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"dreamboat" poems
Who is that? Oh just another dreamboat sailing away... The third time isn't always charming
0
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Hey handsome.
caramel macchiato flavored coffee with mint cigarette flavored kisses with your dreamboat lover is the quintessence of what i call "perfection". if there was a way to describe the way your lips feel against mine, i could only describe it as "cigarettes and coffee". cigarettes and coffee isn't simply consuming caffeine or inhaling tobacco in your lungs, it's sitting on the roof at 1 am looking at the stars with a blanket around the both of you. it's laying in the grass with a slight breeze blowing making smoke rings between the arduous kisses. it's simply sipping a vanilla latte on the corner of a new york city street with a cigarette in your hand, making swirls of smoke as more ash forms above the filter, looking like some sort of bohemian gods. it's walking along a deserted sidewalk in your black jeans and doc martens with a big t-shirt and coke bottle sunglasses on with your lover on your hip and your menthol in one hand and philter in another. "cigarettes and coffee" is whatever you can interpret as pure bliss; it's simply whatever makes you happy and whatever makes you want to sit in the grass all night and talk about anything and everything. there's a lot of people that would argue there's no beauty to the feel of tobacco in your lungs and arabica in your mouth, but evidently, they've never tried cigarettes and coffee.
0
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC
cigarettes and coffee
OluwaFisayomi my inamorata If ever two were one, then surely we are. If ever I love you dreamboat, yes I am’ I prized my love more than the whole mines of gold, And all the wealth that the rich does hold’ My love is such that rivers cannot quench, Nor like a recommended lens’ Our love for each other is clear, that no man can repay. The heavens reward our truthfulness, I pray. Then while we live in love let’s serve God, That when we live no more, we live forever up’ Where are the stars that show us to our love, And we gon’ live our whole young old lives away In the joys of a living God’ Your body and soul are divine, With a lovely fragrant with heavenly wine’ So kiss me Temi with your cold dry lips, So I can hold you tight and sing you hymns’ Not what you think, but give me the love that so free please’ To my one and honey dreamboat
0
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
My dreamboat
Union and Grand I moved into this house less than a year ago and already three gun related murders have occurred within a three block radius; two of them involving children. I'm not making this **** up. Those numbers wouldn't be anything exciting for a population hitting upwards of the millions, but this is not a big city. This is the heartland. - The city paid for a series of strategically placed dead ends, forced turns, and surveillance equipment to be installed in the area of about a mile surrounding my house. No wonder they call this place "The Trap". They keep changing the maze, and studying us like rats. - They had a make-do memorial for the little girl who got shot. They attached her stuffed animals, cards, and photos to a utility pole on the corner of Union and Grand. The city had it taken down. Some kind of city ordinance from some dusty tome at the town hall. Kids killing kids, and the shots keep firing. - Now don't get me wrong, I'm not what'd you call an activist. But when bloodshed occurs within eye shot of where you sleep, you start to get a little irked. These kids have as much potential as me, and twice as much grit. Their teachers barely even know their names, let alone what it's like to be deprived of privilege. - I'll stomp this concrete until my feet break. This labyrinth is my constant reminder and reality check. I am here, and you are there. This connection is suspended on silver threads and I am your puppet. Mold me into your angst driven dreamboat. Because tomorrow, I'm just going to wake up here. Tyler. - This soul has been folded seven times and I grow tired of this reality. There was a time when I could scream loud enough to wake the dead. I guess I'm showing the symptoms of an accidental child with a tongue that only tastes art as bitter protest. - I'd tear my face off to know if this is really getting through to you. The face in the photo is that of the goat; the false idol and deceiver. A Knight of Pentacles, selling you gold plated garbage. Odin-kin. You always feel like I have a secret to keep; my fist is in the air.
0
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC
Decatur, A Kingdom in Six Parts, Part III: Union and Grand
Union and Grand I moved into this house less than a year ago and already three gun related murders have occurred within a three block radius; two of them involving children. I'm not making this **** up. Those numbers wouldn't be anything exciting for a population hitting upwards of the millions, but this is not a big city. This is the heartland. - The city paid for a series of strategically placed dead ends, forced turns, and surveillance equipment to be installed in the area of about a mile surrounding my house. No wonder they call this place "The Trap". They keep changing the maze, and studying us like rats. - They had a make-do memorial for the little girl who got shot. They attached her stuffed animals, cards, and photos to a utility pole on the corner of Union and Grand. The city had it taken down. Some kind of city ordinance from some dusty tome at the town hall. Kids killing kids, and the shots keep firing. - Now don't get me wrong, I'm not what'd you call an activist. But when bloodshed occurs within eye shot of where you sleep, you start to get a little irked. These kids have as much potential as me, and twice as much grit. Their teachers barely even know their names, let alone what it's like to be deprived of privilege. - I'll stomp this concrete until my feet break. This labyrinth is my constant reminder and reality check. I am here, and you are there. This connection is suspended on silver threads and I am your puppet. Mold me into your angst driven dreamboat. Because tomorrow, I'm just going to wake up here. Tyler. - This soul has been folded seven times and I grow tired of this reality. There was a time when I could scream loud enough to wake the dead. I guess I'm showing the symptoms of an accidental child with a tongue that only tastes art as bitter protest. - I'd tear my face off to know if this is really getting through to you. The face in the photo is that of the goat; the false idol and deceiver. A Knight of Pentacles, selling you gold plated garbage. Odin-kin. You always feel like I have a secret to keep; my fist is in the air.
Continue reading...
51
He’s not how I remembered him All charming, tall and handsome He’s podgy, dull and boring His cockiness has left him I nearly started snoring When he told a story He’s also going baldy He’s lost his crowning glory. I’m not saying he’s not charming He’s sort of…in a way But not the man I dreamt of He’s definitely away! He’s jaded, tired and bitter There was no spark or flutter He asked me if we’d meet again? “Not sure?” I think I muttered.
0
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
Dreamboat!
Wrought-wide eyes from catching clouds on the safety of our backs Who's lifting who dried-up with the fossils, tucked away at Jack's Can you capture the oily maze of Perla, Gary, Glen AND Dee? We should cap the treasure trove. Just one shell. Alright... three. Passenger mats drowned long ago in quartets of sandy shoes They're coming around to dukkah, but beetroot's an ongoing feud. We'll find our way back to purple-brown after art class in year nine Until then just squeeze my hand when they see **** every time. Curse words stowed beneath our necks, cellared with the red wine. Pull binoculars out in twenty years to seek parrots in sun spines. Trick them into dusking walks, the promise of ice cream at Kateri Squealing across Eileen's golden grain, I hope they pick Rasberry. He swirls the sand beneath him and burrows his sweet brow. She builds bridges for fairies and writes names in stick-crayon. I'll say they're just like us, one day when they can stand it least Until then their just like you dreamboat, floating down my east.
0
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 10:39 PM UTC
Four
Neener, neener, neener Your daddy is a wiener A peener, a geener A ***** magaziner. Nanny, nanny boo boo Stick your head in doo doo Your granny has got put in jail For practicing at voodoo. Olly Olly Oxen Fee I see you, you can’t see me. I am smart, you are not. Just how stupid can you be? Waka, waka, waka You look like an alpaca Your mama should have taken you And stuffed you in a locker. Zimmy, zimmy, zim Your luck is getting slim. Bad Luck Billy says you’re You’re almost bad as him. Hardy hardy har You think you are a star But an extra in a walk-on role Is what you really are. Clunkety clunk clunk Your dreamboat has sunk You think you smell like roses But it’s more like a skunk. Sniggley, sniggley snurt The truth is bound to hurt You invested in yourself And then you lost your shirt.
0
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
RANKING
A wind cold and bitter blows in from the west and stirs up old storms in you.  May we suggest one cure for the lonely most highly regard - a tour of the local relation-shipyard. Our newer relation-ships being built daily can catch the wind nicely, their sails snapping gaily. But others we've built have met rougher sailing; our flagship line shows up a few of our failings. The first liner christened, the R.S. Obsession, sank during a storm in the Sea of Depression. The Intimate's hull you'll see later today aground on the shoals of Old Fantasy Bay. The pilot of Dreamboat just plain lost his sense; ran full speed ahead through the Reef of Defense. Only one came back whole, the relation-ship Reason; she's in dry-dock now after only one season. We're taking the trouble to change her design and model her after our new Friendship line. Our new Friendships are (if you'll pardon the gloating) the match of any relation-ship floating. We've shaken her down and worked her way up to running through trials for the Real Lover's Cup. Though she'll take on a gale yet be pushed by a breeze, we're not really sure how she'll handle those seas. Whatever the outcome, we'll learn even more and strive to build better than ever before. Cleaner, more streamlined, a true thoroughbred; let form follow function, with no figurehead. The storms are subsiding, the wind's dying down; you're welcome whenever you're this side of town. And what's more, you're welcome whenever you're ready to work on this Friendship we've started already.
0
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 6:29 AM UTC
Yarn From an Old Hand
A wind cold and bitter blows in from the west and stirs up old storms in you.  May we suggest one cure for the lonely most highly regard - a tour of the local relation-shipyard. Our newer relation-ships being built daily can catch the wind nicely, their sails snapping gaily. But others we've built have met rougher sailing; our flagship line shows up a few of our failings. The first liner christened, the R.S. Obsession, sank during a storm in the Sea of Depression. The Intimate's hull you'll see later today aground on the shoals of Old Fantasy Bay. The pilot of Dreamboat just plain lost his sense; ran full speed ahead through the Reef of Defense. Only one came back whole, the relation-ship Reason; she's in dry-dock now after only one season. We're taking the trouble to change her design and model her after our new Friendship line. Our new Friendships are (if you'll pardon the gloating) the match of any relation-ship floating. We've shaken her down and worked her way up to running through trials for the Real Lover's Cup. Though she'll take on a gale yet be pushed by a breeze, we're not really sure how she'll handle those seas. Whatever the outcome, we'll learn even more and strive to build better than ever before. Cleaner, more streamlined, a true thoroughbred; let form follow function, with no figurehead. The storms are subsiding, the wind's dying down; you're welcome whenever you're this side of town. And what's more, you're welcome whenever you're ready to work on this Friendship we've started already.
Continue reading...
32
I met a man with lifts in his shoes Watery eyes and a clicking tongue As I washed my hands, disbanded He gave me some dreamboat advice And a house to go with it He said to follow the money trail Up an up an up you go And freedom means never Having to go to trial And don't forget to stay Underestimated And always **** them with kindness He lives in a pre-war clock tower It's a family building But he loves the twentieth century His associates are beautiful But in my dream they were made of cardboard Cause he made my girlfriend cut her curly locks And paint one wall yellow But now my plain Jane has delusions She can't stand mirrors And claims he shot the angels on her shoulders With an invisible gun He said vanity is a perfect eight As he rubbed his pinky ring He knows the root of every game tree Still he loves to test me It gives him a shiny glow
0
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 3:11 AM UTC
Wolf. Coyote. Jackal. Dog
Love left my soul thirsty And I was so tasty And nasty Even why lips feel thirsty I crave for a touch I thirst for your love   Give me a glass of your heart i would love you day and night Looking into your eyes I saw the bright blossom light I couldn’t listen to any lady's ‘Hi’ For you are my heart, my life Give me a joy of your love I bet you, you will feel it too from above Give me a room to stay It's cold out there My love isn't here to play I don’t need those dears My love needs a place to grow One heart can’t build a home You know I wouldn’t break you My love is here to stay, It awaits you I had a vision about the dreamboat My heart is injured with a hole And you went ahead to tighten the bolt Free me from this ***** that does not want you to be my own Remember ! I will Keep you safe and warm With my kiss and hugs I taste for all of you my love
0
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 9:50 AM UTC
Love left my soul thirsty
for sent a skyline to the day a kiss with wings of smile. (these lights of Yes you call your eyes are blessed with skies of deep array) let’s talk too little and say too much with words of forever in our slightest touch. for when feeling is hearing the breezes start singing of scattered songs in the air, (unsounding, but ever there) when all my notes of frameless bars sync with the rhythm of your fateless stars. for the world is a cube rolling on and on through every kind of time and place. and i feel quite blessed and prepossessed that all the pieces of our universe fell so that even the Fall could have guessed the way i would breathe the scent of your grace. for life is a dreamboat flowing along the river of time through silence and song. when older is sooner and younger is late, and the earth is a picnic too out of date, although we’re quite busy with everythings to do i’d happily share my dreamboat with you.
0
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Maple Serenade
I catalog events with a subtle, ulterior pretense Describing the notorious infamy in all the events And anything characterized, inspiring, and bold Makes a story unfold in the real time it's told I am snowblind and need defibrillation to wake up Either my heart turned cold or has simply had enough The ferry fan dreamboat has only so inadequately found That as I feel my orienting response record the time down It is not truly me who was looking around Though I can pinpoint the exact moment that I drowned The only lingering product of me absolutely remaining Is the aftermath of my angina so ever restraining Never complaining until the sound of the trigger Then I'll be adamant to describe that noise with vigor Though rigorous it may be, I will try, I might even with some tact And let you in one last time presenting only fact. I stepped away and left this place while presently in line The sentence was one more time for the last time And then you said goodbye I was watching all the while a vapor on the scene And I felt myself lose oxygen with no production in my spleen My blood does not perfuse in that bilateral moment of blame How can I let asystole clamp and constrict my cowed red vein? How could I dilate the cause of my shame? How could I love my life in the rain? The simple reason I was experiencing tinitus... I found out all connections were lies Like a manufactured virus Love was a prescription with doses written in ink With no distinction and no response I could not think With no recompense or recognition I felt my larynx shrink I was only dumbfounded so I took to my reflexes Handpicking a numb tendency to fill my recesses But it only drains you and me and leaves a hole behind I'm nowhere near magical so it's power cannot rewind If so inclined I'll tap my spine and steer it all back But I don't feel you anymore Only this heart attack
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Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Asystole
I catalog events with a subtle, ulterior pretense Describing the notorious infamy in all the events And anything characterized, inspiring, and bold Makes a story unfold in the real time it's told I am snowblind and need defibrillation to wake up Either my heart turned cold or has simply had enough The ferry fan dreamboat has only so inadequately found That as I feel my orienting response record the time down It is not truly me who was looking around Though I can pinpoint the exact moment that I drowned The only lingering product of me absolutely remaining Is the aftermath of my angina so ever restraining Never complaining until the sound of the trigger Then I'll be adamant to describe that noise with vigor Though rigorous it may be, I will try, I might even with some tact And let you in one last time presenting only fact. I stepped away and left this place while presently in line The sentence was one more time for the last time And then you said goodbye I was watching all the while a vapor on the scene And I felt myself lose oxygen with no production in my spleen My blood does not perfuse in that bilateral moment of blame How can I let asystole clamp and constrict my cowed red vein? How could I dilate the cause of my shame? How could I love my life in the rain? The simple reason I was experiencing tinitus... I found out all connections were lies Like a manufactured virus Love was a prescription with doses written in ink With no distinction and no response I could not think With no recompense or recognition I felt my larynx shrink I was only dumbfounded so I took to my reflexes Handpicking a numb tendency to fill my recesses But it only drains you and me and leaves a hole behind I'm nowhere near magical so it's power cannot rewind If so inclined I'll tap my spine and steer it all back But I don't feel you anymore Only this heart attack
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38
i. you were petals i once submerged —a fistful i let go of under a foggy sea when i was succumbing to myself you were the surface tension screaming my name; a diaphragm’s lullaby — old thunder in the rain… i’ve been fond of storms ever since ii. no one told me how slow clouds would be — i would have held my breath a bit longer… charted constellations a bit better before i spoke of love in light-years and there you were on a shoreline, carrying salt in your palms iii how many times will I walk here, — a wreckage of bramble in my side? “the sea is much too old,” i heard someone say… and the wind was salt on my brain it left a hole; a stain, and i felt a burning behind my soggy ribcage can stars erode in the tide? iv. night adorns it’s veil — scallops tug at the lace and i toss inky petals in the sea nocturne’s dreamboat a dead man’s float; — how i’ve internalized my hatred for romance “the sea is much too old,” i heard someone say… and i realized my lungs could speak for days about sunken ships returning home v. i ignore a distant moon — inertia rocking my cradle but she stays there all the same… there’s stardust on her breath — whiskey on mine “you’ve grown much too old,” i heard her say… so i closed my eyes, and felt sand between my toes for the first time it will be eons before i swim here again
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
A Rose Thrown out to Sea
I didn't mean to shout at you, I'm sorry, It wasn't meant to be this way. I didn't want to hurt you, And I still want you to stay. I need you here, I swear it, To keep me out of my head, You're the only thing I can think of, To get me out of bed. Each morning when I see you, Only then can my heart relax, Cos I'm scared I'm going to lose you, And that's when the panic attacks. I shouted because I'm scared, I don't love you any less, But when you're not here I'm petrified, I can't sleep, I cannot rest. It's because I don't deserve you, You're too perfect to be true, Even your imperfections Endear me to you. So please, my love, Please listen, When I apologize, Because losing you, I'm positive, Will lead To my Demise.
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Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Imperfect Dreamboat
I think the hardest thing About being an artist Is all about inspiration. It doesn’t matter how determined Or desperate An artist is. She sits and she tries to come up With something worthwhile to say, Or to draw or to paint. But all she sees in her head Is a ticking clock, ***** snow, An oak tree, and a brick building. One of the issues Of the common artist Is as follows: Nothing she says or thinks is important, Or valued, Or necessary. She knows this. But yet something Pulls her to the keyboard or to the easel. She could apologize for pretending like She knows what or why or how to Say dreamboat words. But for now she’s content with Pretending like she knows What she’s doing. And right now everyone else Is content With playing along.
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Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
On Being an Artist
My heart is red, the meadow is green; you are standing there in your silk dress and looking at me longingly, with your eyes your eyes of feline longing, Mon amour. I wish to soothe that longing, wishing to souls above, let me take you on my dreamboat, my dreamboat of love, Soothe the ache, from the punch I did not deliver. Protect and shelter you in my arms, so that I may be one with you, in bed, forever and ever until I'm dead, severed from you. But I will find my way back to you, even if it comes to that. Soon... We will meet in the flesh. and this ache will subside. Soon I will hold you, and soothe your sadness at mankind's ways. Soon I will be the man you deserve too
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 9:29 PM UTC
My heart is red, the meadow green
I want to give you the whole world even if that doesn't make sense to you, it makes sense to me but probably will never, ever make sense to you I want you to have the sun, the moon and the spring bloom I want you to love.. but I want you to sigh and I want you to stop and I want you to cry I want you to know just what you've done when you turn your back and you run from me and from us and you go back to them the one you call a perfect ten the one with the electric eyes and cut throat hair the one that forces you forget air she isn't me and I will never will be she the one with the electric eyes and cut throat hair those electric eyes don't care those electric eyes see your face but not your dreams they see your beauty, but fail to look past beyond the seams they see your eyes, your perfectly perfect, dreamboat eyes but they never sail away with you just like I do you patronise with your mind and your lies and your love and your despise you are in control of me and please, keep the wheel because I know you're being unfair but I will never seize to feel the thud in my chest and the thrill in my veins even when you cause me the most violent pain I want to give you everything but everything is not what I've got I've got my heart, with which you call the shots ~ T.T
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Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
evidently, unrequited
mouth pain. dreamboat. screen door as hyphen. god as no contact with the inside world.
0
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
good clean fun
I felt like a fragrant, jubilant flower In his powerful arms A blossoming field Filled with addictive affection He was my obsession My shelter of protection My compelling loverman My beardalicious dreamboat He made me float I was head over heels for him Beyond explanation I craved him like a savory dish He was my everything The bright light of my life The enchanting prince of my dreams He held a special place in my gay heart He was so commandingly good-looking So robustly seductive So devilishly attractive I couldn’t help but dwell on him He rocked my world Left me flabbergasted I was lost in his exalted altar Of phenomenal awesome sauce Forever hopped up on his Heart-stoppingly charming masculinity
0
Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 6:21 PM UTC
He Was My Obsession
His robust construction was the most Remarkably marvelous art That I had ever seen in my lifetime The most panoramic scenery To gaze at for days on end He was my dreamy scenery My bountiful, mesmerizing sea My top-quality man candy My romantic dreamboat I was so hooked on him I needed him more than anything in the world I couldn’t let him go I was overdosing On his mind-blowing masculinity Kissing him all over Caressing his delectable pecs Staring deeply into his Handsome, honey-colored eyes Feeling our flesh mesh Becoming so obsessed With his incredibly manly beauty
0
Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 1:51 PM UTC
Overdosing On His Mind-Blowing Masculinity
beware the dreamboat the end is a trainwreck
0
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Fantasy.