"conan" poems
I watch the prom Dance,
In an awkward stance,
my friends walk in with dates,
and the excitement Abates.
Alone in a corner,
I mope like a mourner,
With no partner to dance with,
No gentleman to prance with.
Amidst the mirth and cheers,
My eyes fill up with tears.
I rush out into the open air,
And by Jove! I see Voltaire!
With his satirical charms,
He draws me in his arms.
As I sway to the beats,
I'm waltzing with Keats.
Causing my funny bone to arouse,
Enters P.G. Wodehouse!
Using nonchalant wittiness,
He acknowledges my prettiness.
And then walks in Shakespeare,
Who wipes away my tear,
And my senses curdle like curds,
As he showers me with words.
While I repress the excited child,
I'm swaying with Oscar Wilde.
I'm rendered helplessly mute,
With his phrases so astute.
With a proposal so verse-y,
I'm serenaded by Shelly B. Percy.
And before this fantasy can spoil,
I fox trot with Conan Doyle.
And thus literally seduced,
into putty I'm reduced.
I am platonic-ally smitten,
By the genius of what they've written.
The dating circus can’t make me cry,
because a host of paramours have I.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
The root
Of ambition
Is ambivalent
There's no “one cause”
No one causes
A man
To make life decisions
In a day
It takes
Much more
For
A man to be successful
And real
With his inner-self
Accepting
The cards dealt
With the stamina
To play through
Exercising his will
With the feel
Lingering in every pore
Unsure
Of obstacles ahead
Headstrong
Through barricades
Bearing the bruises
Trampling
Over your own
Feet
Defeat
Seen in battle
But the war’s on
And the war zone
Isn’t limited
To a few
Years
Like ages 19-22
Whose to do
Worse
Who has more
Money
CARS
Clothes
And hoes
And whose vision
Is so small
To tack them
with success
All in all
And attack those
Who lack the
Wills
To move forward
And ignorantly
Attach it
With a phenomena
Of
Your unknowing
Root of ambition
Can spread
Like weeds
And weeds
Can **** ambition
Or spread
Like seeds
How many men
Dive
Head first under the influence
Or rise above
High
From the same drug
Barack Obama
Michael Phelps
William Shakespeare
Bill Clinton
Lebron James
Pablo Picasso
The Beatles
Jay-Z
Bob Marley
Conan O’Brien
Dr Francis Crick. (Nobel Prize Winner)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Salvador Dali
Victor Hugo
Kareem Abdul-Jabar
Snoop Dogg
Dr. Dre
Stephen King
Just to name a few
Maybe
Just maybe
It has nothing to do
With success
Or you.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
I got no more ***** on my arms, vaginal schemes and gospel psalms. Very private skinny tribes, lit up with oversized black lights. In the very end, everybody walks this way, they all move like idioms, they all wanna be lit up like stars. Some could be prevalent like cascading dreams, nauseous just like mesquite BBQ baby-back wings.
Fly away little bird, fly away. But don't try to leave
Or you won't get paid.
I know very well, just what kinda caption your capsaicin
Can be, lit up like honey blunts, golden stars on top of your christmas tree. Strawberry Swisher Sweets, Blueberry Dunhill flavors, poke your hand through the fence, make friendly on your neighbors. If you like Kimmel Live, Conan at Midnight too, recipes for the zombies, SS ****** Youth. Blow-up and be a party. Get off work and drink your check. Get down, get off- I'll show you. Just how Martin pays the rent.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
i.
An enthusiast of Japan
With her love of detective conan;
She loveth YouTube, and small thing's cute
Her voice is uplifting, maketh a lame man start moving.
ii.
From the ancient province
Of Misamis Occidental;
In the northern Mindanao region
Her birth was preordained, not accidental.
iii.
Her favorite color's yellow
And looketh **** in yellow dress;
Though I love her also in black
And red she's a Filipino conqueress.
iv.
I knoweth all about her
Inside and all out;
She's a present wrapped in palm's
She's mine soulmate, no doubt.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication (soulmate)
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
Morning
the alarm goes off
I wake up
I turn it off
I go back to sleep
My mom or dad comes in
they wake me back up
I lie in bed
for 10 more minutes
then I get up
I go to the bathroom
and stare at myself in the mirror
I sigh...
I pretend to wash my face
I go back to my room
I stare at my closet
and decide what I'm going to wear
I get dressed
I go down stairs
I eat one of the following items:
oat meal
-Chocolate chip
-Maple brown sugar
-apple cinnamon
Whole wheat bagel with almond butter, peanut butter, cinnamon, and/or jam
cereal if there are any good options
-Peanut butter bumpers
-GOOD granola
-organic chocolate *****
with coconut milk
toast with the same things as bagels
I say good morning to parents
I argue with my sister
I drink my orange juice
eat my vitamins
bring my stuff up to the sink
go up stairs
I lie on my bed
I go into the bathroom
I brush my teeth
I go downstairs
I pack my backpack
I pick out some shoes
I yawn
I go to school
School
I go to advisory
We play cake(a game)
First class
I space out
I draw pictures
unless that class is of the following:
PE
Writing lab (if it's not about grammer or spelling)
Art
Music(Because all the string instruments make it impossible)
I go to math
I get too confused to know what the hell is going on
I go to writing lab
we write and then teacher goes into some speech about commas
I go to french
I have no idea what the teachers talking about
I go to PE
If we aren't playing soccer, basketball, dodgeball, batmitten, capture the flag, or volleyball than I ****
Lunch
Yay!
I eat
I talk
I chill
More classes
Art
I tell my teacher how much I love her outfit
I read the board
and I make art
Music
UGHHHH
THE TEACHER IS SUCH A GRUMP!!!
I listen to her yell at people
I play my instrument
Study
Almost done with school
I finish a bit of homework
Going home (Or going nordic skiing)
I get a snack
I do homework
I have dinner with the family
I do more homework
I get ready for bed
I read
I go to bed
Every day is the same
the weekend is just a bunch of chores
hanging with friends some times
and stay up late watching my favorite shows:
Bones
Glee
CSI NY
CONAN
SNL
Ugh I need a change.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 1:12 PM UTC
i'm slowly learning
to live for myself
and not live for
the expectations of others
and who they expect me to be
i'm slowly learning
that i can be who i am
around the people who want me to be
the crazy
depressed
taylor swift and twenty one pilots and conan gray stan
book nerd
person that i am
and for the first time in a while
i'm happy with myself
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 10:40 PM UTC
An old curiosity shop
a lost world depository
dark dusty as pharaoh's tomb
worming squirming carefully through
where 'Breakages Must Be Paid For'.
Stopped clocks claiming time is up
sofas trailing their entrails
peeved pictures offered for their frames
and bureaux bursting with bumf.
Rummaging through dank passages
searching inner chamber book stocks
classic novels at six old pence
thumbed pages bought for improvement.
Nelson Collins Clear Type Press
Dent and Everyman in distress
Dumas Dickens and Conan Doyle
countless cultural references.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 6:28 AM UTC
But I watch your eyes, as she
Walks by
What a sight for
Sore eyes
Brighter than a
Blue sky
She's got you
Mesmerized
While I die
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 10:59 AM UTC
Home of the navy, big and strong,
Think that's it? You are most wrong,
Home of Dickens, and Isambard Brunel,
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stayed a while as well,
Singers like Same Difference born so very close to home,
Gunwharf Quays, Action Stations and even a PlayZone,
An Aquarium, lots of shops, amusement parks and more,
Theatres, museums, the Isle of White; it's fun from shore to shore,
Portsmouth is a brilliant place, to live and work and play,
People who live or visit here shouldn't ever move away!
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC
ian anderson wears my father's face,
my small hands in his work-worn palms
as he sings to me: *war-child,
dance the days and nights away...*
LATER.
my home is barefoot wandering baker street
in the dirt-path days before arthur conan doyle,
rabbits running in the gutter,
arms full of tea-cups,
praying to the gods of war
at the chapel of the bright city mile
on a dusty sunday afternoon--
and every song is home:
like the inside of a tavern,
yellow candlelight dancing across the wooden walls.
i see falstaff, ruddy-faced and drunk in the corner,
roland, passed out with a cup in hand,
my father, the minstrel in the gallery,
smile on his face, piping out a tune.
it is because of him i am a valkyrie, a war-child.
it is by his virtue that i brandish a sword,
that i stand at attention, that my back is unbroken,
that i give no armistice--
and he taught me how
(though it seems inconsequential)
to play solitaire.
OF COURSE.
and while the horses wander the hillside,
while i become the poet and unsheath my pen,
while i join the stage and leave the audience,
i know-- always--
i can follow the flute home.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
asleep - the smiths
i'm in love with u, sorry - j'san
tonight you belong to me - nicole sidney
the bad list - z berg, ryan ross
i fall for the same face every time - z berg
we almost nailed it - z berg
bubble gum - clairo
she - dodie
girl - the beatles
here, there and everywhere - the beatles
something - the beatles
the long and winding road - the beatles
watch you sleep. - girl in red
i wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red
4am - girl in red
build me up buttercup - lara anderson
broken (acoustic) - lovelytheband
crush culture - conan gray
strawberry kisses - olivia herdt
slow dance - adventure time, olivia olson
the record player song - daisy the great
breathe me - sia
love like you - steven universe, rebecca sugar
love like you (reprise) - steven universe, rebecca sugar
asleep - the smiths
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 11:45 PM UTC
The lamplight is
dimly lit.
here am i,
shoving
panda express
into the dark cavern
called my mouth
where the stalactites
and stalagmites
dance together and apart
it's a bit tangier than usual
my taste-buds concur
the rice is lukewarm
and falls off my fork
paperwork due tomorrow
SAT prep
projects
my future
and all i want to do is
write poetry
7:18 pm
and i sit,
writing poetry
for me writing is breathing
air
and sometimes i hold my breath for
days at a time
i cannot be a hermit
i must have interaction
though i
want to be alone
far away
where even
beethoven's fifth symphony
wouldn't drown out the noise
he laughs at me
who?
who are they that mock me?
beethoven
shakespeare
poe
conan doyle
even
charles dodgson finds me funny
"so you want to be a writer?" they boom, and suddenly i
am as
small as dust
"YOU a FEMALE WRITER and MUSIC LOVER? ha! i never heard anything funnier!"
and the voices mush into one
and it softens to become the voice
of my inner critic
my nemesis
my arch foe
my ennui
and that is only the 14th
of April.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
You used to be my subject
every angle, you're the object
inspires me to do more works
and ended up with great artwork.
I can be your Edgar Allan Poe
In a midst o critical world
Could be profound
just to be my Annabelle lee
Rather be your William Shakespeare
timeless age for your soul
endless love bringeth whole
even though just a buccaneer
but ended being Arthur Conan Doyle
You see but you do not observe
The mystery of my love for you
Single glimpse from you can't resolve
Every verse was a reflection
of every inch of you
But you keep on ignoring
And only received a rejection
You prefer to be just a prose
Catatonic yet simple
In my imaginative elated world
where our story remains untold
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 12:28 PM UTC
Baddie brains blown out hick-up pick up picky pick up lines hirried stubbling drained from the gum. Yes tis gum from the stuomuch that you swallowed for month because I just loved the way you ***** *** I'm sick.
I puked.
I puked?
I started runnning the walts of Conan the quenched dominator beefing with minny mouse for spanking mickey. He sipps mickeys just so you know I'm holy dust, sike. I wish I washed my mouth month before I ate the groomed flappy fingered fizzathered lips of Haley Jade. I wish I had a ****** **** Nut after nut and after this nut another nut and a nut a then the knux cause she got the **** crumbling runs rinse me in Faygo cause these Jugglalos have hair I love to get the stow in jars from a far, because I farted. Beanie I ******* farting who started this ******** fricken flame flare Jack Keoroac couldn't spit enough spirts to-at-alley trickling pink pavement funds that freed Zepplin.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
*I fell inlove to a boy named Conan
At first I adore him and became a fan
I know my feelings for him would grow
But I have to stop it before he would know*
*I sometimes wonder where I'd be?
If you hadn't came to see me?
For me, loving you would be unfair
But for him, he doesn't seem to care*
*I know that you're not yet ready to commit
But I will always be here to admit,
That I like you but you're slow
To notice my feelings for you long time ago*
*I wish that this isn't fake
And loving you wasn't a mistake
Now, I saw you with someone else from afar
It hurts and would leave my heart a scar*
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
It's 2:36am on what was a
Thursday,
I'll watch Conan's opening monologue,
Then cry myself to sleep,
With tears of lonely ashes
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
I want you to know how I feel
but my words don't reach the extent necessary
to let you know what is real
that I want to be your emissary
but I act so wary
like an actuary
with a knack for staring
judging passing cherries
as cassowaries.
My frustration grinds through a mouthful of teeth
because of the fountain of heat
that lies beneath
my sword in sheath
melting through its protection
bleeding from the rejection
of your outward inflection
thwarting this coward's intentions.
I miss you but I don't even know you
I want to kiss you and hold you
but the issue to that bold move
is that I don't know if it'd go through
like Father Time's sand
passing through my hands
god **** I'm an old man
from your cold canned gold jam
I'm sold bland then soul slammed
by Conan
The Barbarian
in my solarium
solitary terrarium
where nary a sum
equals more than one.
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 10:33 PM UTC
It's grey outside
and I'm looking for something warm
but all I find is snow covered metal benches
The blood on the top makes me think of cherry slushies
Bare branches break
in a driving wind that relentlessly
pushes me
and my face is a cold stone slab of nothingness
staring out of a dark void
filled to the rim with emptiness
Eyes
so dry
they ain't seen a tear in a month or two
but I'm like Conan as I walk in circles
pushing this stone wheel somebody called life
I get stronger and stronger
til I am the mountain before my mind
and bigger than anything anyone else has ever climbed
I crack a tooth-filled grin
and swing the bat again
cuz even Casey connect wood to ball
every once in a while
But it's so grey and black inside me
I'll find some place to run and hide me
just til this wind dies down a little bit
not a lot
just a little
****
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 11:04 PM UTC
if it all goes wrong
we can all move to Saturn
sure, it’s a gas giant,
so if that goes wrong
we can move to
Titan and Enceladus.
no angst, no despair,
no existential fear and
most importantly, no Karens.
maybe there are undiscovered
frozen glaciers of oreo milkshakes
out there in the universe.
there are no dead ends,
no places you don’t belong in,
no absence of a friend.
do not be scared of growing up,
there are infinite years to spend,
just 16 candles, in a universe so vast.
good books, moments, coffee blends,
conan gray songs, minecraft and games.
time is in your hands, clocks don’t melt.
oll is well that ends well,
we can all always move to Saturn,
the universe belongs to you, my friend.
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 4:29 PM UTC
was she just a friend when you kissed her chapped lips?
was she just a friend before we called it quits?
did friends ever equate to the same definition of mine?
you could’ve told me so i didn’t have to waste my time.
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 12:26 AM UTC
I love Sherlock quotes. I love Sherlock the show, Sherlock Holmes the movie series and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I just understand Sherlock with his madness and witty insults. He may be a detective and his best friend Dr. Watson is a writer.
I guess madness goes both ways. Sherlock is canonically is a high functioning sociopath and I am a high functioning sociopath too.
Speaking the truth is easy for us because normal people are slow, all the same, boring and have cases that should put them in therapy.
I am a writer and Sherlock is a detective, the smallest details of a person are important just most people choose to ignore them.
Yes I am making a faux pas. I am good at it.
They may see but they don't observe. Poor narrow minded humans never seeing the big picture at the small details.
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 2:20 PM UTC
{editer note: ******* title nixed as non sensicle, but his contract gave him title rights if the inner net ever was re-al-ized, so his title was:
De-fine ite religion to its ment tent,
intended to set a course on defining religion,
then faith and seeing what would happen next,
because we went some ways with that idea we
we, integrit I ated we
we know how important your valuing peace is to the value of peace.
Butterfly hurricanes in the Bermuda triangle,
that's just gas,
like when a newborn smiles at the twinkle in his grandma's eye.
But let your peace come into a place,
see if, still see if still be still again slower still your will be done on earth
how? right? who can do what God would do if he were you?}
In my mind, my perfectly calmable mind
I am culpable for drawing your attention,
claims the flame to the moth who
exclaims, idea, I die for do I care
que? sera sera
Madre mia sang that song right along
made her matter, like she was dancing for me,
baby,
who twisted that little head
who told you that little lie
why, why, why, baby, why
give me a reason for the faith that is in you or
we all die
anyway
the idea is first, always, right? The thought before there's a word or any
no, no. nothing is impossible, so something must be.
My thanks, a shout out to A. Conan Doyle, a sir or something I believe,
He gave us both the 5% solution and the Piltdown Hoax.
Timed for real ation, or revelation 20 years after 20 landmarks
surfaced. Holmes winked at Jesus, I know what you mean.
Something is possible. Nothing is not.
Yes. Good News. Quite.
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC