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Listening to your music makes me very bored

So I headed downtown for the things I can’t afford

I walked into the crowded lake till my feet got sored

If the traffic questioned me I’d say I was lured

For a glass of ice and an old album I stored

It made four. I listened till the choir singers broke their last vocal chord.

For years they trademarked desire, eventually it topped the Billboard

the train got jammed midway, again this team had scored

I didn’t say anything; I even signed the peace accord

All the piano keys marched out my door, saying ‘cursed was my Lord!’

I couldn’t sing well, but I walked behind them with a sword

Only my guitar slept soundly; at midnight it even snored
Kieran Messer Apr 16
I was just on the phone
With Justin Timberlake.

He wants his **** back.
Don't ask me what came into my head when I wrote that, for I do not know either.
starsnwaves Feb 28
February 23, 2019:

Freddie Mercury tells Mary Austin
“I think I’m bisexual”.
And my heart beats like mad
Because no one else has connected to
A secret like this before
No one else notices
The drum beats of my chest
This isn’t even one of the three times
Tears fall

Pt. 1:

He tells his band
His family
That he has it
It’s an ending that is known to the world
But in the moment
Aids is not life-shattering
Because of the sun that filled his soul
And it fills theirs
As they promise
To break a hole in the sky

Pt. 2:

His hand rests gently upon
Jim Hutton’s
It’s accepted
His arms wrap around
His father
And his father’s wrap around him
It’s accepted

Pt. 3:

The opening bars
To chords
That only hours ago
I’d deemed my favorite
Begin to play and his life
And its end are played out with it
I’m glad he got his happy ending
Through drops of water
I tell my dad
That this is it

(Unbidden) Pt. 3:

I researched immediately after the dream-like
To see if that’s all it was
A dream
I try to explain
But my mother is stuck on the
To something she didn’t even know
Graced my reveries
I push down doubts
Doubts that have filled the both of us
Him and I
That still linger

It’s a moment of light projected into
My soul
A moment so gold-coated
That a vision of the same words almost
Leave my lips
And fill the comfortable silence
Of my dad’s car
They don’t
But unfazed I vow
To remember
Freddie Mercury
When they do.
Or did the cliché use me? It infected my mind, stole my words, and left me linguistically bankrupt. Every dog has its day, and yesterday was most certainly not mine. But all’s well that ends well, unless the well is actually a drowning pool, or a rat graveyard. Only Time will tell-unless I cut out its tongue and use its guts for garters. But without Time we’re all Living on a Prayer seeking a Stairway to Heaven borne by our 99 Red Luft Balloons with nothing but Faith, like Major Tom we’re floating away. Will Another One Bite the Dust before the the finale of this Bohemian Rhapsody? Whatever will be will be, and I will set forth my Long and Lonely Hallelujah long locked in my Heart of Gold, because I’m getting old Under Pressure screaming “let me out”-STOP! Hammer Time!  I may be Lost in the Supermarket, but Great Scot! I’ll get my guaranteed personality because in Nana-Land Anything Goes!
inspired by my Muse, Monica L.

presented as part of a Dawkins’-meme based poetrycollection at the 2019 “Trash Talkin’” literary Conference at the University of Regina, in Regina, SK, Canada
Winter is coming
with glimmers of snow
this at least I know
because of sky growls

Winter is coming
I watch fowls
wrapped in their feather cowls
head for warm relief

Winter is coming
gasps the last leaf
unfurled from its mortal sheaf
when Night King’s sword swings down

Winter is coming
tremble, under Ice Maiden’s frown
when the sight of her gown
dismays rather than awes

Winter is coming
with its silent claws
so much pain it will cause
its enemies will know defeat

Winter is coming
there is no soul so fleet
as to successfully retreat
from Winter’s adroit wrath

Winter arrives at Winterfell
taking a hail and sleet bath
contented growls cause pause
spikes rained down
cover advance of a thief
whose nefarious shadow’s prow
stifles light so darkness may grow.
name Oct 2018
Pop culture infects me
it erects me
wrecks me..?

Pop culture is a pivot table.
Trivia pop trivia..
Music pop music..

Pop culture is a pivot point.
A flexible memory joint.
The timeline expanding...
and divided by 10.
defining decades...
This, to me, is weird to comprehend.

 yet drilled in like an adrenaline marker in your thought
*A fetish object spot.

Brings comfort to the masses
and my desire for language classes
Aa Harvey Jun 2018

Popular culture is so inconsequential;
All I see, I am growing to hate.
The time has come for someone to become beneficial;
Artificial is no longer needed.
You are starting to grate, without ever being great.

Faces without names, names without faces;
Relevance has never been so relevant.
Giving money to people who have not had to make it.
Share the wealth and do not care so much about yourself;
Spend the money before your fame is spent.

Debt collectors on the T.V., movie stars in between the films.
I fast forward and pay no interest to any adverts.
T.V. is tainted and full of people faking it; what is this?
Empty people with shallow sights.  What are you worth?

The rich get richer and their greed buys them more power;
The poor are still kept down like they were yesterday.
Nothing changes for the better; we are living by the hour.
Repeat your actions, we lack clarification;
Politicians have nothing to say.

In a depressing world, how do I raise a smile or a child?
All that has come before has affected my mind.
You are pathetically pathetic and you’re not even and so very trying!
Self-importance is praised in these darkest of times
And the rocket men have fallen from the sky.

Old songs remind us of what we used to have;
One hit blunders, Andy Warhol’s sad quote.
Strive for perfection
And do not just accept the substandard woman or man.
There are only a few diamonds in this mine of music;
T.V. is no longer worth watching and who is this star of the show?

(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Emily May 2018
Television taught me to talk
Now I don't know how to walk
Unless I'm in high heels

Fed a pop culture diet
I don't know why,
But I think you should try it

Cruising around
In a Chevrolet limousine
Flicking through
The pages of a magazine

Silver screen beauty queen
Cult classic with a classic colt
Shooting up in the pictures
Truth and fiction in the lyrical mixtures

Televised script gone viral
High roller girl in an upward spiral
It's a glamorous soundtrack life
With a soulless soundtrack laugh

Television has all the appeal
So now I don't know how to feel
Nothing feels real
Because I don't know
What real is beyond the reel
I recited this poem at a poetry slam the other night... I didn't place and I disagree with who they instated as second and third but, whatever.
Dakota J Dawson Feb 2018
Drown and bask in the sunlight
Forward unto God
He is sinful

Made for the weak man
He is a cancer
Disgusting scorn of prudent woe

Always showing up
Like "BurgerKing"
Uninvited, not liked

Boring and yet sublime
Where does the confusion end?
Does it include a "Happy Meal"

Pop culture is tiresome
Tripping and stepping into territory
That is unknown, yet still familiar

Why can't it end?
The division and condemnation
Condensed to pitiful morality

Each case moronic
In design and fashion
Seeking an identity

Plotting to overthrow
The status quo
Implanting the negative flow

Stereo is doomed
Electronic in psychology
Dead to the depth
camps Feb 2016
i look up and see the light

and the IV that drips w/ Red Bull injecting me and keeping me alive with (liquid) Die Antwoord pumping through my veins. The doctors and the nurses with their coats and bourgeois manners tell me I won’t be able to even remember my name. S/O to the Surgeon General and Cuban cigars. Styrofoam cups in a sterile prison, there are rats for that besides, the tile looks too expensive for me to scratch at with my PlastiDip nails so I pull out my P O L A R O I D to take a snapshot of the moment and make sure to take the time to filter it with my favorite shade of Ray Ban®

left the underlined blank empty at the front desk and called myself an ÜBER so that I can hit the melodramatic streets that glow bright with neon and shiny Magnum wrappers before I cover myself in a new age burka that reeks of Louis Vuitton and automatically nods at fretful ghosts. Featherweight, yet polite, the stream of particles surrounding me takes the shape of an Ibanez and is starting to soothe like VIX. This world is a Technicolor pixel that has just shattered, yet I could trade an Android for a KitKat bar and still be able to tell you what the electric sheep are running from

it’s just like that time back in France where cigarettes burned my nose and you were scared of dying. If you had asked me, I would have told you it’s not too bad, everything in your brain turns to ecstasy - but you wouldn’t have it. That’s the thing, you’re more concerned with those cross hatched squares of metal on your teeth than the privatization of water so why should you remember that while purple rain is nice to look at, it burns the skin? Instead you looked at your pencil sharpener scars and said “paint me like one of your *****” but last time I checked, I only carried lint in these pockets, at least that’s what the Hospital said, so if you really wanted to, we could go back and connect the dots

i look up and see the light

and the IV that drips an elixir that tastes just like Heineken…
no no no. Sign my afterword with a kiss and your sweetest remarks

& don’t forget to smile at the trees

an ode to the modern age
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