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leon 4d
i pick up withered orchids
that were left to rot on stone
whispering they won’t forgive
- all that’s left is stem and bone
and when i ask who did this
they photosynthesise in code
referencing a nirvana lyric from heart shaped box: "meat-eating orchids forgive no-one just yet"
Nigdaw Jun 2019
Member of the 27 club, too young to die
Too fast to live, only lent to us
A break in the clouds that let some light in,
Original flash of inspiration jumping
From my radio to shout, music isn't dead
Too soon to leave us only wanting more
Henry Koskoff Dec 2017
taupe is the hue
that comes to mind

when two chords
are played in pairs
four times
which makes eight movements

then the words come
but they don't arrive
or completely appear
they merely peek
from behind the stone wall
of the bass
muffled and shrouded
by some dull amber liquid

it is Kurt
and he speaks of his home
of Oregon
in all of its earthy moisture

and then when the chorus arrives
the spectacle of violins
and the tangibility of his words
is lucid enough to paralyze
and lay to rest
Hayley Rena Dec 2017
Raised by
Kurt Cobain anger,
low grunge in earbuds
make it easier to ignore the mass of loud kids in the halls,
Hope they stay away.
For me? Socializing will drain you.

Raised by
Amy Winehouse.
Big winged eyes but,
her voice was bigger.
Showed me how to close doors,
and what hides behind them.
For love is a losing game,
yet we end up addicted anyways.

Raised by
The Beatles.
60s pop and rock,
Oh! Darlin’ they are good!
Taught me to think for myself
and let some things be.

Raised by
Cage The Elephant.
Showed me the world is
cold, cold, cold.
Cause there ain’t no rest for the wicked!
I’ll always find
trouble on my left
and to my right.

Raised by
Earl St. Clair
I might not have what I want,
but I got what I need.
And some don’t have a three story home
to feel alone in.
You just gotta deal with the pain,
before it deals with you.
Written// Sept. 20th, 2017
This was a class assignment so I know this one is a little cheesy. We had to write a poem about what has raised us wether it be experiences, music, family, beliefs, etc. Still worth sharing.
sarah s Jun 2017
im a lot like kurt cobain
when i am done writing something that seemed beautiful as i formed it
i begin to really depsise it
i am a lot like kurt cobain
overly humble, a bit too sensual
i am a lot like kurt cobain
i speak loudly but i talk slowly
i am a lot like kurt cobain
i am mild, and peaceful
i am a lot like kurt cobain
i dont have a gun
i was inspired to write this when listening to "come as you are"
Sam Jun 2016
and it was only after van Gogh realised that  
the bullet could paint the brain better than the brush,
that he became immortal
Nikki Pingrey Mar 2016
The ****** poet mainlines inspiration by the gram.
chasing away the gnawing emptiness.
Fill the void with creations formed in pain, molded in your likeness
to keep at bay the loneliness.
The ****** poet and his muse paint the world in inebriated metaphors.
Burnt spoon blackened souls gather on the fringes.
Creating living seas of tortured, tumultuous shadow.
The end comes like an implosion.
Destruction turned inward one last time.
Not a result of action,
but of choices made in moments of self-loathing
when the ******’s muse was nowhere to be found.
B Young Dec 2015
We pull, into the
Grand Canyon,
at sunset.
We toss and fling
giant rocks, boulder-
esque chunks of
Earth, off of
the side.
Someone screams,
they are upset, but
no regrets,

Am I evil?
   (All poems containing a question)
Am I pensive?
   (All poems containing an affirmation)

Blazing across Arizona,
dead dogs grovel,
strays, orphans searching,
seeking, looking for a home,
******* and copulating,
in, vacant gas station
lots. Not a bone,
to be thrown.

Where are our owners?
   (All poems containing a question)
This is enthralling.
   (All poems containing an affirmation)

Fear and faith,
carry us riveting,
through rivulets of clouds,
we sore, flying above,
searching for peace,
doves.

The woods would be very silent indeed,
if no birds sing except those who sing,
best.  

But,
she wants revenge,
with
a thirst for pain, I cannot
contend.
And
as the rain pours down,
sorrow falling from the
clouds.
She wants revenge.
And,
I simply cannot even
contend.

Laying lines out on
the metallic surface, of
With the Lights Out,
white powder flaked
along Cobain's black
and white face.
The drugs which killed
him, no longer causing
him any more pain,
merely giving this writer
some idolized thrill and gain.
And then high, reading
about one more creature,
dizzy with love.

*God gave us memories so that we may have roses in December
life's jump Aug 2015
Thinking of a friend
Deeper than in mind
throw away the notes
of all your suicide
Pain can not fulfill
the days you've spent
behind.

****** retracts
a painful vein indeed
it's only life you lost
the only friend you need
Tie off an arm
you push too fast
you bleed.

A high so high your low
blood stained elbow
flicken plastic tube
catch a wave a groove
Retrace thoughts you think
a lay low way to sink
Smile at your friends
an intense grin it is
What runs through your head
when heroins your friend

A bad batch of ****
took me one last hit
The prime of my life
a gun
Or a knife

reborn dead
i'm still-born alive-
                            tied.
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