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Saudia R Oct 2019
You've got mail

Is it weird that I want to hear that again

Not
you have a notification

but mail

Waking up and running to the mailbox
heart pounding with excitement and fear

is your letter here yet


That one thought
everyday
carrying my little legs
racing
in the hopes that I would see your handwriting

and when that letter finally came

like a squirrel with a prized nut
I race away to the safety of my bed with
a flashlight
some poptarts

and pages of your letter

So happy



that I have a friend like you.
Communication is so important in our lives, and I feel like because we have the wonders of tech (not bad) we have lost some of the magic of words. The anticipation of reading someones thoughts, hopes, dreams, failures etc, with flecks of their character peppered in their letter. From their style of writing, their favourite ink, paper that they love and stamps and seals that add that last piece of love. We should bring back the beauty of writing. We have so many alternatives to write on, hemp is on the up and up. We will be able to respect the environment and bring back the magic of written language.
Mark Sep 2019
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
If it don't fit, don't force it
You can lubricate it, so you can appreciate it

Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre is a *****, when you make a glitch

**** this gun like a real cool chick
It's barrels aren’t that hot or that ******* thick
And when it comes, blow your brains, while you’re still in cuffs
Elvis offended nerds, while doing those pelvic thrusts
But, he was merely having fun and just being ******* futuristic
While your parents were secretly playing with ***** vibrating plastic

I used to call myself at that time, ‘The Magnificent One’
Hell, I don't call myself that now, but I still believe it to be true
At the time, the frigid white kids would only spectate from the lower balcony
While some ***** white kinds, were leaping over with jealousy, to get downstairs
Because, that's where the black dudes would occasionally perform, their ****** affairs

Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Protect yourself with a little soap bubble
If you want help, I can go pop, without getting into too much trouble

Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre can mean defeat when others hear your beat

How can I put the creeps down, when I've been creeping from afar?
I'm another mother ******' world wide pop star
They called me, ‘A Hip-Hop Bipolar Southpaw’
Always left swinging up and down like a friggin outlaw
They warned you that, I would drive all the the kiddies insane
So don't blame me for the way your kids now truly reign

Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Thank you for being so sweet and ever so cute
Next time remind me, to always switch the ****** to mute

Oops, did I say that out loud?
Mark Sep 2019
There's now proof, that a Russian flesh-eating cannibal is in the good old US of A

He would offer you toxic ingredients, including gasoline and lighter fluid, I'd say

But, because its tell-tale scaly sores, are similar to another well known leacher

They initially played down concerns, saying, "they're not seeing signs of the creature"

My boyfriend had maggots coming out of his leg, after a recent foreign scare

I know people don't want to hear stuff like that, but it is really happening out there



Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three

Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul

Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free

Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all



They fall to the charlatans, that promise you a crystal ball

A little at first and then some more, that's for sure

It will make you snap, give you curls and dance you a little twirl

Star gazing thru the sun ray and day tripping into a wayward night

That's why if you use crocodile juice, it will do more than shake ya loose

Destroying our souls, creating huge holes and build mountains out of moles



Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three

Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul

Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free

Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all



Mr Jeffrey Vint has become less popular among his abusers

I say, "they're all losers", but I guess, beggars can't be choosers

Some mother's even gave birth with two thumbs, but those babies are now total ****

Others think the monster could be at large, maybe roaming your neighbourhood  

Put a stop to this croc's chomp, before it destroys everything in the swamp

Get your doctor to prescribe a stronger drug, to conquer that evil imposter  



Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three

Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul

Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free

Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all.
Mark Sep 2019
I'm all for peace and the hippie days  

We were the children of the 60s, layin' about and lettin' our hair sprout  

We were influenced as much as we influenced others  

Flower power didn't work, maybe it's just the American way, no doubt  

Turning over all the apple carts, should've just turned the other cheek my baby  

Some say, I went too far, is it because, i've got such a rebel heart? Maybe.  


Hippies have survived since the caveman days  

Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze  

Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways  

Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.  


Now it feels like I've been jabbed, with a poison dart  

So deep down inside my experienced, but innocent rebel heart  

That 60s biz was just our breakfast and we hadn't even got to lunch yet  

If I was a new gen baby, I could still show others love and peace, I bet  

Give me a chance at showing you, that I'm not that different than you  

Go ahead, ask me questions, there well overdue.  


Hippies have survived since the caveman days  

Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze  

Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways  

Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.  


Not changing my ways, but adapting my ways, is what I need to do  

I'll listen to others and always take your cue, to try and remove the venom for you  

It might not happen overnight, it could take a while, alright!  

Maybe I'll go with the flow or maybe wake-up in a sweat, in the middle of the night  

Let me get my groove back and things will change, we'll go back to the start  

Just forgive me and always remember, I was born with this rebel heart.  


Hippies have survived since the caveman days  

Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze  

Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways  

Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
Antino Art May 2019
we'd wake up and play with magic
like any other game of pretend
bath towel tied into a cape
we'd approach an empty plastic top hat
wand in hand
 
we were tapping into an ancient power
that we barely even knew
we've played a superhero, Sub-zero
and now, a miracle worker
there was nothing we couldn't do
 
we'd climb trees to the summit branches
as high as we'd dare to go
we'd lower the hoop and dunk with ease
alley-oops, 360s
sometimes in slow-mo
 
there was nothing but room
to grow and explore
frontiers of the imagination
seized on roller blades with plastic swords
 
we'd tie skateboards to the back of bicycles
and Jamaican bobsled down the street
we were free ninjas in the 90s
off to adventures no one sees
 
we'd front roll down hills like hedgehogs
we'd scrape knees
we'd footrace to the stop sign and back
to pretend we're going faster
we'd kick clouds of dust in our tracks
 
we'd steal bricks from the neighbor's garden
and throw them into lakes to see the splash
we'd throw pebbles to see how high they'd go
or paper planes from the top of the staircases
one time, we jumped off:
it was a dare
we did it though
 
we unscrewed the air cap from the tires
of our enemies' parked cars
we clapped back with super soakers
the block was truly ours
 
we'd play until the streetlights came on
with more discoveries left unseen
and in the shadows while sleeping
we'd play catch with our dreams
Jules AA Apr 2019
about me:
>a room of people without faces, they cut them off of themselves long ago, their price.
>we’re all wishing for intimacy. but conversations are drowned out by a virus made of: a gentle humming of fans and power lines held overhead by the trees they grew on, and blue-white light flashing in orbit.
>an unstoppable pathogen, the growing monster made of tubes and plastics, consuming those looking for connection is living in the mess of wires.
>a hallway of lips. their words fall on their own deaf ears. their weeping quiet, gnashing teeth unseen, trapped in their own world speaking nasty words to no one in particular. hoping someone, anyone will answer, trapped in the web of 1s and 0s.
>and God told me in a whisper, “let’s see how far we can go.”
This poem is accompanied by a few other sections, and in completion has images and looks like a myspace page attached to a spam email, however formatting on this website doesn't allow for it, enjoy anyway!
'And when was this? I dunno, I dunno:
like everything else, twenty years ago.' - August Kleinzahler

I
Whosis slunk next to the rastamagnet
dj booth, in a limabeanhued suit
jacket, limabean sleeves rolledup to
deploy albino ancons for jostling.
II
My ****** lungs ached; gluttonous Venomised
pelicanbills. Cig o' no mercy, cig of life.
Serpivolent smoke is nicocreaming
ceiling of this dive Dasein dosses in.
III
Unrequiting snoutcloud of her chuffing
form siffles thru her mousy enamel.
'Light reflecting booster technology',
advertising Boswellox, scents her hair.
IV
Male Black Widow Complex boings in my brain,
as the vogueress exits conceivable zone
of address. Yet she cigawrenches
my stalking thoughts across the pumptup ballroom.
V
O those farouche salad nights following
swotting up in the humid Octagon!
Male Black Widow Complex, th'always boinging,
lidded by lemony orange lager.
VI
I crashed Crasherkid frabble, rocked to
DJ Shoppinghour feat. MC Niche Jah.
My Sax Pustules & Dead Kinnocks LPs
accusingly mouldered in my heart.
VII
Crasherkids twatted then, dated now, now
grooveriders haggard. But time was the thud
of arterial Cherry7up
was the dub of their youthful BPM.
VIII
Triptown beefnecks w/ classic legoman's
Acid House ecaf (before e-cafes
had come & gone), mandy stag party.
I still slow my pace at their fearless napes.
IX
The rock club had delusions of grunger,
crush at the bar was lumberjack cubism.
Era of Jingajing-chicka-jing-jing Kurt,
anno domudhoney, left a zeitgash.
X
& in the goth club, cadavolescent,
guylinered Xennials listened to
Placebo, but poo-pooed manginas.
Identi90s: genres, not genders.
XI
Blotto elbows on sudsy bar, I cross
lanky barkeep's gulchy palm w/ nugget
for latest in a lost count of snakebites.
Streak of **** is a broom in a skinnytie.
XII
'I'm hyperboring as much as you!' quip I
to a cheetahthinking softdrinker.
There'd be no ruction if pickled franion
spilt his Tab Clear Kaliber, H2ooze.
XIII
Yestreen's teen mums of teen mums, renubile
on the glash. Simuladies who soft soap
saps to buy them...a drink, QVCexy.
If shopgilfs surrender the goods, QVChy.
XIV
Whosis, tattie-bogie of the floor,
turned Turok w/ liebestorschlusspanik.
But his limabean lines are jejune, even to
zirconia Zsa Zsas on the zhelf.
XV
Whosis, lima green last chancer, I'm a
aphroluddite like you. Both crud dancers
too, corybantersauruses. It's all
smoke 'n' mingers & we've got lunge cancer.
XVI
'There's a party on the hillside, would you like
to come? Bring your own cup & saucer
& your own cream bun!' Friends joyride
home dead, so ride dead joy home alone.
XVII
Simian, simulacrum, something for
the weekend, sir? Or are weekends just for
something before ip dip dogshit
******* ******* silly *** meet the kids then what?
XVIII
Stereotripe, not Stereospeare, yet unknown
plexors would kick in. Or was it the joypop?
Popliteal self on higher neon knees,
Mother Brown's got nothing on me!
XIX
Anansesum of my fancy footwork,
Bez in blossom under tiger strobe.
Chemical cochise, call me 'Tarantulip':
totem, tarantism, bruxism, bloom.
**
Yeah, I liked DJ Offroseanne before
the coward sounds of Simoncowellland
killed Cool. Taxi for the Corpse of Cool/
fetch your coat, love, you've pulled the Corpse of Cool!
XXI
Since the ears dot, aural laurels were hot.
& the beat authenticity lays down
is still the drill sergeant instrumental
that leads blind zeit pipers of all pied geists.
XXII
Lima bean fugue, forearm flash, Dear John tats.
Nocturnal vernal mental of the comeup
becomesdown w/ no summerlove, bad trip
(Raggaman Kafka say 'Uneazee Dreamz').
XXIII
'Taxi Driver' cinematography,
neon printcest of clubland signs dimmens.
Pick up your tuttifrutti braindamage
- time to go home, hungover twichildren.
http://www.pilkipedia.co.uk/wiki/index.php/Boswellox
KiraLili Nov 2018
I love you so much my love...
from your dear kind heart ... to your beauty which is complete and so elegant because it comes from within  
the most kind and humble person I’ve ever met , so dear .... and so **** hot and ****  I love the spark I have always seen in your eyes
I’m just so glad that love has fanned them into flames that I can be a part of.
My love... each moment I love you .. each day many times a day
I fall in love with you
Madison Sep 2018
I'm feeling quite neurotic, to put it plain.

My conscience is muddied, mind soaked through with rain.

Nothing feels right, no comfort will do.

Might dig myself a hole and stay there a day or two

Won't walk on the land, just admire the view.

There seems to be nothing that can make me feel sane

And yet, you dig deep, try to keep me sane.
Another assigned piece, this time to take a famous rhyming piece of writing and rewrite everything but the final, rhyming word. I used the first verse of Blind Melon's "No Rain."
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
You got to find a way to survive
'Cause they win when your soul dies
RIP to one of the greatest rappers that ever lived, Tupac.
I stopped listening to rap music years ago, but Tupac....Tupac's the exception.
He truly was a poet with his message and music; his voice ITSELF was music.
He empowered without denouncing, he spoke about many topics.
And for that, he will always have my respect.
He's what I call a musician.
Granted, he swore, he made his mistakes but he was ahead of his time.
He was wise, he was fierce, he was so confident.
He was a solider.
'Baby, Don't Cry' will forever be in my heart, and these two lines ALONE spoke volumes to me. It still does...
I'm sorry for not being as active. My headache's gotten worse...
But indeed, in life, you need to survive. If you give up, your enemies wins and your soul dies in the process.
Be back soon!
Lyn ***



Baby Don't Cry (Keep Ya Head Up II) lyrics © BMG Rights Management US, LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc
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