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Kam Feb 19
In sixth grade,
I wrote a letter to David Bowie
addressed to his New York home never knowing
a girl named Kamryn exists,
but I thought I was special enough
for a world-renowned rock star to reply
or care enough about some pre-teen angst

I shared with him how my grandma Pam
chose drugs over (I know now an addiction has many more complex layers)
getting to know her grandchildren or
to love her son, but then I remembered-
this is David ******* Bowie, he's lived life
with ******* in his bloodstream for thirty years prior

Maybe, I mentioned it all
because I wanted to feel special,
like the way, I think dying young
will create that for me. It's stupid
how I painfully so-identified as
"the girl with the mousy hair"
and the piano aiding an eloquent
discussion about the world's disarray
in which I selfishly identified as my own
"Life on Mars" always felt like a personal performance
just for me, but at twenty-one, it isn't just a song
and I still lay awake wondering if Mars and I
share a similarity, we want life to ebb
so distinctly within us both.
Jude Quinn Apr 2019
You know how many times we looked at the screen
hoping we could see ourselves in there?
and you know how we never even caught a glimpse?

Still don't know what we were expecting.
We were a little too beautiful to sell our souls
to some weird carnival mirror,
and, anyway, you can't instastory a heart,
no matter how hard some might try.

However, every now and then
I can't help but look again at that screen
and just wonder how the clowns
might see the stranger.

Do they know that time may not change them,
but that they can't trace time?
winter sakuras Jan 2019
Every time, once in a while
I would think to myself,
oh how I wish I had never been born

yet then I'd find myself
thinking of the Labrinyth movie,
where Sarah had made
the same wish towards her baby brother,
and there followed a night
of when the Goblin King
took her brother away

and it was quite a journey
to bring the babe back,
from traps, thick stone walls, and timeless sunsets
within the maze
to the shimmering dance of the illusion
with the Goblin King himself
who seemed to make the world fall down
around Sarah's shoulders

if you could describe
the mingling of dazed wonderment
and the dizzying fear of consequences from
wrong choices made in the split second
it takes to wish
you were never born,

it would feel something like
wandering through a labyrinth, where nothing is normal
and everything eludes sense,
thriving on the split moments
of ignorance, anger, and sadness
that result from the world
and everyday deeds,
and the character of the person you are

no matter how tempting
or dazzling
the world full of shimmering illusions may be,
it is in the end, still
another bottomless dark hole
to spiral down into

I guess that's why
when things take a turn for the rough
in life
and I turn to wish that I had
never been born,
I always find myself
thinking of the Goblin King coming to
****** me away
to lead me into the world of
luring, beautifully twisted illusions
that drain the soul out of you when you've
had enough.
Oh! You Pretty Thing
First time I saw you I thought Watch That Man
I really wish he'd Rock N Roll with me All Nite
because he looks like he's coming straight out of 1985.
Unfortunately It Ain't Easy since you already got this China Girl
but Where Are We Now? We made some Changes
and finally Here Comes The Night we'll be turning down the lights
covered in Ziggy Stardust, Dancing In The Streets, I never felt so right.
I'm a Rebel Rebel living on a Blackstar
you say Love Is Lost and just like you I Can't Give Everything Away
but I now that All The Young Dudes ain't got a thing on you
right now I'm in the Quicksand and can't find a way through.
I'll be your Lady Stardust, you'll be my Starman
we can be Heroes just for one night, or we can be us just for one day
so come on, let's go rattle the stars
And, maybe, in Five Years
we'll discover if there really is Life on Mars?
The "infamous" David Bowie poem

You got a bad attitude,
worse than my cat's cattitude
when I dab my tears on her fluff
in the lap of lassitude.
Ziggy Stardust
was a rock 'n' roll platypus,
so I scratch electric platitudes:
her 'ump is an Acme muse.

Her languor louche
unleash my lassitude,
& lassitude is literati for the blues.
La la la la la la la-lassitude!
La la la la la la la-liceytude!

Loving you:
punitive assuetude.
Kissin' ******* altitude,
not lips of latitude.
Your fratchy gratitude,
dark matter jewelled.
But I'm allowed to look at you
- looking ain't no glass lasso!

Her languor louche
funleech my lassitude,
& lassitude is literati for the blues.
La la la la la la la-lassitude!
La la la la la la la-liceytude!

J'accuse Ted Hughes:
Lady Lazarus in lion's mouth of white goods.
J'accuse Ted Hughes:
Assia in lion's mouth of white goods.
Tintin Mar 2017
Never will
his memory die
for he lives
in song and art

his spirit blends
with his beloved sky
filled in a sea
of stars

and in the stars
at last he has become
part of the space
he loved

The legend watches
now a constellation
and smiles upon
the work he has inspired
So take it like a man, like Desperate Dan
creamcowpied up his stubbly ironbutt
on Brokeback Mountain
- on all fours first, then consent.
It's for the best I bookmark then bin
my Mills & Boon bucketlist,
won't bitterly tinker anymore of my own
crash & vanity published
anthologies of that same selfeffacing joke,
stalled into endlessly reinventive selfharm
like bumnote Bowie with chameleon's block.
Same same same punchline always a Borderline
love lyric bickering with Fate
who cannot keep a

      f             e
            a c            
  s                     t    
    t                h
       r  a   i  g

unfair. O Fate
raking your sour coal blaze of reopened grapes,
you've won, I'll suffer on & on & on stoically schtum,
but I just wannaknowhowcome

nothing should fall harsher
than a groan clown,
who's tried, goshknows,
to turn his look of the ****** upsidedown,
but never been caught with his
Calvin Klown pants down,
unforgiving of his own
failure@playing the foolharder
in front of his witheringly notlooking
straightman, always a beautiful woman.
I am not of this world

My eyes are not eyes

They are Black Holes

Swallowing this universe whole

My heart is not a heart

It is a Pulsar

******* you dry

My soul is not simply a soul

It is a Nebula

Forging the birth of stars

My body is not just a body

It is a Galaxy

Holding the celestial organs of my Super Nova
I've had this unnamed and in draft for well over a month but I've haven't posted it because I didn't know if I was finished with it. But considering the recent loss of Ziggy the Starman, I wanted to finish and post it. Rest my friend. There's life on Mars now.
Gia Garcia Jan 2016
i feel myself slipping through the wind
unleashing my soul within
eyes leak in memory of you
and forgive myself for being the fool

i have no urge to scream
this pain cannot be mended by any means
who knew emptiness turns out to fill us with the worst of pain
pain that cannot be verbalized in any sentence or phrase

the closest it's had to having an explanation was in the tears we've shed
there's nothing about it that could be said
no one ever understands until they feel it
until they found the love that once made them feel sick

i stand here now, arms raised to my sides
no love, no pain, and no anger to hide
and now i know, finally, for just a few moments atleast,
how it feels to let my soul be free.
inspired by The Perks of Being a Wallflower and David Bowie's song "heroes" / the tunnel song.
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