Stop

Stop

A Poem by Christopher Robin
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A story in rhyme depicting my acquisition of rhyming prowess, what it cost me, and what I learned :) (rated teen for concepts, language, and possible catharsis) ***Now with 100% more audio added***

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Stop

 

I was sitting down when all around this sound found and ground pound me into a state of being irate and feeling hate toward this noisy fate. My excessive successive expressive blinking got me thinking that people were looking and cooking up ideas and fears about my tears; was it years of pressure from peers, too many cheers and beers, or perhaps the mere austere sneers and leers of the said seers to whom I made it clear I did not hold dear? I tried to turn away but needless to say I had to stay and weigh up my choices, to stick with the voices or admit defeat and retreat into a completely obsolete street to avoid the chance to meet and greet with the neatly dressed elite near me who only repeat their lies and deceit until from their heads to their feet the fleet of people they mistreat are all dancing to their beat.

 

It made me sick to watch these pricks whose slick tricks won the hearts of those too thick to use their own wit. You know the ones who won’t just sit and admit that the fact they have tits or dicks doesn’t make them one bit more clever it just serves to sever their chance of ever finding romance or getting to glance at the way to advance beyond those who prance about entranced by the dance and chants of those who treat them like ants.

 

But I don’t want my view of the general slew of people to be misconstrued. I do think there are a few who are not so new to what’s false and true, who don’t need clues, so instead of missing their cues, what ensues is a chance for them to muse over whether to diffuse, confuse or bruise the loser who now has to choose whether to cruise or stay and refuse to excuse their words, letting their lies amuse the one they thought they could use.

 

So I like watching people despite their botching feeble attempts at contempt. This nation’s affliction of berating through friction is an amazing contradiction of elation by addiction. But still I look on for so long and ponder if it’s wrong to feel strong that I’ve won because of the one’s who don’t have guns or the funds to not be shunned, these bleak weak speakers of peace, they’ll never get to the top. Even through my episode, here I force myself to stop.

 

To my friends who by the end were too hurt to amend or prevent from following the trend of leaving me to blend in with others whilst I pretended the ears they leant were extended so I could be defended from this fate but I was attended on too late, offended enough to cause hate till I had fended off my last mate and descended to such a state that amendment was a laughable trait to allocate those with enough on their plate. What with treachery and lechery, backstabbing and grabbing what’s best of me and using it against the rest of me, like some sort of test you see, so blessed be the one’s who seem to need me to bleed to feed their greed to be free of their misery and conversely filled with glee at seeing this scene of me fleeing helplessly; the legless flea the branch-less tree, the empty sea, I try to plead but so dark is the seed they sow that I know all I can do is watch it grow and overthrow my own low-blows, until as though I were filled with snow my slow glowing light giving me hope goes out and shows instead the darkness enclose around my head.

 

So by the time I get to bed I’m filled with dread at so many friendships now dead, where all the paths I seemed too keen to tread have now led. My eyes feel like lead, everything I taste is stale bread; all my thoughts are bred from those I have fed and bled for. I fled at the first chance and sped home, and now all alone I flick through my phone and see all those who disowned me, those who had known me, once friendly now lonely, once a heart now a stone, from merely apart, to unknown.

 

I feel as though I have failed, as though this stale gale of hail, and what it entails; this pale face inside this jailed place, has prevailed. Caught by my own blackened traps and thrown into cracking collapse, if by tracking this lapse I’m found lacking then perhaps I’m merely fraught with the thought that though I fought for what I brought together, I never expected to be taught to be rejected and forced to consort with the other dejected in order to be accepted once more. My thoughts have taken a path impossible to plot, my jaw clenches in focus as I force myself to stop.

 

Whether I’m on a train or a plane this pain inside of my brain makes it plain that my main aim is to shift this rain of blame onto a different plain so that the same strain driving me insane making me complain again and again is lain somewhere I can’t regain it. Name it with the profane acclaim I attained and maintained it when I first claimed it and famed it for it’s ordained sense of disdain or it’s main untamed flame that would not be changed and only estranged by those who do not understand and can only reprimand and demand bland attempts at a stand against a land they can have no hand in the making so by breaking it and faking as though they are creating something they are mistaken in just what they’ve taken from those they think they’ve awakened.

 

But these thoughts are too crazed too close to the bad days of going through a bad phase in a daze of hazy craziness others mistook for laziness, my thoughts ablaze even though my brain and face remain unchanged, the sun’s rays amaze and save me, this thought train has got me deranged, I have to change, so without a trace of grace I launch my mind into space so that the race of debates that distastefully baits me can wait and move at a slower pace because of the new path I’ve tried to take.

And though now outside of time my mind still brings the rhyme as though a parallel line to my life is trying to define dying as easier than surviving these thoughts that keep me lying to all who come prying.

 

I just can’t gain any insight into the ones who think a little fight might be the right type of help like they’re the bright white light that will rescue me from my plight and restore my sight; these impolite and non-contrite types only inspire spite and sleepless nights, leave me alone, I’ll be alright.

 

And though the main conventions and intention of this extended retention appear to keep all the attention on my own descent, to what extent does this invention mention others to whom a similar event has bent them and sent them on their own journey of malcontent? I must confess my best guess suggests that unless the rest of them suffer less stresses or pressing distresses, then there’s a whole mess of other addresses out there written by kids who try to compress their blessed lessons into similar digressions. I think many of them seem to glean across what they really mean, and even though none of you are still impressed, I’ll do my best to explain.

 

It doesn’t matter if you’re thinner or fatter, smaller or taller the former or latter, if you have ears stop listening and hear me, if you have eyes stop looking and see for the first time in your lives maybe. I know most people don’t care what I have to say that they’ll go away, go about their day, but I pray that some of you will stay and understand the point I’m trying to relay. It’s not about right or wrong or writing a song that’s two thousand words long in order to impress a throng who all along are longing for you to stop prolonging what they think there’s an end to.

 

Hopefully this is where it starts, in a class or in your hearts, all the smart ones with sharp tongues and past wrongs will see this chance to surpass your past trespasses by letting the auditory blast of this world’s cast last for a while, and instead of laughs or denial why not trial a smile? And if that’s not your style then for God’s sake be awake to the sort of courage it takes for someone to put everything at stake by creating something that makes no mistakes or misgivings about why they hate how they’re living. And whether you think the creation is great or awaiting debate the ruthlessness of the truthfulness should let us assume there’s room for the artist in you to bloom! Don’t grieve if like me you’ve received E’s and D’s for work you deemed worthy of C’s or B’s, please believe you can achieve your wildest dreams by just seizing the means you need to succeed. Whether it’s from me or your family or the friends you see, you can get where you want to be without a university degree that supposedly makes you happy. Don’t let teachers and preachers give you speeches about the furthest reaches of achievement. It’s up to you to show you already know whatever it is these average Joe’s are trying to bestow upon you. As long as you grow from the places you go, the things you throw away and the things you choose to save, then you’ve gained more than could ever be explained for you.

 

Though I think it’s barely fair, I’m aware I’m running out of space and time for this race in rhyme and that this pace of mine can’t be traced it’s fine for the faces of the blind to be blank or rank with the frank expressions of repression. I can see they don’t understand what I’ve said; this whole thing has probably gone over their head, but for you near me who hear me clearly don’t fear to steer your way to the top, and no matter what anyone says, never, ever, stop.

© 2014 Christopher Robin


Author's Note

Christopher Robin

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Featured Review

And though at the start I cringed at some mild profanity ( sorry it's my Roman Catholic roots) ..nevertheless the wild and carefree poet in me reveled in sheer bliss as I soaked in the mellifluous flow of words ....This rap grabbed me by the eyeballs and the eardrums from the getgo. it showed me the man behind this poem..someone with a conscience. who doesn't blindly follow his peers ... someone who questions authority, who raises his voice in the face of wrong(a beautiful voice) who marches to a different drum than other ordinary mortals. a soul who can be unstoppable if he continues to use his pen and his voice to raise relevant issues. lethal combo that pen and voice. Bravo Christopher Robin! You are gifted.

Posted 6 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Christopher Robin

6 Years Ago

Wow! Jenney!

Thanks for the awesome praise and review. Outside of my rap I very rarely .. read more
Jenney Clark

6 Years Ago

you are welcome Christopher, i give praise where it is due. you certainly have a way of driving home.. read more



Reviews

great job it was...it was all in a flow...if i read one line it made me travel to the next.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Wow.
Well done to you, sir.
This is genius.

I don't think I've ever come across poetry like this!
You told an insightful tale, but the wonderful content aside,
your structure and flow were on POINT throughout.
That can't have been easy to attain.

Very, very well done.

Posted 6 Years Ago


WOW. This is an amazing poem.

Well written. Great JOB

thank you for sharing

~suk

Posted 6 Years Ago


Super bomb. I really admire your play on words. Keep writing....Please

Posted 6 Years Ago


' just can’t gain any insight into the ones who think a little fight might be the right type of help like they’re the bright white light that will rescue me from my plight and restore my sight; these impolite and non-contrite types only inspire spite and sleepless nights, leave me alone, I’ll be alright.'

Methinks you will!

Heard so much by reading twice.. long, yes, but rhythmic pleasure and thoughts emotive and all. Style unusually elegant or, should that read elegantly unusual! Will return to hear when time fades the movement of your pen.

Now listened,( and not before time)! . At first i thought you spoke too quickly but, but.. quite quickly got to hear your post as a rolling tap-tap of tuneful rhyming words. Maybe you slowed just a hint, knowing you had the time to do so. '.. waiting debate the ruthlessness of the truthfulness should let us assume there’s room for the artist in you to bloom.. ' so smooth!

Posted 6 Years Ago


Now this is an exquisitely refreshing read. So much to be said here. The piece reads so fast with the flawless rhyming and then when you add the depth and the meaning behind it there's a true masterpiece. Loved this read. Very creative and unique.

Posted 6 Years Ago


Wow great work, that inspires me to write one too, don't worry i will never compete with u as i know d consequence. Rhymes are my weakness, i write my poems with rhymes, time to write one with a story , great thought friend, thanks for inspiring me.

Posted 6 Years Ago


this is very cool ... I started reading immediately thought of spoken word.. I went in my first Poetry Slam this year .. did you enter? I think you should .. :)

Check out the link if you have not done so already

http://australianpoetryslam.com/

and check out last years winner ... very cool words ...

Posted 6 Years Ago


Powerful piece! You have strength, conviction and anger. I don't know how to help you channel this energy. Tread carefully and aim well, my friend!

Posted 6 Years Ago



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Added on July 27, 2014
Last Updated on September 4, 2014
Tags: poetry, rap, prose, commentry, contemporary, poem, story, rhyme

Author

Christopher Robin
Christopher Robin

Melbourne, Caulfield, Australia



About
Chris, almost 28, live in Melbourne, love reading, writing, gaming. I like to have fun with words. I'd also like to raise the bar a little when it comes to publishing online 'literature'. I hope you b.. more..

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