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Strangerous Apr 2022
I may be just a partying sort of guy,
But that’s the sort of guy I wanna be.
I intend to go down laughing when I die.

I like the ladies, that I won’t deny.
I give them what they want, and they like me
Because I’m such a partying sort of guy.

I make love, sleep, wake up, and then get high.
My days and nights are filled with revelry.
I know I’ll go down laughing when I die.

I wear the finest clothing I can buy
And drive the fastest car you’ve ever seen
To prove I’m quite a partying sort of guy.

I never get depressed, I never cry,
But those who do have all my sympathy.
I’d rather go down laughing when I die.

So why are some committed to the lie
That life is hard? They must love misery.
Myself, I’ll be a partying sort of guy
Until I go down laughing, when I die.
© 1991 by Jack Morris

Hear the song on Spotify:
https://open.spotify.com/track/4vaz9FN1wAGPtihDtHaZey?si=22a9999a6c564599
Elexer Nov 2015
Dear God,
*******
For everything you've put us through
The people here who write about
Sadness, depression, lost love
Heartbreak, anger, pity
It's not fair what we have to endure
Every single day
So I don't think you actually exist
But if you do,
*******, God.
*******.
Emmy Anne Mar 2015
You have your hands around her neck yet she's not afraid. She's so love struck she doesn't feel your grip getting tighter. She gasps for air but you're giving her "love" so she doesn't care. You hold her tightly behind your back not letting anyone see that she's your back up, your plan B. Her delicate hands Trimble and you don't care because the power you posses over her is too addictive for you to let go of. Your evil deceiving words assuring love and protection melt her heart, but your promises never fulfilled. Twisting her words making HER the one at fault for all of your ***** ups and misconceptions. Her heart longs to be accepted, to be "good enough" for you. When she is a sweet daisy trying to grow through rocks and thistles, you are but **** on a gym shower room floor. You will NEVER deserve this flower, this gem, that you think you have control over. One day this princess will become a queen, fight for what she wants and what she deserves.
02/16/15
Alyanne Cooper Jun 2014
A body lies broken
On the freeway ramp curb.
A man once stood there
Asking for help
With his cardboard cutout
Plea for societal mercy.
Then a car sped too fast,  
Swerving to make the green light
It was never going to catch
In this dimension or any other.

Just a moment was all it took.

Did you know he was a soldier
Who was haunted at night
By the enclosed confines of his house
Because it too closely resembled
The urban landscape he fought in,
Faced death in, lost friends in,
Got caught in until the web of his mind
Couldn't ever forget it
Especially when he tried to sleep at night?

Did you know he came back
And tried to fit in to the community
He had been born and raised in
But found that the stares and glances
Of wonder and horror laced
With misunderstanding and pity
He didn't need but couldn't escape
Were too much for him to bear
Because though he could
Look the enemy in the eye
It hurt too much to see
His own father couldn't meet his,
And a community takes its cues
On how to treat its people
From those closest to them,
So, soon no one would look him in the eye?

Did you know all that when you passed
Where he stood every day on the curb
Asking for your pity and spare change,
Having become the uttermost disgrace
In his own eyes,
Because don't you know
He used to be somebody?

Did you know that today,
When you made a split second
Choice to speed up the turn,
He'll be buried in the National Cemetery
With an honor guard
And a three rifle volley salute,
But the chairs will be empty
And no one will speak kind words for him,
Because he's already been forgotten?

How else could you run over him,
And drive off with not a glance back??

My conclusion: you're a ******!
Dark Holes Jun 2014
Smirking frat boy bro
Derped your way into my brain
Love by the beer pong
Even the idea was worthy of a fight
and all too much preparation.
We dolled ourselves up for alienation,
even though the faces present
were so familiar and etched into memory.

Who are you Mr.Cool?
If that is your real name.
Whiskey breath and filterless smokes
only impresses the girls in the movies,
with scripts written by clueless men
like you, who can't supply injury
so they bring only insult.

You are a secretary bird,
a mime, and the copycat kid.
Trying to be a bad boy and hide
amongst the spoiled brats you claim.

Keep on burrowing and severing ties,
ravishing resources leads to ruin.

You say you've heard rumors?
Well, I've heard facts.
I've seen facts!

Your parasitic disguise will crumble
under the weight of your genuinely selfish persona.
While the company I keep will only know
the side you wished to reveal
in front of all the pretty boys and girls.

— The End —