Razi• Show poetry

i dont usually bother with rhyming or proper grammar. i just write down whatever pops in my head. i am myself on here and i like to express myself as i dont often get to do it. im a very down to earth kind of girl. i can be happy, depressed, pissed off or violant. i accept everyone except for preps that fit their stereotype, racists, or prejudge ppl. i am a semi-vegan and obsessed with twilight.

I LIKE:
*Loud Music(hard rock, metal, grunge, heavy metal)
*Razors
*Alcohol
*Gothic people
*Pain
*Skaters
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..*•.¸(*•.¸♥¸.•*)¸.•*..
╔═╦══╦═╗ Put this on your
║╩╣║║║║║ page if you are emo
╚═╩╩╩╩═╝ or support emos xx
¸.•*(¸.•*..♥..*•.¸)*•.¸

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**Support Gay Rights**
put this up is you support gay rights
**Love is Love**
_

Goths:
*Don't always wear black
*Don't worship Satan
*Are NOT evil
*Do not want to kill people
*Do not hate everybody
*Are not always depressed
*Can be happy too
*Are usually nice people
*Are normal, just like you

[if you suport goths or are one add this to your page]
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HOMOPHOBIA IS WRONG

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

if you believe that homophobia is wrong, copy and paste this onto your author page
_

HATE EMO?

READ THIS:

Isnt it funny that when you go to the shops with your friends you look down at the girl with black jeans and studs but smile at the girl wearing a a mini with a tshirt that barely cover anything?

Isnt it funny you can change your music taste to impress a guy but when it comes to a girl who likes her own music and her own style, you give her a mouthful?

Isnt it funny that a guy can get away with being a gangsta but the emo gets a mouthful from everyone

are you laughing?

Isnt it funny an emo can be quiet all through the week but gets more shit from everyone than the girl who sleeps around and sells her virginity?

Isnt it funny that you dont mind your friends drinking, smoking but the minute someone mentions emo music you can give them a lecture on melodramatic teenage outcasts?

im not laughing

Its so funny that you and your friends can make a girls life hell and not know anything about the silent battle she might be fighting.

Isnt it funny that you can call emos, punks, goths the retards but still manage to get through your day without an inch of guilt in your heart.

HOW YOU CAN CALL A GIRL A POSER, HOW CAN YOU SAY "YOUR NOT EMO" OR "ATTENTION SEEKER" WITHOUT SPENDING A SECOND TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHY THERE ARE CUTS ON HER WRISTS AND WHY SHE SPENDS HER LUNCHTIMES CRYING INSTEAD OR LAUGHING WITH HER FRIENDS

keep on laughing

Isnt it funny you can say and do all this without any idea of what is going on in this persons life

without knowing her situation with her friends

or her family

or her LIFE

BRAVE ISNT GOING UP ON STAGE AND STRIPPING

BRAVE IS NOT SAYING A SPEECH

OR DUMPING YOUR BOYFRIEND

BRAVE IS

GOING TO SCHOOL ON MUFTI DAY AND NOT FOR A SECOND CARE WHAT THE WHORES AROUND YOU ARE SAYING ABOUT YOUR CLOTHES

ITS LISTENING TO YOUR OWN MUSIC AND BEING PROUD OF IT

ITS GOING THROUGH EVERY DAY WITH THE THINGS PEOPLE SAY TO YOUR FACE AND BEHIND YOUR BACK AND YOU STILL KEEP QUIET

ITS KNOWING WHAT YOUR "FRIENDS" ARE SAYING ABOUT YOU AND STILL CALLING THEM YOUR FRIENDS

BRAVE IS KNOWING THAT TOMOROW ISNT A BRIGHT AND HAPPY FUTURE

ITS ANOTHER DAY OF BITCHING AND DODGING RUMORS

keep on laughing
if you agree put this on ur blog
and advise others to do so
screw THE EMO HATERS.
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I hope that everyone who reads this learns from it!

I remembered what you said.
you told me not to drink, Mom
So I had a Sprite instead.
I felt proud of myself,
the way you said I would,
That I didn't drink and drive,
though some friends said I should.
I made a healthy choice,
and your advice to me was right
as the party finally ended,
and the kids drove out of sight.
I got into my car,
sure to get home in one piece,
I never knew what was coming, Mom
something I expected least.
Now I'm lying on the pavement,
And I hear the policeman say,
The kid that caused this wreck was drunk,"
Mom, His voice seems far away.
My own blood all around me,
as I try hard not to cry.
I can hear the paramedic say,
"This girl is going to die."
I'm sure the guy had no idea,
while he was flying high,
because he chose to drink and drive,
now I would have to die.
So why do people do it, Mom
Knowing that it ruins lives?
And now the pain is cutting me,
like a hundred stabbing knives.
Tell sister not to be afraid, Mom
tell daddy to be brave,
and when I go to heaven,
put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave.
Someone should have taught him,
that it's wrong to drink and drive.
Maybe if his parents had,
I'd still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter, Mom
I'm getting really scared.
These are my final moments,
and I'm so unprepared.
I wish that you could hold me Mom,
as I lie here and die.
I wish that I could say I love you, Mom
So I love you and good-bye.
_

A girl and guy were speeding, on a motorcycle, over 90 mph on the road..
Girl: Slow down. I’m scared.
Guy: No, this is fun.
Girl: No, it’s not. Please, it’s too scary!
Guy: Then tell me you love me.
Girl: Fine, I love you. Slow down!
Guy: Now give me a BIG hug.
*Girl hugs him*
Guy: Can you take my helmet off & put it on yourself? It’s bugging me.
(In the paper the next day)
A motorcycle crashed into a building because of break failure. Two people were on it, but only one survived. The truth was that halfway down the road, the guy realized that his breaks broke, but he didn’t want to let the girl know. Instead, he had her say she loved him & felt her hug one last time, then had her wear his helmet so that she would live even though it meant that he would die.
If you would ever do this for someone....then post this on your page asap!!
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Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
sugar is sweet and so are you.
However,the roses are wilting
and the violets are dead,
the sugar bowl's empty
and my wrists are stained red
_

My name is Chris
I am three,
My eyes are swollen
I cannot see,
I must be stupid
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my mommy
Would still want to hug me.
I cant do a wrong
I cant speak at all
Or else I'm locked up
All day long.
When I'm awake I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren't home
When my mommy does come home
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll just get
One whipping tonight.
I just heard a car
My daddy is back
From Charile's bar.
I hear him curse
My name is called
I press myself
Against the wall
I try to hide
From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I starting to cry
He finds me weeping
Calls me ugly words,
He says it's my fault
He suffers at work.
He slaps and hits me
And yells at me more,
I finally get free
And run to the door
Hes already locked it
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall
I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken,
"I'm sorry!" I scream
But its now much to late
His face has been twisted
Into a unimaginable shape
The hurt and the pain
Again and again
O please god, have mercy!
O please let it end!
And he finally stops
And heads for the door
While I lay there motionless
Brawled on the floor
My name is Chris
I am three,
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me
And you can help
Sickens me top the soul,
And if you read this
and don't pass it on
I pray for your forgiveness
Because you would have to be
One heartless person
To not be effected
By this Poem
And because you are effected,
Do something about it!
So all I ask you to do
Is pass this on!
_

A drunk man in an Oldsmobile
They said had run the light
That caused the six-car pileup
On 109 that night.
When broken bodies lay about
And blood was everywhere,
The sirens screamed out eulogies,
For death was in the air.
A mother, trapped inside her car,
Was heard above the noise;
Her plaintive plea near split the air:
"Oh, God, please spare my boys!"
She fought to loose her pinned hands;
She struggled to get free,
But mangled metal held her fast
In grim captivity.
Her frightened eyes then focused
On where the back seat once had been,
But all she saw was broken glass and
Two children's seats crushed in.
Her twins were nowhere to be seen;
She did not hear them cry,
And then she prayed they'd been thrown free,
"Oh, God, don't let them die! "
Then firemen came and cut her loose,
But when they searched the back,
They found there no little boys,
But the seat belts were intact.
They thought the woman had gone mad
And was traveling alone,
But when they turned to question her,
They discovered she was gone.
Policemen saw her running wild
And screaming above the noise
In beseeching supplication,
“Please help me find my boys!
They're four years old and wear blue shirts;
Their jeans are blue to match."
One cop spoke up, "They're in my car,
And they don't have a scratch.
They said their daddy put them there
And gave them each a cone,
Then told them both to wait for Mom
To come and take them home.
I've searched the area high and low,
But I can't find their dad.
He must have fled the scene
I guess, and that is very bad.”
The mother hugged the twins and said,
While wiping at a tear,
"He could not flee the scene, you see,
For he's been dead a year."
The cop just looked confused and asked,
"Now, how can that be true?”
The boys said, "Mommy, Daddy came
And left a kiss for you.
He told us not to worry
And that you would be all right,
And then he put us in this car with
The pretty, flashing light.
We wanted him to stay with us,
Because we miss him so,
But Mommy, he just hugged us tight
And said he had to go.
He said someday we'd understand
And told us not to fuss,
And he said to tell you, Mommy,
He's watching over us."
The mother knew without a doubt
That what they spoke was true,
For she recalled their dad's last words,
"I will watch over you."
The firemen's notes could not explain
The twisted, mangled car,
And how the three of them escaped
Without a single scar.
But on the cop's report was scribed,
In print so very fine,
“An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109”
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