Poll: ???
Poll Options
View poll results: ???
3 50%
3 50%
Voters: 6.
Vote for the best PAIR of poems. The black goes with the blue.

All Dressed Up for Church on Colombine

I can prove to you God isn’t selfish,
He made me,
He could’ve made somebody worth his time,
But He made me.
A drunken rambling poet,
Dancing with plastic shoes,
In this room filled with *****s,
As I wait one last night,
For one more cheap ****.

There’s a wasteland growing in Boston,
As we plant concrete in the parks,
To clean up the junkies and the bums.
They are the true gladiators of our generation,
Fighting society for our entertainment,
We already know the ending,
But seeing other peoples pain,
Helps us forget about our own.
We just love watching the underdog lose for a change.

If I lived in the thirties maybe I could be useful,
But when God made me,
I must have been the paint,
He scrubbed off of black peoples hands.

I wasn’t even good enough to be black.

Crocodile Evening

"One more for the road," he politely asks the bartender
Quite the swanky place for a dive dweller like this
"Ah, but that's the problem," the good sir replies.
You can't even find the road in a state like this.


The road's right ****ing there
you think.
The **** does a high school dropout like him know anyway.
He got this job because of that damn hipster haircut he has.
At least the tail here looks good.
At least the tail here looks good.
Go home with some nice broad
That's why you're at this yuppie **** stain bar anyway

"I gotta cut you off bro."
I'm not your bro, **** fag.
I know my god damned limits

"Man it's time for you to

Yeah, i'll bounce.
The ****'s that even mean.
God damn ass hole.

Hitting the road takes on a whole new meaning
As you jettison through the wind shield
And the pavement wears your drunk, arrogant face
down to nothing.
At least you didn't leave anyone behind.

Disjoint Act I

They don't applaud your performance,
They applaud because that's what
all the others do, and because
they hope that the waves of sound
might make the curtains fall.

You see, all the doors here
lead back to the stage; but
you'll never hear an encore, because
you'll be finished
much before the play.

I think you should stop drinking
from those cans of conservatism.
You do the acts, not the scripts,
and if you don't like the lines
then why open your mouth?

I'm attired colorful enough, but
to your color blind eyes
I'm just shades of gray.
Stop blaming me for forgetting lines;
I've only changed them.


Cold water on hot face
An ice embrace on fire
I don’t know, I’m just tired
And my eyes are bleary
A blurred reflexion on the mirror tells me
This day won’t be the best day of your life
So you better run to your bed
There’s nothing else to do but hide

And I expect they come and seek me
And they notice I’m disappearing
But it all just was in vain
I guess it was the price I paid
For being egocentric

If I took my life today
Would you say I’m a cult?
And all my songs would float
Through the saga of rock era
And history would repeat its canon because we’ve all
Seen this happen many times before
So I’ll just lay here and imagine
It’s what I do when I feel bored

And I expect they call to know
If I’m doing okay or so
But it all just was in vain
I guess it was the price I paid
For being egocentric

And I’ve been waiting for such a long time
For someone to tell me I am special
To say I’m doing good in whatever
Except for what I am supposed
Because those are ordinary
And they are common for everyone
Could you separate me?
From all the majority
It’s all I’m asking you here


I don’t expect anything from you
You never gave me any proof to
You were always passive to this
A change now would lead to a dismiss
I was never egocentric
I just felt like it for this bit…
Last edited by bassbeat77 at Jul 20, 2008,