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Ginger R Aug 7
Tell me your secrets
Don't worry, I'll keep it
After all, I've managed to keep my own

Boys are noticing me
Could a girl maybe notice me
Instead?

Yes I know I'm pretty
(I'm gorgeous actually) No,
My shirt doesn't give you permission
To stare at my hips

Stunning
Iconic
Wish she
Would cover up

Get your eyes off my face
Get out go away

Stunning
Iconic
A modern
Temptress

- call me a ****
I dare you

Give me a crop top
Clean eyeliner
This is only to prove
None of you deserve me

Call this an exaggeration
Complete exploitation
A collection of not-quites
Piled into a finished
Song

So I'm sorry for trying
To fix in the bubble
It wasn't a bubble
But a box

Don't tell me you love me
You can't possibly love me
You don't even know me
I'm just a face for
Your ideals

I don't agree with you
"We're still friends after this,
Right?"
-
Gods no

Does God know

How you hate his creation

?
-
"Yes, of course we are!"

Bite your tongue
You don't have time
To drop these people in
Your past

Keep friends close
Keep others closer
Wait until you're older

Can I possibly wait any
Longer
Anyway. This is a complete disaster
(I'm starting to notice a pattern, poems about girls are short and sweet, poems about boys are messy, incoherent and inconsistent)
Also the title is supposed to be a play on "boys will be boys" but it's kinda subtle idk how I feel about it yet.
Caveat Spender
by Michael R. Burch

It’s better not to speculate
"continually" on who is great.
Though relentless awe’s
a Célèbre Cause,
please reserve some time for the contemplation
of the perils of EXAGGERATION.

Stephen Spender in his best-known poem wrote: "I think continually of those who were truly great." This near-limerick suggests that Spender may have exaggerated the time he devoted to hero worship. Keywords/Tags: caveat, spender, truly, great, think, continually, hero, worship, exaggeration, contemplation, awe, fawn, fawning



Caveat
by Michael R. Burch

If only we were not so eloquent,
we might sing, and only sing, not to impress,
but only to enjoy, to be enjoyed.

We might inundate the earth with thankfulness
for light, although it dies, and make a song
of night descending on the earth like bliss,

with other lights beyond—not to be known—
but only to be welcomed and enjoyed,
before all worlds and stars are overthrown ...

as a lover’s hands embrace a sleeping face
and find it beautiful for emptiness
of all but joy. There is no thought to love

but love itself. How senseless to redress,
in darkness, such becoming nakedness . . .

Originally published by Clementine Unbound

Keywords/Tags: caveat, eloquent, eloquence, sing, enjoy, enjoyment, inundate, earth, thankfulness, praise, song, light, welcomed, enjoyed, enjoyment, bliss, joy, love
Tom Mar 2018
that man
he just lied to you
you don't know it yet
you probably never will
that man
he is your friend
you don't know it yet
but he needs you
to call him out
on his lie
on his reality
that man
burns inside
at the thought of facing
his truth
his life
that man
he needs your
help
KHAYRI WOULFE Aug 2017
I'm a Disney princess
A pretty, pretty actress
Sought by handsome princes
and by ugly wicked witches



My hair is blonde
and shiny and smooth
or soft and long
and fragrant and strong



I'm just like my hair
Shining bright like a flare
In a world of unfair
I'd get even and square



(Grr, grr!)



'Cause I'm a Disney princess
My skin is white and lovely
So are  my eyes and my teeth
And everything about me



Because I am perfect
I'm created to win
I'm the hero of your dreams
Armed with my tears and high-pitched screams



Sometimes I'd only sleep
Then there comes his charming kiss
It's hot, it's sweet, it's salty
Thanks for waking me up!



Sometimes I'd sneak on a ball
Dancing 'til I hear my midnight call
And leave one of my silver slippers
For my curious prince to ponder
Then he'd seek and find me
And we'll live happily ever after!



Wait, why am I here
In this sad forgotten tower?
With my evergrowing golden hair
Can't even find a single stair



I wanna go down
I wanna go down so badly
I wanna go down so deeply
Somebody please help me
Please help me go down



And my wish is granted:
A prince had just appeared
He pulled down my slender hair
Saved me from my lonely despair
But “ouch! That hurts!”
No it didn't! I'm just trying to flirt!


(Wink, wink!)


'Cause I'm a Disney princess
I can have all that I want
I can make all those mistakes
And fix them with a magical wand!



My life is a dazzling fairy tale
Packed with curses and magic spells
Who really cares about moral lessons
If everyone's happy like a bunch of morons?



Because I'm a Disney princess!
Everybody loves me
Whatever I do
You still wanna be me!



Curtain closes,
bells go chimes
My story ain't over,
it's just begun
Countdown starts,
five times the fun
Four times the thrill,
the Evil Queen awakes
Thrice made the chill,
the dragon is unleashed
Twice turn the pages,
here come the mages
Once upon a time,
I'm a Disney princess!
Written
31 July 2016


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
MU May 2017
She'd say: You poet, you liar
You truly will end up in hell
You shall be burning in fire
Cause  poems are lies that you just tell
Using nice words and metaphors
Aiming to put me under spell

I'd say: Well, some of it came true
I am burning, but with your love
Softly tortured with your bright lights
The poems for you are merely sighs
Longing for you at sleepless nights

Thinking about you all the time
Telling the truth, nothing to sell...
You did put me under your spell!
With hazy eyes that hypnotised
Gently my mind, until I fell
                                               For you...
If poets' exaggerations are lies, the they are beautiful ones...
Eve Estelle May 2017
Oh, the sky is shining bright, bright blue,
Shining, shining, down on you -
My little, little Mary Sue,
Who so bravely rode that gilded horse
High upon the tor, stood there tall
And full of pride;
Who went to war against the tried -
Never, never lost their stride,
Instead called upon their rallied flock,
Those pristine hides and ****** voices
That had yet to wade in the red river;
Giver, giver, but quick on the trigger -
Purge the wicked and hush the words,
Burn the books, and ban the birds,
May the ashes cushion your fall.

Oh, you take the high road,
And I'll take the low;
I'll be in Scotland before you..
Early and spur-of-the-moment attempt at mild satire. :) What message do you get from this? Suggestions for improvement always welcome!

The last three lines are meant to be italicized, and are quoted from the song "The Bonnie Banks O' Loch Lomond."
Ava Courtney May 2016
My tongue is a piece of sandpaper
I’m melting into a puddle
I want to dive into a snowdrift
The hot asphalt burnt my toes to ashes
Oh lord. Open me up, My organs are cooked
I think I’m well done
You can fry an egg on the sidewalk it’s so hot.
As I melt away. The sun keeps shining down on me
Laughing and mocking me as I slowly burn to death under this
500 degree heat.
Gia Garcia Jan 2016
box
You run.
As fast as your feet can.
As long as your lungs can take.
Just to get where?
You don't know
Oh, but you do, don't you?
You know very well where you want to go.

You want to go to the darkest and the loneliest of spaces.
A space only your mind could create for itself when its had too much to take.
You go there.
A lot.
And I think the closest you've been out of there was halfway through.
Once you discovered this place, you never really left it.
You stayed there.
No one knows who you really are.
Because you chose to stay within the doors that you think protects you from pain and rejection.
But you never knew how much it has eaten you away.
Because you're too afraid to accept that to love at all, means to be susceptible.
So I'm not gonna tell you to stop running.
Stop hiding.
I want to know you.
Whitney Jade Aug 2015
A dramatic pause.
Some dramatic irony.
A dramatic tone, a dramatic dress;
A dramatic thought process.
Set the dramatic setting!

Picture a place...
A place where the mountains are too tall,
The oceans are too deep,
The rivers are too long; a place
Where only dramatic blood will seep.

I am an artist, therefore I am dramatic.
I paint with vibrant colors to
Catch the eye in a most surprising way,
I clench my fist with such severity
When I preach that the knuckles
Not only turn white, but are
Purely translucent.

I will pound my fist in the air,
A mighty pound against the air molecules
That have done nothing to me
But give me life,
And I will add insult to injury
As I raise my fist higher and higher,
I will TAKE a breath,
Inhaling deeply and I will say with a jump:
   "What, dad? It's called a fist bump.
   It's all the rage.
   You should try it sometime...
   Might diminish your old age."

Like the game of chess,
I am best known for the way I may test
The cold, human mind
And the way it rests
Glory upon the heads of the best of the best.
If you're only the best of the best,

Are you better than all the rest?

You're submerged into only a handful
Of contestants at that point in time,
I am having a hard time seeing where
You could say you have skills above mine.

Because I did not try out to be a "best".
Oh, no.
I simply tried out to be a P O E T:
A person of words and of worldly flow.
Yes, I am clean!
But I have soap in my eyes,
And I can hardly see.

I cannot see the gorgeousness of the greens,
The beauty of the blues,
The raucousness of the reds...
Oh, I forgot to mention.
I'm merely color-blind,
I thought that went without being said?

Don't!

Look at me in that tone of voice.
I am not to be looked at!
Unless, of course, I'm lookin'
Pretty fly today. Then you can
Look all you want because I am not afraid
To show off every once in awhile,
To boast,
To be audacious! ...

I often wonder why I never got to a
"Ready, set, action!"
Or a
"People! places, places!"
But then I remember why;
The persons on stage?
They are only acting.
They are actors.
In that moment, they do not really feel!
They are acting, don't you see?
Simply put, artists just the same.
Only, their art is also simply feigned.

People always ask me,
"Why are you so excited?"
"Why are you so loud?"
"Why do you say things of that might?"
"Why would you ever act so proud?"

And of course the reoccurring question of,
"Who are you again?"
But that's irrelevant.
I don't know why you brought that up.

And I always answer these questions
The same way.
I am an artist. Therefore,
I am dramatic.

People rush through life without
Paying respects to the little things.
Artists are humans too,
They are no exception to this rule.
We have faults, we have flaws,
We all have things
That need to be improved.

However, an artist can rush
Through life with such grace,
That it is no longer rushing.
Somehow through the blinding speeds,

they can see.

They can see what you can't.
Rushing, rushing, rushing.

I was hurrying out of class
And down the stairs the other day.
I rounded that corner
And began to descend only to knock
A poor female down unto her
Gluteus Maximus.

The situation was intense,
But I walked right past it.
I kept going, down those stairs,
To enter the bottom hallway...
And from up above I heard a soft, sarcastic voice,

"Um, excuse you?"

I couldn't help myself.
I had to turn around.
I told her,

*"Now you're just overreacting."
Slam poetry done by my younger self.
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