#nero - Hello Poetry

Ivory towers only seek to alienate; The ones who cherish an elephants grace. For those who build their homes out of the bones of a dying world will proudly play their fiddles as all of the chaos and riddles of a burning Rome unfurls

0

Oct 7, 2020

Oct 7, 2020 at 4:19 PM UTC

Rhys44

Ivory towers

Ivory towers only seek to alienate; The ones who cherish an elephants grace. For those who build their homes out of the bones of a dying world will proudly play their fiddles as all of the chaos and riddles of a burning Rome unfurls

8

Nero is bald, He's also fat, He's ugly and devilishly fast. Nero's a killer, Nero is here, He's ugly and his voice is clear. Nero is angry, He's madly mad, He's ugly and so, so sad. Nero is real, He's truly true, He's ugly and he lives in you.

0

May 30, 2019

May 30, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC

chrisNoir

Nero

Nero is bald, He's also fat, He's ugly and devilishly fast. Nero's a killer, Nero is here, He's ugly and his voice is clear. Nero is angry, He's madly mad, He's ugly and so, so sad. Nero is real, He's truly true, He's ugly and he lives in you.

12

The sidewalk ends, with a solid solemn note the purpose has no walls, but has a perfect moat Birds in the eaves and overhangs, raccoons in the hall imagination as it flows, or does not flow at all Dwelling on the the bitter absence of simple electrical thought some things cannot be purchased, sold, or ever bought A daydream or a nightmare, solidified by pure control molding what's at hand, as diamonds, made from coal String the pearls of all things grasped, and so upheld as are good dialogues, leading too, a quintessential spell Hone the blades of heroes, bending edicts and all rules using words as barriers, against the bravery of fools I never thought to hold the strings, of all the prose that I have lost divining a newer better phrase, running up a dire financial cost Give me back all the discarded pangs, I've left there in my past conjoining in deliverance, as broken bones in graves, been cast It's like the final days of great Pompeii. or greater Rome Nero on his lyre, Pompeii's burned within their homes Draw the dipped quill across, what is and is not so gleanings of similar minds, inspiring as it goes

0

Apr 3, 2017

Apr 3, 2017 at 10:14 AM UTC

TemporalFugue

How to be inspired for Dummies(me)

The sidewalk ends, with a solid solemn note the purpose has no walls, but has a perfect moat Birds in the eaves and overhangs, raccoons in the hall imagination as it flows, or does not flow at all Dwelling on the the bitter absence of simple electrical thought some things cannot be purchased, sold, or ever bought A daydream or a nightmare, solidified by pure control molding what's at hand, as diamonds, made from coal String the pearls of all things grasped, and so upheld as are good dialogues, leading too, a quintessential spell Hone the blades of heroes, bending edicts and all rules using words as barriers, against the bravery of fools I never thought to hold the strings, of all the prose that I have lost divining a newer better phrase, running up a dire financial cost Give me back all the discarded pangs, I've left there in my past conjoining in deliverance, as broken bones in graves, been cast It's like the final days of great Pompeii. or greater Rome Nero on his lyre, Pompeii's burned within their homes Draw the dipped quill across, what is and is not so gleanings of similar minds, inspiring as it goes

20

If I had something inspiring on my mind don't you think that I would've written it by now I love being a writer but sometimes it gets me down The pressure escalates like the water in the everglades to top myself, like pulling miracles out of my head is a miraculous act I can't turn water into wine And I can't turn stacks of hay into clever punchlines I guess what I'm trying to say, like Dr. Mccoy is that I'm a writer not a magician I can only take what myself and others have gone through, and turn it into something relatable, that maybe just maybe someone will take something positive out of what was written

0

Aug 25, 2016

Aug 25, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC

neroameealucard

If i had

If I had something inspiring on my mind don't you think that I would've written it by now I love being a writer but sometimes it gets me down The pressure escalates like the water in the everglades to top myself, like pulling miracles out of my head is a miraculous act I can't turn water into wine And I can't turn stacks of hay into clever punchlines I guess what I'm trying to say, like Dr. Mccoy is that I'm a writer not a magician I can only take what myself and others have gone through, and turn it into something relatable, that maybe just maybe someone will take something positive out of what was written

6

Hey ****** ****** The cars do a twiddle, They twist and turn on the road, Dodging the *** holes, Some with broken controls, I've even seen some being towed, Hey ****** ****** The road in the middle, Needs a little repair, If you can swing by, And give it a try, And pretend you're a council that care, Hey ****** ****** Thanks for the repair in the middle, But the road needs a whole new coat, Take care when crossing, Cause the road's all rutting, You'll need to be a mountain goat. Hey ****** ****** Is the council on the fiddle, Just like Nero did in Rome, Please come and fix it, You'll need to bring a tar pit, Cause it's shaking the walls in my home.

0

Mar 31, 2015

Mar 31, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC

raymond-dickson

Hey ****** ******

Hey ****** ****** The cars do a twiddle, They twist and turn on the road, Dodging the *** holes, Some with broken controls, I've even seen some being towed, Hey ****** ****** The road in the middle, Needs a little repair, If you can swing by, And give it a try, And pretend you're a council that care, Hey ****** ****** Thanks for the repair in the middle, But the road needs a whole new coat, Take care when crossing, Cause the road's all rutting, You'll need to be a mountain goat. Hey ****** ****** Is the council on the fiddle, Just like Nero did in Rome, Please come and fix it, You'll need to bring a tar pit, Cause it's shaking the walls in my home.

24

Befriended street lamps' static hum Timed steps slashed through electric buzz Fled from the dawn's grey stain chased night with anxious breath erupting Outflanked and pinned down by the days Strike up the band, roisin the bows. Compose another tired piece. I dread the melody and cringe away from the next movement I'm only up for burned out wandering. Another balance overdue Took out a loan for time well spent Roll out the carpets for the doomed It's unforgiving turf where our steps are bent I'll draw these lines of ghostly profile night and coax the specters out We'll roll on with the tides where we can dance macabre until the core unwinds. Defend the fort for sleeping ghosts I'll man these walls until the dawn. I'll fight these memories beneath the banner of some others Shell-shocked with gun arm growing sore Outside, the sidewalks glow red-orange I throw my shadow on the sparks. Charred homes on cindered streets I draw my bow across shaking half notes Chart out a map of burnt meanderings. Default on friendships I misplaced I'm wrapped tight in familiar fear. But I'll warm to those familiar strains... Because it's 5 o'clock somewhere, and Summer's here... I'll cross the lines into the ghostly night and wake the specters up As fires kiss the night so I can sleep real sound and let my core unwind.

0

Jun 23, 2014

Jun 23, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC

kyle-kulseth

Siege Engines

Befriended street lamps' static hum Timed steps slashed through electric buzz Fled from the dawn's grey stain chased night with anxious breath erupting Outflanked and pinned down by the days Strike up the band, roisin the bows. Compose another tired piece. I dread the melody and cringe away from the next movement I'm only up for burned out wandering. Another balance overdue Took out a loan for time well spent Roll out the carpets for the doomed It's unforgiving turf where our steps are bent I'll draw these lines of ghostly profile night and coax the specters out We'll roll on with the tides where we can dance macabre until the core unwinds. Defend the fort for sleeping ghosts I'll man these walls until the dawn. I'll fight these memories beneath the banner of some others Shell-shocked with gun arm growing sore Outside, the sidewalks glow red-orange I throw my shadow on the sparks. Charred homes on cindered streets I draw my bow across shaking half notes Chart out a map of burnt meanderings. Default on friendships I misplaced I'm wrapped tight in familiar fear. But I'll warm to those familiar strains... Because it's 5 o'clock somewhere, and Summer's here... I'll cross the lines into the ghostly night and wake the specters up As fires kiss the night so I can sleep real sound and let my core unwind.

46