Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tarik Aug 2018
To strum this guitar is for naught. Strumming the strum of the guitar of the guitar. The the guitar is for naught. For naught is the strum. Strumming strum strummy in the strum of the of the guitar.

Would she be enticed? She would be strumming. Would she be be strumming the strum of the guitar?          She would not be the the strum. I strum the D and the A strums the B and it all comes to the G string. Would I not if I did strum the G if I strummed it so?

Yes.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe yes.
Maybe yes.
Maybe maybe maybe no.
No.
NO.

Shall I have a glass of jack and coke? If I should not should I strum the G of the jack of the jack and the coke? Should she be she be not? Do I dare to         entice? If I should dare to not should should I find the jack?

I should call should I call if I do if I don’t? What have I to do but strum and strum and drink and drink and think of the flat note? I will call. Will it pickup?

The taste of Jack is acquired it is. It is acquired and acquired      and not for her. She’s a rosé and what can it be that a cheap whisky can amount to a fine wine? It cannot and I cannot. I cannot and will I call will I again?

Will I strum strum the gun of the sun? Will I find the gun will it find the sun and will it it will not find her?

How about a game of poker? I play a mean game a game I play. Please please do play with me. If you would please then please oblige. If not then please do. If do it would make all of it worth it.

Flush.
2 of a kind.
Full House
Royal flush.

Fold.

It is midnight I should be off. Off I shall just strum and never bother. Never shall I bother and never shall I be bothered.
Again.
I wasn't on drugs when I wrote this, but I sure felt like I was.

I made this poem in the style of Gertrude Stein. It was for an extra credit assignment in my Humanities class.
Benjamin Jan 2018
Your vocal cords
Please my body
As I hear the different tones...

Hearing you is so soothing
My heart is filled with bottled expressions
But once enlightened, feel amazing!

Your voice is just so...
Beautiful.
Viseract Nov 2017
Its funny how I can be dead in the brain
Only four hours sleep but still slaying stupid games
The people expect trust when its all turned to rust
Faulty; and your fault for letting it settle in the dust

Like hold up, wait a minute, you ******* me over
That logic you used there; are you certain you're sober?
Don't you dare try to pin your **** onto me
Just because I wont take a drink from a stagnant creek

I didn't come down in yesterdays rain
I know the difference between real and fake
I know when you're brewing an earthquake
I know enough to start making a change

I have the experience of a thousand words
Hidden behind bust lips, sounds left unheard
Vocal chords not humming, no six stringer strumming,
And buzzing like my phone does when lips start running

You could make a change too, stop and think
This relation is parched and needs new drinks
You've brought it all down, suffered in a drought,
Concocted some confusion and forged brand new doubts

I won't buy false gold no more, I'm no fool
Imma fix it up, but I need my tools
Stop acting like one too, start being a solution
You want me back? Well stop toying with my trust for your amusement
I don't need to name you. if this doesn't stick, imam peel you off. stop leeching my brainspace, stop being a ******* thorn in my ***, and pull yourself together
Moissa Nov 2016
With manly aggravations he strums-

Strums the rust and the anguish away from the strings.

I saw them, floating away from him; vibrating in midair

Those compositions from his melancholy days,

Echoing...

The notes have, somehow, reverberated through my cathedral soul-

I can feel them.

I could still locate the ringing at the ceiling of my skull.

And if I wish to
I could even feel the faint tremors in my heart-

And realize it's actually pulsating...

But surely, it's just an after shock from the sounds resonating

It would fade away.

Of course it will just fade away.

It would fade away the moment he
stops playing.
Lunar Oct 2016
every time his voice filled my ears
my heart strings vibrated
so he gently plucked or strummed
to match his ballads

but as days passed
with his playing and vocals getting rougher
his fingers bled and scarred
and then i snapped

gone was the singing boy
his beautiful guitar
but you can still see them love
whenever you hear their song
even if some things do not exist anymore, there will always be other existing  things that remind us of those and we can never escape from it.

11/13 of the Pocketry Series.
JR Falk Jun 2016
As I watch you strum
away at your guitar,
I hope the only thing
you're playing is music.
This is different. This is real.
2:20am
6.24.2016
Beau Grey Apr 2016
Touch me,
like the quiver of my body
is a lyre that you must strum.
Speak to me,
like my voice is a psalm
you've never heard.
Kiss me,
like you're a desert wanderer
and my lips an oasis.
Love me,
like your heart is a wardrum
that will thunder
        without
                me.
Ryan V Jul 2015
You sit behind a glorious loom
Weaving and tugging the threads
Not of silk or cloth
But of the fabric of reality
You manipulate them
Steadily weaving my dreams
Into a blanket of memories
To keep us warm at night
As you are plucking the strings
Not of guitar or harp
But those of my heart
Strumming a tune known to all
That sweet melody
That sacred hymn
The song within.
the city and it's music
every changing
the city and it's music
daily rearranging

you can hear the distant thunder
kept in time by city drums
a beat of urban tires
that makes the city roadways strum
the wind blows through the subway
you can hear the wires hum
it's the city making music
shut your eyes and listen some

the band has no conductor
there are horns and there are strings
there's a bass back from the buses
listen to the joy it brings
it's a concert in the city
by the city and it rings
the bells from downtown churches
and the piegeons flapping wings

you've an orchestra around now
listen close, it never stops
from the cars racing through downtown
to the whistle blowing cops
it's a different kind of music
it's got a rhythm that just pops
it's a gritty harder sound
that echos to the building tops

cars, trucks, people walking
all are part of this great band
and the best part of this music
is it's spread across the land
each song you hear is different
nothing ever comes out planned
each city has a cadence
listen close, the show's at hand....
Next page