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hypoetcrisy n [hy po et cri sy]. 1. Articulate words oftentimes woven together using a colorful rhyme
scheme that are used to convey a message that is void of the author's convictions and/or the
necessary actions to support his/her well-constructed lines and stanzas. 2. double-faced, insincere
fake-ass poetry.
fellow scribes
our genre
is being infiltrated
by hypoetcrisy
in various forms
and is insidiously
becoming the norm
in couplets
that sublet
dishonesty
on the cheap
rhapsodies
full of fallacies
haikus
structured
with perfectly metered out
hollow views
and
rehearsed free verse
infected with a
disease to please
the crowd's needs
absent of oratorical sincerity
yet plush with a righteous clarity
spit
for the sole purpose
of sounding good
to the ear
knock on wood
for I fear
you and me
being infected
with this contagious bug
hypoetcrisy
for once we succumb
and become consciously numb
if we truly care
for the poetic lives
of our fellow scribes
our only recompense
is abstinence
from pen
paper
PC
and mike
thaverifyah
I began writing poetry in hopes of better understanding my feelings as I walked through troubling
times. As I continued to put my thoughts on paper, I quickly realized that writing poetry was a means
of getting to know myself; furthermore, poetry assisted me in deciphering my life views. I enjoy
writing on myriad topics including but not limited to: love, politics, cultural issues, spirituality and
relationships. I generally write in an uplifting flavah, but I admittedly enjoy Ragin' Against the
Machine--We miss you Zach. If freedom is not uplifting, forgive me! It is an awesome feeling to paint
my mind's picture in a manner that allows the reader to fully visualize it, especially if it make them
say "Oh yeah...." Chase Harmony. "Peace + love... i gotta have it."
Time is money
keep movin'
time is money
don't slow down
time is money
don't stop
this is the message
pressin' me...
read on
Ochre skin-toned and
lithe as spring's first breeze.
Onyx colored eyes outlined in
subtle shades of white and mother-of-pearl.
Lips pink hued and full.
Sensuous curves and rounded hips.
Like verdant hills and wind-whipped
terrains, I fall under your earthy touch.
Lost in the essence of natural beauty and potency.
So abysmal you are...
breathless and breathtaking.
Sweet Georgia peach and mother of creation.
Peppermint breath in cool blue hues.
A scent of Jasmine and sandalwood....
rich, pure and potent...I'm addicted.
Earth Mother, girl, you incite me to sing.
A song in the key of...Earthy.
Copyright 2004
PropheticNsyght
Hmmmmmmmm Hmmmmmppphh
I'll trade in my everything for
a place of quiet, natural beauty.
A place by the sea.
Sand and a little breeze.
Sunshine in my face and rain in my hair
I'll embrace the beauty of earth tones.
Grass, hills, the sea, and some sand...
Love making in autumnal leaves,
and kissing in summer breezes.
I'd rather bathe in the first winter freeze.
Sand, the cold, pebbles and warm rivers.
I'll embrace the beauty of earth tones.
In this place my love for the natural grows.
I submerge myself in vivid colors...
I'll embrace the beauty of earth tones.
Copyright 2004
PropheticNsyght
On her brow runs a band of roses
The arrays of morning flowers as her crown,
Skipping through the patches of corn
Where fear does not prevail
She could swirl and she could swirl
To the music of the wind echoing through the trees
And the rainbow in the sky stands motherly
Over a beauty unveiled
In this early morning before nature wakes
Freeing me at last from my past
To taste such dew yet undeterred in its wake
To see such virgin beauty on a solitary walk across a field
To sing such praise to a savior who died for me
I was but a child again free from fear in all its form
To close ones eyes and focus on all the hope
And a dream and a prayer for a little faith
And visualize that it is same everywhere
But that couldn’t do because the roses has thorns on my brow
I have no defenses against the truth that creeps at me
Where a life comes and goes in puff like smoke
A morning flower spring forth and whiter at down
Rwanda, Somalia, Liberia, Sudan who is it next ,
I am not a nigger or the United States Secretary of state
I write about what I see as a passport of death
Where the black man fall lured back to captivity
Condoleances !
urdeen
Some folks like words simple and true
like roses are red, and violets are blue
but I like dictionaries and thesauruses of words unseen
putting down my mental in a poetic work of art
slashing the readers intellect as they decipher what I mean
Some folks like simple rhyme schemes,
with no mystery at all
But I gets enslaved in the structure of determining the poets vibe
allowing the codes to make me free fall......and that ain't all
Some folks like Love Poetry, that puts a smile on their face
But Me...I like the orgasmic Ripple Effect of word play
as it invades my secret space.....no need to make haste
take your time, while reading this rhyme
My intrusion of your simplicity will shock
yet never undermine
cause Nice Little Poems have a definite spot
but my brain see images in 3D.....and allows the
stroke of my pen to make you hot....did she say that
yeah, let's break it down one more gin.....
'I'm a put it to ya so tough, you'll have to read it again and again
some people can't vibe wit music while writing a verse
but DeAngelo, Badu, Stone & Musiq...take me there
allowing purity in rhyme, rhythm unrehearsed
but you keep doing you.....
simple and true
athough I can only imagine what these words .......
are doing to you.....
rhonda
'the stroke of my pen will surely take you there'
Motivating
Stimulating
Exotic
Erotic
Someone's Mother
Someone's Child
Someone's Lover
Someone's Friend
Someone's Enemy
Moving
Deep
Troubled
Confused
Misguided
Undecided
Hurt
Used
When it is all said and done
These words are who and what I am
The saga continues for this black woman
Do you give a damn?
Nikki
8/02/04
How do you see me, am I a rare beauty or just an image for a
distorted mind?
Tell me how do you really see me?
Do I remind you of the serene simplicity of lovliness, or a
ghetto girl, with a big behind? Do you see my pain, beneath
the Sean & Versache, can you detect my anger, underneath
all my fake ass laughter?
You think you know me, when I don't even know me, I'm a
mystery to my own being, even though see is believing, when
you look at me, who are you really seeing, I'm addicted to self,
yet in need of a great deliverer, my personification although
diversified, is like a baby with a 115 degree fever.
Yet to touch me beneath the soft brown skin, you will feel the
coldness of my demeanor, like ice wanting to be cracked.
I'm yearning for just one, with the ability to see through my
persona, and my attitude which is jacked.
Even I recognize the need for a change of personification,
however in my own selfish retaliation, I am amongst thorns
that tickle instead of prick, for me there is no self mutilation.
Venturing into depths of self, without diviation I see myself
with a whole new outlook, giviing you a new interpretation, as
I release these words like warm sand falling through the hour
glass of time.
Yet I will be a woman locked into this complexity of nature,
until I find a persona that really is all mine.
Rhonda
Dreamchaser008
I hope this one touches everyone that is true to what they write.
If you are absorbing and reading my words
Please believe this is my dream deferred
Sometimes I write
Sometimes I speak
My words stimulate they come from a restless sleep
If the mood hits me and my pen takes control
It touches my paper as rhymes began to unfold
My words come to life as they embrace the length of my pen
I am memerized as the ink flows again and again
What comes from my pen is like a slow sensual feeling
It is so powerful so strong the words are mind-reeling
My words bring my pen to a peak; a erotic poetic high
As my mind explosion comes down, my pen beside my paper
can only lie
I put them to the side; my mind is feeling weak
This is what I needed, now I can finally sleep.............
Nikki 9/22/04
What are they waiting for ? No one really knows
They sit and wait, while the rest of the world grows
They come from all walks of life, this much can surely be said
They spend their whole life saying....i'll do it tomorrow
and then before you know it they're dead
A procrastinator is no specific color, and no specific gender named
but they spend their much time in limbo thinking life is one big game
We all have a destiny, a set of things we all must do
so i hope that as you read this poem
it stops the procrastinator inside of you
"The stroke of my pen will surely take you there"
dreamchaser all rights reserved 2004
In times they try to hold you down,
Remember the Kings and Queens with golden crowns.
In any time that you’re in doubt,
Remember the slave songs,
Our screams out shouts.
In all the times when they think they’re number one,
Remember Harriett’s “Freedom Run.”
And just when they think you don’t compare,
Look them directly in their eye
Cause you know they scared.
If you can remember the whips, the rapes, and the murders,
Remember we fought to get this far,
We’ll fight to get further.
Remember our cuts, out bruises, our scars,
Remember they made us the fighters that we are.
When they pick one of their less-qualified men over you,
Remember that’s just the shistey shit they do.
When I say they, I won’t say their name,
But I will say look around,
And see who holds their head in shame.
When they turned our heaven into a ghetto, hellhole, mess,
Remember we deserve more than second best.
When they complain of our violence, our hostility, our anger,
Remember their race wasn’t never in no danger.
When they try to say that we are crazy,
Remember David Koresh, Jeffery Dohmer, the Unabomber, and
Rosemary’s Baby.
Just when they think they’re on top,
I want them to remember,
I thought we told you that we won’t stop.
When they try to say that you are less than a man,
Remember the hidden faces of the Klu Klux Klan.
These are the words that even they know are true,
We got the strongest men,
From Farrakhan way back to Shaka Zulu.
Don’t ever let them forget what we are capable of,
This poem is just a sample,
And to all my people one luv.
By: Unique Verses