i am sam/poetry slam

startafight · 2018-06-21 00:47:44

born to a village
as a man
i was known
to be sam

in the farm
i practiced my poems
nobody stopped
guess nobody knew em

but one strange man
stopped to stare
his name was waylon
and he cared

shoes and shirt
then a hat
he gave me
all of that

to the grave
way up north
was his mother
who gave him birth

a shroom for mom
and one for waylon
i really didnt
want to fail him

but in town
a child named ares
a girl who was mean
and not really fair-ish

ares shouted
and demanded a hat
but the girl
denied her that

so she took a knife
from her pack
and cut up the girl
like a snack

then she turned to me
and demanded my shirt
but it was waylons gift
to part would hurt

my mother rose
raised me right
so i never
stayed to fight

i ran away
with a huff
hoping that
she would piss off

in the woods
cried a babe
only minutes old
and not too late

i fed the child
and warned him
of the murderer
who was quite grim

but off he went
to the south
and i prayed
it would work out

i grew old
not a shroom in sight
i guess worms
would be alright

saw my son
grown and strong
gave him my clothes
hoped he would live long

by the graves
i found my mam
the person who made me
sam, i am

http://lineage.onehouronelife.com/serve … _id=370233

Last edited by startafight (2018-06-21 05:22:39)

YAHG · 2018-06-21 00:56:48

I like it.

startafight · 2018-06-21 01:00:34

YAHG wrote:

I like it.

thanks man
i did all
that i can

YAHG · 2018-06-21 01:13:18

startafight wrote:

YAHG wrote:
I like it.
thanks man
i did all
that i can

No worries dude, I wish I knew how to read though.

startafight · 2018-06-21 01:16:32

YAHG wrote:

No worries dude, I wish I knew how to read though.

it can be tough
when you werent raised
to read enough

but i know
if you learn
reading will be
something well earned

AnobeseWalrus · 2018-06-21 01:48:17

oh ares, she was my sister. that bitch killed me too because i was making an arrow to dispatch her.

Lotus · 2018-06-21 03:07:46

Hello Sam. Glad to hear you survived until old age. I loved hearing your poems, they were beautiful. When I first saw you reciting them, I was gravely confused, but recognized them soon after. Thank you for respecting my wish in death. Glad you liked the red clothes I gave you — despite nearly being murdered, you turned out to be a great man. Good work.

Love,
Waylon

karltown · 2018-06-21 03:17:22

That was fun
It was enjoyed
Too bad it’s done
I’m unemployed

Sounds exciting
Fresh and new
Also frightening
Sticky glue

startafight · 2018-06-21 03:24:08

Lotus wrote:

Hello Sam. Glad to hear you survived until old age. I loved hearing your poems, they were beautiful. When I first saw you reciting them, I was gravely confused, but recognized them soon after. Thank you for respecting my wish in death. Glad you liked the red clothes I gave you — despite nearly being murdered, you turned out to be a great man. Good work.
Love,
Waylon

hello waylon
you were quite nice
on your grave
i repeated it twice

i named the child
after you
and to your name
he grew true

hope in the future
we will meet again
and maybe ill be the teacher
this time old friend

Lotus · 2018-06-21 03:35:07

Likewise, my friend.

It’s an honor to have had your son named after me. Thank you.

YAHG · 2018-06-21 03:41:37

I admit that when I saw "you"
I hoped in my heart
You would rhyme it with poo
,At least I did

startafight · 2018-06-21 03:49:14

YAHG wrote:

I admit that when I saw "you"
I hoped in my heart
You would rhyme it with poo
,At least I did

i dont know why
you think high art
like poetry
should rhyme with fart

or that in this post
which is serious
and dedicated to utmost
could be so delirious

or that maybe i am
writing this at
4 am
in my house

that has a mouse
and id say you are a rube
so i can rhyme it with
boob

Last edited by startafight (2018-06-21 03:49:39)

karltown · 2018-06-21 04:28:52

Since this seems to be the poetry slam, I’ve wrote one about our Dicktown

Five guys
Without a care
Considering
No women
Anywhere

We stripped and prayed
To church of dick
A good thing the girls
Were not present
They would have moaned
And brayed
That dead lambs make them sick

O lambs!
You were our sons
And daughters
Dipped you in
The holy waters
Placed you by the graves
Our precious ones
O lambs!
Too bad
So sad
You tasted so much like hams

Steve
Hubby of Carl
And so my rival
Too bad you weren’t an eve
I’m sure you were nice
Jeez that sounds cold
As ice
I’m told
Good luck up there
You had nice hair

Carl
Love me love me
For eternity
In ending you
(This was far later)
I ended myself
Twas not an act of murder but of love
Though pierced you at first like an alligator
As most strong things do
I loved you
And you loved me too

Luna
My wife
The other
Lover
Of my life
I wish you could have lived
I needed you
But more the city
For your kiddy poos
You were also pretty.

I had to go
I asked to die
A man with a bow
Obliged
But struck another
Oh what tragedy
Yet comedy
Oh yes
Oh no.

So me and my love
I starved
He was killed
By me
For our love
Entwined
And free
In Dick Church
Our love was first tilled
And so it shall finish
I thank the lambs above

Oh
The other two
You were coo
Tanks for stripping
Your cloth
At the halftime show
I don’t remember
Much you know,
But your name
Did it start
With a U?

YAHG · 2018-06-21 05:00:20

THOT PATROL:

The white bar filled slowly on the dark field
A cry filled the air, another hungry mouth to feed
This one mine.. the odds, never in my favor
But twang! the string of death was plucked true
Then letters red with questions spill
In rivers of a Mothers Blood, Mine..

BEGONE THOT the bowman bellowed
His arrow spent his brother, my brother echoed out
THOT PATROL!!
A small baby crying at the feet of death and life together
Sings out a plaintive wail, "F"

Stockholm is a Cold city
She was a Thot they said
The cow says Moo but the baby says F
One letter at a time my silence echoed out compliance
But a men hears what they wants to hear
A vine of vengance planted in bloody soil
"F"

Little Hands can be busy too
Rows and Rows from wet to dry
Catechisms of the Guilty echoing their justice
Athena but not in wisdom armed
Vines planted in fertile soil may yet bear fruits
Blood of the Mother on the hand of the child
But Stockholm is a Cold city
And heavy is the hand of vengeance

The mouth is a gate that holds the tongue inside
The wise men bar the doors the night to sally with the golden dawn
Vines planted in fertile soil in time may yet bear fruits
But the young are always restless
Charging fore the break of day

Loose lips sink ships they say or something of the sort
But not all Men are wise to close the gates
Some are not meant for the cold

And twang! the string of death was plucked true
Then letters red with anger spill
In rivers of a Daughters Blood, Mine..

TAIOAN · 2018-06-21 05:00:50

That is, wow!

karltown · 2018-06-21 05:10:27

YAHG wrote:

THOT PATROL:
The white bar filled slowly on the dark field
A cry filled the air, another hungry mouth to feed
This one mine.. the odds, never in my favor
But twang! the string of death was plucked true
Then letters red with questions spill
In rivers of a Mothers Blood, Mine..
BEGONE THOT the bowman bellowed
His arrow spent his brother, my brother echoed out
THOT PATROL!!
A small baby crying at the feet of death and life together
Sings out a plaintive wail, "F"
Stockholm is a Cold city
She was a Thot they said
The cow says Moo but the baby says F
One letter at a time my silence echoed out compliance
But a men hears what they wants to hear
A vine of vengance planted in bloody soil
"F"
Little Hands can be busy too
Rows and Rows from wet to dry
Catechisms of the Guilty echoing their justice
Athena but not in wisdom armed
Vines planted in fertile soil may yet bear fruits
Blood of the Mother on the hand of the child
But Stockholm is a Cold city
And heavy is the hand of vengeance
The mouth is a gate that holds the tongue inside
The wise men bar the doors the night to sally with the golden dawn
Vines planted in fertile soil in time may yet bear fruits
But the young are always restless
Charging fore the break of day
Loose lips sink ships they say or something of the sort
But not all Men are wise to close the gates
Some are not meant for the cold
And twang! the string of death was plucked true
Then letters red with anger spill
In rivers of a Daughters Blood, Mine..

Rivers depleted can quickly be recreated if the vengeance wins over. I would have killed the bowman and his brother. Taste your own bastardly folly.
I enjoyed your poem. It gives a nice contrast to the other two. I truly believe this is turning into poetry slam, and I hope it does.

YAHG · 2018-06-21 06:09:06

How much further will it be my Brother?
I am more old than young, draped in the fineries of the Dead
I have been running but all my life, yet none of yours
The east it called out once! One soft sweet tone of life, beckoning promises
Running running never closer
I am not running from you, I am running towards life
How much further will it be?

Hand to mouth works just fine if you have quick hands
Mother is in the bushes now, the berries will be waiting with her
If cold hands are a warm heart, what are slow hands?
Perhaps the bushes know

We were little in the bushes together, you less so than I
In the shadow of death we ate our fill, full of life together
Bush to bush, hand to mouth
We would be fine you said, you had me you said
We were little in the trees together, you less so than I

Big and dumb and hungry but we didn't care
The beast would lunge
-hungry-
But not for berries

I remember how you laughed with your quick feet
Me and you dancing with the bear
Round and round
We had a dodge for every lunge
And you had a fruit for every F
Hand to mouth works fine when your hands are fast
What are slow feet?
Maybe the Bear knows

I can run for both of us now.

How much further will it be my Brother?
Before it tolled for me, I saw the wreckage of the beast
Strewn out on seeded plain
Anything a Man could want
Except someone to share it with..
And I heard it call to me a sweet note soft from the East
Promises

But I am less young than old now, carrying the memory of the Dead
How much further will it be my Brother?

This spot is just as good as any to lay my burden down
You can live hand to mouth if your hands are fast enough
You can dance with a bear if your feet are nimble enough

I have been running but all my life, yet none of yours
Beckoning but I am still alone
I can run for both of us
But I am never getting closer

It is too far for me my Brother.

karltown · 2018-06-21 13:16:27

A series of haikus:

Wife, you begged me, “No!”
Alas the love must end. My
Withered hands held death

I asked for murder
The bow tempted me, but you
Would not let me die

At last a short rang
And my hearty was soaked wet blood
“Im a lover now.”

“And forever not
A fighter” but my wife was
Deeply grieving me

If only you were
Older, your withered hands could
Have died by my side

Lotus · 2018-06-21 16:21:40

I was reborn in the village and saw the grave you made me. Thank you.

But Mom let me die soon after. Sad.

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#1 2018-06-21 00:47:44

i am sam/poetry slam

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