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Derrick Clark Poems
33: Years out of exile
All my life, it felt like I was in a atonement for enternity. Trap in this mental prison called the system. As I am the prey, while they is the predator. Running for dear life, to escape this mental carnage.
Hey, hey, hey Mrs. Gay, gay, gay
Hey, hey, hey Mrs. Gay, gay, gay. How are you doing today? Im fine! About yourself? I feel like a wonderful day.
Birth of a flower...
As I am a seed, planted inside the ground. Ready to be nuture, by all type of caretaker. As the mourning sun rises, gleaming on the other flowers. While the time past by, im still in my final stage.
The Accidental talent...
How in 33, three dacade 3 years. All of a sudden, im writing poems. Figuring out life, is base upon poems. Every poem you read, has to deal with life.
Alexander the Great: Living in Me...
Great general, King of King's, great wisdom-vision. First, he moves his small powerful army. His ambition was to conquer. In addition, using his wisdom, to overcome his adversaries. With this young upstart vision, he seen himself being King of King's
Happy face sad face, which one is you. Happy is joy Sad is grief Fear face anger face, which one is you.
Lawn-mowing the grass
On a sunny clear-blue day. I get out the lawnmower. To give the grass it hair-cut. As it was long and wild. As, I started up the clipper on wheels, the sound was very loud.
21 century: of a new-breed poet...
All style's of poetry; it sound all good to me. Im living in the year of 2007. Bless thee. As, I brewing up new styles, mixing the old with the new.
scourging heat vagabond looks coin cup holding
Cutie's with a Booty...
Strolling down the street, enjoying a warm nice glamorious day. Pop up on three sexy ladies. I ask them all there names? My name is Shawnda, my name is Co Co, and my name is Lashay. I see your enjoying this lovely day! Ask they went on to past me by
Mark! Your Name, Rhyme's with Clark...
Hello, Mark! My name is Mr, Clark. Did your fart! Mark? Dont even start. If I didn't! Who else did? You silly, Mr, Clark! 'You look like box-car Willy.
The talking animal's
As I become, a fictitious narrative. Creating a fable story, about a dog, cat and a mice. The dog name Bog, the cat name Spat, and the mice is Spice.
In these mean street's, don't you get caught sleeping. Every which way you look, it seem like, someone out there creeping. Living in this urban combat life style. Hope that, you don't end up, on a statistic profile.
The Nomad Is Hungry Part 2
As the temperature start to cool down. Wandering on the streets, as my belly start to hurt. I'm hungry! Where am I going to get some food at! Having lent ball's in my pocket.Did'nt hace any money.
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Edgar Allan Poe
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(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
33: Years out of exile
All my life, it felt like I was in a atonement for enternity.
Trap in this mental prison called the system.
As I am the prey, while they is the predator.
Running for dear life, to escape this mental carnage.
Wondering why I, have to experience so much failure and pain.
Coming with a solution, to starve out this beast.
Reaching within myself, to bring out this hidden warrior.
That ready to unleash his fury.
Knowing the key weapon is sacrifice and will.
Finally realize,33 years of my life.
My mind is my ammo, to overcome my darkest hour.