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Canadian Cowboy Oct 2019
Where have all the good girls gone?
The ones who prefer brains to brawn.
Today's girls seem to like tattoos;
They like bad boys who bring bad news.

When I grew up the girls were classy.
They were smart and kind and super sassy.
But now they're shallow and superficial;
They're so covetous and artificial.

Love should be about heart and soul.
About the truth that makes us whole.
Forget Facebook and Instagram;
Just talk to me: I'm an old school man.

©canadian_cowboy
Sarah Clark Jun 2019
reflect the sky at the dividing line
thousands, pilgrims, acrobatic flight
cautionary signals, holy outline
carry the form of grace and light.

countable and uncountable, alight
coastal meadows of purple aster
neon sun behind the fog, fading night
winged silhouettes settling at Big Sur.  

aerial blueprints, circling wet fir,
time resolved into opaque brushstroke,
compass lines, body before mind, umber
cliffs springing off a morning flock, awoke.

       red on red ridden their wild throats, pigment
       of deepest origin, indifferent.
Practicing with Spenserian stanza form- not perfect.
Jordan Hudson May 2019
In the corner in the cage
Locked behind Imma stay
In the room
Sweep da broom
Car go vroom
Fruit of loom
Tight on ya
******* to the wall
Fightin' ya
Died in this hall
Echo down the hall
You too tall
To hang I got the gang
They pull up in the 'stang
V8
Muscle car, you too weak
Tire screech, gonna heave
Too fast for you
What you gonna do
Stuck shotgun
Have some fun
You ain't going no where
So you can't run
Old school
Told you
Enjoy the ride
Rain I'll slide
I'll be fine
Stop to dine
Then we at it again
The vortex fins catching air
The wing and the front plate
At it everyday
Too fast, brake quick
Going by roads may be slick
No slow down
Downtown
We gonna catch this ride
Every night
Mafia fight
Mafia war
Rob the store
Fiction I made that up
I make stories out my head
Wassup man now you dead
Don't worry it is fake
Just for words
Just for play
I be making that up
Every day
Most songs though are true
But I get creative too
I am just like you and you
I do that too
Write to
A beat and think
I don't sing
But I rap
Though it crap
Nah its okay
I can say
I like it
A little bit
Aye
old school style
Rob Sandman Aug 2018
I'm the best and worst,better than your first,
*******, but worse than Courtney takin' the Shotgun to Kurt,
Chick-Chick BOOM! too soon?-get the the **** out
I got more brains than the Cobains Greehouse,
He was in Nirvana...now maybe he's IN NIRVANA,

I don't know I'll leave it there maybe ask Buddha,
brutha believe me you can't deceive me,or relieve me,
even a trained hunting Dog can't retrieve me


Let's be Frank...
I leave rappers quieter than Helen Keller's beef with Anne Frank,
need enough Franc's for a trip to France to get some stamp's Franked...

Frank White or Frank Castle I'm an angry Irish *******,
arguments against me are simply facile,
sit the **** down, drop the Mic like a hot Spud,
afore you get stood all over by the Bull Stud,
I'm a ******* detector, Patriotic defector,
criminal Electors rippin' off the Exchequer
while I'm busy in your Ma's room strippin off her knickers!


I'm swimmin with an Army of ex Special Forces Women
to the Island offshore accounts are on Gunnin' and Grinnin,
constantly Sinnin' I'm Constantine slammin a Mirror offa Demon
Leavin your bird's face like a Doughnut glazed in *****,
dosin' every coffee cup in MIT with DMT,
Observin Scientists tip over at the knees like fallin' trees
new discoveries abound as PHD'***** the ground,
if Forest Whitaker fell in the woods would he make a sound?


My ground and pound will confound-verbal skills will astound,
next memory is wakin' up with a crowd around,
ye wanna step and test?,don't mean to be crude,
but ye must have a real taste for hospital food,
through a straw-thru a wired up jaw,
playing ****** up games like Saw,
ye shoulda saw the consequences when ya raised yer paw
yer Paw shoulda raised ye better bout raisin' fists to yer betters,
bunch of bedwetters tryin' to do a Man's job, forget it.


I'm the best and the worst,best friend-worst enemy,
big mistake offendin' me,don't need no one defendin me
but I still have a crew of real hard rocks,
the lads are used to the hard knocks,
you're used to the hard *****!
your faces are so shocked,
you just got yer snot rocked
now you're layin' face first cause you ****** with the best/worst!
Another-"Fell out of me fairly fully formed at 6am" Poem,
more to come, next will be the true story of me drifting out to sea many years ago!.
E.C.! https://soundcloud.com/eclectic-collective-eire
Gangothrii Aug 2018
It’s an odd romance,
Yet it felt so right,
The charcoal that paints the pristine whites.
Like the scratches and scores across the flawless skin,
The smell of graphite sunk in her skirts,
A touch so rough, yet she yearns.

The creator smiled in delight,
The satisfaction shown in the depths,
From the soul the words formed,
Strung to a garland that met the lead.
The curves and lines the charcoal drew,
Made her quiver in pleasure and pain.

The creator dwelled in these sounds and sights,
Of the romance between his pen and paper.
Like water for a parched throat,
The words soothed many souls.
Write is all I love to do,
A delicious *******,
Between me, my book, and my pen.
Ivan Brooks Sr Mar 2018
I vividly remember back in the day
Before smart gadgets, when I was young.
Every night we waited in the moonlight to play
Life was pure like the playground song.

That was when the world was very young
and friendship was real and not digital.
When autotune wasn't part of a good song
and all photos were normal and typical.

That was when people followed you for real
not on Twitter and Instagram and snapchat.
That was when buttocks and ******* were still real
and real-life friends met for coffee and a real chat.

I clearly remember the big old telephones
When people didn't see the faces of people,
they talked to like we now do on the smartphones.
I missed the old days when sleep wasn't a struggle.

IB-Poetry©️
3/25/2018
Proof that I am old
Coraline Hatter Mar 2018
I like it old-school
receiving handwritten love letters with coffee stains on the paper
putting a music-mix together with songs that remind me of us
going on a simple yet lovely coffee date on a rainy day
or
watching the sunset together even if it's just out of your window
I know it's not your thing,
but I love stuff like that.
mark john junor Sep 2017
news paper pages
scatter along a ***** wind
some caught in fences separating
some free to climb into the forever of
deep blue sky pure sunshine
washed clean of the sins printed on its page
only photographs remain
a black & white image of the old man
feeding pigeons along the empty path
that lead him there

news paper pages
forever silently burning in a collapse of worlds
so old the smoke has died away
pages with masterful words written
never finding lips to uncage their meaning
a beauty of phrase that has never faded
a chain link barrier between what its
long dead author spoke eloquently
and the world disguised by years of dead dust
only photographs remain
a faded image of an old man
walking the sunset
a scattering of bread crumb's
stretching back along his trail
leading not into the living sky
forever shifting between dark and light
but into the dusty caverns of twilight
forever twilight

by candle light
he will pour over the things he never spoke
wishing only for a voice once more
a way to tell her
about all those yesterdays ago
the why's and whatnot's
that he fiddles with
like wooden toys ever more finely crafted
never to knowing play
never to escape the gathering dust

here he sits
in his comfy chair
tea and biscuits gone cold
and his lips ****** with gentle care
words written on discarded news paper pages
like bread crumbs scattered for
birds that never come
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
moziq Aug 2017
we woke up from our dream.
The playground was empty, the swings barely touched by toddlers.

We wanted too be like mommy when mommy is on drugs and daddy can't be found.

It's so hard trying to remember the last time you preferred soda over ***** because soda doesn't make you forget the pain as well.

Can you believe we really did sit on those swings, wanted to watch reruns and drink soda?

Even wanted to be like our parents for a time?

It may look nice, cheerful, and happy as can be but its cold out here in the world and sometimes I'm happy I woke up.

I know that its not unicorns and sugar-pops all around but, there are times I wish I was oblivious to my indigenous home.

Friend we woke up a long time ago but you handled it differently than I.
So differently that you were dreaming again just a new dream.

I only wonder when you will wake up this time.
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