Forum Poets

[ThomPhoenix]

ThomPhoenix has a face like a cracked dish,
smellin' like a dead fish,
his rhyming wearies me,
bumming my chi.

You thought this thread was dead,
but I resurrected it as I burned ThomPhoenix
to a glorious heaven of balladry I have led
you. And to poetry hell I will send this lummox.

The Irishman attempts to stand,
baffled by the bird's fiery proze he fell,
now risen again to swipe with the hand,
the bird pecks and the lummox of hell,
returns to chide the drunken man,
no balladry can hide your foul intentions,
no fire can harm me, he mentions,
there is only one thing fire can,
and that is to return to sender with
unequivocal heat and pain.

[bloodedIrishman]

Thom believes his words upon a Pheonix's lofty wings do soar,
but underneath a mask of red-orange feathered flight lies a quality poor
of poetry. To compare the vulture's scavenging to the Eagle's nobility
is to reveal ThomPheonix's inability
to form a sentence of words that speak to the soul,
as the Irishman creates a stanza that make's the reader's spirit whole.

[ThomPhoenix]

When the Irishman is drunk he rhymes and chats,
and thinks of himself quite the chap,
but when he's sober and clears his head,
he finds in his skull a nebula has spread,
for an Irishman past intoxication,
is like any Man in full starvation.

Past the booze and into the haze,
his minds now moves in random pace,
thinking himself quite a Keats,
he announces himself full of feats,
and no longer wary of his station,
plunging fully into lofty conversation,
the Irishman now faces Hubris himself.

Hubris chastens and sorrows the mind,
and drink becomes the fellow's fine,
after binging for a while, the good man
ponders a many wile. The final conclusion
eludes him yet. For a ditch is now his
drunkard's bed.

[louscroo]

That passionate bird
The phoenix moves inside me
I have relieved him

[Geoni]

louscroo
is a big o' foo'!
But what is true,
is that his pants aren't to be.

If he has to keep them on,
then so will this kran.
Vvally I'm not a pawn,
and I'll fight ya' til ya' flee!

[Dracaeon]

I have said he can't rhyme
Time after time
So he ought to look
In a poetry book
There he might find
In many ways, shape, or kind
Good rhyming, that is
So long as it's not his
Or he could look at mine
Poetry so fine
Which I can write
At first sight
Or he could give a care
To the Poetry Fair
There in some way
He could learn how to say
Good rhymes about anything
Birds that fly, bees that sting
But we're all in the caboose
Compared to Dr. Seuss




YES best poem EVARRRR!!!!!!

[louscroo]

HURRDURR I CAN RHYME
HURRDURR I CAN RHYME
HURRDURR I CAN RHYME
HURRDURR I CAN RHYME

[bloodedIrishman]

How to describe Louscroo's rhymes?
Tart and bitter to swallow as If I were eating limes,
At first glance I felt a terrible burning in my eyes,
so painful was the sight that every man nearby could hear my cries,
To read his poetry once more would to the flesh of mine eyes forever seal
away their ability to heal.

I am but a man inflamed by your base poetry,
the meat of  your words transparent and watery,
I cannot help but be awe-struck by my literary flow
and vindictively observe as you weep for your weak poetry and wallow.

[louscroo]

My name is bloodedIrishman
And I'll tell you what:
I can easily fit
My whole fist in my butt.
Impressive I know,
But guess what, there's more!
I rock a cute tramp stamp,
Above my a**, forever sore.
And if that's still not enough,
I dress all my chars up in leather,
Nice and tight on their flesh,
For when they play Twister together.
I think that's enough proof,
Besides my proud rainbow flag,
To back up this old statement:
O.P. IS A F**

[Socius Rockus]

There once was a little tiny Bee
Who, if he couldn't get one to agree
Would scream in Rage
Tries to get that thread Sage(d)
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
When flood detection comes forth
He then uses his last resort
Claimes he's a troll
And gets away with a LOL
 

[louscroo]

I don't know the guy,
That one guy above this post,
But he knows me well.

[Knightspark9]

The constant posts and rhymes
making my head feel like a piggy bank full of dimes
louscroo? Don't be such an Akkaiddo!

[bloodedIrishman]

Knightspark9 is just your average schmoe,
when his rhymes are compared to my heavenly flow,
Three lines is all he can spit,
reading his words takes alot of grit.

He's half-man and half-fool
Two words into his work I knew he was taken out of school
before he was old enough to realize,
that telling himself he can rhyme is believin lies.

[Knightspark9]

[ Ok, I deserved that. ]

[bloodedIrishman]

Of poetry I am King,
The Greatest of the Greats is inscribed upon my ring,
fitted onto my middle finger as I flip you off.

Though you might scoff,
I have insulted you with these grandiose boasts true to my fame,
while making it clear that it's impossible to tear down my claim,
that I am an ever-present deity of artistic greatness.
Still indestructible though the drink is my weakness.