Afro Punk Writers

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Comment by Drew on March 15, 2010 at 12:17am

the pen sat saber like at my side, as there are no new words as of yet to slay, nor a fresh canvas to conquer at the dusk's break of day. i can't wax on poetic of elsewhere cicada's bay, and i'm getting drowsing from flimsy prose about the bitter shade of blue within the fray. i'd rather etch a lyric about the symmetry of the sow, or the emperor's backwards ass grin at the sight of court's kowtow. its Kowloon with a crimson scarf set of compliments. a mosaic of Paris porn clips in an imaginary room furnished decadent. do these symptoms of empty spit space attached to even grace match the dose of milk missing the carton, asking of the place rather than the person? i've got a gavel shaking at the inch entry of order, and i've got a few spear tipped rounds of idol mortar to spray. i'll have an order of sense with a side of solidarity. be sure to add tons of solace, and i'll spring extra for some fresh prosperity. muse give me grace or the gaul to detail the chasm. but til then my pen sits saber-like sideways, near the safer end of my aching sacrum.

Comment by mikal haley on March 14, 2010 at 5:39pm

YOUR WHOLE LITTLE NASTY WORLD.

Comment by ax3staxxx on March 14, 2010 at 2:34pm

why are so many of us driven by VANITY ?

why cant we be friends ?

(these are songs )

Comment by Fashionfreak on March 12, 2010 at 12:32am

my vocabulary isnt nearly as advanced as you all. im amazed.

Comment by Drew on March 11, 2010 at 7:43pm

all hands off, laissez friare of the far away sort off deck. the broken brackish hue ocean won't stop the strum, nor drag, nor this weapon check. farbeit from the left to rally the gaggle of blood-lusting jugheads to mount offense and rush the bay. it was a right hand signal full of sulfur all the way that started this molotov cocktail soiree. middle end of the map, the pity bazzar bowed out of the arms race, becuase upper limbs missing digits just lack that even number sort of grace. image about as honorable as the storm trooper trouncing the families' first born armed with walking stick, or even better the outline of a stone. is the starshine and stripes worth the shower to remove his type O ? are you toting enough hail mary's to convince the upper crust you've atoned? theres a fever in the cabin from the infantry falling rabid. every ounce of the head, shoulders, knee meets toe type of training has gnawed itself down to this. willing to suffer the swan song, but apprehensive to hold the hand, or wet the dynamite wick. if words like peace fall deaf to the man mesh mortar feast, then war must be the booming symphony to summon calamity into the cacophony.

Comment by Jidah C. on March 9, 2010 at 11:04pm

Psychology class/random/renga/rude

So I've been told that...
God loves the vessel with bow
hand violin skin

It sounds too impossible

shut up. I'm taking a test.

Comment by Jidah C. on March 9, 2010 at 10:33pm

yea share it! :)

Comment by Kairoe Memphiss on March 9, 2010 at 10:32pm

DOO IIIT!

Comment by ZeL Jackson on March 9, 2010 at 3:26pm

Reading past post all of you are awesome writers. I try not to fancy my self as a writer (critics can be horrid) but I would love to share with you all

Comment by Kairoe Memphiss on February 28, 2010 at 5:12pm

Poetry Power Pistols,
I just want to say thank you. Not fro reading it, but thinking about it. If there is one thing I want to accomplish, it's to get people to think, and I think I succeeded with that work.
And thank you for the quotes. I'll be adding them to by bookmarked collection.
Keep on reading and writing.
:)

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