RE: Mistermafio's Poetry

RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (Full Version)

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Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:36:49)
Wouldn't it be beautiful Wouldn't it be beautiful if everything was ugly? Noone would be jealous, everything would be the same. Not appearance, but personality would make the world go 'round. Wouldn't it be beautiful if everything was ugly? Or would ugly, just become beautiful and would the world repeat itself again.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:38:56)
Red door I see a red door, it leads far away, I won't take it anymore, as I'd rather stay. Please take my red door, I'd rather see it green. Because honestly, I've seen everything, that possibly can be seen. I don't need my red door, don't need it anymore. I'd rather have it green but I'm all out of paint. So til I find more of it, I will have to leave. My red door cannot go unused, to my personal grief.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:39:57)
Questioning the question Who are you? To question me? He questioned me in reply. I shook my head, and sighed a sigh. He who questions everything with a why forgets to question the why.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:41:09)
Unique Aren't I something? Aren't I special? Aren't I unique? There is no one quite like me, just ask my daddy just ask my mommy Just ask the world. ... Yes you are, you are unique, you are one of a kind... Just like every one else, my beautiful child.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:41:48)
True beauty Rarely does one lay his eyes upon true beauty, rarely does one see an angle amongst men. I'm glad I am not one, I'm glad I am me. I am so very glad I do get to gaze upon, what is most definitely, true beauty. Are you jealous yet? I know I'd be. I'd be so very jealous, at me.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:42:38)
Running late Running quickly down the stairs, no time to think, no time to consider. Just how ridiculous this is. Walking quickly, already too late. As always, in a rush, I realize. “Screw this, I’ll just take the bus.”

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:43:23)
Can't stand myself I can't stand to hear myself ramble, I hate my voice and what I say. But if I shut up now, I'd hate me for not speaking, for not saying what I think. Sorry I make you listen, sorry I bother you. If it is any consolation I hate myself for that too.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:44:19)
Banging my head against the wall I'm banging my head against the wall, it hurts, not at all. “Help me!” I scream, “I don't need your help” I frown upon myself, happy with who I am, I hope I'll never change ... Never change at all.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:45:05)
Our time It is funny, the way mankind treats time. Relatively seen we have so little of it, -none, to be precise- As compared to a tree, we live mere months. Compared to the world, mere days. And compared to the universe that surrounds us, we do not live at all. Yet we choose to spend that little time we have, sitting in a classroom, or working for a boss. We are happy to have spare time, next to all the time we've lost. Wouldn't it be easier if money would not be of our concern? Wouldn't it be easier, if we just chose what we wanted to learn? Or am I just rambling? About a world that could never be. As the last thing mankind seems to want is to spend the little time they have, comfortably.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/1/2008 17:47:18)
Stalk me I know you are watching me, I can feel your gaze in the back of my neck. I know you are near me, for if I am really, really silent, I can hear your soft breath. I feel your presence, but do not see you. As the second I turn around, you disappear into thin air. Not a movement, not a sound. Stalk me through the night, hide in my shadow by day. I might not like you. But please, I beg you to stay. For without you, I'd be all on my own. You are the one thing making me feel special. The only thing making me feel... Known.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/14/2008 13:44:56)
1337: Greek, Geek, or from another planet? Walking through an online world I see many a face and meet many a person, all of which seem nice enough. They look nice and seem friendly... I don have a clue what they are saying though. what's this 1337 stuff anyway? "Wud u lke 2 dnce?" What? They look at you funny... Whut? O.o I repeat What? Don't they understand? Its not like English is that hard. Perhaps they are from another country, perhaps we just live way too far apart. Excuse me, do you speak English? I ask. I thought Southern slang was o.O but this is even worse I didnt know such a thing was possible Could it be, the one next to me is from my neck of the woods and is typing like from another planet? Again this person looks at me with that funny look. "I speek Engrish, dun u c?" What this one is talking about? I don't know. It all looks like jibberish to me. Perhaps Greek or some sort of computer geek coding langauge would be easier to understand? I hear German, Dutch, or perhaps Russian are hard I wonder which is harder, them or 1337? I seem to pick up some Dutch, but that 1337 stuff? It just seems to give me a headache.... I try communicating with this person a little longer, but I just cannot look past the c's, or the u's, not even past those unneeded 3's. I give up and with a sigh, I say my goodbye. I begin to wonder where went to school if went to school at all Wonder what the teacher thought when saw the writing this one "spoke" to me Even his goodbye wasn't just 'goodbye'. No; "bi c u l8tr" was his brilliant reply. Again I sighed a deep sigh and asked myself, why? Why do I even try? as I look on in frustration trying to understand that which is vexation and here I thought "the Rule of Three perplexed me" as I try to compare that 1337 to mathematics in hopes of better understanding the semantics

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/16/2008 17:08:17)
Puppets My puppets dance! Do what you need. My puppets play for me, just follow my lead. Feel, act, think you are yourselves. Wearing what I want you to wear, saying what I want you to say. Whatever you do, -if you know it or not- you do it my way. Always under my spell, from birth to death. My puppets serve me well. And together we'll create our own heaven, and our own hell. You just do what I tell.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/17/2008 12:32:37)
The daredevil I have fought the world and won, I have fought my existence since the moment it begun, and I am pretty sure, I'm winning that battle too. Trust me, that sounds much better to me, then it probably sounds to you. I took my chances, embraced the risk, I lived my life. Not a second of it I've missed. I've laughed and been in love, I've cried and been in pain, I've reached the point where I have nothing left to gain. Now I embrace my death, knowing it will not be in vain.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (12/25/2008 19:38:36)
Merry Christmas L&L Another year has passed, here in legends and lore. Many things happened, good, bad, happy, sad and whatever more. Many a story was written, many a poem concieved. The purge came, and some writing got lost. But soon that was replaced, by works newer, better, and more fun -much, much more- then all that came before. I will tell you, people of L&L, you have me amazed. New authors found their way into our midst, welcomed with a smile and a hello. Old authors left, -temporarely or forever- and will be missed til the day they come back, be that tomorrow, be that never. We met friends, we got close, we supported each other through poetry and prose. We were a community, through the good times as well as the bad. For that I can do little more, than smile and tip my hat. I salute you, Legends and Lore, the board that holds my friends, my poetry, and the works I adore. Have a merry Christmas, have a happy New Year. Let it be a fun one, have a blast and let's hope this year's good tidings will turn out to last.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/2/2009 14:50:25)
Running I am running, from my home, from my family, from my friends and all things I've known. I am scared, and thus I run. From my husband and my children, from danger, from fun. I cannot help it, I cannot fight this urge. No matter how much I struggle against it, I must run. I do not stop to rest, never do I stick around. I am here once, but never twice. Always passing by, never stopping, never questioning, never explaining why. There is nothing I can do, but keep running. Til the day I die. The first rest I will ever get, will last an eternity.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/3/2009 19:01:13)
Good night “Mommy? Daddy? Is anyone there?” A timid voice questions through the darkness of the night. A small voice, a sad voice, a voice belonging to a child. But there is no reply, not a reassuring voice, not a hug, nor a little white lie. This child is all alone, in the darkness of the night. “Help me mommy! Help me daddy! The monsters are coming, I can hear them laugh.” The voice screams, followed by a cough. Thick black smoke fills the tiny room, and though the night is illuminated by fire the room stays black as night. The only things keeping the voice company, are pain, and fright. Screams of fear turn into screams of agony, as the fire begins to dine on this nameless child. Though it is unclear what did it, -the poisonous smoke, or the devastating flame- the source of that voice, that child with no name, died that horrible night. Trapped and alone, without a father, or a mother to say that its alright. Only kept company, by pain, and fire, and fright.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/4/2009 16:17:53)
New collab between Ana and me ^>^ Poetic Exercise Lets start something Something fun Let the words flow Cause I want us to show I'd love to start something, though I have to question what. As my brain seems devoid of inspiration. I can put these words on paper, but not very much more than that. tsk tsk, I say I think we need to show today just how much fun poeting can be Like how much fun you have just poeting with me Poeting with you is heaps of fun, it puts a smile on my face. But poeting to me is much like running a race, I need to be in the right shape or I won't be very good. Perhaps we should warm up first Stretch them "poeting muscles" Prime them for action cause I love your reaction when we poet together That might help very well. Honestly I can already feel them muscles warming as I fall under your poetic spell. or perhaps you felt my Spanner as I poet in my usual manner it seems to make those who wish to be inspired better able to aspire to poet, a least a little Oh, I am surely struck by your spanner, I can feel it through my mind. Watching you poet inspires me, that's a thought I'll never leave behind. I heard writing is good mental exercise for folks perhaps poeting, the art it is could be even more strenuous on one's mind than the average word It might not be easy to poet, at least, not always for me. But when I poet, alone or with you I seem to reach a state of mental ecstasy. Oh I know the feeling and I enjoy it too whether alone or with you I just love poeting too Then I know just what to do, as I seem to have refound my lost inspiration. Let us poet together. yes, lets Exercise with a friend is so much more fun I agree with you poeting is like a race to be run but I do believe with proper warming up, that one can do an excellent poem or two Well then, my friend, I'd like to do such a poem with you I see you thinking I see them gears spinning I think you'd say Lets show the world now Lets show them how how much fun poeting can /really/ be Lets ^>^

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/6/2009 18:33:05)
Cold winter morning I sail an ocean of white, stretching all around me. I'm not touched by its cold, only by its beauty. I stare over this frozen sea, and quite frankly, it bewilders me. Snow, untouched by man, stretches as far as the eye can see. Seagulls and seals roam around, nearly invisible. I gaze and I wonder, as I stare and ponder. How this life is so wonderful, amazing, colourful, though monotone. Beep, beep, beep. I open up my eyes, and the ocean disappears. It was a dream, the embodiment of my greatest fears. I get out of bed, and kill the alarm, stumble upstairs complain on how it should be warm. I go through my day. And forget about the dream. As I forgot about so many, so many things that could've been.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/6/2009 18:36:55)
Running II Running, always running. From your home, and from your kin. Running, always running. From your life, in pursuit of things that've been. Running, always running. From the devil, and from sin. Running, always running.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/9/2009 19:09:56)
Please don't read this, it'll be the end of me I do not exist, did I ever? Did I ever live? I remember thinking to myself, I remember feeling pain, but I'm not sure if I should trust those memories. If I can be so sure about what happens in this brain. I remember seeing myself, but was that really me? Not just an illusion, not just the image of how I want myself to be? Do I exist? Or am I just an illusion, that's fooling only itself. If this world is nothing more then a figment of my imagination, then who are you? And if it where the other way around? Would you then be talking to yourself? Perhaps this is a cry for help, you invision me, and me writing this, in the hope you'll see, and understand. In the hope you'll realise you're living a lie, in the hope you wake up before its to late, before you die. But then, would I not be ending my own existence? By simply writing this? Please do not read this, I might not live, but I'd like to exist.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/18/2009 18:36:54)
The lords They sit, alone, together looking over this world trying not to make it better, or to make it worse they look simply for their entertainment at this silly little world once enjoys the funny things comedy, good jokes. The other enjoys the parties, the drinking and the dancing. Wishing he could join The last enjoys death, the misery and sorrow. He's not evil, just different from the norm. They sit alone, together, influencing the world, not for the worse or for the better Just for their vision of fun would you not do the same, if you had sat there, since the moment time begun.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (1/18/2009 18:37:38)
Humanity I turned on the news today, and watched the war that didn't have a bad guy. Being demonstrated for, and against, both sides. People showed their true nature today, one of treason, one of hate. One that hasn't been very rare as of late. And I'm afraid that today, this beautiful winters day, my faith in humanity dropped another notch.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (2/7/2009 9:09:47)
Meh Poetry, I always thought poetry was putting one's feelings on paper, in a rhyming manner, or not. Pffft, poetry. Apparently I was wrong. See, people have told me I'm good at this, well, not this, but at poetry writing it, to be precise. I never really believed them. Why would I? I was just messing around, writing what sounded good to me, what sounded true, and what rhymed. In most cases, that is. Bleh, poetry. Tell me, people that claim I'm so good. If I can write poetry, any poetry at all, how come when I truly am feeling something, truly feeling something I just can't put into words. How come I can't poet about it? My guess is because I either can't poet, or poetry just isn't what I thought it'd be. Meh, whatever it is, I do it terribly.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (2/7/2009 9:12:22)
A perfect day Quickly birds fly over, singing their happy songs, as you spot a four-leafed clover. Today is lucky, filled with rights, instead of wrongs. The sun shines softly, and it’s quite cold. But you have your warm jacket. Free of problems, free of scold. You don’t see, you just behold. Back home homework is waiting, together with other stuff like that. But who cares, when there is so much fun to be had. Sure it's getting late, sure this great day is coming to an end. But at least there will always be tomorrow, at least today was time well spend. The world might not be perfect… Today came pretty close.

Mistermafio -> RE: Mistermafio's Poetry (2/9/2009 14:06:15)
Clowns: A Day at the Circus by Ana_Maria && Mistermafio The smell of saw-dust in the air spotlights, music little chairs. big tents and loud sounds cannon-fire BAM! people on stilts, tall indeed Animals of all shapes and sizes, lots of things to see, lots of people to meet. down there in the circus Lions, tigers, and bears oh my Tamers with whips and with chairs cages and chains but well cared for magicians and snakepeople, all nimble and fast I do enjoy all these things, but there is one guy I really can't get passed he has big floppy shoes and a painted smile a huge red nose that beeps when squeezed He wobbles around, left to right, never really talking much, and his face painted white big red lips in shape of smile if ever frowned, how'd we know? This man is here, to put up a show. He giggles to his friend, dressed just like him. blowing up balloons shaping them like dogs and other things funny animals and little hats entertaining the kids, even making the adults laugh from time to time as he does that little act in which he finds a dime hidden behind my ear how in the world did that get there? he laughs loud, and hands the dime over as he offers you a snuf, of his giant fourleaved clover silly person to smell that clover didnt know would get wet when this man squeezed the bulb laughs from the audience as his face got bright red, a little embarrassed, but not really mad nor embarrassed just awesome at job he loves so much doesnt even see as work Ah yes the clown, every circus' best part no tension, no gasps, just plain old laughing very hard. Shot from cannon but not hurt landed in net keeping safe that which he entertains He walks back out, and without restraints, grabs a delicious looking cake. He moves to offer it to his friend, or was it a pie? Whoops Pie in your eye as it lands in your face Again the crowd is lauging, me joining in as well, as our friend is nice enough, to try and clean up the spill but the cloth you see goofy patterns and oversized spots keeps coming and going from his pocket! Never ending, it seems, as cloth after cloth appears, Solid colors and stripes lots of various patterns I see Until we reach the end, eventually. But what is that! That ain't a cloth 'tis fake vomit? or some other gag maybe fake guts to make us gasp But its all ok, all fun and games, as after the gasps die down, only laughter remains this clown is here to entertain making us laugh children smile and everyone happy Yes, a day at the circus a sideshow of animals and a funny clown 'tis how my day went though the clown was the best!

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