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PoserPersona Jun 2018
Garments stripped from worn bones and weary mind
Feet dragged on tile; hands grasp plastic veil
Stepping into a tub; near swoon divine
A pure, naked self emancipation,
before the squeaking running metalware  
that erases the daily equation.
Dancing, singing tunes of own devices:
Cupid, Shooting Star, Sister Golden Hair
Rocky Mountain High, American Pie
****** bosses gonna kiss ***** here
Astronauts, cowboys, and rockstars meet here
Best yet, the individual is here

Although merely hidden by a curtain,
all for your view is but a damp shadow.
Jacob Oates Jun 2014
I get accused of a lot of things at first glance

"You're simplistic, you're hiding something

You have no convictions, you don't think deeply"

Usually by those who I consider to be on intellectual crutches

If you're gonna come up to talk to me from a religious context

from a spiritual context

from a hierarchical, metaphysical, eat this **** popsicle mindset

Don't expect me to swallow

Don't expect me to talk

You won't like what I have to say

Because really you just want me to agree with you

If you want me to respect your framework

When you have nothing but the claims of quacks

and the feelings you gleaned from your last psychedelic trip

to back you up

While I have to sit back and listen to how I'm close minded

Close minded for wanting some real truth in this universe

unfiltered, raw, verifiable, and in my hand

and that anything other than that is a spray paint over

my true awakening

Then I guess I'll just have to be that *******

to die for these intellectual sins

The Eldest Son of Matt, hater of pretense

Hypocrite to the highest level

Build me up into a figure of idolatry

Just like you do with the rest of your ego cases

Priests, Gurus, Rabbis, Rockstars, Poet sensations

Tell me how wonderful it is to listen to them

Tell me how I should be more in touch with a tree

Tell me how I don't dream

When all my life is but that

Tell me how I'm not deep when you make no attempt to learn

Who I am, and where I have come from

Misinterpret my teachings, and claim me to feel

As if I was the newest son of god

When all I want is for people to get beyond blinders

and love each other, and to get beyond the metaphysical rat race

Tell me that I'm supposed to live and let live

While you jam your beliefs down my throat

and expect me to respect getting philosophically tea bagged

******* to the crucifix

and asking me to repent for my search for truth
Kristen Dec 2014
rockstars break hearts.
they write about feelings
everyone has.

you want so badly to tell them
how much those composed
lyrics mean to you,

but there's so many other innocents
out there who want to do the same.

you want them to really know you.
you want them to know that connection
that you have with them.

the only way you can meet them
is through a stupid meet and greet
where every other "fan"
tells them the same.

all I want to do
is smoke a cigarette with you
and thank you for the lyrics
that saved me.

but I simply can't.
not being able to meet you
simply breaks my own heart.

-*KM
******* matty healy and every other artist that made me feel this way.
Tommy Jackson Mar 2016
Hall of fame
For the poets whom have left and came again, to those who
Write by the wire.
Cell phone
Tablet, computer
Laptop hot shop aquire.
For you who sleep and write
For those that write and fight
For you who are ordinary marksman like me
Hall of fame-your all in it you see.,
And the most incredible thing.
Is how incredible and awesome you all are
Poetry's greats! 2016s rockstars.
Belle Victoria Aug 2015
it were the city nights I fell for, the cheap parfume you smelled like

if life was for the living and living was for the dead
than what is the space inbetween.. hate and love are not the same thing
and maybe a long time ago someone should have told me that

feeling like an outcast was like sitting in a train with no destination
you always felt useless, rain was falling that day, like it always did
the times when she was sad, she was so miserable, she felt nothing.

the childeren of the light always were afraid of the darkness
we were never afraid of the darkness because so far as we knew
we were the dark, the kids to be afraid of, the bad youth, the wolves

nobody ever wanted us and thats why all we ever had was each other
and the rockstars who sang along the broken words of songs with us
the tragic melodies were the only sort of comfort I found at night..
when you my bestfriend just as wasted as I am was sleeping..
I needed them, my idols, their voices, the music, to keep me breathing

and maybe we lost her that night for a reason wait no many reasons
it was all meant to be, the shouting and crying, the need to die..
it was a bigger part of our lives, all of that than she will ever be

the girls who had to much alcohol in their blood at night, to much fun
were also the girls who cried to many tears at daylight, to much sadness
we never knew how to handle ourselves, just seeking for aception..
a person who would give a **** about us, someone who would care

life was sad darling, you were so sad, I was so sad, everything was sad
but all the sadness never stopped us from having an amazing time
we needed each other to be happy, I needed you so much..

now it is just us again, you and me against the world
and I think it will always be just you and me, just us
and for me that is okay

because I wouldn't want to make all these memories, these adventures
with anybody else but you, my bestfriend, my sister, my everything.
because I couldnt imagine my life without her.
Butch Decatoria Jan 2019
I remember when MTV was in its prime,
A new voice to represent the new boom
Babies growing up since the 80s
Louder still through the troubling decades
(Maxed out credit no head room)
After —the punks in nirvana and rapping clergy
It was the only channel on
Youthful rebel yell —honest news
I remember it pretty well
Shaping us generation x y and Personal Jesus
New wave good bye to when
Childhood then without pain of malnourished
Africa or nukes threatening our
Cruel summers
Were we happier then?
So what happens to the music
Rockstars rip van wrinkle
Geriatric hall of fame

(No one lives forever
Reruns with the ****** & mr. Ed
Now that old neighbor’s dead)

Television
Nowadays
Seem more gangster
School shootings terrorists
On the train, kamikaze planes,
It’s all the same ole
Bling kablam oh bits
******* please
Redirecting our attention
To WMD
***
Where the hells are we?

I remember back then
On MTV —Nicki Minaj says
Between the hysterics of police brutality
She said Happiness is living your life
Without struggle,
That stuck with me
Because we all watch the tube
We all search for meaning
Sadly defining what happiness
May look like
Real World and paradoxical reality
TV
Para socially defunct
Clarity
Conditioned to continuously
Stay tuned
Brief message of empty
Hypnosis a pure form of business
Wall Street
Boulevard of broken dreams
I want my

Happy. What do I mean
To be?
Life ***** lately
The human condition
Talking too much
Refusing to see
No more talking heads too much
Bla bla *******
I want my
MTV . Happy .
My generation
We are the world
freedom And yes, Peace.

Man kindly as one
Symphony
And street, a melting ***
Of diversity

I remember the music
The future
I had hope to see
Behind the shades
Circa 80s 90s
(Fossils)
What time is it then?
When will we
Begin
Again

Don’t worry be happy
Run Forest run!
Kabelo Maverick Mar 2019
The world gives birth
to Monks, Locksmiths and
mocked Rockstars
All live on Earth
to debunk false myths
and cockblockers!
Maverick
Raven  Apr 2015
Rockstars
Raven Apr 2015
he is poisonous like cyanide
his voice is like an angels
mixed with the devils
so beautiful and pristine
the way he strums the guitar
like a music machine
pulled me under the sound of his song
letting me drown in between piano keys
he slicks back his hair, with those perfect hands
then plays a rock and roll tune once again
Jessica Mar 2013
Sipping from a glass
wearing a false label -
dining with kings -
but at the wrong table.
It started off holy -
it started off right -
they never noticed
the light fading to night.
Girls in short skirts -
beauty of face,
added to the pride
that seeps in the place.
Take the stage,
forgetting who you are -
just wanna-be rock stars, worshipping guitars.
Judy Ponceby Feb 2011
During my second trimester I felt like getting some fresh air.
I went out cycling through town in the warm sunny day.
Observing the comings and goings of people all around.
The flower cart on the corner, lent a lovely lilac scent to the air.
The street preacher was shouting out his testimonials,
trying to recruit believers to his cause.
Further on as my pedaling took me, I saw a group of boys.
They were pantomiming their favorite rockstars.
Strumming the air for all they were worth and
Jamming to the silent music in their heads.
Down the block past the Bakery, smelling of cinnamon buns,
was the museum.  My favorite place to stroll on a quiet day.
The gregarious doorman always wished me "A fine  day, Madam!",
as he ushered me into the foyer. He always wore that silly hat that makes me smile.  
And, of course, he kept an eye on my red bicycle by the door.
Making my way through the corridors, observing the sculptures, paintings and artifacts.
Wondering at the archaeologists dinosaur finds, mounted above and behind the glass.
Finally, on to see Pandora and her ill-fated decision to open the box.  
Letting forth into the world all manner of toxicity.  And then, again, opening the box
she set Hope free so we could cope in this danger-laden world.  
Ending my museum tour, I contemplated my coming child
and what he would find to make him cry or hope or love
in this world, as I slowly pedaled through the spring infused day.
Charming Fun and Fanciful.
Pantomime. Bicycle. Museum. Trimester.
Pandora. Gregarious. Toxicity.

— The End —