Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
.
Bonnie & Clyde

You held my hart in your hands and my soul in your mouth, we watched the moon slip through the dark knight, A lullaby of blood and sticky labels, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.

won't you save me, for I've been running all my life, I've been sinning, I've been stealing and I know that that ain't right, won't you save me, won't you teach me right from wrong, I've been sinning, I've been stealing, please take me home.

We sang to the pound of the engine, you lay your head in my lap, so sweet so simple, you toyed with the coins in my pocket, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.

won't you save me, for I've been running all my life, I've been sinning, I've been stealing and I know that that ain't right, won't you save me, won't you teach me right from wrong, I've been sinning, I've been stealing, please take me home.

We danced to the  backdrop of yellow fields, spattered with red confetti, shookhands with the devil, all dressed in rags, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.

The devil he has taken me, and I can't run no more, No more sinning or stealing, for now my life is done; you can't save me, You can't teach me right from wrong, No more sinning, No more stealing, For now this soul has gone.

Ten cops, camera and a smile, Photo for a trophy, V8 Ford full of holes, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.
Gospel song  sung by bonnie,
Bonnie's redemption prayer;
but it still all ends in bloodshed.
Baqir Talpur Nov 2018
Outlaws in Love

You, a chaotic beauty,
Shootin' smiles from distance.
A dangerous puzzle -
Lost, with in your own existence.

Me, a haywire mess,
Trying to make sense of things.
Willing to be by your side;
In summers, winters, falls and springs.

We, a crazy hybird of chaos and peril.
Ready, to have a crazy ride.
Ready, to be the outlaws in love,
Like Bonnie and Clyde.
To Bonnie parker, A poetess and an outlaw and to clyde barrow, a lover and a bandit.
Madison Aug 2018
Forever ago
I looked you in the eye
And made a promise --
A stupid, stupid vow --
That I'd be your Bonnie
If you'd be my Clyde.

You smiled at me --
Crooked, imperfect
Utterly charming --
And asked me to lend you a light.
A lighter passed between our hands
Before a tiny flame illuminated our faces in the dark
A silent 'I do.'

From that night on
I've had things that other girls
Only possess in their wildest dreams
And, even then
Wouldn't dare say they desired.

I ride shotgun by default
In a ******* car
Much too fancy to legally be yours.
Gifts come in the form
Of beat-up leather articles
That you once wore
Though the lingering shadow of smoke
Is hardly enough
To mask the hint of drugstore perfume.
Sometimes
If you're feeling especially charitable
These offerings are accompanied by the more traditional heart shaped box --
Filled with bullets, of course--
Or a single deep red rose.
For some reason
Every flower you pick
Seems to have many more thorns
Than most of the ones I've known before.

What you seem to consider the best gift of all, however
Is your presence.
I suppose you think it works both ways
When you parade around town
Arm slung around my shoulders or waist
Smiling like I'm some pricey badge
Your signature accessory.
Your performance draws attention, of course --
Awe-stricken once-overs
Envious double takes
Lingering looks that make overzealous Average Joes
Trip over their own feet.
As far as my own feelings go
The envious rush I used to get from the lust-filled eyes of other women
Has long since faded
But the crawling feeling of some depraved pervert's eyes flitting from you to me
And your proud smile, devoid of any visible love
Continue to make my stomach twist itself into painful knots.

What all those adventure-hungry good girls don't know
Is that I haven't felt as powerful as they do in their dreams
In a very long time.
What those green-eyed Plain Janes won't understand
Is that I am little more than arm candy
Your passenger-seat second-in-command
Posed like some special edition, leather-donning Barbie doll
Instructed to sit still
Hold the gun
Look pretty.
They don't realize
That the ache that comes with loving you
Feels absolutely nothing like the feeling described
In the lovelorn writings they post to their blogs.
There's nothing beautiful about it
No reward for staying up all night
Chest aching
Sobbing into a limp pillow in some random hotel room
Trying my best to keep you from hearing it.
As much as I hate to admit it
Nothing you do for me
Makes it worth it.

They all seem to forget
That it was Bonnie
Running from one man who didn't love her
Falling into the arms of another
Already broken
Hoping he might be able to mend a piece or two.
They don't realize
That it was Bonnie
Who **** near got her leg burned off
Because Clyde flipped the car.
The fault was completely his
And yet
She was the one who took the brunt of the damage
Being reduced to having Clyde carry her around
For the rest of their numbered days.
They don't stop to think that this is anything other than 'romantic'
How unfair it is that the world allowed him to ruin her
That maybe --
Just maybe --
She didn't want to be a weapon for him to carry
But a self-firing rifle.
Something intimidating
Unpredictable
Never dependent
On some hotshot
That everybody believes that she was in love with.
The idea never occurs to them
That maybe
When the two of them went down in that infamous hail of bullets
Maybe she wasn't enveloped in warm thoughts of going out in a blaze of glory
But anger
That she didn't get away with it this time
And never would again.


I understand now
That
For all intent and purposes
Bonnie and Clyde are a concept that should have been left behind
Way back in the 30s.
There is no passion
In dying --
On the inside or the outside --
Next to someone everyone thinks that you love.
There is no love
In your arm around me
Squeezing the humanity out of me
Like a man-shaped boa constrictor.
There is no glamour
In sitting loyally by your side
Gripping my seat until my knuckles are white
As you drive your own getaway car
Laughing to yourself
Without ever chancing a glance at me.
There is no beauty
In being wrapped in a jacket
That smells like another woman
No satisfaction
In mechanically handing you a brand new lighter
So you can light another cigarette
To prematurely age your beautiful, James Dean number one-million-and-one face.
I feel no affection now
Watching you smoke up like the nicotine glutton burnout that you are
And I will feel only contempt if --
Heaven forbid --
I ever die by your side.
You exhale
And turn to look at me with sleepy, empty eyes
Letting the remains of your cigarette flicker out
Just like the novelty of having you around did.

Why I resent those girls now --
The ones with those eyes, so hungry and green with envy --
Is that, when we first met
I was just another one of them.
So pampered
So inanely bored
Such a 'hopeless romantic'
That I promptly decided to follow you the ends of the Earth
To every grimy hotel
Even to our demise in the desert, if you wanted me to.
It took me forever to realize I deserved better
And, by then
It was all too late.

While I despise those girls who stare at us now
Swooning, like they're so jealous of the position I'm in
My heart also aches for them --
A bit like the way you make it ache.
Though there's passion in this ache
That being the fact
That my heart is screaming
Telling them to run
Run while they still can
Run before someone like you
Finds them.

For all intent and purposes
There absolutely should not be
A 21st century Bonnie and Clyde.
These should be the days
Of girls spitting their own fire
And boys fighting their own battles.
This should be a generation
Of people learning to find solace in themselves
And reliance taking an unceremonious dive
Off a very steep cliff.
There should be no more green-eyed girls
And James Dean boys
Making each other miserable
And calling it beautiful.
This is the point where we should let Bonnie and Clyde rest in peace
Along with Romeo and Juliet
Annabel Lee
Homer Barron
And every other tragic antihero
Who died at the hands of love.

Forever ago
I made a promise --
A stupid, stupid vow --
That I'd be your Bonnie
If you'd be my Clyde.
Now
What seems like centuries later
I close my eyes
And try to fly somewhere else
In my dreams.
My last thought
Before I drift off
Is that --
Maybe someday --
They'll write poems about us.
Jo Barber May 2018
My type is tall
with dark hair
and dark eyes.

The whisper of ****** hair
on a jaw so square.
Leave the clean-shaven men
for other girls.

Smart and witty,
with music so gritty.
And a smile so sweet and wide.
Not sure what I implied,
but I suppose I'll now confide
that I'd be the Bonnie to your Clyde.
electra Jul 2017
You're a mystery Heath.
What's that love you hide underneath?
It seems that you're chasing love again,
Spilling it like brand new champagne.
You watch her dance in lavender spectrums.
You must of fell hard for Electra,
Cause now, you roam the desert,
Killing for nothing but treasure.

A never-ending love ride,
It's almost like you can feel the high tides.
Oh, how she's such a bliss,
Such a babe to share a kiss.

Can you feel your heart on fire?
Every inch of her is your desire.
Pour that love into the drain,
Before the blood begins to stain.
She now cries in red colored spectrums,
And you're somewhere faraway from Electra.
Run, here comes the boys in blue,
Sacrifice yourself before they get her too.

A never-ending love ride,
It's almost like you can feel the high tides.
Oh, how she's such a bliss,
Such a babe to share a kiss.

The desert is miles away,
And you've been locked in jail for days.
Yet, there's no sign of Electra,
Could she be distracted by the spectrums?
What has this become?
Is there still more to overcome?

A never-ending love ride,
It's almost like you can feel the high tides.
Oh, how she's such a bliss,
Such a babe to share a kiss.
This is the third series to Electric. To have a deeper understanding of this poem you can read my poem Electric, which is published on here, and then you can check out the second one called Electra.
electra Jul 2017
Electra,
You dance in lavender colored spectrums,
Causing trouble with your lover,
Playing cops and robbers.
He asks her, "Babe, you wanna?",
"Let's get high on marajuana.".
So you both drive through the desert,
The place that has become your home treasure.
Be careful with the boys your mother told you to stay away from,
Because the evil in him is what you've now become.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.

Electra,
You're still dancing in lavender spectrums,
But you're running out of time,
The boys in blue have declared wartime.
Summertime is ending,
The thrill of the desert may seem never-ending,
But surrender your gun,
Before they chase you toward the sun.
You should of listened to what your mother said,
Cause now, you're about to end up dead.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.

Electra,
Now you cry in red colored spectrums,
Alone in the desert.
Maybe you remain unhurt,
But your heart bleeds for him.
He's somewhere in the dim,
Screaming your name locked in an empty cell,
Now you're stuck in a never ending carousel.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.
This poem goes along with another poem I wrote which is callled Electric. It's not necessary to read electric but it's a good background/introduction to everything.
Terry Collett Apr 2016
Clyde lifts her up
And senses her go
Rigid for a moment

Or two, then he feels
Her relax and hold
In close to him, her

Cheek against his
Head, her arms and
Hands caressing. I

Thought you were
Going to drop me
There Clyde, Bonnie

Says, easing into
A smile for the old
Camera, watching

The camera focus,
Flash and all said
And done, the photo

Capturing the exact
Moment in time: the
Cheek touching, the

Hands caressing, her
Eyes alive, the smile
Like sunshine. Never

Do that to you, Bonnie,
Never let you down or
Fall, Clyde says as he  

Squeezes her behind
The knees, her breast
Beneath the dress soft

Against his chest, his
Hand clutching his hat,
And someplace along

A country lane, some
Tomorrow day, their
Fate fingers out a date,

A time of death, a ******
End, dying together; but
Not today, and maybe,

For them, at this moment
In time, sometime never.
BONNY & CLYDE.
Vivian Jun 2015
Bonnie squeals as the cart soars past various boxes of cereals and granola bars. She glances at her brother, Clyde, expecting him to share her fright, but is bewildered to see that he is thrashing about in a fit of giggles, enjoying the thrill of the ride. Knuckles white as snow, Bonnie's frail little fingers grasp the side of the red cart with all of their might as her eyes clamp shut. Her heart beats faster than the speed of light, and she questions her motives for agreeing to Clyde's devilish ways.

She reminisces on their earlier arrival at the Local Target. They had come with their mother, planning to do a little grocery shopping and then be on their way. Of course, Clyde had schemed up a way to stray from his mother's side unnoticed. Bonnie still can't fathom how he managed to drag her down with him.

Cautiously, wind whipping through her hair, Bonnie peaks one eye open and instantly regrets it. She let's out an ear - piercing howl as the cart thrusts into a mountain of PopTart boxes large enough to be deemed the Empire State Building's father. She crawls out of the heap only to be met by an eruption of heartfelt laughter spewing from her brother's mocking lips. "You should have seen your face!" Clyde teases as Bonnie sends daggers through his skull.

The two troublemakers step out of the cart and attempt to retrace the way back to their mother. Devastated, they come to the conclusion that the aisles now resemble a maze. As they confidently take on this new challenge and make their way through the unknown, their spirits quickly take a downward spiral upon realizing that they have ended up back where they began. Tired and desperately longing to go home, the two siblings reach a clearing past the aisles and are overjoyed to spy their mother waiting patiently in line at a register with a new cart in hand.

Bonnie and Clyde casually lazy on over to their mother's side and make light conversation as if they had never left.
Disclaimer: I kind of wrote a short story, but oh well. Here's another piece from high school, freshman year.
Let's steal cheap knock offs from Wal-Mart
And return them to customer service for gift cards
So we can buy the real things

Let's drive unregistered vehicles, WITHOUT insurance
And lie when we get pulled over by the state troopers
So all we gotta do is pay a little fine

Let's get paid to buy alcohol for minors (like 17+, cuz you know that's not so bad)
And party with them until just before the cops show up
So they're all too drunk to give the cops our names

Let's sell some of our food stamps for cash
And use it to buy tobacco and tubes and make our own, non taxable cigarettes
So we can sell them to the neighborhood for cheaper than the stores

Let's be a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. Let's only steal from wealthy cooperations and the government. Let's be bad, but not so bad that if we get caught we'll go to jail, cause you know, I wouldn't want that.
Next page