The MBoard

Hello and welcome to the coolest joint on the curly fried net, baby.  If you've got a funky fresh side that ya just can't hide, well the time is right to ignite, and toss yo hot self on a pile of style.  But be warned, you're gettin cozy with the most bone-saggin cats that ever meowed.  So if you think you got what it takes to be cool like you-know-who, then stand and deliver, dear brother or sister.

Or maybe, if you know a mama or a papa whose words make your hearts stoppa, then go and coppa and pasta their pretty little ditty so we can click our digits to the rhythm of the boogy, the beat.  You feel me? Ehehehe...


My name is Jake, and this my poem about tissues

Tissue, oh tissue
You're never and issue
Unless you run out
In which case, I miss you

If you were fine cuisine,
In an instant I'd dish you,
And if you were a fine woman,
Why of course I would beat you,

For women belong in the kitchen you see,
Along with scores of food cook-ery,
And if one speaks before she is asked,
Expect for my rage to soon be unmasked.

If the neighbors suspect, she'll not utter a peep,
Or I'd smother her face while she silently sleeps,
I will send dear Tommy to bury her body,
And tell him she was punished for being so naughty.

Thank you.

*laughs*

Though I must say, this should be in the creation station.

Yeah probably. Someone should move this.

I like beat poetry but I can't find my favourites on YouTube right now. But other than that beat stuff, I've grown kind of tired of writing and reading poems that rhyme.

Ooh, honey honey, I feel some mega nega-waves in your general direction! Someone toss a sack of hacky on this mack's whacky.

*laughs harder*

...






























... Starbucks makes coffee?
Thought they just sold dirt water.
Well, my mind is blown.

Ooh, honey honey, I feel some mega nega-waves in your general direction! Someone toss a sack of hacky on this mack's whacky.

No nega-waves here. I was just sayin'.

Well say no more, señor.  I have something right up your alley. It's poetry to my ears anyhow.


One day me and my mom went to the mall and saw big t rexes but i cou'ldnt touch them because mom said they were only for looking.  so then we went to a close store and mom bought close for me and they had a t rex on them just like in the mall!! And i was soooooooooo happy that i bite my mom and she made a scary face and then we had to give back the close to the store an so i got green an blue close instead but its ok becaus those are my favarite colors anyway. and then i was mad when i was hungry so we went to mcdanalds an so we got i got a burger and a toy but mom said i could not even play with my own toy!!! so i bite her agin but this time she didnt make me give back my burger but she also put me in the bathrom with her an then she put her curling iron on my back and it hurt a lot because she has it in her purs when i am bad.

And then we went home and then for summer we also went to grammas house and she has lots of funny cats. there is a cat and his name is derek just like my name! gramma is fun because she lets me play video games but sometimes she isnt fun because one time she thru a bottle of her grown-up soda at me and a peece of it poked me on the tummy and i cried because blood came out but she didnt give me a bandaid or nothin.  And she called me poose poose poose and she petted derek the cat. and she called him a poose too. what is a poose?

and that is all i remeber from the summer vucation i had. the end.

Well it was just an opinion but I only know read your first poem and fine then, if you don't want to be serious at all, here's one from MTV Live by Dan Levy.

An Ode To An Ex by Dan Levy (http://s127.photobucket.com/albums/p140/MTVLive/MTV Live Episodes/2008/Dan Levy/?action=view&current=DansBreakupPoem.flv)

So you broke up with me,
So what?
My friends say you've got a big butt.
I don't care you walked out on me,
I was wanting to pay you to leave.
It all worked out for the best
To get you off my chest.
I'm not lonely at all,
Now I spend most of my time at the mall.

I do NOT spend most nights crying.
You're a bitch and a slut and you're lying.
I'm better off now by myself,
You #####ing ##### ass piece of #####.
So now I'm done talking about you.
Why don't you take your #####ing ##### ass face and go poo?

Well it was just an opinion but I only know read your first poem and fine then, if you don't want to be serious at all, here's one from MTV Live by Dan Levy.

Haha man don't worry. You're entitled to your own opinion.

I won't bang on you if you put up a serious poem.  I didn't want to turn this into a haha funny deal.  At least, not completely anyways.

Haha, I feel like cooking something up but it's a bit late. I like this, Jake.

: Mikero  24 June 2008, 05:21:09

Well it was just an opinion but I only know read your first poem and fine then, if you don't want to be serious at all, here's one from MTV Live by Dan Levy.

Haha man don't worry. You're entitled to your own opinion.

I won't bang on you if you put up a serious poem.  I didn't want to turn this into a haha funny deal.  At least, not completely anyways.

Yeah I know, I just didn't realize it didn't have to be serious unTIL IT WAS TOO LATE.

And I will never post a poem I've written as I am total crap.

Coma

A pause in time;
A breath of death;
A stint of lifeless wonder.

I stop to think,
Of the life I'll lead,
When I return from three-feet-under.

Gazing forth,
Glancing back,
At the median of my tunnel,

I ponder if,
I'm gaining ground,
Or twisting down a funnel.

I speculate,
Of Utopias,
Of torturous hells and void.

I must confide,
I can't decide,
What'll happen when I'm destroyed.

Whether exclamation,
Or period,
It isn't worth the trauma.

For me, it is,
A question mark,
And a coma's just a comma.

Well, that was dope.

It really was, I loved the format. Very nice.

I like the last line.

It reminds me of a line my best friend wrote in one of her poems (which I think are #####ing incredible and would post them if I was allowed but she thinks she is le poo, I guess) which went like;

and death I think is no parenthesis

I don't put poetry on the internet terribly often, as I've had a bad history of people ripping me off.

Tim Chambers comes to mind.

Maybe more tomorrow.

I don't know who Tim Chambers is but we can go fight him if you want. Or go get Dairy Queen. Either way I'm getting ice cream.

Tim Chambers is getting ice cream in his pants! I'll put it there! And he'll be uncomfortable and sticky!

I suggest putting it in his face, he is already uncomfortable and sticky downstairs as a result of his frequent yeast infections.

Yeah, but if we put it in his face there's a chance he'll eat some and thus become less uncomfortable due to the sheer deliciousness of Dairy Queen.

In the ear?

There's a possibility.

I was also thinking shirt. Or hair.

Good work on that poem, ol' Edge. You really hit it's nose with a sledge.
But I digress, I must really confess...
... you've left me wondering about life's ledge.

I call that one "Why I'm not allowed to write poems 2".
but seriously, it was a good poem sir

Today I played some Star Force Two
Expecting a total hunk of poo
However it was fun to do
Surprsing me, surprising you.

ALSO

I read today of MegaMan Nine
And I thought, how splendid! how simply divine!
I suppose at Splash Woman I draw the line
Still, for MegaMan Nine I truly pine

AND

Today I went to the bank
Later I had a good wank

LET'S NOT FORGET

This poetry reeks
Birds have big beaks
Your face is stupid

I broke my 4th DS yesterday
Luckily I get a new one and I don't have to pay
#####ing flashcart, I hate you


Thank you.

Your face is stupid

MY FACE IS AWESOOOOME

Majikn, that was totally math.

If there aren't any objections, I think I'd like to post some of my not-so-humorish stuff.  I'm afraid I've become quite the one trick pony at this saloon.

Dearest Jake, I'd like to say
Anyone who objects is gay
However that is not the way
And to your request, I say "Nay!"
But alas, it's Opposite Day,
So post away!

"Hey, why don't I just go and eat some hay. I can lay by the bay, make things out of clay, I just may, what'd ya say?"

Necromancy FTW.

I wrote this for an english class in 98, so it's almost ten years old at this point.

It still makes me smile though, so I thought I'd share.

The Bane of Pain

I lay in bed, I thought 'twas dead
But for the pain, I can't explain
The pounding dread, within my head
Why won't it wane, cries out my brain.

Broken filling, dental drilling
O' curse the bane, of toothache pain
I'd be killing, if God's willing
To cease refrain of molar's pain.

What can relieve and grant reprieve
From curse, the bane, of toothache pain
It will alleve, I must believe
Or will abstain, from life mundane.

I cry aloud, I am not proud
Down on my knees, O' help me please
To God I vowed, if he allowed
Relief to ease, the pain appease.

I hear my wife, say stop the strife
Quit whining dear, or I do fear
I'll get a knife, to end your life
To me was clear, the end was near.

Consternation, tribulation
But then I see, it came to me
Inspiration, jubilation
Tylenol three, O' come to me.

I took the pill, and downed with swill
Pain's vacation, pure elation
It fit the bill, the blessed pill
Transcend dental medication.

That was...

...

very skilled.

Bravo.

Very rhythmic and well done. I like it even though its depressing.

Heh, that was cool.

I'd also like to point out that in 98 I had neither a wife, or dental problems.

I read that aloud to my room mate, he too found it amusing.

I liked it. A lot. I wish I had more to say.

That was great, loved it. Dental work is deep, man.

snap
snap
snap
snap

I especially like the very last line, haha.

I noticed when I signed on MMM that there were new posts in "Jake's Poetry Corner" and "Edgecrusher" was listed as having the latest post in another board, so I was like "Osnap he definitely posted a poem" and I pranced on over like it was Christmas.

I do not like to bake
I miss my friend Jake
I'm so sad I want to shout
I miss Jake; And so I pout
It might be my fault for I said out loud...
Jake you fiend! You are not allowed!

Aww... so sweet...

So...yeah...this is a poem I wrote a while ago...yeah...

Masochist

All this time I've been lost,
Sweltering within the depths of my sorrow.
Torturing myself every goddamn day
With the ritualistic games played throughout my mind.

I've pushed you away,
Told you to leave me alone,
When there is nothing I'd love more in the world
Than to accept the comfort within your smile.

I want to end all these thoughts,
Stop my continual contemplation.
I can see in your eyes
You feel my plea.

I can't take your assistance so graciously offered.
My foolish pride will not simply allow it.
It masks my emotions with a facade
Colder than the arctic chill.

So I cast you aside
Like disregarded trash.
I tell my heart it's better off this way,
But all I do is hurt myself.

---

So...how bad did you think it was...?

EDIT: Also, I wasn't sure if the poetry had to rhyme or not, so if I made a mistake in this just let me know (Though I'm certain somebody would've eventually)...

Hmm. The thing about poetry is, and this may just be a personal thing for me, but you need to show your emotions rather than just say what your emotions are.

What you've written seems like it would work just as well in prose form, at least in my view. I'm definitely no poet, but I write some every once in a while and I always strive to keep things... between the lines. Like if I was sad about something I wouldn't write something like "I'm sad because my girlfriend broke up with me," I'd use a metaphor. I'd create an image out of my own personal symbols. But that's just me because I rather like imagery.

Er...Here's another poem...Please...criticize my crappy writing...

Hollow Man


He is the hollow man

Sitting in the dark

Dead inside

Watching the happy people

Live their happy lives

Shrouded in sunshine and puppies

And all that Pollyanna bull#####

But he is not envious, no

Because he is the hollow man

Never feeling anything

Yet always feeling everything

Talking to himself in the shadows

Seeking his desolate mind for guidance

Separating himself from society

Don't pity him, though

Don't feel sorry for him

For he is not sad

Because he is the hollow man

Destroying himself with each step

Living in comfortably in his lie

Content within the shell he calls "logic"

Though, the home he has built for himself

Is deceptively consoling

He believes it's better to be alone

To have never met anyone

For then he never has to lament at the absence of others

---

Er...please give an honest (and helpful if my poetry needs improvement, which I know it does) oppinion...

"Art is not only about angst."   - John Corigliano

The first leaves of autumn crash against the windowpanes
One or two survivors push through the small opening, blowing past my face
The storm brews, the wind bending the waves and trees alike
The still-clinging leaves whisper, rustle, their reality shaken, death eminent

The hail comes first, the driving force that clears the path for raindrops
Drumming the earth and rooftops in its fury, setting the rhythm
Rumbling, clattering, sizzling as the rain joins in the dance
A frying pan full of water and oil, spitting and spraying and stinging

It stops for a moment, still as the glass in a hand-mirror
Then comes the new rain; soft, gentle, comforting, motherly
Caressing the fallen leaves and twigs, washing them down the street
The sidewalk clean, the gutters full of the once-glorious life of a leaf

Greens, golds, yellows, reds, floating in an arc on the tides
Moving swiftly toward the stream, catching on small plants yet living
Protection for stability, shield for lodging, warmth of fireside chats
Brethren circle down to join kin, some caught on the last snippets of winds

The storm clouds break apart, the rays of sunset bathe the scene
Surreal, glistening, reds and golds in spite of all else
Dark clouds purple, shadows pacing the earth o'er all upon it
Rising, stretching, blending into the final curtain of night

These are actually about being late for work. On Fridays and Saturdays we have a meeting on arrival, and it was decided recently that those who are not reasonably on time must freestyle rap (during the meeting) why they are late.

Well, ##### freestyle. These're nothing special but they'll get it over with fast enough.

LATE EXCUSES
---
The reason why I'm late
Gives naught to demonstrate
But maybe I can orate
That it was all just fate

I needed entry to the room
Where your bowels seem to boom
And even though I swiped on time
It called for what I pass for rhyme

My sleep is in a setting
That deserves some regretting
And it's due this abberation
The reason of my tardation

I was promised a ride
So I relaxed and sighed
But then the driver lied
So I ran desperately and cried

... Any other ideas?

Your job is awesome.

Freestyle rap why you are late?!
That's Awesome!

I got nothing at the moment.

I love that you rhyme the word "tardation"

Though shame on you for spittin' writtens.

Hah, our math class is like that, except the teacher hates the idea, but the students go along with freestyle Friday's anyway.

I gotta get to thinkin' up some #####..

... It's not a freestyle if you're not making it up on the fly.

My whitey brain isn't set to freestyle mode at the moment. I really gotta keep up with the jams now and then, which is why I need the gears to be turnin'.

I freestyle a lot, but I'm really bad at it. Like, and I mean, I do it a lot.

I'm not particularly good, but it's fun for me and it's entertaining enough to anyone else because, well, I'm a short white kid trying to freestyle.

It's a lot of fun.

#####, I misspelled aberration.
That makes me angry, because I love that word.

I love that you rhyme the word "tardation"

Though shame on you for spittin' writtens.

I wanted to sound smart, haha.

As for spittin' writtens, I doubt I'll ever be late, and if I am, I'll actually see if I can do something on the spot, or at least take the time to think of something just before I arrive. So you know, I'll actually try. But I probably won't come up with anything, so I got backup.

I'm VERY introverted so I'd probably have a nervous breakdown before and/or after no matter what I do, not that it justifies. But I'll probably just tell everyone it was written beforehand and they won't care.

... It's not a freestyle if you're not making it up on the fly.

Apparently a lot of people write rhymebooks. Various lines and such. And then in their freestyle they just put the lines they made together off of memory. That's what I've heard anyway. I hate freestyling and can only do it fast enough in the shower (not out loud) and then instantly forget it later.

I like to write.

I'm a writer at heart, but whenever I try to write a "freestyle," it never turns out the way I want it to.

So I vastly prefer just freestyling on the spot for the sheer fun of it.

As it should be.

I'm currently writing a parody of "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe, on the subject of #####ING SNOW IN OCTOBER. Started writing it today, and man, this kind of structured rhyme is crazy. I like the practice though. And I love that poem.