Submissions by Yojimbo (Huntrocity)

Words can be crafted into a theme or thought.
Why are we a here? To teach or be taught?

No. It is something that is within.
The hardest part is to know where to begin.

If you are ever down, out, and maybe unclear.
Underground Poetry is always here.

To all that connects us and shows us of all that is true.

Just know that Poetry, and what it means, always starts with YOU.

The thought of me, is hard to fake. But for all the others, so quick to take.

All aboard, at my expense. don't you worry, I'll pay your fee.
My promised hope is on its way. But you've made sure, it's behind your fence.

Myself on sale, discount truth.  No ones here, and yet I stay.
So close to end, and yet so far.  Cash my checks, yet skip my booth.  

The thought of me, is hard to make, But for all the others, I refuse to break.

Of all the things you want to be
Enduring eyes, but none should see
Mortal flesh, a currency
A bastards road to Eden's Tree

Beyond the veil, for it be clear
For your sake, don't go near
Of all the things you wish to be
For your soul, I pray and fear.

Truth be known, or so they say
Eternal Hell, will come one day
Of all the things you ought to be
Infernal howls to unheard ears.

The time has come, it's almost near
Heaven crying, crimson tears.
The worst has past, crystal clear.
But beyond that storm,...