these poems range from stupid to serious.....
A Stupid Poem That Rhymes
I love to drink WINE
The texture is so FINE
NO you foo, you can't have MINE
Get away from my WINE
OR I swear Il break your SPINE
It's been made on the finest VINE
I dont care about your WHINE
NO I will not DINE
I bet you have the SWINE
I can see the SIGN
DONT cough on my WINE
IT needs to SHINE
Come closer and il beat you with this PINE
You have just crossed the LINE
You hve just threatend my WINE
IT's like a SHRINE
IT"S going to be like WW2 at the RHINE
only it's going to be UR face thats going to be TWINE
DONT YOU DARE TOUCH MY WINE!!!!

Messenger of the Autumn Days
I am the night wind that frees the autumn days,
the cold breath that quiet the roar of the sun
A maverick am I, I stand alone from the crowd
As they all work, I bring in the night,
and lead all I see to rest

As I allow the second equinox to pass,
I see the men stop in their toil,
They celebrate and curse all day,
never once mentioning my name, for all they see
is the things I bring, never the messenger.

All I see prepare for mourning,
for traditions of memory,
always doing it in my time,
for summer is a time of work
but the autumn to them is a time for recall.

The road must be paved,
for the queen of sleep is about to come
welcoming the snow, leaving all to a doze
then after that I must prepare again
as my sister wakes the sun, for spring is her domain.

I act as a messenger of passing
the halcyon that must be the god of chaos
but nobody will utter my name,
only see the sword that can be seen
and not the wielder, who wisps through the night....

I am the night wind that frees the autumn days,
the cold breath that quiet the roar of the sun
A maverick am I, I stand alone from the crowd
As they all work, I bring in the night,
and lead all I see to rest

King of Nothing
How joyous it must to be a king
with endless power and riches at his disposal,
and thousands of men to do his bidding,
citizens of his perfect world cry out,
A man above all man!
This must surely be god!
But why is it that
their hands easily,
become tainted with Blood and Greed...
Their minds twist and corrupt,
as their advisors and power
brings them to a pit where they
can never escape from.
A true king is a King of Nothing.
A king of no importance nor fame.
yet freed from every race to steal and hoard everything
knowing that one day he will lose it all.
A King of Nothing
knowing no reason to climb over everyone
taking power from other's failures and defeat.
Call him what you will,
a fool, weakling, and beggar.
but when we were just born we had nothing
yet we were kings, not ever knowing who was above us.
And as one man can can climb high,
he can easily fall, and return to nothing...
inevitably...