"boomtown" poems - Hello Poetry

Perfection lives in a goldfish bowl. Swimming in eternal lonely circles. No bills. No commitments. What fun it has to be. Guess The Boomtown Rats got it right Maybe "The Fine Art of Surfacing" could be exciting. (C) LIVVI

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Nov 1, 2014

Nov 1, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC

olivia-kent

GOLDFISH DAYS

Perfection lives in a goldfish bowl. Swimming in eternal lonely circles. No bills. No commitments. What fun it has to be. Guess The Boomtown Rats got it right Maybe "The Fine Art of Surfacing" could be exciting. (C) LIVVI

8

it's hard enough to shake yer bones awake and get into the game and that name, Monday, one day gone day, try and get your mojo on day Monday plays like an old fashioned song scratchy on the gramaphone's trying to make you shake yer bones I am just a bag of bones ready for the stewing *** what's Monday got that I can't see what does Monday do for me It's full of dinosaurs and boring old men I need the 'magic boomerang' the one that makes the time stand still then I'd wind back the clock until it was Saturday night The problem is this, no one remembers the TV show on Australian networks from so long ago I do though and 'I don't like Mondays' Oh boomtown rats? Don't remember a bomb that never had a boom or a rat in a town that never found room to chew on a Monday dinosaurs gave Monday a bad name.

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Jul 4, 2016

Jul 4, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Dinosaurs gave Monday a bad name

it's hard enough to shake yer bones awake and get into the game and that name, Monday, one day gone day, try and get your mojo on day Monday plays like an old fashioned song scratchy on the gramaphone's trying to make you shake yer bones I am just a bag of bones ready for the stewing *** what's Monday got that I can't see what does Monday do for me It's full of dinosaurs and boring old men I need the 'magic boomerang' the one that makes the time stand still then I'd wind back the clock until it was Saturday night The problem is this, no one remembers the TV show on Australian networks from so long ago I do though and 'I don't like Mondays' Oh boomtown rats? Don't remember a bomb that never had a boom or a rat in a town that never found room to chew on a Monday dinosaurs gave Monday a bad name.

32

In the darkness of uneasy streets where bodies meet you head on,fed upon disease and crime and all the time you look behind to see just who is following, and hollowing a place to hide,inside a doorway, beggars lay with sleeping dogs their minds fogged by the turpentine and cheap red wine and stinking of cheap cigarettes. Debts of honour written on unease and ladies of the night who offer such delight but for a price you cannot pay, then soon the night turns to the day,like sinking rats,rats slink away and you are left alone,left to scurry home and feeling right as rain again,forget the pain that marches through the mews and views that pass like gashes on a sordid skin,tattooed sin will leave its mark, skin on skin within the dark and where or what was evident,you lent to prosecutors,who prosecuted heroin,another sin and one more in,into the darkness of the street,one more follow,one more meet. Cheats and harlots,charlatans,cut-throats,turncoats all are here,running ragged through these wolves that see a sheep and bleat you may but day backs into night where light fades with the rights you thought you had and 'it's bad' is just another way to say, you've got it wrong again you're marching through the mews of pain and wake to find you've lain with beggars and with sleeping dogs.

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Aug 21, 2013

Aug 21, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Boomtown

In the darkness of uneasy streets where bodies meet you head on,fed upon disease and crime and all the time you look behind to see just who is following, and hollowing a place to hide,inside a doorway, beggars lay with sleeping dogs their minds fogged by the turpentine and cheap red wine and stinking of cheap cigarettes. Debts of honour written on unease and ladies of the night who offer such delight but for a price you cannot pay, then soon the night turns to the day,like sinking rats,rats slink away and you are left alone,left to scurry home and feeling right as rain again,forget the pain that marches through the mews and views that pass like gashes on a sordid skin,tattooed sin will leave its mark, skin on skin within the dark and where or what was evident,you lent to prosecutors,who prosecuted heroin,another sin and one more in,into the darkness of the street,one more follow,one more meet. Cheats and harlots,charlatans,cut-throats,turncoats all are here,running ragged through these wolves that see a sheep and bleat you may but day backs into night where light fades with the rights you thought you had and 'it's bad' is just another way to say, you've got it wrong again you're marching through the mews of pain and wake to find you've lain with beggars and with sleeping dogs.

17

Miss Cristina drives a 944. Satisfaction oozes from her pores. Got rings on her fingers, Marble on her floors. ******* in her dresser, Bars on her doors. She keeps her back against the wall She keeps her back against the wall And I say... WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown Pick a habit, there are Plenty to go around WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown All that money makes Such a succulent sound... Welcome to the Boomtown... Handsome Kevin got a Little off track Took a year off from college And he never went back. Now he smokes much too much Got a permanent hack Deals dope out of Denny's Got a table in the back... He keeps his ead to the ground He keeps his ear to the ground And I say WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown Pick a habit there are Plenty to go around... WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown All that money makes Such a succulent sound... (the ambulance arrived too late... ... guess he didn't want to wait...) Welcome to the Boomtown... David and David

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Oct 2, 2014

Oct 2, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC

SoulSurvivor

Welcome to the Boomtown ~ David and David

Miss Cristina drives a 944. Satisfaction oozes from her pores. Got rings on her fingers, Marble on her floors. ******* in her dresser, Bars on her doors. She keeps her back against the wall She keeps her back against the wall And I say... WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown Pick a habit, there are Plenty to go around WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown All that money makes Such a succulent sound... Welcome to the Boomtown... Handsome Kevin got a Little off track Took a year off from college And he never went back. Now he smokes much too much Got a permanent hack Deals dope out of Denny's Got a table in the back... He keeps his ead to the ground He keeps his ear to the ground And I say WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown Pick a habit there are Plenty to go around... WELCOME! Welcome to the Boomtown All that money makes Such a succulent sound... (the ambulance arrived too late... ... guess he didn't want to wait...) Welcome to the Boomtown... David and David

39

In the deepening **** there's always some acerbic wit to hand you a spade,hand made by the powers that be just for you ,to dig yourself out or deeper into the pooh. Life as we know it,deep in the dark pit, stinks, I ink out these words amongst the flotsam of turds and wonder what's going on, where has the scent of the roses all gone? No doubt stolen away by those who can pay for the luxury of stuffing their noses with perfumery, I see a time when all this can be yours,but for now it is mine, so ready yourselves, shovels in hand and we'll all shovel away in our, 'green and pleasant land' and one day when we've shovelled the **** all away we can start to live.

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Nov 27, 2013

Nov 27, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Boomtown

In the deepening **** there's always some acerbic wit to hand you a spade,hand made by the powers that be just for you ,to dig yourself out or deeper into the pooh. Life as we know it,deep in the dark pit, stinks, I ink out these words amongst the flotsam of turds and wonder what's going on, where has the scent of the roses all gone? No doubt stolen away by those who can pay for the luxury of stuffing their noses with perfumery, I see a time when all this can be yours,but for now it is mine, so ready yourselves, shovels in hand and we'll all shovel away in our, 'green and pleasant land' and one day when we've shovelled the **** all away we can start to live.

9

Social stanzas make my life easier Patchwork strife splits through the eardrum Kaleidoscope assembly lines and the abstract remains king So many sad faces and I'm sick like a benadryl boomtown Painted expressions for complicating Minds blur from vitamin deficiency A resigned sun never was needed Your abrasive salvation never was found The necessary means for excess lie in these majestic masquerades Your high hopes with your sour patch picnics The mercy monk offers wrinkled hands for currency exchange Fungus for a stomachs churning Lake shores drive home a new colorless grain Window shopping a new distraction The last one bailed when the world knocked on my door Bulletproof glass for your failed unrest A muted television makes more sense than one properly articulated The mouths move like sanity Drip Drop and the bulb burst Shards of common clutter The glow of sublime distraction becomes obligatory

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Jan 13, 2017

Jan 13, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC

moonsocket

Urgency

Social stanzas make my life easier Patchwork strife splits through the eardrum Kaleidoscope assembly lines and the abstract remains king So many sad faces and I'm sick like a benadryl boomtown Painted expressions for complicating Minds blur from vitamin deficiency A resigned sun never was needed Your abrasive salvation never was found The necessary means for excess lie in these majestic masquerades Your high hopes with your sour patch picnics The mercy monk offers wrinkled hands for currency exchange Fungus for a stomachs churning Lake shores drive home a new colorless grain Window shopping a new distraction The last one bailed when the world knocked on my door Bulletproof glass for your failed unrest A muted television makes more sense than one properly articulated The mouths move like sanity Drip Drop and the bulb burst Shards of common clutter The glow of sublime distraction becomes obligatory

21

Insect rivalries disrupt microscopic tragedies Their tiny objections echo through the infinite Muted chaos mingles with cosmic clutter All is lost when stars prove sinister like so many peepholes for a pervert god Madness makes moves... I see eyes reassemble for nonsense Their only crime was observing So many sad faces and I'm sick like a benadryl boomtown Scenes full of primitive make believe Haphazard halos and plastic queens They disperse for stranger tilts fluorescent hums and cancellation Torn between vanity and breathing Raised on R ratings and nicotine Box forts in the junk pile Yellow sky and rat king stances Footsteps shrouded by loud speaker urgency Where do they go? Time runs low on another freak show left in shambles by habitual slow motion Pluck the remnants of distinction pure intentions may rearrange promiscuity We are only human We are only a collection of frantic omissions These distractions come potent These observations become motives Excuse this mind that remains remote pondering sickness and considering ghosts One last party for obscurity One last dive into the spill I never wanted your minds or graces I only wanted this banshee to stay still

0

Jul 6, 2017

Jul 6, 2017 at 5:34 AM UTC

moonsocket

Scenes from the garbage pile

Insect rivalries disrupt microscopic tragedies Their tiny objections echo through the infinite Muted chaos mingles with cosmic clutter All is lost when stars prove sinister like so many peepholes for a pervert god Madness makes moves... I see eyes reassemble for nonsense Their only crime was observing So many sad faces and I'm sick like a benadryl boomtown Scenes full of primitive make believe Haphazard halos and plastic queens They disperse for stranger tilts fluorescent hums and cancellation Torn between vanity and breathing Raised on R ratings and nicotine Box forts in the junk pile Yellow sky and rat king stances Footsteps shrouded by loud speaker urgency Where do they go? Time runs low on another freak show left in shambles by habitual slow motion Pluck the remnants of distinction pure intentions may rearrange promiscuity We are only human We are only a collection of frantic omissions These distractions come potent These observations become motives Excuse this mind that remains remote pondering sickness and considering ghosts One last party for obscurity One last dive into the spill I never wanted your minds or graces I only wanted this banshee to stay still

33