Wednesday, April 30, 2014

The Next King Of Poetry Poem | Ryan Ngala

The Next King Of Poetry 
Poem

Edited, Recited, Typed & Written
By
Mr. Ryan Ngala
Ryan Ngala's Poems™ | STN® Poetry

I write to recite,
That is my blog motto,
All I really need,
Is a pencil and something to write with.

And watch how my,
Rhymes flow so fluently,
I got so many thoughts,
Jotted down in my brain.

I have all my social media fans,
Right beside me,
As I start to write each different subject,
To become my number one favorite poem in the whole wide world.

Ryan the best writer,
My sister Wendy the best editor,
If I had a poetry book,
It will become the number one,
New York Times Best seller.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

My Momma Told Me Poem | Ryan Ngala

Edited, Recited, Typed & Written 
By
Mr. Ryan Ngala
Ryan Ngala's Poems™ | STN® Poetry™

My Momma,
Told Me,
To never talk,
To strangers.

As these homeless beggers,
Will be asking us for money,
But don't give us anything in return.

My Momma told me,
To keep on hustling,
And finding a job.

For a maximum minimum wage paid,
And that someday,
I'm going to become,
Filthy rich one day.

To always wake up,
My siblings early,
And also brushing
My teeth daily.

My momma,
Was also very
Young and
educated.

She was born in Nigeria,
Came to America
To raise us like grown up kids,
We are today.

My Momma told me,
To study and work hard,
Just to stay focus and pay attention,
But just to listen on,
What she has to say.

From oldest to youngest,
As the next generations
Of super smart rich kids,
We were destine to become to be.

What Makes Dem Girls So Beautiful? (What Is It?!!!) Poem | Ryan Ngala


Edited, Recited, Typed & Written 
By
Mr. Ryan Ngala
Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™
RyanNgalasPoemsOfficial.Blogspot.com | STNPoetryOfficial.Blogspot.com

Is it by the way they walk,
Or by the way they talk dirty,
To dem boys,
As they flirt on 'Em,
Having them listening to their favorite jam song of the day,
Courtesy of R. Kelly.

What Is It?,
Is it by the way they,
Whip their hair,
Back and Forth,
Courtesy of Willow, herself,
Just to show 'em how,
Much their really worth.

And let 'Em know who,
The baddest boss really is,
These chicks will be,
So flossy.

So stylish,
So cute,
And all so very pretty,
Destine to be victorious,
In every area of New York City.

What Is It?,
Is it by the way,
Dem lip gloss will be popping,
As they step on to the scene,
Looking so fresh as hell,
As they step into the movie screen,
Yah, mean.

Punch Poem | Ryan Ngala

Edited, Recited, Typed & Written 
By 
Mr. Ryan Ngala
Ryan Ngala's Poems™ | STN® Poetry™


I'am a lonely boy,
Back when I was in high school,
When bullies punch me,
Some people,
Think I'am stupid.

Some people,
Think I'm dumb,
They will otherwise,
Start a fight, Make a riot.

Then wanting,
To talk some,
Bulls**t behind their back,
And I sure as hell,
Don't want that.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Paper Recycling Poem | Ryan Ngala


Edited, Recited, Typed & Written
By 
Mr. Ryan Ngala
Ryan Ngala's Poems™ | STN® Poetry
RyanNgalasPoemsOfficial.Blogspot.com | STNPoetryOfficial.Blogspot.com

The way that I’m getting money,
Is so simple,
Fast and easy,
Money doesn't grow on trees.

That’s a false statement to me,
It’s the fact that,
I’m collecting bottles and cans.

As I’m hustling for the paper,
I will make whatever I have,
To make $5 or $10 dollars,
In anyway that I like,
And save the change for later.

It’s a pretty sweet idea,
So once I become smart with my money,
I should spend it more wisely,
Even better.

Persistent Poem | Ryan Ngala

Edited, Recited, Typed & Written
By
Mr. Ryan Ngala
                     Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™


I'll always have a focus mind,
The things that I'll do,
Will keep me concentrated,
Never to keep me distracted.

As I start looking for a job,
That best interest me,
In any career necessary,
I will always stay persistent,
In doing whatever I have to do,
To have a bigger and a brighter future,
Way ahead of me.

For today and tomorrow,
As the day comes by,
I thank both for Ms. Diana Cruz and Mr. Cory B.

For always guiding,
And showing me,
The right way,
Including God the almighty,
Cause he will always have my back.



I Don't Have, To Hate On 'Em Fly Rich Girls Poem | Ryan Ngala

Edited, Recited, Typed & Written 
By 
Mr. Ryan Ngala
Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™


It was back then,
When I was still,
In A. Philip Randolph Campus High School,
All the girls look so fresh to death.

Because they dress,
So professional,
The type of chick,
That everybody,
Wanna be their ride or die for,
Or wanna holler at them.

But It was at that point,
On my mind,
What I can do,
To make a chick.

Want to impress,
A fly cool dude like me,
So I started,
Wanting to write some poetry.

Started to sing like Floetry,
In at any moment or an hour later,
All the fly ladies and the fellas,
From Harlem Children's Zone's College Success Office & Employment & Technology Center,
Started to watch,
My poem performance,
Only exclusively On YouTube.com/RyanNgalasPoems.

It was that then,
They notice how talented,
I really was,
From the very beginning.

Dem fly rich girls,
Who'll be on the cover,
Of the New York Times,
Or Vogue Magazine,
I don't have, to hate on 'em fly rich girls,
And that's fine by me.

If You Ain't About Your Paper Poem, Part 2 | Ryan Ngala

If You Ain't About Your Paper Poem, Part 2


Edited, Recited, Typed & Written
By
Mr. Ryan Ngala & Ms. Wendy Ngala
Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™
RyanNgalasPoemsOfficial.Blogspot.com | STNPoetryOfficial.Blogspot.com

Verse 2:


If you ain’t about your paper,
Then don’t come to me,
With your hands,
Wide open begging me or us for a quarter.


Because we will be making,
Billions, Millions, Trillions Or Thousands of dollars a year,
While you broke mother fuckers yourself,
Don’t get nothing.


You ain’t even,
Worth nothing
 to me hoe,

Like Chris Breezy told me,
These hoes ain’t loyal to me.


At least the people who look broke,
Don’t even have the common sense,
To even make their own money,

By themselves,
By collecting bottles and cans.


But instead,
I’m making all of this bread,
By myself,
Without no one’s help.


But with someone to guide me,
It’s so funny to me,
That we don’t owe them,
Much of anything.


Copyright © 2008 - 2020 Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™.  

All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Beautiful Poem | Ryan Ngala



Edited, Recited, Typed & Written
By
Mr. Ryan Ngala
Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™
RyanNgalasPoemsOfficial.Blogspot.com | STNPoetryOfficial.Blogspot.com

There’s no other word,
To describe your perfection,
You dress to impress,
For all the boys
Who stare at ya.



Keep on smiling,
And posting pic’s,
Of ya bad self,
I like the way you look,
Now go strike a pose that,
You just took.

To put it as a profile,
Picture on Facebook,
Them divas haters will be hating,
Cause they ain’t styling as hard as you.

You have a passion for fashion,
In every aspect of your creativity,
Right in front of you,
You look like one of them fashion models,
Who styles on project runway,
And keep on stunning with them shades on all day long.

So keep on balling,
Keep stunning,
In any way that you like,
Go get yourself,
A Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Prada,
Dolce & Gabbana.

And a couple of Chanel bags,
Because to me,
You’re beautiful,
Just the way you are,
On the outside.

If You Ain't About Your Paper Poem, Part 1 | Ryan Ngala

If You Ain't About Your Paper Poem


Edited, Recited, Typed & Written
By
Mr. Ryan Ngala & Ms. Wendy Ngala
Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™
RyanNgalasPoemsOfficial.Blogspot.com | STNPoetryOfficial.Blogspot.com

Verse 1:



If you ain't about your paper,
Then honestly,
They ain't worth nothing to me,
These broke mother fuckers will be,
Begging us for a got damn quarter.


But they ain't,

All about the dollars,
At least I find that sh*t,
So annoying sometimes.


One man once,

Came and approach to me,
He asked me for,
A spare quarter.


But what will that be,

All worth for and why?,
So then I told him, 
"You know what Na".


At least he couldn't used his,

Fucking common sense,
Just to pick up,
Five bottles and go make it,
His got damn self.


But instead he choose, 

To have someone else,
Like me to do his dirty work,
For him,
And I'm like,
What The Fuck?.


So I went about my business,

But these broke mother fuckers,
Who I can see in my very own eyes,
Approach and asked me for some of my own money,
At least I find them to be so got damn funny.


Will always be hollering, screaming and stressing out,
And for what?,
But I don't want to draw any attention,
To none of these broke mother fuckers.


That I see outside on the streets,

Asking me for money,
When in reality they ain't worth nothing or my time to me,
Why do these broke mother fuckers,
Want some of what I've have, huh!!!


I grind and hustle so hard for the paper,

That I make all the time,
But if you ain't about your paper,
Then you broke jokers need to step aside,
No Lie. 

Copyright © 2008 - 2020 Ryan Ngala’s Poems™ | STN® Poetry™.  
All Rights Reserved.