The Unofficial Opie & Anthony Message Board - POETS OF OA.COM..... who here writes poetry?

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The Unofficial Opie & Anthony Message Board - POETS OF OA.COM..... who here writes poetry?

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Posted By	Discussion Topic: POETS OF OA.COM..... who here writes poetry?
sykopathchik Hey... Buckaroo! Yes, everyone knows I type in a unique manner. No need to comment. N	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 3:35 PM
Psychopath Registered: Mar. 01	BordOm i Write all the tiMe ... This to pas sum tIme :) BoX ( not that kinda box fellas ) I am inside ... I see 4 walls .. this boX is dark, This box,inside you cannot see. But inside be me .. I can touch & push the walls around. But outside noone is to be found. I've put myself in here I must get myself out. Iam alone in here but noone was can see inside & i canot see out . Iam not at the point of screaming yet SO i begin to kick the walls around me- Just giving up and tiring out-- Closiing my eyes i am inside this box,you cannot seee in .. Its not How to stand nExt to the PuSsAhA .Its how you PhuCk it !!

usagirl21	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 3:49 PM
Psychopath Registered: Nov. 01	Here's my contribution. I'm not a poet, but this popped into my mind, when I was asked to write about my mother in an English class. Stay Where You Are When I see the brown in your eyes When I hear the lilt in your voice When I feel the scars on your hand I know you're my mother When I see the empty behind the brown When I hear the words of your voice When I feel the confusion in your mind It makes me hollow Your life was unlike any others Abused and unloved you recovered Long enough to love me and sis How amazing you are Now we are grown and realities Have set into your mind and you have Faded into someone unknowing of truth I hope you stay where you are

GonzoStyle	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 3:52 PM
Hanger-On Registered: Jan. 70	Sands Of The Sea. In a voice hollow with regret he wondered aloud where the time had gone, how he could have let so many years pass by, years where our moments have been too few. If life is simply a string of moments bound together by our memories, than ours is a strand of fine jewels, a necklace I wear proudly, each precious stone a treasure. Acceptance is the cornerstone of this room crowded by the past, where I can't dwell on days and nights apart or I, too, would echo the sadness at the loss of keepsake gems, of too many heirloom moments forever lost in time.

usagirl21	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 4:01 PM
Psychopath Registered: Nov. 01	Gonzy, that poem is excellent. Are you published somewhere? Joey, I love your work. ***************************** Yes, the WOW was MS-Painted on This message was edited by usagirl21 on 2-25-02 @ 4:06 PM

GonzoStyle	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 4:14 PM
Hanger-On Registered: Jan. 70	quote: Gonzy, that poem is excellent. Are you published somewhere? A few places but poets are a dime a dozen. Of all the classes that stand face to face with the bourgeoisie today, the proletariat alone is a genuinely revolutionary class. The other classes decay and finally disappear in the face of Modern Industry; the proletariat is its special and essential product. The lower middle class, the small manufacturer, the shopkeeper, the artisan, the peasant, all these fight against the bourgeoisie, to save from extinction their existence as fractions of the middle class. They are therefore not revolutionary, but conservative. Nay, more, they are reactionary, for they try to roll back the wheel of history. If, by chance, they are revolutionary, they are only so in view of their impending transfer into the proletariat; they thus defend not their present, but their future interests; they desert their own standpoint to place themselves at that of the proletariat. The "dangerous class", the social scum, that passively rotting mass thrown off by the lowest layers of the old society, may, here and there, be swept into the movement by a proletarian revolution; its conditions of life, however, prepare it far more for the part of a bribed tool of reactionary intrigue.

Joey1120 SHOW ME MULE!!!!	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 4:21 PM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 02	quote: Joey, I love your work. :) Thank you, USAgrl...I LOVE to hear (or read) people say that! Joey #10 in the Naughtiest Nightie Contest â€¢ Email Me Thought and Emotion - Here's my personal writing and fun site Searching to find a love up on a higher level Finding nothing but questions and devils

OAAWITE	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 4:32 PM
Hanger-On Registered: Jan. 70	Here's one that I just jotted down the other day about being a punk kid growing up in NYC many moons ago.... Teddy sniffing glue he was 12 years old Fell from the roof on East Two-nine Cathy was 11 when she pulled the plug On 26 reds and a bottle of wine Bobby got leukemia, 14 years old He looked like 65 when he died He was a friend of mine G-berg and Georgie let their gimmicks go rotten So they died of hepatitis in upper Manhattan Sly in Vietnam took a bullet in the head Bobby OD'd on Drano on the night that he was wed They were two more friends of mine Two more friends that died I miss them--they died Mary took a dry dive from a hotel room Bobby hung himself from a cell in the tombs Judy jumped in front of a subway train Eddie got slit in the jugular vein And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others, And I salute you brother This song is for you my brother Herbie pushed Tony from the Boys' Club roof Tony thought that his rage was just some goof But Herbie sure gave Tony some bitchen proof "Hey," Herbie said, "Tony, can you fly?" But Tony couldn't fly Tony died Brian got busted on a narco rap He beat the rap by ratting on some bikers He said, hey, I know it's dangerous, but it sure beats Riker's But the next day he got offed by the very same bikers They were all my friends, and they died HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW, BITCH??!! Keep hacking, I'll keep posting New Poster with a question? AIM me Confirmed Kills: Foundry Music Jeff.

irishcros	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 8:25 PM
Psychopath Registered: Feb. 02	Wite, that ain't yours, it's Jim Carrol. Nice try though, fucking liar. Officially Self Appointed Moderator The Whole Fucking Thread

MrQuotes NO!!! You can't have any smiley faces in your status!!! G.O.O.F.B.A.H.G.S. Missile Command	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 9:34 PM
O&A Board Regular Registered: Nov. 00	yea i got that song too basketball diaries cool movie See you space cowboy...

2 tired 2 give N F One of the Teen Tomatoe Boys is Retarted... Guess which one I am!!!	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 10:18 PM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 01	I wrote alot when I was in high school and now that I've been in college for almost a year I've noticed I can't do it anymore...I've dried up...and I was wondering if any of you guys/gals ever had this experience and what you did to get over it....I could use some help...and I'll post some of my old stuff later...thanks UHH???

RottenVinny I have no fucking clue what happened to Sluggo667. VinnyWS6: chicks? they dont have the penis so why would i care about them VinnyWS6: froy is quite hansome VinnyWS6: I want froys cock!	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 10:50 PM
Psychopath Registered: Jun. 01	Truly, fuck the world, for all it's worth, every inch of Planet Earth, fuck myself, don't leave me out, but don't get involved, don't corner me Inside, ulcer, unjust bastards, file out face first Meet the lies and see what you are Fuck you all Expect the worse, you bleeding heart, but kill me first Invite mayhem, produce weapons, shoot out, burn down All the money in the fucking world couldn't buy me one second of trust or one ounce of faith in anything you're about Fuck you all Nothing is worth the sleep that I've lost Apologies unacceptable now A blistered revenge awaits in me This is fucking loveless Hate Ignore, this curse Hate

silera Sexiest flower in the garden Garden my ass! That's a bush! I Like to suck dick I suck it all day long I like to suck dick Nothing like a great big wong. I like to suck dick I'll do it till the day I croak Just don't ask me to swallow. Cause I'll probably choke fag-hag Subzero316 makes me hot! JYD-4-LIFE's HBIC now i suck a mod's dick too!	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 11:01 PM
O&A Board Regular Registered: Feb. 02	These Lower East Side Streets I canâ€™t forget who you were, even though you are not that way anymore. I think you (the you I knew) died in battle. Died in a street war that kills only the young. Whoever survives is kept a prisoner of war Within these Lower East Side Streets I remember when you, tall and dark, played in the parks of the East River side by side with your present enemies. The Civil War that rages now seemed then unimaginable, the invisible barriers breaking up the Lower East Side into combat zones and enemy territories impossible. Coming back from the games, your teammates and You shared these Lower East Side Streets. I woke to the clamor or your voice and step- Talking the talk your older brother talked and walking the walk he walked- an hour and a half before the school bell rang to shoot hoops and sit on the stoop. Heâ€™s locked up somewhere else now, your brother, and you have been drafted to fight his war just as he was drafted before you. The voice and step that woke me today was your little brotherâ€™s imitating you imitating your brother, and youâ€™re at boot camp on the corner; Your weapon a bottle, your gear some new sneakers and a beeper, And you march these Lower East Side Streets I found a painting you drew for me today- a mixed media collage on a canvas of gray cement; The border black tar filling-to separate one slab of cement from the next; Cracked vials scattered here complemented by the syringe over there which seemed to point to the bloodstain textured gray glittering â€˜cause of the crushed beer bottle glass gloss Covering these Lower East Side Streets. I read some of your love letters today on my way up the stairwell because the elevator was full of piss. These letters werenâ€™t written to me, but to the street. In vibrant color or pitch black, on a green metal step or a cream plaster wall, your love resounded and your name was known. You donâ€™t refer to yourself as a Latin King anymore, and Iâ€™m sure you canâ€™t remember that you wrote â€œIâ€™d die for you brotherâ€ between the Third and Fourth Floor, because if you did, The killing would end and the loving begin on these Lower East Side Streets.

irishcros	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 11:43 PM
Psychopath Registered: Feb. 02	Theatre of Us We were beautiful once, much more than nothing, sitting naked in an abandoned, unhinged movie theater observed by few, both empty and crowded with an audience unsure of tastes. A camera lived in our head, and clicked on rare occasions, not wanting to make its presence known with such a bright luminance, and at the same ambivalent time not allowing full understanding, confusing this obscure love with stop motion techniques, and an aversion to low key lighting reminiscent of noir. It caught you though, and wouldnâ€™t stop filming, lenses closing and unclosing in a dilated, erotic, motion. When itâ€™s silent in the theatre you hear the film still rolling, as the projectionist keeps memories alive to suit himself, and the photographer ponders the correct way to capture the images, as we, the cast, the players, the auteurs and the crew, question the reality and integrity of this low- budget romance. Officially Self Appointed Moderator The Whole Fucking Thread

Amnesiac	posted on 02-25-2002 @ 11:51 PM
Hanger-On Registered: Feb. 02	the days pass right through me and I am dripping dry/ drip drying like the water through my ugly fingers/ abstaining from life/ & i am not here/ absent from living/ its not coming through quite clear(ly) ------------------------------------- bittersweet me loves to hate you crush you with my tounge shatter your face with a wrecking ball steal your name & drive the nails into my britttle bone bleed me feed me leave me fat & hung -------------------------------------- Isolation drills my head solitude confines me your assessments confirm my inadequacies- always ready & waiting to alert me of my short- comings my heart beats better off alone ------------------------------------- Dry dynamics- caustic and cold, subdue my fire, bind my tounge. -------------------------------- The bubbles & bottles all breaking and popping Vasaline smooths on strong sick slick Nancy & a television dinner But then again, everything is sillier when you're alone Counting cars in the lot I call the shots for little limp Polly & rocking horse changes my mind in the gutter & there i find you alone on the corner preaching the end of the world. ----------------------------------- Static fuzz (in my head) always gray out with black & white down with color always motionless mediums (in my head) ------------------------------ i bet safety's never felt so secure before & i've never been so sure before that you'll be fine They can't touch you (cause i made them up in my head) My insanity doesn't even effect you i've always hated rowan atkinson, but jello wrestling, however, is still a-okay in my book

Grizzly When I hibernate my cave doubles as a dutch oven. DON'T PANIC	posted on 02-26-2002 @ 10:52 AM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 01	West Raw, uncontrollable, suspended in high noon, the gunslinger. Fast, smooth, leather slapping motion, upward and out. Cold, hard steel coming to bare on you. Grizzled, stubble, smile directed, missing teeth. Penetrating projectile, moving incredibly impossibly into the body. Pain, pulsating and intense, inside. Red flowing, life's blood now on the ground, not even seen already is the gun back on the hip. Three seconds. Maybe less. You are dead. Welcome, my friend, to the best, the west. Where wind blows hard and sand bites deep, no one moves and no one breathes. With whiskey which flows and bullets that fly, not there a day already time to die. There is no truth, and there is no reason, chaos is present, killing always in season. No orders, no leaders, just justice, and honor. Unspoken, unwritten, present, however. No time to ask why, time only to die. You don't even get a chance to cry. NORTON IS GOD

Kramden's Delicious Marshall I think Yoda is sexy.	posted on 02-26-2002 @ 4:48 PM
Psychopath Registered: Sep. 01	Wonderful work, all of you. Before I post any of my own brilliance though, is it going to be "Napstered," or must I copyright it first? :) This message was edited by Kramden's Delicious Marshall on 2-26-02 @ 6:36 PM

Joey1120 SHOW ME MULE!!!!	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 9:25 AM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 02	Well, here's another of my poems, written last year. 20-Something There is a place in which we belong: Valleys racing against the echoes of children laughing their songs; Ink flows from pens without thought, or a rhythm, or rhyme, or the passing of time - Oops! There are no boundaries in this chaos, no rules to keep these soldiers in line; Just a pen writing electro pulses sent from my mind, through these eyes, and into these blue-tipped fingers left over from the twentieth century. The longer I watch this red ink fall on this hard white page, the more I realize Iâ€™ve been dying, the more I want to rhyme with rage. it is all Iâ€™ve ever had in this world: A book full of implied secrets, the sand on the beaches, a story of sneetches, out of reaches, speechless... Iâ€™m crawling up from this pen that replies to me now and then with some cute giggle of times that are past. All these words.. .perhaps my last. Iâ€™m getting older but feel like Iâ€™m floating, bobbing at the tip of the water full of hate and self-loathing because Iâ€™m already on the twenty-eighth line but I canâ€™t stop the rhyme. That fat cat sat until I beat him with the thick end of a stick and watched him bleed. He is dead. But thatâ€™s just a lie Iâ€™ve told I fed and petted him instead. My place is not here in realityâ€™s dress, nor this molded body, nor the heart in my chest. Then why does it hurt so much now of all those things then, of this place...how? It is my final rebellion and my last chance to take out the format that this society insists that I follow; To forget about the meter of prose and to just, for once, write whatâ€™s on my mind; To stop breaking these lines in prescribed places. To change colors if I wish. About order words of forgetting The; to find my place somewhere in all this. One gift that has made me smile for years. It really is all Iâ€™ve had and, I imagine, all I will take with me when my body has decayed to become a different part of the cycle. I am 20-something and ashamed of it none. I realize how far I have to go to find the place where I belong. It is seldom the place where we live, I assure you of that. Seek yourself and you shall find that place where those fat cats are cradled in little girlsâ€™ arms. Silence my hurt, my rage; silence this broken heart; still my trembling hands; fall quiet, you tears; go easy, breath. You know which way to go. Joey #10 in the Naughtiest Nightie Contest Email Me Thought and Emotion - Here's my personal writing and fun site Searching to find a love up on a higher level Finding nothing but questions and devils

usagirl21	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 10:11 AM
Psychopath Registered: Nov. 01	Relax my friend for life is sweet and though I know not which road step your feet I know a smile is just a twitch away so take your lips and force the grin lift up your head and look around see that young girl there The one with the ribbons in her hair The one who skips and sings the songs The one who laughs all day long That is you my dear a girl whose smile is just a twitch away leave your footprints in the past slow down your pace your dayâ€™s too fast stop for a moment and enjoy this time where you can spread happiness with just a laugh say hello to that stranger there skip with the young girl with the ribbons in her hair take your lips and make the grin and see if your day isnâ€™t better then ***************************** Yes, the WOW was ms-painted on If this board didn't exist, I might actually get one of my programs done. This message was edited by usagirl21 on 3-29-02 @ 10:12 AM

Joey1120 SHOW ME MULE!!!!	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 10:19 AM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 02	USAgirl, how inspirational! I'm going to have to spend a lot of time reading all this stuff. If you have a web site with more of your work, I'd love to read it. Joey #10 in the Naughtiest Nightie Contest Email Me Thought and Emotion - Here's my personal writing and fun site Searching to find a love up on a higher level Finding nothing but questions and devils

usagirl21	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 10:32 AM
Psychopath Registered: Nov. 01	Thanks Joey, I just sat here and wrote it :) You actually inspired me. I really like the 20-something poem, it was so chaotic that it flowed...if that makes any sense. ***************************** Yes, the WOW was ms-painted on If this board didn't exist, I might actually get one of my programs done.

Joey1120 SHOW ME MULE!!!!	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 11:11 AM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 02	quote: it was so chaotic that it flowed...if that makes any sense. Perfect sense. LOL. I'm surprised to find someone else that it makes sense to ;) My mind jumps around a lot. I think that's why I like message boards because I can just think about this here and think about something else there...it's very comforting to my mind to have something else jump around so much. :) Well, keep bringing them on, I'd love to hear more. Here's another for you (it's another of my favorites): That Kind of Love As the blood dripped from my fist, and the mirror shimmers in pieces I feel an emptiness, a hollow spirit and a tear for seven seasons of pain. I walk against the shadow with light out of reach, at my fingertips I want to be there. Oh, empty is my heart and whining, my grave has been dug by greed and selfishness and I fall to the cold ground and cry. Silence is broken by nature's song, I wanted to sing, but I did not exist, banished from life though I breathe and eat and walk on my two feet, alone, alone, and cursed by fate. There stands the handsome man and I sit on the fresh thorns of the shadow; cries reduced to sniffles There's no more tears left, and light fades but I still want to be there. I want to be loved, loved and kissed and hugged but I only want that kind of love. Joey #10 in the Naughtiest Nightie Contest Email Me Thought and Emotion - Here's my personal writing and fun site Searching to find a love up on a higher level Finding nothing but questions and devils

sykopathchik Hey... Buckaroo! Yes, everyone knows I type in a unique manner. No need to comment. N	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 12:25 PM
Psychopath Registered: Mar. 01	I FounD thiiS i just thinkS itS PhuCKin great . i didnt WritE it But itS wOrds Of wiSdoM n Hate :mad: :mad: --> : On Your Way Down: i hope i see you on your way down i hope you break every bone i hope it kills you on your way down i hope you die alone all of your hate and all of your lies will it be worth it? when all of your friends refuse to be alibis will it be worth it? i'll see you on your way down it's kinda sad to watch you break down you greedy fuck you pissed it all away so who will catch you on your way down you've only got yourself to blame when all of your worst fears materialize will it be worth it? there's nobody left who cares you're alive was it worth it? i'll see you on your way down. Its not How to stand nExt to the PuSsAhA .Its how you PhuCk it !!

fbdlingfrg wow, my name looks odd without 5 lines of type below it in bold and purple and red G.O.O.F.B.A.H.G.S. Red Wings Captain Cecil JBA~Remove the Pick & Click NOW!	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 1:25 PM
O&A Board Regular Registered: Oct. 00	ummm...where did all the other poems go? My life has been a fascinating series of amazing exploits, about which I have many profound insights. But frankly, none of it is any of your business, so butt out! this is the song that doesnâ€™t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, but theyâ€™ll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that doesnâ€™t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, but theyâ€™ll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that doesnâ€™t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, but theyâ€™ll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that doesnâ€™t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, but theyâ€™ll continue singing it forever just because

katylina KIDNAPPER Spill 'em if you got 'em JBA Thinks I Am A Goddess!	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 5:47 PM
O&A Board Regular Registered: Feb. 02	BOBO THE REINDEER: A HOLIDAY TALE Here goes a tale-- a tale very queer about a reindeer named Bobo who liked to chug beer. Now Rudolph was something his nose such a shocker but Bobo the reindeer... well, he could chug vodka A shot glass in one paw some salt on his hooves Bobo drank his tequilla on top of the roofs. One Christmas morning there was a disaster Rudolph was ill from nibbling on plaster. Santa was pissed all was awry he needed a reindeer to make his sleigh fly. Then who do you think stumbled home from the bar? It was Bobo of course in a taxi cab car. Santa threw up his hands in sudden delight Bobo the reindeer could lead them in flight. He was hooked to the sleigh eyes red and blurry Santa shook the reins they were off in a hurry. They swayed to the left swerved to and fro and into a treetop was where they did go. Children woke up their stockings were bare Good ol' St. Nick never was there! Remember this story for it is no lie here is my message: Don't drink and fly! A poem I wrote inside my boyfriend's X-Mas card this year Visit this Website

katylina KIDNAPPER Spill 'em if you got 'em JBA Thinks I Am A Goddess!	posted on 03-29-2002 @ 5:54 PM
O&A Board Regular Registered: Feb. 02	Cool website Joey! I took your survey... :-D Visit this Website

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