

our gentle calculated motions over the strings of a guitar or bass

between the lines of piano or trumpet keys

inspiration dances from our world to our eyes and down to our hips, our feet, our fingertips our words flow in curves their precenses are looked at as obliquites and thier curlycues linger on wet lips
 
^wow those were all in a league of their own. really nice. i gotta get back to doing some stuff, i've been slacking
 
ya they're ok acapella but they don't flow really when you have a beat thats what i have to work on
 
yea that's what i've been trying to do lately, kind of try to put stuff together. for me it's easier to listen to a beat and try to like memorize it, and then write stuff to it. it's harder fro me to write and then try to change it to fit the beat.
 
well with my second SAT coming tomorrow, i figured today i would write something. it was quick and kinda dumb but w/e.

The SAT wasn't made for me,

cause if it was meant to be, i think we can agree,

Our future shouldn't be determined by one test score,

if it's only math and english what'd we learn the rest for?

Math we don't care about, english we don't need,

I can do addition - I can write and read.

But we're not tested on important things - lessons we use everyday,

try to have a social life and school pushes it away.

I'm sure there were other people with thoughts like mine before,

but then they get older, and just don't care no more.

But no not me- i'll grow up, get older and wise,

and then i'll always remember my struggle when i see younger eyes.

And the thoughts and ideas that get held in - locked up by society,

so one day i'll get all the youth together, so we can fight to be finally free.
 
^ i re-listened to everything on your page or w/e and it sounds good. i've actually been trying to put stuff together to the beats in my head too, and it doesn't seem half bad. i might try recording it on my mp3 player thing and seeing how terrible i sound though.
 
another: (it's called today tomorrow yesterday)

tired, locked in a haze behind my eyes

head weighed down, a general feeling of deprived

that fatigue in your limbs, every labor is tenfold

that turn of the stomach, that turn from fresh to old

my style is greasy hair and ink-stained hands

headache in my head and some paint on my pants

gray skies outside feelings so forlorn

gentle breezes coax golden grasses to quiver with the foreboding of a storm

rain pounds the windows with the force of the wind threatens to rip our flags from their poles

like nature saying "america's delusion of grandure is nothing compared to what i hold"

though her role is old our world holds vengence storiesthe rapture hasn't told

half-ass-backward we stumble into the mold of the perfect armagheddon, blind and deaf and dumb we still will feel what unfolds

lengths of dark hair fell upon her shoulders

pours like waterfalls over mossy boulders

rivers flowed out of the valleys between her toes

so it goes... the humans scrape her surface and ascend buildings to wonder at her from concrete windows

woe is me to say

today, tommorow, yesterday

i really like that
 
Determination in his eyes,

like a predator spotting it’s prey.

Bumps down before him,

Only to get in his way.

He’ll have to make it down alive,

for the course is long and deep.

Don’t fall like a crash test dummy, he says,

The course is super steep.

His poles will swing beside him,

Coming to life like a set of legs.

Sprinting down the course,

Not cracking like an egg.

He will take off in the air,

Have a nice little flight.

There shall be some peanuts,

So it should be alright.

He will land shortly after,

But it wont be over yet.

There is much more to come,

He’ll definitely break a sweat.

He thinks these thoughts up top,

Before he must go.

Race down that bump course!

And do it with flow.
 
bringin it back

she fills her lungs with summer hums

past her seep red brick scum from plundered slums

young guns run to buck thunder drums

one hundred tons of street-struck sent-assunder sons

ever since the first sight of greed they hungered for some

she walks past every one, resolves to flee the web we've spun

the more she tries she realizes it's easier said than done

blue eyes rise like lead with the sun

she cries, wonders when had this all begun?

never saw it come but heard it was said and done

but she has that warm breath that keeps her heart from freezing

never fron the start had she played the part of not believing

suffered the slings and darts but kept the art when the oceans were seething

pushed through the flotsam and promised to never loose that notion of brreathing

forget me nots in this dirty business to remind you

another grimace for the listless witness to be blind to

always with solutions only from hind view

more shoulda woulda coulda soley to rewind through

thats all i have for that one right now
 
yea i was gonna bumb this bt i haven't done anything in a while with the final end of year push at school. i'll have some more after schools done
 
I'm thinking back to that day in November,

The day that I feel changed my life forever.

This is the day that has caused all of this pain,

The day I had my first shot of cocaine.

I try to think about why I made this decision,

To my mom, dad, and friends I just wouldn't listen.

They said that I was a nice kid and not a bit mean

But that was soon to change when I started smokin that green,

I had made the realization that I needed to change and get clean.

I needed to fix that fucked up life that wasn't worth livin,

I needed to use the skills and the help that I was given.

I would get clean and forever forget that crystal meth and LSD,

So with my parents choice to send me to rehab I had to agreed.

Now I feel better living my own life and chillin,

And it feels good to not be treated like I was a villan.

I'm living a clean life even going back to college,

I hope all of you listen to my newfound knowledge.
 
here's a quickie i put together for the last day of school today (Junior year)

The end of the school year has come again, but now it's the second to last,

The most important year of all, went by too quick- too fast.

Three years of high school gone, now just one more to go,

No one told me I would enjoy it, I really didn't know.

The work was hard, and sometimes tough, but it seems i made it through,

Homeroom nappin, fresstyle rappin, cause that's just how I do.

The seniors leave and we move up, now we're the oldest here,

Summer memories fly by fast, leading to our final year.

So as the day and year wind down, and as the hallways empty out,

Enjoy your time and enjoy this rhyme, cause that's what high school's about.
 
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