Wierd Mood

[RandomThug]

Without a flag, a banner or right
I stand alone no reason to fight
No cause, No war, No religous might
I find myself alone tonight.

No Coat of Arms assigned to my name
It doesnt matter if I die, how when or why
No one will be around to whimper and cry
At the sight of a man dead alone
without a home.

So I stand and shout, with furious rage
About my anger, my hate, my pain
for this world, this life, this stage.
"I challenge all who step before"

I reach deep into my heart
Past the demons, past the part
that broke so long ago
To find my whole, my reason to be

The simple Idea that I can see
I am a Man with reasons to be
A fight burning deep within me
a battle with myself, I loose so
Constantly.

I scream till my lungs bleed
till my throat has gone dry
I fall to the ground trying to cry
Alas I've run dry, I am so willing to die

Take me from here Take me from here
I am a man with no name A man with
No fame. I am the honorable Ronin.
The sinful liar, the painful crier.

Truth be told, this story is quite old
I repeat it day after day, to you its a cry
for help or for pain.
To me its my reason to fight. Because unlike many
I will never give up my fight.


(Ok a little poem I did while I should be working, lets just say I hate the damn holidays)

[McBane]

Nice poem. I agree that you may be in a weird mood, as this seems a little too upbeat for you.

**Hands Thug a Guinness** If it would cheer you up, I'll change my avatar to that Duckula fellow..... (Of course, you would have to send it to me.....)

[Tybaltus]

Wow, Thug. Thats a pretty kickin poem you got there. But the words speak for themselves (or is that a redundant statement? ), so in all seriousness ( I know its SYM, its hard to be serious sometimes ), those are quite deep words in the poem, which make it good. Ive never been a fan of poetry, and I absolutely hate writing poetry barring the times poetry is used in comical situations (like Sleep's thread), but these are powerful words...a powerful poem.

Not sure what could work to change the mood. Id just suggest listening to McB.

[Gruntboy]

Neat. Very good.

[RandomThug]

Stress.

The confusion created by ones mind in an attempt to over ride the bodies basic desire to beat the living crap outa some body who desperatly deserves it.

[Scayde]

Very intense Thug,

Dark and emotionally charged.

I hope you decide to write more poetry.

[Chanak]

Hmmm...welcome to the Weird Mood Club, Thug. That's an awesome poem. The Muse often awaits behind those weird moods...

Keep on writing, carry on. http://gamebanshee.com/forums/images/icons/icon14.gif

[fable]

Nice, @Thug. Kind of reminds me a bit of Billie Holiday's old hit, Gloomy Sunday:

Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
Little white flowers will never awaken you,
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday.

[RandomThug]

Too much music, too little sanity
The blood that rained right down his wrist
came not from a gun a knife but his fists

It wasn't about turf, drugs or right
it was a question of pride.
The took his life, but not his fight.
Starved and troubled, never
Broken.

It mattered not the numbers he faced
for our hero fights with an inhuman pace
For within his veins, his blood it did boil
The story goes, he would not leave till he
had spoken.

The odds got worse before they got better
Our hero stood tall and went for the leader
he struck at his throat, he knew he would win
he wanted to tear this man down for his sin.

All at once the crowd it did gather
at the sight before them, the blood the guts
the splatter.

With awe and amazement a women gasped out
"My lord what has he done"
It was too late, for they all knew the winner of this bout.

It was one man who laid dead
but alas it was no villian nor crook
but the hero of our story
who laid spread out gun shot, no glory.

The voices fought deep within his head
the family all gatherd as the doctor said
"He couldn't take this pressure, but he tried"
The hero fought until he died.


(Once again, I dont know why)


__________________

[RandomThug]

Like a bi polar without a fix the beast swerved across lanes with reckless abandon, I had no control over the vehicles mood swings for now my best chance at survival was to cope with the beast and devourer the rest of these pills before Barstow. I could feel the vomit slipping itself north through my throat, wanting and needing to purge myself of these luscious poisons I bring onto my conscious.

“Holy mother of god where did they come from” the words spilt from my mouth like a young child would speak eagerly at the dinner table, food and drink sprayed my dashboard. It was those children again, those blank stares those dark eyes… damn children of the …. … … well damned I guess. Barstow was still only twelve miles out and those hitch hiking demons were following my every step, I knew now it was up to me I had only but one chance. I grabbed onto the reins of my 57 Bel Air and forced the beast into a controlled 110 mph U-turn. For a moment I lost all traction, the whimpering of a child lost screeched through my ears as my tires peeled themselves onto the pavement. For sure even demons of the night could not predict such a choice… I finished the remainder of my beer and chewed back those pills… not tonight will those demons catch me. Not tonight…

[Scayde]

@Thug.........very dark.......Deanesque even......You do come up with some provocative stuff.....