#60s
Dallas, November 1963
Jackie wears a pink dress at her husband’s request
Unaware that it’ll soon be a mess
As they ride through a crowd of the press
She wonders which **** her husband gonna **** next
Questioning how much fake can her heart take
She does a deep breath but suddenly
A bullet shot hits his neck & another through his head
Leaving poor old Kennedy for dead
Blood staining Jackie’s pink dress
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 1:57 PM UTC
I walked in the dead of night.
Only the moon could guide me.
Show me where i am headed.
And the path i chose tonight led me to that green light.
I stood at the edge, felt the sea rash on my face.
I wanted it to consume me.
Let me be one with the waves.
Leave for a while.
But then...
I screamed my lungs out.
I let the anger out.
Only to let it bounce back in.
Love is a painful experience.
And when you hurt....you don't know how it happened.
For what sound does the heart make when it breaks?
Its as quiet as a dragons flap, yet as powerful as the wind he creates.
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 8:32 PM UTC
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
If it don't fit, don't force it
You can lubricate it, so you can appreciate it
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre is a ***** when you make a glitch
**** this gun like a real cool chick
It's barrels aren’t that hot or that ******* thick
And when it comes, blow your brains, while you’re still in cuffs
Elvis offended nerds, while doing those pelvic thrusts
But, he was merely having fun and just being ******* futuristic
While your parents were secretly playing with ***** vibrating plastic
I used to call myself at that time, ‘The Magnificent One’
Hell, I don't call myself that now, but I still believe it to be true
At the time, the frigid white kids would only spectate from the lower balcony
While some ***** white kinds, were leaping over with jealousy, to get downstairs
Because, that's where the black dudes would occasionally perform, their ****** affairs
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Protect yourself with a little soap bubble
If you want help, I can go pop, without getting into too much trouble
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre can mean defeat when others hear your beat
How can I put the creeps down, when I've been creeping from afar?
I'm another mother fuckin' world wide pop star
They called me, ‘A Hip-Hop Bipolar Southpaw’
Always left swinging up and down like a friggin outlaw
They warned you that, I would drive all the the kiddies insane
So don't blame me for the way your kids now truly reign
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Thank you for being so sweet and ever so cute
Next time remind me, to always switch the ****** to mute
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
There's now proof, that a Russian flesh-eating cannibal is in the good old US of A
He would offer you toxic ingredients, including gasoline and lighter fluid, I'd say
But, because its tell-tale scaly sores, are similar to another well known leacher
They initially played down concerns, saying, "they're not seeing signs of the creature"
My boyfriend had maggots coming out of his leg, after a recent foreign scare
I know people don't want to hear stuff like that, but it is really happening out there
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
They fall to the charlatans, that promise you a crystal ball
A little at first and then some more, that's for sure
It will make you snap, give you curls and dance you a little twirl
Star gazing thru the sun ray and day tripping into a wayward night
That's why if you use crocodile juice, it will do more than shake ya loose
Destroying our souls, creating huge holes and build mountains out of moles
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
Mr Jeffrey Vint has become less popular among his abusers
I say, "they're all losers", but I guess, beggars can't be choosers
Some mother's even gave birth with two thumbs, but those babies are now total ****
Others think the monster could be at large, maybe roaming your neighbourhood
Put a stop to this croc's chomp, before it destroys everything in the swamp
Get your doctor to prescribe a stronger drug, to conquer that evil imposter
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
I'm all for peace and the hippie days
We were the children of the 60s, layin' about and lettin' our hair sprout
We were influenced as much as we influenced others
Flower power didn't work, maybe it's just the American way, no doubt
Turning over all the apple carts, should've just turned the other cheek my baby
Some say, I went too far, is it because, i've got such a rebel heart? Maybe.
Hippies have survived since the caveman days
Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze
Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways
Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
Now it feels like I've been jabbed, with a poison dart
So deep down inside my experienced, but innocent rebel heart
That 60s biz was just our breakfast and we hadn't even got to lunch yet
If I was a new gen baby, I could still show others love and peace, I bet
Give me a chance at showing you, that I'm not that different than you
Go ahead, ask me questions, there well overdue.
Hippies have survived since the caveman days
Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze
Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways
Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
Not changing my ways, but adapting my ways, is what I need to do
I'll listen to others and always take your cue, to try and remove the venom for you
It might not happen overnight, it could take a while, alright!
Maybe I'll go with the flow or maybe wake-up in a sweat, in the middle of the night
Let me get my groove back and things will change, we'll go back to the start
Just forgive me and always remember, I was born with this rebel heart.
Hippies have survived since the caveman days
Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze
Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways
Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:31 PM UTC
remember
when music was
pure & uncut,
when we were all users
trying to survive?
addicted to
the crack-le of
the needle
as it hit the 45?
back when the
natural high of
heart & soul
was enough to suffice?
we’re just
some junkies
looking to score
excuse me mister,
could you spare a dime?
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
I have searched and waited for you
forsaking all others one soulmate that’s true
how we parted is unclear broken hearted without you near
finally found you in my reach
eternal love is our peace
let me love you, once again
let me love you, my best friend
let me love you, when you cry
let me love you, and never say goodbye
when you smile, it consumes my soul
sensational tingles sent soaring from head to toe
how easily you make me laugh
quick witted come backs you’ve met your match
sense of humor this will last
joyous love is our path
let me love you, past your pain
let me love you, in the rain
let me love you, for who you are
let me love you, my shining star
instant chemistry how we click
puzzle pieces we perfectly fit
how we know one another so very well
as if we’ve met another time before now
familiar love is our vow
let me love you, and ease your mind
let me love you, until the end of time
let me love you, and set you free
let me love you, endlessly
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 6:04 PM UTC
Melanie of the morning
Sailed by my parapet
She says, “there’s no use in mourning
When the world is your puppet”
Won’t you come through my window?
For my legs feel frail
She says, “just moan like a minnow
And I’ll be in your mail”
And what a lovely day it is
Flowers taped onto a sign
When the sky is an orange wisp
I’ll be by your side
Oh, I long for her
Searing, fading hair
Still-flowing, spotlight fur
Delouse my glare
I spun around in my chair
Until the white walls caved
I’m ready for her stare
To hold me inside a grave
Soon, the bottom of my ship
Will hold gilded fleece
To keep her warm for a trip
Can a sailor only love the sea?
Melanie, Melanie will come to me
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 7:28 PM UTC
I was around when someone shouted "Judas"
to Dylan for going electric.
I was the ink in Paul Simons North of England sound of silence.
I was the muse for David's "Space Oddity" all those pink moons ago.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
The space cadet needs a new face
It has to have fun
It needs to learn how to manipulate darkness
The new space cadet needs to spew evil out of its guitar and encourage the crowd to stomp it to death
The battle between good and evil was a thing of the 60s. The flower children say they 'fizzled out' but the truth is they lost.
Now its all covert.
Now we're spies
Undercover
The flower children's death gave birth to new factions
Star children, spider kids, the punks, etc.
I aspire to create a new faction because I see a lot of people around me who seem lost just like me but every band needs a frontman
Every faction needs someone on the front lines.
Someone so fed up that they snapped at the system. When you do that you need to be careful so you don't snap yourself. Your self confidence and your confidence in your cause must be unbreakable. You must confront the red seas unshaken and bare the brunt of the first blow. I'm not sure what I'm talking about yet but when I do you'll know it.
I suppose my sign will be the buck
All these factions work for the same organization. We are in your books. We're in your music. We're on your television. We're in your breakfast cereal.
God is dead and the devil lives in heaven. Forever working to dillute us.
We live in its illusion.
Jack is in the box.
The black iron prison.
I am recruiting.
I'm in trouble.
I need help.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 2:16 AM UTC
Red and white dotted fabric.
I spin around in my chic new dress.
My husband kisses me goodbye.
I iron out the clothes.
Stitch.
Sew.
Cut.
Pull.
Warm, homecooked meals.
We dine as a tune from our youth plays on the radio.
He places a rose on my empty plate.
I smile.
Thimbles coat my fingers.
I stick pins in fabric and sew it up together.
I feel a thud in my stomach.
I iron out the clothes.
He welcomes me home with gifts.
My baby boy is fast asleep.
My husband is slowly coming home later and later.
He hasn't noticed the holes in my arm.
I drink another shot, smiling at my sleepy baby boy.
My husband isn't home.
I pop my pills.
And I iron out the clothes.
The medicine isn't working anymore.
I can't stop his screaming.
Shut up.
Shut that child up.
My husband is yelling at me.
What did I do wrong?
He tears my new dress.
I iron out the clothes.
My baby won't stop crying.
Stop, please.
My husband is never home.
My head hurts.
I throw the pills down the drain.
I shakily brandish a knife.
I breathe.
And iron out the clothes.
Crimson splattered across walls.
An old tune from our youth plays on the radio.
My husband isn't breathing.
My baby boy stopped crying.
I feed my child and put him to sleep.
I sleep.
I spin around in my green and white polka dotted dress.
The fabric tearing at the seams.
I iron out the clothes.
The fabric.
The rope.
I leave a rose next to my child and stand up.
This necklace fits perfectly.
I take a bow in front of the mirror.
Don't I look pretty?
I kick the furniture.
Dancing midair.
My hair falls to my face.
I iron out the
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
Remember when you told me you forgot your middle name.
And that you didn't remember if you even had one.
That your parents weren't particularly religious; that they forgot God.
And that you've been forgetful lately.
You couldn't
remember
the last time you picked flowers.
Or a president.
Or shot a gun.
Or put a flower in a gun.
And that Vietnam was like Iraq.
And France would bring WWIII.
"What's my middle name?"
You asked.
"Where's the Middle East?"
"Didn't the nukes dropped in the Nevada desert sand create glass?"
"How many windows does this room have? Can you see?"
"The eyes are the windows to the soul."
My eyes feel old
Is what my grandmother would say
when she was tired.
She would play solitaire.
After each game she would
shuffle the deck three ways.
I would always mix them up
scattered on the tabletop.
That's what I remember
from the sixties.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
Marionette
She'll declare you lovely
And she'll clasp your hand and run you down the street
To the little coffee shop no one really sees
You will have coffee over a little chat
About how much she hates coffee
And she'll talk too much, and then none at all
She'll giggle and brush her 60s pin curls behind her ear
And her glistening eyes will watch you fall in love with her
And she'll have no idea
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
I know of a girl who dreads the New Year
Because it steals her away
from poodle-skirts and telephones
And all that is long gone
Drags her across the floor by her ankles
while she sobs
as though she'd known the era's
dead.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC