am leaving funkypool u no,
on hols for a couple of days,
will miss ya's all,
i can't deny,
with yer weird and wonderful ways

i may enjoy a beer or two,
more likely many more,
a round of golf.
go down the beach,
away from all me chores.

i expect some good'uns for when i get back.
am setting homework for agro, smurf, donna, pete, jay and elliot..........more poems please

c yas

Zodiac is back
You all probaly know
How awesome i am
And how easy it show

My joking is lame
Having no shame
Its all the same
playing the game

Though id better do a poem
so when hippes gets back he doesnt moan.
Its terribly quiet , no_ones about
im bored shipless
guess i'll just sit here and pout .

Im waiting for someone to gimmi a shout
i need some banter and a mess about.

where are yeeeeeeeeeeeeeee people

well done that sassy aussie
for makin an effort to write,
have been off-line for many days,
barbecues every night.

am back at funkypool now,
some craic to have with all,
our friends on board this mighty ship,
on this earth tho' very small.

oooooh am rusty but come on peeps!!!

Not long now 'til the football starts,
Follow the teams who live in our hearts,
Weeks of gossip, rumour and doubt,
Constantly wondering who's in and who's out,
Good players come and good players go,
Millions of pounds passing to-and-fro,
It'll all be worth it at the end of the day,
If you've won a trophy come next May,
You grab your scarf and your replica top,
And pray to God your team don't flop,
So lets raise the roof with passion and glee,
When that whistle blows on Saturday at three

yes tis true the footballs back,
which manager will be first, to get the sack!
as shoulders barge and tackles fly
neither team really wants a tye,

the pace is furious and fouls are committed
gawd that ref can be so dim-witted
the whistle blows the game is done
as long as it was funky you'll have had yer fun

keep er lit smurf

It's a long, hard slog to win the league,
Constantly trying to fight off fatigue,
An upset here, a thrashing there,
Let your guard down if you dare,
Score more goals than you conceed,
It's all self-evident, you will succeed,
Tactics are crucial, of that, beware,
If you want to win some silverware

Your lyrics are good and mine may be wack,
But at end of the day I dont give a jack,
I'm here to play pool,
So stop cussing fool,
Just pick up your cue,
And let's have a few,
Then reitre to the bar,
for more than 1 jar.

Man, I'm not a poet,
For you's who don't know it,
I cant keep track with these words you're spitting back,
But, now I guess its time, for me to give a rhyme,
Jimmyz back, and he's here for the crack!

Hey Jamie it's great that you're back,
I'm sure we've all missed you demolish the rack,
I don't think your poems are poor,
We need some more that's for sure!
So keep them coming thick and fast,
Let's hope this account will actually last

I'm pleased to say,
Jimbo's here to stay,
I got my Cue in my left hand beer in my right,
Im here to impress and not to fight,
But there's something you need to see,
Jimbo's lyrics are running free,
Im the rap battle specialist,
You can't mess with this,
I need to show you what was said,
So please check out the old crazy 8's thread

http://www.funkypool.com/thread/16441/crazy-eights-brotherhood-of-mayhem/1

Well done Jimmy, they're all quite good,
Who'd have thought you were a poetic dude,
Please can you post here every day?
Give us a poem the Jimbo way!
And don't say "I can't" or "I'm not able",
Or I'll humiliate you on the 8 Ball table

Smurf, if I was you I'd stay seated,
Because for the first time you'll be specially treated,
Now my friend Hippes is a very talented poet,
But risking chances against Jimmy he'll probably blow it,
I'll be posting on here until my fingers freeze up,
Ill be posting on here till my tongue gets cut,
But for now I have to say goodbye,
The pub is calling and I'll drink the place dry.

oh my gawd what we got,
there's a mess on the floor,
it looks just like jim,
lying bokin in the sewer!

maybe he's rhymin,
tho' i doubt it very much,
he looks really ill,
needs his mummy's touch.

so hell bring it on,
write some poems or a song,
and we'll keep our wee thread,
tick-tick tickin along.

some banter is good,
for we all like the craic,
just keep it friendly,
no need for attack.

so in yer compitent hands,
i'll hand over the reins,
some good....some funny....
and ones that cause pain

keep er lit funky-rhymers

Keep er lit?
You talking...
Glad you're spitting back,
But your lyrics are wack,
Gaz you need to improve,
So before I get into the groove,
I'll tear up the streets,
With ma brand new beats.


Hand over the rein?
Ill name and shame,
Im no beautician,
But Im a rap technician,
These hands are healing,
My lyrics you are stealing,
I'll prove my point,
After I've smoked this joint.
Time for Jimmy to behave,
The longer I wait, the more you'll crave!

Peace out FunkyPoolers

yer prob a lightweight....2 puffs and yer green,
just like that whitewash in pool that i seen
u gotta stay with it and prove to us all,
i'd nearly put money on yer imminent fall.

My imminent fall will be non-existent,
I'll tell you why, Im too persistent.
Im a heavyweight smoker,
You're a heavyweight choker,
You get as high as a kite and then you pull white.

Whitewash in pool?
My skill makes you drool.
Don't dare challenge me.
Because soon you shall see,
That Jimmy is able to own these pool tables!

I challenge you to a rap battle Hippes of Gazereth!

in music my friend
i don't think you'll find,
a place for yer sound,
in the key of C-rap.

in yer bloodshot eyes,
it may qualify,
but am sorry my friend,
the rap it has died.

2 live crew and NWA,
Vanilla Ice, Marky Mark all gone i must say,
in my eyes and more the songs that stand time,
are the ones without rap and much better lines.

This mic device
I spit nonfiction
Who got tha power
This be my question
Tha mass or tha few in this torn nation?
Tha priest tha book or tha congregation?
Tha politricks who rob and hold down your zone?
Or those who give tha thieves tha key to their homes?
Tha pig who's free to murder one Shucklak
Or survivors who make a move and murder one back?

Mic Check, ha ha ha
I be the anti-myth rhythm rock shocker
Mic Check, ha ha ha ha
I be the anti-myth rhythm rock shocker, what?
Mic Check, ha ha ha
I be the anti-myth rhythm rock shocker
Mic Check, ha ha ha ha
I be the anti-myth rhythm rock shocker, what?

Here's a little poem I wrote for the Crazy Eights


They'll encircle you like a pack of hounds,
Terrify you with skill that knows no bounds,
You will shiver and you will quake,
At the devastation they leave in their wake,
For they are the ones who truely stand tall,
And they have been sent to punish you all,
They're a clan full of funkypool greats,
Know collectively as the Crazy Eights

Shooters are the clan to be,
Pot and win that's the key,
With sharpened cues,
They will never lose,
Their skill is endless,
They leave opposing clans defenceless.

Craig will lead the shooters to victory,
He will put them into clan history.
Metterz and Bradon are winning machines,
Doyley and Chalkie like to show they're keen
Winning division 2 will be like a breeze,
They skip through matches with pure ease.

The last thing I'll say and I hope I'm not wrong,
Is lets get promoted back to where we belong!

Jimbo