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All I need( poetic suicide)

All I need in this life is my pen some paper and a knife because when it comes to poetry I go insane in the brain and can't be contained I am on fire!!! Question my desire and I shall burn u like timber leaving u almost dismembered but u remember me from grade k through 3 I am that test u never passed that feeling u wouldn't couldn't or shouldn't last in my arena called education I am as amazing as a refugee lost in the wilderness
Man my life's a mess
All I need
All I need
All I need is poetry
I am
That N-word
U haven't heard or acknowledged since college
I am that: nerd that novice that neighbor who constantly says hi and bye leaving u wondering why is this person talking to me?
Fore I am he I am poetry that bible verse that aching feeling you dare not curse I am AMERKYA
The NACERIMA dream is alive in me
We are all niggas because we are
Never Ignorant Getting Goals Accomplished
But most people are pure nonsense with no conscience
But how dare u judge me to say the least when my words touch more kids than catholic priests
I am a poet immigrant no green card needed

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
[This option has been removed]
Editing stage: 


Spit and grip on the freedom tip. An emblazoned caucasian who digs the street rhapsody, soliloquy of the disenfranchised
who witness the lies, alibis bought and paid for, playful no more. Meet pissed with a fist and get the gist that an ignored scream is better than a silent whisper. I can't remember an ember so limber it locks in to box in the hatred. Smoldering, holding in, the ten
word long expletive before I begin again. This sail is full of wind, the volume is kickin' in, the sickness revealin' grin, blood in my mouth from when, the chrome bottle was goin' in. I'll only take a win, left hook to the chin. Didn't feel it, my Thai kick to seal it, KO, uh-oh, I did it again.

Reject it, ignore it, delight or deplore it. While I explore it, I'm here til the reaper wins.


Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

I'd cut this down a bit, writing poetry about writing poetry is boring, keep the interesting rhymes and get rid of the ones everyone has heard already. AMERKYA and NACERIMA mean nothing to me, (as an Australian) you are writing here to an international audience, so it helps to gear your vocab so its accessible. Your anger drives this and its got a raw energy which I liked, but what about the good things in life, love, children, friends, good to write about the positve as well as the negative.

Even your title is trying to put you in the wrong place, your writing sounds as if you don't value your existence here, or where you are, this is the second piece of yours I have read, and as you have noticed they and me would like you to write not rant.
Try using the form of breaking things up into sections and starting lines with capitals etc:
The use of unusual names can be written about as long as we have a reference.
Anyway welcome to Neopoet and I hope that you will enjoy being here.
I have looked up the words you used are these the correct definitions of those two or did you have something else in mind???

Ameryka is a settlement in the administrative district of Gmina Sierakowice, within Kartuzy County, Pomeranian Voivodeship, in northern Poland.
It lies approximately 9 kilometres south-east of Sierakowice, west of Kartuzy, and west of the regional capital Gdańsk.
For details of the history of the region, see History of Pomerania.

The Nacerima have been shown by other researchers to be a people consumed by the need to control many otherwise uncontrollable facets of their lives by the use of ritual and magic. Horace Miner’s “Body
Rituals of the Nacerima” (1956) brought to light the depth and breadth of this need for ritual and magic in his exemplary study of the obsessive body rites observed by the Nacerima. As will be demonstrated here, another area of Nacerima culture is equally permeated with ritualistic traditions: the highly ritualized, cyclic, yet spontaneous migrations of thousands of Nacerima during a rite known to them as “Gnivom,” (pronounced nhe-voom’).

Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

I'm afraid I didn't much care for it.
This is prose, not poetry.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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