RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (Full Version)

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Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (9/2/2010 15:28:02)

The Witch

She was different,
she was unique.
She was a woman,
and she wasn't weak.

She stood up for what she knew was right,
she sang and danced and drank all night.
Never scared of a fight,
even the roughest men could not stand their sight.

Every woman hated her.

She bulged and sang,
all alone.
Never one for cooking,
nor had she ever cleaned,
or cared,
or sown.

Then the prosecution came,
and she knew she should run and hide.
She was sure no one'd try and snitch.

But she didn't,
and they called her a witch.

The trial wasn't fair.
It never was,
would never be.
They humiliated her,
called her names,
made her cry.

But they didn't let her die.

They bombarded her with rotten fruit and painful stone,
then left her to sit alone.
In the burning midday sun.
Yet still they weren't done.

She was different,
she wasn't fake.
She was a witch,
so they burned her at the stake.



Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (9/15/2010 3:23:21)

Monster
You came into my life,
without consent or consideration.
Stunned me with your looks,
worthy of ovation.

You were sweet,
and things went great.
And before long,
it was too late.

Just when I felt safe,
when I let down my guard,
and surrendered my will.
You turned around,
and went for the kill.

You're a monster,
deserve a silver bullet through your head,
and holy water down your throat.
To be burned at the stake,
pierced with a rake.
To be degraded and ridiculed for all the world to see.

Nobody breaks up with me.



Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (10/22/2010 6:09:23)

The end of a beginning isn't the beginning of an end

Darkness consumes you,
as you slowly slip away.
Drowning in shadows,
on the first,
of the last of your days.

I can see you change,
right before my eyes.
I can feel your pain,
but you do not seem to notice,
and you claim to be OK.

And so I'm forced to watch,
accessory to the corruption of your soul.
While you smile,
and claim,
you finally feel whole.

But I will watch no more,
I will end this once and for all.
I will show you it is wrong to smile,
and I will tell you why.
He isn't right for you / you should be mine.




Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/12/2011 4:57:38)

A life in bloom

In the barren valleys,
of a land close-
yet far away.
Life is but a dream,
an idea,
that has long since slipped away.

No more tangible then "love" or "hate”
no more real than angels and demons
no more proven then faith.

In the dried-up rivers,
of this strange,
once wonderful land.

Isolation,
and loneliness,
travel hand in hand.

And I travel with...

Oh! Land of mystery!
Oh! World of myth!
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Oh! Champion of the world!
Oh! Hero of technology!
Why hast thou ceased to be?

In the end,
bitter end,
we were taken -not by force,
but by an idea.
We were killed,
not for what we found
but for what we did not see.

Can one fear the end,
when all it promises
is relief?



Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (3/17/2011 11:59:55)

Expectations of greater things

I want to leave this horrid place
see the planets up above,
feel the rain fall on my face...

I want to fall in love.

I want to soar through the sky,
like the birds and the bees.
I want to run-
by your side,
through a cool summer's breeze.

I want to laugh
I want to cry,
I want to live,
before I die.



Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (10/21/2011 7:12:56)

Brave fools

The coward dies a thousand deaths
but the brave man dies a thousand more.
For, while lying is the coward's game,
the brave man's game is war.

The brave man does not realize
that while there's glory in death and in despair.
Even if they hold a feast to herald your martyrdom,
you could not be there.

Nor is it wise to sacrifice,
your life for some other fool.
For if just one man is to survive,
it might as well be you.

For the coward does fear death,
only brave when all else fails.
The brave man stares it in the eye,
not even understanding what a death entails.



Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (11/28/2011 17:30:25)

Creatures of nature;
young and old,
are attracted to the fire.
singing songs
and telling tales
'round my funeral pyre.

First they laugh
then they cry.

Look at me
and tell me why!

Yet they tell me in no language I have ever heard before.

Children of men,
-but not of me
have come to mourn.
I see them
and I hear them.

But when I talk,
they don't hear me.

For death does not enable one to speak to those he has not yet made his own.

And time goes on
and fires burn,
-yet no fire burns eternally.
And when I'm done,
and all are gone,
I whisper:

“My fire's burnt,
I lay in ashes.
Neither beast
nor man
nor god
has come for me.”

And I lay,
alone,
for all eternity.



Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (11/28/2011 17:52:21)

Why does beauty hurt?
Somewhere deep down inside.
So much that
-every time I see it-
I feel the need to cry.

And why do people hate me?
Well
-not people-
just their presence in my mind.
Where they feel it
-quite alright
to stick needles through my brain.

Driving me insane.

And why do you dislike me?
So much more then all the rest.
That you feel a needle
through my heart
to only be the best.

You are hurting me.

But it's not your fault.

And why does the person,
that hates me most of all.
That beats me
that tortures me
that dedicates it's life
to ruining mine
have to be me?

The one I can't escape from.

The one that's always there.

And the only one,
I know for sure,
that'll never ever care.

It is not fair.



Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (11/28/2011 18:10:20)

Love

To talk about love
is to talk about chemistry

brain-bits and evolution
and enzymes that will go-
as quickly as they come.

Love is cold and it is fleeting
but when it's there
it leaves a mark.

Those moments you look at someone
and you know she'll be in your mind for weeks to come.
when you stretch your goodbyes,
even for a little while,
and feel sad when she's gone.

The moments where you want to scream from the rooftops,
“I'm in love and it is fine!”
And know you won't be lying.
Where the mere suggestion of her not loving you
can make you feel like crying,
or dying,
but at the very least to just stop trying.

For there is no future
without her.
Not one worth living
anyway.

Those moments of pure magic,
of joy and sorrow and unrivaled emotion.
All because your scumbag brain,
wants you to show some devotion.

Once, I realized this
and decided I would not do it anymore.
Be a slave to my brain,
let it choose who I adore.

But I couldn't beat it,
maybe you'll have better luck.
Or maybe you'll have worse
-and actually succeed.



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