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Bongha Lee Apr 30
I ripped out of the old tavern
Into the torn indigo overcoat
And traveled under the porticoes of a billion fantastic stars
To celebrate this marvelous November night.

In the labyrinth of bricks and stones
I hum and whistle the Irish song
Like a singer before the orchestra, my multitudes.
How exquisite—Avec un plaisir de génie—is my peripatetic existence!
Lungs full of air, and I see the Muse in me.

My treasured newsboy cap from a thrift shop spins on my hand,
And my feet bubbles off the floor like soda pops.
I pray my gratitude to the one above the altar
For my indomitable freedom. Amen.

A pocket change rolling, bikes uninhabited, and lampposts perpetual.
A rolled cigarette wantonly leaned between my sticky lips.
Autumnal dews wetted my forehead like spiriting wine.
And while, scarf blowing, boots tattered,  
I raised my odalisque eyes heavenward
The world pixelated above my moist eyes
Like a seabed of jewelry stars
Please critique this.
kevin wright Apr 7
Growing up unguided and penniless
Torturous upbringing pushing me down
A handgun, speculating and rash
Gluttony attempts to smother my eyes

Wearing the condemnation of men
Appropriating the virtues of girls
Feasting in the winds of a fandango
Weakening under the need for support
Emblazoned under the influence of white powder nights

Ceilings lights spinning out of control
Locked up and discover the stars in strife
Sweet seclusion with a Beelzebub for company
Crawling through the gutters on all fours to get out

Black and white key arias connected
Caressing coloraturia platitudes on fire
Busting a gut on the walkway to truth
Peaceful vigilance a bismillah fraternity

Deserted, drowning in civilisation
Tanked, yanked and naked
Is this Mama Mia
   Standing on two feet

Rebuked, not loved
Rebellion, unshackled
Revelations, so, not want to die
Reciting bohemian poetry before the bullet strikes high

                                                           ­            Scaramouche....
This poem previously written without thought  and contemporary to watching a programme on the pop star Freddie mercury, I  rewrote this  today with my brain not tired but the essence of the first poem rains through. I would recommend  reading Freddies poem Bohemian Rhapsody alongside my poem.
Rhys Hebbs Oct 2020
There are those who live out their days dangerously
and walk along a knifes edge in search of electricity.
They abandon known reason within decisions
for their inner vision is addicted to ambition.
If they find their soul is far from fully grown
they’ll bravely set out upon that road alone
and mystify cemented minds with the gravity of their finds.
These are the ones who will change our ageing-ancient ways
with a saviours grace unlike those who are growing within their graves.
Norbert Tasev Apr 2020
It could easily be that you will also be like this: you will be expelled, a bohemian-cheerleader, a ***** of cafes, a bed of potato bags and tombstones listening in their hermitage! Disappointed with a frustrated being-writhing, - your faith stops as a balloon jacket crumpled in the door of small civic salons! "You couldn't be smarter than knowing they were ****** here."
The play of the great scams was certainly about you - your free verses, labeled unsaleable, were densely ground by human, forgetful, tyrannical reason. In the shadow-friendly dungeon of coffee table tables, there is hardly a friend who is really interested in who can help you.

Welded prejudices surround you, set fire to you, and smoke - You know: Almost nothing has become easier, more satisfied, and happier with a decent civic occupation! Your childish soul, who is eagerly demanding in the bloodthirsty swords of critics of sleepless wrestling: You could easily walk like a bohemian cavalier

cursed as a ghost, like a cheap conscience beheading itself on the shores of Kharon’s barge: a shivering country of the dead, a peaked-backed Tantalos-fearer will not accept! Do paper baskets calculate your quantity yields instead of competent members?

Did blind luck alone win or squander? Human morality has long since departed from you! A dubious, fair-boy, comedian-like boy who emerges among the temporary sons-in-law struggles on dubious jancsis! - Robot minutes baptized with eternity moving on a chain: Working to the point of a nail is futile,

for the wages of starvation: When can you enjoy the fallen early and rotten treasures of Being? The mountains that testify will call you: The message of eternal Immortality is only One: To stand as an unshakable rock, as a last bastion, in a season of valiant, man-trying needs.
Where's the hug I've needed in the hard moments?
Only verses embrace my mental instability.
I would wish some super escape ability,
But I've lost even the power to wish...

No hope for the Bohemian...
What meaning does this phrase hold?
My lone madness has finally driven me mad,
Every line is sad, mad, bad that ever I had had, "had".

Ambiguous doubts assure my hopeless future goals.
Every step of mine has fallen in pity pit-holes,
But a writer easily accepts what is written...
What is waiting for the Bohemian?
12.06.2019
Aawatef Sep 2019
A boho hemmed into a perfect circle
Misunderstood and invisible
Where everyone goes right, he prefers left
The is told he is bereft

They force him to fit in
But how can he?
He is like oil in water, a hippie in suit quarters
His free spirit just won's blend in

They hammered and bent him to belong
But turns out he has been a misfit all along
For his spirit demands to be vivid and vibrant
In a rather monochrome circle, it is a tyrant

His heavy heart needs to let it all out
His thoughts, his dreams and all his doubts
His is a white noise, he seems very far out
Everyone is deaf to this boho's screams and shouts
We are all different pieces. Forcing that piece to fit somewhere it doesn't just won't work. Be yourself
ALesiach Jul 2019
Gypsy sits under the twinkling starlight,
of a fierce love she sings into the night,
but never a lover is in sight.
Will you be her lover?

Gypsy fades to a gentle slumber.
Will her dreams be light or thunder?
Will they dwell on life's duress
or a lover's sweet caress?
Will you be her lover?

Gypsy can freeze you, put you on ice
or she can take you to paradise.
Do not forget to hold on tight
or into the abyss you will slip at twilight.
Will you be her lover?

Gypsy stirs in the morning light,
her dreams are gone like mist in sunlight.
Did you read the message in her eyes?
She will be waiting in the night.
Will you be her lover?

ALesiach © 09/19/2014
Nolan Willett Apr 2019
A resurgent nihilistic philosophy
A second lost generation
Disillusioned with the being of nations
Lost in their own antipathy
Confused by new sensations

A political theorist I am not
I like to wander in hills and clouds
And pick out kindred spirits in crowds
A thousand wasted battles fought
A thousand raggedy burial shrouds

The bohemians revel in their nonsense
Shall I my conceits and imaginations forsake?
Maybe a decent Lawyer I would make?
What is real and what is performance?
Which side of me shall I deem fake?

To which should I my attentions give
My unceasing love for liberty,
or a discontented bourgeoisie?
Material things I need to live
Yet still I am most lifted by poetry
If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it.

Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.

Reason 3. Bohemian Rhapsody.
Again, A weird title. It's partly true though. You can see it in two ways, Music and a wave of different feelings and emotions. Music can change lives they say, but could it also destroy them? Take Bohemian Rhapsody. In a way it sounds like how our mind works. So many different parts, emotions, feelings, memories, and yet changing so fast. It's beautiful, Just like humans. So brittle and so fragile. Music can indeed change a person, but what if it happens in a bad way? In Bohemian Rhapsody they use the words we could never use to describe how we feel, like " I don't wanna die, but sometimes wish i'd never been born at all. " In any song really, but Bohemian Rhapsody does just something to me. Your song will probably be something else, something that describes how you feel so perfectly that you can drown in their words. Like a poem. Again hard to explain, but I hope you understand.
Ugh
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