What I Did Instead of Math

I am afraid I have gone quite insane
Since summer's started, something's gone amiss
My motivation's missing: down the drain
I am unsure of how it came to this.

On school's last day I'd plans to ply my trade
To do those useful things I used to do
I think that hopeful me would be dismayed
Perhaps the present me is saddened too.

Was poetry my passion in the past?
I feel like once I was a number man
A rhyme reveals the sorcery I've cast:
This pun is what's become of summer plans

That's it. I'm done. The mic has just been dropped.
At three quatrains this poem should have stopped.

Rap Kerfuffle

My brother recently instigated a "rap battle" of sorts between me and my friend Dr. Lou Tennant over Facebook. He stopped being my friend after about halfway through the sonnet at the end, so I guess I lost. Annotations will be explained at the bottom, because there's a lot that needs explaining. B: indicates my brother's messages, L: indicates Lou's messages, and H: indicates my messages.

B:

High rolla

Pussy Patrolla'

Bells so mad [1]

it'd make you sad

That's it

time to quit

can't rhyme for shit

Lines that I spit

ain't a fit

Like a man tit

In mah mit

H:

Bro steps into the fray

But his rhymes be gay

If he wants to see the light of day

He best pick a God and pray.

Bitch, I'm classically trained

I make it rain

Like kisses on my dick[2]

Hard as a brick

Every time I think of Sonic The Hedgehog[3]

L:

(This part was stolen from Pokemon Cypher)

Y'all tryin' to rhyme?

Get up out, whatchu doin?

Y'all some unown lames

Gen 2, alph ruins

(This part was original?)

You're an old rod,

I'm a super rod,

But I hit yo' girl with this good rod

H:

I am like unown

'Cuz I've got Hidden Powers

Have this water stone

Since you clearly need Showers[4]

Yo' rhymes be weak

Like Love ball: defective

While the words that I speak

are super effective.

B: Gold

H:

Silver, and crystal, too

No need to be Blue

L:

Wanna talk Pokemon? Don't step to me.

You can't win, there's no chance, see?

Wanna act big? Wanna play rough?

You putting me to me to sleep, like a Jigglypuff.

I'm tired of you. Better give it a rest.

Release those rhymes, if that's your best.

You got no flow, your shit's a bore.

Now that I'm asleep, lemme use snore.

H:

But now my final form Hast been revealed

The power of The Bard is now my own.

For centuries these skills were safely sealed

The power of my poems knocks men prone.

A fearful phantom of five feet arrives

Each step it takes, the beating of a heart

Its endless march has trampled many lives

A pain parade in which you now take part.

My verse is smooth like sinusoidal curves

I'll school your English, physics, and your math

To step to me, you must have quite the nerves

I am afraid I've frayed them with my wrath

I spit a flood in which a man could drown

An uncontested king, I wear the Crown

[1] Bells are the currency in Animal Crossing, which is what started this whole thing.

[2] Suffice it to say, this is a reference to a thing in which some person rained kisses upon another's dick. I'm not naming names.

[3] This is a reference to a Game Grumps thing. You can hear it in this song.

[4] Showers is the Japanese name for Vaporeon. This is a thing that my friends and I know.

Requiem for a Remnant

A vacant vessel, void of hope or faith
A sundered soul, despairing, dying, lost
So it remains, a restless, roving wraith
Until it can collect for Charon's cost.

His life force flowing, going to the grave
It dries, he dies, though does not dread the dead
He fights his fear, but not because he's brave
He must escape the Hell that haunts his head

Descend through darkened doors and dire straits
Towards the destination of the damned.
He can't escape the human heart he hates
The devil's deal he's made has left him scammed.

If you write emo poems, check it, son
You best be taking notes; that's how it's done.




NOTE: "Charon" is the name of the ferryman at the River Styx. His name is pronounced with a hard "k" sound, to preserve alliteration.

Motive

This poem was written as an entry for a scholarship, where the prompt was essentially "Write a poem about why you write poetry". Since writing poetry about poetry is my specialty, I gave it a go. Unfortunately, the winner is to be selected randomly, so my superior skill and willingness to rhyme will not be a factor.

Wherefore do I write poetry, you ask?

I am afraid my answer won't be clear.

But nonetheless I must attempt this task.

I guess I write my poems out of fear.

I fear I'm doing nothing with my time.

I fear that all my life will be for naught.

To waste a life is surely quite a crime

And so I make the best of what I've got.

My poetry stands testament to time

That I have spent creating something great.

With each alliteration, foot, and rhyme,

My art emerges, beautiful, ornate

Of my own reasons, I am not quite sure

Perhaps that's part of poetry's allure.

Red (Not the Taylor Swift Album)

This one actually has a funny story to it. You see, one of my friends (The secondary content manager for my other blog, actually) posted a picture where some person asked for someone to describe the color red without using the word "red". Someone responded with some rather charming purple prose, as follows:

"When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it is the color of her dress. When she whispers in your ear, it is the color of her lips. When you make love, it is the trace you want her to leave all over your body. When she places her palm over your heart, it is the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished. When you see her in your bedroom with another, it is the color of your breath. When you smash the vase in the hall, it is the color that threatens you to abandon the shattered pieces. When you scream at the top of your lungs, it is the color that pierces the atmosphere. When she hears you, it is the color of her pulse. When you look in her eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heart falling to your knees. It is not the color you see when she leaves."

It was posted by a chap by going by the screen name of "book-halfunread", and I admit that it's quite a beautiful piece of prose. Naturally, I responded to my friend's share of the picture with "625-750 nm electromagnetic radiation. Owned". Afterwards, she had the audacity to say that I, a genuine poet, was not as amazing with words! Needless to say, I was seeing red. In my anger, I whipped up a poem of my own about the color red. I cannot say for sure that it outshines book-halfunread, but I believe it to be perhaps some of my finer work.

Anyway, without further ado:

The color of a fiercely beating heart

The hue you grew when you first heard “I do”

The fire that rages, deep within my art.

It can combat its calmer brother, blue.

It is the color that provides us life

and yet it's that which signifies our death.

A cross that seeks to stop sickness and strife

A wounded warrior's gasped final breath

The budding tenderness of Valentines

The crimson radiance of setting suns

The flaming hope which in the darkness shines

The color of one's nipples when one runs.

And yet, all of the many things I've said

can be conveyed with just the color red.

If you're confused about that bit about nipples, here's an explanation.

Solipsism

I wonder if the world is just a dream

Elaborate illusions in my head

And all reality is as I deem

The weaver of the universe's thread

Then why is my world filled with all this pain?

Could I not simply wish the world was well?

I do not know what I could have to gain

In making people's lives a living hell.

Perhaps a deity can be as flawed

as any mortal, making my mistakes

A solipsist is just a Lonely God

who hit the gas but cannot reach the brakes.

Just like that boss from Star Fox Sixty Four

I'm sorry, I will show myself the door.

Crown of Chaos - Explanatory Prose

I'd highly recommend that you read this post before you start reading all the posts that come after it. Specifically, the ones that begin with "Crown of Chaos". You see, a crown of sonnets is a special kind of sonnet cycle. (A cycle is more or less just the collective noun for sonnets. A pack of dogs, a murder of crows, a fondle of unicorns, ect.) A crown of sonnets is defined as a cycle of sonnets such that the last line of each sonnet is the first line of the next one. This chains them all together, until the final sonnet, which ends with the first line of the first sonnet. This brings them all together in a sort of circle. A "crown", if you will. A special case of the crown of sonnets is a heroic crown of sonnets. This is a special kind of crown, consisting of 14 sonnets. A 15th sonnet is then formed from the first line of each sonnet. Actually, I should probably just let Wikipedia explain it.

This requires incredible skill with words, as the first line of each poem not only has to follow the correct rhyme scheme, but it should hopefully make some kind of sense. Despite this, I wrote one, and it follows this explanation. Each sonnet in the crown is posted in order, starting with the "crown jewel", the one constructed from the first lines of the previous 14. The title "Crown of Chaos", was chosen because it sounds cool. Also, "chaos" and "havoc" are basically the same thing, right? Right.

(The first sonnet can be found here)