Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
annh Dec 2019
A twitch of the toes,
A pop of the lips,
A flick of an eyelid:
I watch as electricity sleeps.

‘Hey there, Mr Conductor. Y’know I can’t resist you.’

Sunday schmaltz - sorry.
Soap suds and rubber gloves have that effect. My right hand is wielding a *** scrubber but my brain thinks it’s holding a pen. Let’s call this dishwater doggerel and be done with it. :)
Asominate Nov 2019
Questionable nature,
Emptiness between my ears,
Lies of wanting me around:
Oh, how my feelings flair

Super commit dieing,
Reality won't stop
You gave me a needle,
Now I can make me pop!
Just imagine a human with a balloon for a head with a needle in hand.
Mark Oct 2019
Homeless in paradise, it's never that clean
Home free, since I was a middle-aged teen
Purple haze trees, as my life's infrastructure
Smelling the scent, of my bohemian subculture
Playing along the boardwalks of Venice Beach
Passersby, all the time just begging to screech
Their rude undertones, as they sip on their latte
Surely, I was a given, for a dope smokin' runaway

I must admit, I am a drunk
I will admit, I did love punk
I won't admit, I'm not a hot *****
Have to admit, at skool I did flunk
I'll **** it up, to make a quick buck
But, will you admit, you're a flaming schmuck?

Living in paradise, was forever my scene
Hassle-free start to my touring routine
Purple haze shades, my life now has structure
You see the success, of my worldwide pop culture
Gracing stages of past fame, always to a beat
Fanatical fans always be wanting to meet
Sifting my bin, for stuff I've worn, this be stalking
I'm the greatest musical queen, I've heard them talking

I must admit, I am a drunk
I will admit, I did love punk
I won't admit, I'm not a hot *****
Have to admit, at skool I did flunk
I'll **** it up, to make a quick buck
But, will you admit, you're a flaming schmuck?

Hurting in paradise, for wherever I'm seen
Hitting trees, I ditched my last limousine
Injecting purple haze into my veins, now I’ve suffered
On Youtube, my once famous sculpture is buffered
Fooling around, the ***** strips, never that discreet
With my purple haze shades, I was fast on my feet
Families, not mourning, nor crying, putting me 6 feet under
Atlantic contracts, royalties accrued, now easy to plunder
In departing my last scene, I'd become fatally unstuck
Because of how I'd been living, as a dim-witted, schmuck.
Mark Oct 2019
My blues they come from those cotton days
Black slaves bought by southern racist ways
Cruel white leaders, and if our lips were to loose
This would be our ending with a tight rope noose

Simple chords, with lyrics of choice
A wealthy white boy searching for voice
Colored teaching whites, but ends with abuse
Everything ending with a tight rope noose

I brought my blues from the cotton days
Black folks appalled by others racist ways
Country of white leaders, if our lips were to loose
Everything ending with a tight rope noose

Sad child from the city mansion practices inside
A coloured mans tune on his mind, while pool-side
Racist born father with rules and abuse
Everything ending with a tight rope noose
Mark Oct 2019
The blues spoke out loud, as the very first person, to me
Talkin' 'bout movin' on and leavin' your troubles behind
That's what the blues should feel like, like being set free
One day, a college educated black man, rather refined
Met a lean loose-jointed ***** vagrant, swingin' with motion
He was a sittin' over there, between the police and the railway station
When he first heard this gifted black musician, playing his guitar
But, he'd been pulling a knife across the strings, how bizarre
It was the weirdest sound, that he ever did hear.

Music was being played all down the south coast
Mainly for pleasure, but also for future profit, they'd all boast
But people were throwing coins, at the soles of this dudes feet
He said, it's played by all the blacks, but whiteys can't hear its tunes
Played all night and day, making some money, just enough to be able to eat
Some would even use a ***** ole wash bowl, along with some silver spoons

I wanted to learn me, how to pick that guitar, oh yes sir re, indeed
There was a sweet singer of the swamp lands, always high on green ****
Passing on by here, to put down a few tracks, all 'bout da blues
He'd never stay too long, 'cause he was wanted by the state
Word had it, he was from a town in Texas, named Fate
He was known as Lead Belly, who never paid his dues
Yep, he did become that infamous, murderous minstrel

You gotta take an eight bar phrase
Then simply, make it a twelve bar phrase
Now ya got ya selves, dat ole fashioned blues
You'd know a lot more about the blues, by meeting the people
Than you would, listening to it, from home or relying on the news
Or seated around a **** on the radio dial, like most lazy towns people
The uptight white cats from LA, didn't bother, to hear those sort of tones
Even after sitting, right beside the famous UK band, the Rolling Stones

In the meantime, mainstream USA sat up and twirled
As they smashed through their southern racial barrier
So everyone could be happier, they'd forget about their interior
The British had heard it, full steam ahead, they then told the world
Letting y'all know, who these great blues music people, really are and were
Then, white America said, 'Well let me go see', what's making them purr

When it was all done and finalised
It was only then, that we realised
That it was so hip hop
For us to put the blues back on top
We had the big bop, then the 80s pop
Thru to ZZ Top, along with another MTV flop
Tearing it all up, leaving behind very few clues
Even though, they were just, as bad to the bone
Just as the original good ole blues
Should've always done.
Colm Sep 2019
You bade me come
Like blades of grass and shields of rye

Like wind in mountain meadows past
Like sun and moon and sky

Your hand outstretched a breath from mine
Midst mire known to sink

I reached
And took you in with a sight so deep

You bade me come alive
This one started with a sound, which lead to a sight, which lead to a question, and ultimately brought me here. THAT is how this came to be.
EmperorOfMine Aug 2019
Plucked me from a pool of plenty,
Previewed perfect, sweet, and pretty,
Swallowed whole by a silhouette,
I'm not easy, but what a good guess,
Cracks upon the board you've set,
Not a pop of cake to digest,
Never was somebody's snack,
The addiction you've made because you're obsessed,
I am still a kind of treat,
Just not one that's sold, wrapped and made for your deceit.
Chris Jul 2019
Dark,bleak days are coming, darker yet ahead,
Would say I am sorry, but won't 'cause I'll be dead.

Sour land below us and angry sky above,
And those who seek to control us, have morons sell us love.

We've severed the connections, not our fault we didn't mean,
We're under the protection of almighty mobile screen.

I'd rather I was mental, I'd rather that  I was gone,
In the world that ***** on metal, I cannot be or belong.

I know the tastes wildly differ, and can tear people apart,
But I'll never ever consider, to consume that which you call art.
If you wanna hear something different go to:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G71IJLtWODc
Even through this screen
she manages to strike me
Her side glances and careful words
Delighting my fantasy
While saying my name again
Inviting me with the wisps
of her pixelated hands

As if tracing lines in sand
Would bring me closer
I long to compose the words to create
That shy glance on your face
I'm always receiving through the glass
The truth is you could say anything new
And I'd still be the same old mess

Fighting to control my beating heart
and lack of breath
Because I have panic attacks
And I miss you just the same
And I play dumb when you won't say it
I act surprised because
I can't compensate it
Constantly in denial when I contemplate for too long

So instead I'll sing you a song
I'll keep it short and sweet
Rather than taking so long
Because darlin', you could
Say anything
Say anything
And I'd be happy again

Because sometimes I lose sleep
While I'm too busy listening on repeat
To the music that's always reminding me
Of the night she closed her eyes
And rested her feet on my thighs
While the rest of the world was dead
We were lying together in her hospital bed

I'm fighting to control my beating heart and lack of breath
Because I have panic attacks
And I miss you just the same
But I play dumb when you can't say it
I might act surprised because I can't compensate it
I'm constantly in denial when I...
Contemplate for far too long

So instead I'll sing you a song
I'll keep it short and sweet
Rather than have it lasting just too long
Because darlin', you could
Say anything
Say anything
And I'd be happy again

So I'll sing you this song

I'll keep it short and sweet
Rather than taking so long
Because darlin', you could
Say anything
Say anything
And I'd be happy again
I wrote this one a while back in May 2018 but never posted it and it was found through scrolling back on memories of conversations long past. Definitely influenced by Good Charlotte though. I don't write music much but this would be a pop punk song should I ever put music to it
kerri Apr 2019
Be my Villanelle,
The assassin to my heart.
Stab me,
Once,
Twice,
Five ******* times.
Deeper,
Harder,
Show me your love.
I was watching Killing Eve and all I can think of is how hot Villainelle is.
Next page