Wondering what people will write to this...
Wondering what people will write to this...
Po'Ethics - Est. 2004
Days go by and my life seems to be a game without a name.
Death's board, with which I have to capture life's pieces in this game.
My brain memorizes a strategy to become the greatest player.
Did I make the right move or choice, I'll find out so, later.
Craters of problems fall and rain on me like showers of bad dreams.
If I lose a piece in life, I end up dead or depressed as a sad teen.
I'm a pawn, learning from bishops, on how I am supposed to act.
Becoming the greatest isn't the challenge, it's learning all the facts.
But I cry, sometimes and realize, how it would be I lose to much.
A lonely suburban kid, with no friends or girls, living without love.
Life hasn't tied together, how I will end up, but the game dies.
Cause life's a game played on a board of hope, on which I cry.
Realities converge, merge with parallel universes
Shape shifting lands, under time warping curses
Rain comes down, but not from the clouds like here
The land bleeds tears, floating into the atmosphere
Three colors of depression, lessen spiritual aggression
The lessons are hidden, in unseen dimensions
Tension is high, atoms split from unknown stress
The world is rocked, Switching East to West
Depressed, all life is wiped clean from the ground
Slides off into the beyond not a molecule is found
Three-Dimensional depth is obscured by visions
Divine Intervention charged with unknown missions
A few achievements here and there
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the flow, of things as they went to pieces,
it was a crazy day for the intellectuals
and the idiots, but with the breath that was held
so everyone could breathe, it was simply
just to much for one man to take
as he stood upon the bow twitch'n
hoping and praying the angel of death would come to him next
but how was he suppose to give in when everything
was just melting around him
it wasnt the matter of things that left him in that trance
it wasnt the last huff, he woulda danced anyway
but there was no rain, so how could he feel the feelings
while going insane?,but back to that breath , i know you cant breathe
with out the nod of a head, because you only do it
to be a success, be ever thing you want them to be with out ever
really .....
giving it any thought
Death?
Nothingness?.. Not Quite.
The endless pattern signals-
Purgatory's Kiss.
Last edited by Chris Black; September 20th, 2004 at 02:35 AM
Hence Forward
axis powers
A poem written within a signal of despair
Has left the eyes of the earth
And touch downed upon a planet more fair
In a circle not finished with what remains unseen
Yet the truth is still vivid
Though the answer is scentless and keen
A thousand tears and a thousand stories
Have left the eyes and lips of one
Begun with death and ended with life
For thy mind is weak and dumb
Listen to the calling and replay it backwards
That’s where the true angel sings
And forever just think of the angles that change
Yet don’t name yourself the King.
ARTIFICIAL | PO'ETHICS | INTELLIGENCE
Physical existence flipped with such a distinctive shade
Life was laid down as these forgetful droplets fade
Was everything going to land in the right time ans place
Or is god sending us a much anticipated sign to end every race
Ideas crowd a cluttered mind stressing the sign
Am I one of the forgetful droplets and if so which is mine
Are there designated destruction paths that I must follow
Or will you guide me through to a better tomorrow
Amid the brisk darkness of the night
Storm clouds create tension in the sky
Rain flows like tears, a very emotional night
Why have these clounds decided to cry
Leaving traces of their pain among everything on the ground below
The pain will be felt tonight, as countless droplets hits the car window
Along this deserted road, the full moon gives off the only light
Leaning forwards, and squinting eyes do not help his vision
The rain continues to fall, yellow and black come to sight
A dead end, seen to late, he can't avoid the collision
He struggles to breathe, grasping at empty pockets of air
The sign lets out tears, seeing him slip away, all it can do is stare
perplexing n complex yet at tha same time leavin u guessing,
what tha next move will be like a mys'try movie nothing less than moving,
proving that such imagery could bring enemies to a common ground,
not common found,
which makes it something to revolve around
like evolution in nature, anonymous nomenclature n even less tha sound,
'less its found to be negative its nothing jus to be thrown down,
thrown around n taken for granted afta tha initial lusta is gone,
cuz once tha shine starts to fade, no one will pay attention to tha song,
no stories will be remembered jus seen as anotha stupid myth,
that we can live without n only a few care to muscle with,
must we quit??? searching for history throughout our present lives,
future is near but tha game seems to be over already like a chess board that cries
ay yall posts are sick man ima come do these on tha weekly jus to see what some of yall put
the tears of the game of life
from ancient egypt to modern society
our existence cries for itself
we have abused our world mercilessly
we are just a global disease
time sees all iniquity and will punish
as it sees fit to...the issue
is not whether or not we are worthy
but when we shall recieve
our time of judgement is nigh to come
from pain we cannot run
everything shall have it's time in due
and every tear it cries
another notch on our post of evils
actions against infinity
our existence shall remain in infamy
to life we are an enemy
and time's tears tell...the pain its felt
we are the children
and time is our daddy with the leather belt
Bittersweet
all loss of control,the world is a mess
love is forgotten by anger and stress
youths getting vexed,
all loss of control,theworld is a mess
love is forgotten by anger and stress
youths getting frustrated and vexed
all of them tired
or trying to make something
of life, be admired
yet their left with confusion
if life's a rat race and we're all fucking losing
happiness sounds nice but it
feels an illusion
our happiness momentary
from the drugs we're abusing
using boredom as an excuse for our crimes
in truth just lost souls
who were never given the time
to be something better
so they stepped out of line
two fingers to the world
gave a fuck about nothing
a generation of nobodys who could've been something.
from my man made conception,i was the playing feel'd,for a moment the center of attention, but then it changed direction,cuz its hard to being wood when everythings high-tech,so why tempt,or believe that my pieces will be set,i sit in a dark box with nothing but my own thoughts,a spider made a web,built a nest,laid some eggs,and years go bye, the spiders have all died,and everyday i go on with my life,until the box opens and i see a light,they tossed me ontop of some logs, with so much heat coming off,my paint is poping and melting,a half an hour later im gone....
The game is in play and the pieces are set…. your move
The world is ever changing so you’d better keep pace and move soon
Knight 3…a balloon carries my piece away without a first warning
Is this how life is played? People disappear without a chance of mourning?
Suddenly all goes away and this world collapses upside down
In this hyperbolic world not a scream from my lips can be found
I must get out of here! But each wall is a window that leads to forever
The ceiling is the floor and vice versa…my soul I has been rendered
Tears run up my face…the blood drips…my world slowly fades black
I fall…forever….
….and all of the games pieces come back
im only feelin a few cats....
lyric n foreshadow are droppin some niceness....dont sleep on em
Wit.