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Steven Fortune Aug 2014
I'm sorry
I can't be a bad boy
for you
I'm not the kind
of reclamation project
that women dream of
reclaiming
It's the attitude you crave
not the mood
I've been manufacturing
this bad boy body
for two months
Who am I fooling?
It's the mind
where the fantasies
and possibilities
take shape
Even though I've flashed
a knife at a bad boy
it doesn't matter
for I wasn't the bad boy
nor am I a rock star
or a pro athlete
or a student
who wears detention
like a badge of honour
I'm a ******* poet
and who wants a holder
of fantasies that have already
been disclosed?
I'm sorry
I'll make it up to you
I'll be the ear you require
when your heart is broken
I'll be the nodder
you require
when you need to make it clear
that all guys are *****
even though it was the *****
you were hypnotized by
in the first place
Bad boy body?
Bad boy language?
It's doesn't mean a ****
for it's all in the mind
Who am I fooling?
You'll be okay
for the sea is teeming
with jellyfish
08 01 14
Steven Fortune Jun 2014
I. To sleep...

As if I needed affirmation
of the weekend from a mouse

As if I needed mutually
indecipherable dialogue

As if I need a hip social setting
when Insomnia gets off on my inside

As if I need a drink for the prodding
of my eyes or charisma for the charming of hers

As if we need a hotel or a bed
for that matter in Dormiveglia

II.* ...perchance to dream.*

Darling Insomnia
how you dazzle in your quilted
queendom of suction

Darling Insomnia
**** out the vanilla gumming
up my timid lungs like sugared venom

Darling Insomnia
I promise I won't burden you with moans of
fantasy-inflicted headaches

Darling Insomnia
let your sirrah latch his inhalation
onto your majestic ***** like an asp

Darling Insomnia
does subordination in my windpipe
do right by your despotic grasp?
06 09 14
  Jun 2014 Steven Fortune
Joe Cole
On this day 70 years ago they stormed across the sand
Boys of many nations to remove the tyrants hand
Heros all those boys so young who shed their blood for us
In that ****** fight for freedom

Across the sand they struggled neath a hail of shot and shell
Never glancing backwards as around them comrades fell
Fear was in their eyes, terror in their hearts
Many never made it and twas on foreign sand they died

Yes they died to give us the freedom that we have got this day
They died to free the world, for us they made the play
Boys from ever walk of life crossed the beaches there
Office clerks and farmers and the ones who cut our hair

Yes they were heroes all who gave their lives for us
But lets not forget the few who made it possible
The girls who made the shells, the men who built the tanks
They were the unsung heroes
They have also have earned our thanks

Without their dedication to the task they had in hand
Many more would have lost their lives on that shell torn blood stained sand
They to can hold their heads up high, they knew they did their bit
In bringing freedom to the masses when they broke the tyrants grip
Afternote... nearly all 4,400 allied soldiers died on those beaches 70 years ago today
  Jun 2014 Steven Fortune
CA Guilfoyle
decorated, concealed
whitewashed, peeled
years of little earthquakes
will shake you

she is framed art hung, unsung
unknown to anyone
jilted, wilted
a still life flower
hanging ever crooked
upon the wall
dedicated to all who struggle with drug addiction, especially to a certain person in my life
  Jun 2014 Steven Fortune
CA Guilfoyle
In the night garden, star flowers linger
long before dawn, before the sun
vines climb, with ivory flowers hung
bringing light, where the moon glows pale
flowered jasmine is sweet beneath the air of fire
with lanterns lit in floral scents
glowing through diaphanous petals
here, where the earth shines like heaven
and blooms not unlike the stars.
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