"grunge" poems
Whispered body types
replayed melted melodies
Do you feel the jive above your head?
Stick, stick our toes
Where was that porcelain face in that cup, so bitter?
Trick them with polished giggles,
I know you.
Little, Insignificant, give me your
bones to crush and huff.
Forgive me. Not.
Candid rush of paint
retake, retake, retake.
That girl should have been a
reindeer, she's road ****
We are soft grunge.
Play it by fear.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Why is it so cool to hate on a group
for their fashion sense?
Or that they like to be off the mainstream?
You are doing the same thing that
people were doing to the
grunge
goths
punks
hippies
beatniks
flappers
and they all did something with their counterculture.
Ever think that
ours is the hipsters?
Not really,
they've been around since *The *** Pistols*
actually
they started them.
They made it cool to go to a thrift store
and buy things out of comfort
then rip it up
change it so it looked brand new.
Punk
that made Hipsters.
But now they are just some fad
that people hate on.
Just because they like to talk about
indie bands
knowing them first
wearing band tee's of bands they listen too
wearing vintage and retro clothing
likes reading
being in a cafe
organic food
vegan.
Stereotyping a group is all people did.
Now I can't wear things or do things
because some *** hole is going
to say
**"Ha you're such a ******* hipster!"**
Why don't we stop hating people on what they wear
because how do you expect to get past
racism
homophobia
sexism
ableism
fatphobia
transphobia
prejudice
if we can't even get past how people dress?
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
my dad would say,
I was found under a rock.
worse things have happened.
there's life down there
we forget to see,
important work
to us all.
so maybe I count all the more
because of my
*****
creepy
crawly
grunge-eating
tiny
wet
ugly
crowded
fight-for-survival*
origin.
I'd say
I came to life
prepared.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
A fashion designer has defended models who were labelled as "gaunt and unwell" on Facebook.
Andrea Moore's I AM range is sold at Farmers, and an image from its current campaign was posted on that company's Facebook page on Friday.
The picture features Chiara and Norina Gasteiger, who are twins represented by Clyne Model Management. Farmers customers did not react well to the now-deleted post.
"They so look gaunt and unwell. I'm really disappointed," Newshub says Anna Webster commented.
"You cannot look at these girls with their bones sticking out and believe that they are a good role model for a family store," Jo Austwick wrote.
"I have enough trouble with body image arguments with my daughters without these images being depicted. They do not look healthy."
Moore said the imagery had never been intended to cause offence, and that she felt for the Gasteiger twins, who have worked with the brand for three years.
"The twins are actually healthy, fun models who are busy university students... We love working with them because of their sense of self-worth and uniqueness as twins," she said.
"We have been in touch with the models and they were most upset by the whole thing. Fortunately, they have received a lot of support from their peers.
"The campaign was about preppy grunge, print with an edge. [It was not] about promoting unhealthy body types [or] anything else," Moore added.
Farmers posted the following statement on Facebook after deleting the I AM image:
"Dear valued Farmers customers! We appreciate you taking the time to send us your comments and concerns on a recent post for I AM. Please know it is not taken lightly and we in no way mean to promote an image for women in NZ to follow that could be regarded as unhealthy.
"We understand that no two bodies are the same and we always seek to show a range of body types throughout all our advertising. These images were supplied by the brand Andrea Moore as part of a wider campaign and were published by us. We will endeavour going forward to work closely with all our partners to ensure an appropriate image is portrayed.
"Thank you once again for your valued feedback."
Clyne Model Management have been approached for comment.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/one-shoulder-formal-dresses
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
love is so daunting
I just might not prevail
I'd rather divulge my passion in further prospects
Things I am assured of
My plans for the future, steady as bored
love is so fleeting it hurts
why am I falling for you
ska girl n o t
a
g r r r l
let's be un-girls together
as always, I give in to crushes
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
I.
They are
sweeter
then anyone
who's cleaner.
II.
Mostly
a little drunk
maybe ******
I was sober
and they said
"Good on you"
and
"Why though"
III.
I have gotten
a hundred more hugs
and shared food
and offers of a jacket
to keep off the cold
in a few hours with strangers
who form this family
then with my own
family
and many of my friends.
IV.
I felt
so *********
safe there.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
What a face
"Sells"
Abruptly she yells
Matte burning dry
Just try
Too moisten her lips
She's the Red devil
From hell why does her
orange face peel sell?
The right color
a psychic won't tell
Wishing well drenched
He touched my orange juice
"All Frenched"
She loves to slice and
he peels what appeal
orange saffron sauce
One last juicy squirt
divorce
It's time for fresh squeeze
Too frozen concentrate
The happy hour "Orange" feel
no other place like fate
Ten times real
"One" face peel has been
love absorbed
Like lemon meringue
Tainted love
Bitter grind soft butter glove
Do you mind orange flame
(The Spa) sells to be loved
Tra la so kind all Grunge
Going "Wawa" coffee cruel
Other colors haha
Movie set Orange payroll
lounge tease squirt
But destroyed by the evil
spell curse
Summoned on sunburst
But we need the Orange
before the sun comes
Like clones orange, you glad
we have "Green Apple"
phones
One step beyond orange
zones
I don't want to burst your
orange sauce
Grand Marnier starry twist
of orange
Two timing orange yogurt
Taste to tangy it hurt
Hey Yo Orange peel Spa
Still sticks Orange Julius
flirt
O outrageous P pick
What turns us on and gets us sick
Plan your work and work your plan
Never offend her
Let's see the chef make you love her
Creamified dreamlike Whip free
The orange mousse pie
Let me hear it yummy to lie
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
Take me back to the good old days
Where the music had meaning
And the people were happy
Take me back to the days of electropop
And florescent lights
Take me back to the days I should have spent my youth
The days my soul would have found the truth
Take me back to good old days
With 90's fashion and grunge style
Take me back to the good old days
For that is where my heart belongs
Cried the girl born in the wrong time
As she cradled relics that were long gone
From sunset till dawn
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 11:10 AM UTC
Each generation’s majority makes choices that usher change
Lost pined for simple peace
Depression lived for human survival
Silence spoke for equality in a civil voice
Hippies fought war with flowers
Boomers drove for mad knowledge of self
Grunge nodded honesty from suburban garages
Y baptized Science as god
Mobs then anointed Orange Man as king
Down at the crossroads as means to their ends
For taxes, for borders, for babies, for guns, for Right
Trading truth, communal values and united dreams for their causes
How will we be remembered
As we watch this Heyday bloom
What will be this generation’s rallying cry
Will there be one
A culmination of past generation's trusted change
Lost, depressed, silent, free, self-aware, honest, doubting
Us
Here now
Strong
Watching the flames
Will we quietly turn away
As our world burns
Or will we tap a new strength
To face the fire
Together
© 2019 MJL
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
**** on my hands
Feet steeped in dirt
My back pains to stand
My raw **** begins to hurt
Excuse my vulgarity as it is not my intent
Excuse my anger as it tends to become violent
Excuse yourself for your ignorance and malice
Excuse my voice, if you want quiet crazy go ask Alice
Watch my face as I start to grin
It kinda ***** to watch you win
My aggression teaches lesson
My death is all that is left
Watch the water as it turns black
Black as my soul
Black as coal
My sin is your deliverance
My goal is your difference
Can't you see how blind I am?
Cant you feel how hurt I am?
Wash the blood of of my hand
Wish you luck I don't give a ****
Can you people guess my direction?
It has become hard to maintain ********
The voices blend into a shout
Hard for me to figure it out.
If you want sleep
Don't be a creep
For your soul will weep
For your eyes will start to bleed.
I can hope you decipher my message
If not well **** my guesses
Of your thoughts and intentions
All apologies of which I speak
Can't help when my eyes don't blink
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
i popped the 20+ year old disk into the cd drive
as we began to role down the road.
something came alive
in my 35+ year old dad
who screamed along with cobain
after the twelfth song had finished
we sat in a few moments of silence
one of the only real connections
i had ever had with the man
*you know,
scott and i were driving to school
on this road in 94'
someone came on the radio
announcing that kurt cobain was found dead
we stopped the car and just sat there
in the road for a long time
then we turned around and went home*
i felt those words.
of everything he's ever told me
i felt that the most
music is everything great in this world
people die
music doesn't
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
JIMI HENDRIX
MOTHER LOVE BONE
PEARL JAM
ALICE IN CHAINS
MAD SEASON
SOUND GARDEN
NIRVANA
FOO FIGHTERS
etc.....
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
I don’t know when but one day past,
I preserved our love so it would last.
Jars of cherries and pears line the case
Our love hidden in its secret place.
Over time the room grew musty,
I used the pears and cherries thusly,
I left the room dim and quiet
Then soon forgot what I left inside it.
After weeks or months or years,
I find myself searching again in here.
I’ve forgotten what I lost,
But I will find it at any cost.
In a nook, I spot a single jar
Hidden in dust as thick as tar,
I approach it slowly without fear
Recalling now what I stored here.
I wiped the grunge and twisted the cap
Stopped a moment, taken aback.
Our love escaped and dissipated
I grab the air as if to save it.
I throw the grimy jar to the ground,
Burn it to guarantee it won’t be found.
I close the room and turn the lock,
My wooden heart begins to knock.
I light a match and don’t look back
Gasoline drowns the past.
The pears and cherries are now homeless
Thrown to the street without notice.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
I Hate You, My Love
No longer together, in a world of madness;
Just sat alone, in my world of sadness.
So come with me, on this journey through life;
I'll enlighten your eyes and I'll open you mind.
Open your mind,
Open your mind,
Open your mind, to another kind.
Something new, old, bluesy or rocking;
Musically free, from you becoming damning.
Criticisms needed, if your work is wrong;
But you’re perfection in a glass, so I wrote you a poem.
Softly bang your head and break your neck;
Live a life of missed opportunities, but have no regrets.
Hold me in your arms, because I've become contagious;
Come die with me…nobody can save us.
And save us from what? This living Hell?
Your perfumed body has begun to smell.
No longer the fresh smelling roses from Heaven;
You’re disgustingly ***** since you let me in.
No longer a ****** do you think they can tell?
Your mothers lead you to believe, you’re condemned to Hell.
I see through your eyes, as you describe what you see;
You've now become a part of me
And now I've let you, smoke my ****
I've now shown you, all I need.
Everyday I'll write you a song;
Everyday the words will be wrong.
Everyday you'll see that you hate me;
Everyday we'll disagree.
Everyday I'll want to **** you;
Everyday you will **** me.
Everyday is a whole new day;
And everyday is wrong for me.
Everyday I kiss you with passion;
Everyday I get satisfaction.
Everyday we drift apart;
Everyday you break my heart.
Everyday I **** myself
And everyday I need your help.
Everyday you must die with me;
Everyday we must both believe.
So everyday let's both fall to the ground
And everyday the lyrics will crumble down.
Ashes to ashes and blunts to blunts;
Come die with me ***** you ******* ****
I love you dearly, but I hate your guts;
You drive me crazy. Completely nuts!
I'll love you forever, until I don't;
This is my suicide letter, now I have to go.
**** it I didn't go through with the plan;
Because of you ***** you held my hand
And told me that you understand
And told me that I'm your only man.
Can you not see how much I hate you?
Can you not see how much you hate me?
Why don't you believe, what I say is true?
Why are you here, when I told you to leave?
You’re a punk rocking beauty, but completely false.
You’re a grunge kissing psychopath, that I completely love.
I have to say I hate you, so I don't feel we’re too close;
But promise me Angel, you will never go.
(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
mass culture is designed for complacency [ ];
the Great Depression of the 30's ended the Roaring 20's;
as radio brought WWII & TV Vietnam into homes
where easy-chairs & TV dinners reigned in cartoon
silence; Bud sneaks off to the garage to smoke bud,
when the innocent stoner gets a draft card,
turning radical, Bud grows his hair long &
giving the middle finger to some, peace
sign to others [decades go by when hideous was fashionable];
9/11 breaking our post-grunge
neo-70's-80's haze [for what, like a week - - -
then came the hoax of Islamophobia
spreading paranoia & nervousness in case
the terrorists missed anyone; the 90's
were already nostalgia by the time of the invasion
of Iraq; mass culture is designed for sedentary complacency
but when society is in upheaval
the media just has to wait
until it's all over to start promoting expensive baubles again - - -
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
To soak up the dirt is to soak up the stories.
My story is grime pushed into the cracks in the concrete
From all the crusty hobos and sweat-sheened showgirls.
My story is glitter from all the strippers and their grinning patrons, and
***** spilled liquor, and ***** from those who have sought a cure.
I am nourished by pain, and also rubber from the wheels of souped-up sports cars
Driven by men with chasmic souls. The oil from a billion french fries
Palliates the sting of alcohol upon my fractured, ***** skin.
The filth of the cigarettes and of the **** smoke,
Dank in the air, and heavy, slathers on another coat.
I see all things and I hear all things and I know all things.
I can see up your skirt right now, you precious little object,
As you flee the casino like a gull from a shark’s open jaws.
Your nightmare is right behind you, and he’s starving.
His humanity has been chewed up by the worms of his rancor,
And all that remains is an animal with hot blood on his brain.
In the alleyway I hear the pop and crack as stiletto gives way to concrete
And bone gives way to undue stress. His smile is unhinged as
Stifled screams and muffled gunshot atomize in the black air.
A decade later, the mops of sad janitors cut through like razors,
Making clean spots more unsightly than the ocean of grunge.
Surreptitious blood spatters, long since scrubbed
Still glint under blacklight. The chalk outlines have absorbed
Into my unholy black skin, and though I was drunk on your blood,
I still remember cradling you as you died.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
if you care to know what
life was like
for a teenage girl,
in Buffalo, NY
i would have to tell you,
that indeed,
stonewash jeans were HOT
and even more so,
if they were rolled up,
folded, and p i n n e d.
it was the tail end
of punks,
with the rise of grunge,
pearl jam
s o u n d g a r d e n and
REM
michael jackson
and
p r i n c e.
SNL, chicken wings,
and
the phantom of the opera
the world was sad
the middle east was sad
and the president was
a pervert.
what more is there to say?
other than the
driveway and porch parties
and of course,
computers
pagers and
andy warhol.
there really wan't
much to it.
camping,
stars in the country and
crisp fall air and
winters that never ended.
brutal sun,
freezie pops and
dance routines.
i was a girl.
what more can i say?
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 8:31 PM UTC
I like 90’s grunge that
makes me want to **** myself
and not wash my hair
and drink beer,
don’t see 90’s bands
in concert,
they’re old now
and it ***** you
with the bitterness
of life,
get drunk
kiss the floor
for supporting you
and lay in comfort
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
Rattle the cassette
with the biro etched “Car Mix”
grab the keys from mum’s bag
“Fill up what you use!”
“…Ok, can I have a fiver then?”
scuff to the car in unsuitable boots
slump in, adjust mirror, checking stupid fringe
which then existed
snap in the tape so the first bars
of G-Funk, grunge or B*Witched pulse
then it’s off to pick up
shotgun
Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 4:18 AM UTC
When you're a kid
Some nice person gives you a balloon.
You hold it in your hand by its string;
Touch the shiny tension
Knowing you could pop it at any point.
That feeling.
But I don't wanna talk about
When I was a kid, anymore,
And I've grown so old talking about it.
Cause all I can think of, nowadays
Is a not-so-nice person, giving me
A balloon for $20- that good ****
I hold it in my hand by the
String of what is keeping me alive;
Touch the black and strum the tension in your
Head's sick symphony.
You're ******* sick, and
Knowing you could pop at any point.
It's that feeling.
But I don't wanna talk about feelings, anymore.
Cause I could never really tell if
I ever felt at all- but this is
All too much
And I have got to get my fix.
It's another $20, it's another
Tension in my head, and
Please, balloon man, make this
Feeling go away.
I don't wanna talk about
How it bubbles, right before
The s l i d e.
The chase, the
Tickle.
The honey sweet- try not to puke;
The relief.
The relief.
The relief.
The relief.
The relief.
Fix me.
A paradise of
Strung out dreams.
You shake and hang your head
Below the bowl, nodding out while throwing up.
I am the modern grunge queen-
The rockstar essence
Musical inspiration.
My guitar has never wept so pure
And begged for more like my
Voice was a cure-
But it isn't. And nothing is.
But this
Makes everything
Better, in the worst way.
Driving home the next day.
The sensation of wanting something
More than air
But can't breathe.
**** me.*
**** me.**
**** me.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
Music
Running out of time, nothing left to rhyme,
no longer in my prime, listening to Sublime.
Used to smoke **** slaves I have freed,
red I still bleed, listening to Creed.
I'm all that, I have kicked my cat,
my girl is a brat, listening to Ratt.
Invented a love potion, makes girls frozen,
many things I've broken, listening to Poison.
Buried in the sand, not what I planned,
I need a helping hand, listening to The Steve Miller Band.
Too many cell phones, can never get any loans,
love the show Bones, listening to The Rolling Stones.
Confessing all my sins, playing some violins,
dizzy from the spins, listening to The Thompson Twins.
Standing in the cold, my life is uncontrolled,
just got paroled, listening to Avenged Sevenfold.
Sprayed with mace, kicked in the face,
stuck in this rat race, listening to Three Days Grace.
Working the graveyard shift, lots of sand I must sift,
my life needs a lift, listening to Taylor Swift.
Living in Illinois, tired of hearing noise,
losing all my poise, listening to The Beach Boys.
No hands on the clock, it's me people mock,
dryer stole another sock, listening to Kid Rock.
Music has made me what I am,
loving the hairbands and the glam.
Hard rock is all I know,
how could you not like Ugly Kid Joe.
Heavy metal is where it's at,
all the older bands are bald and fat.
Top forty isn't half bad,
every year it's a different fad.
Disco and grunge had a short stay,
Nirvana and Pearl Jam, get too much air play.
Hip hop and rap has been around to long,
can they even sing a real song.
Nothing will ever beat the eighties,
spandex, hair and all the ***** ladies.
My two favorite songs are Sister Christian,
and Here I go Again,
those songs remind me of way back when.
Country, well that will always ****
rednecks, Nascar, hunting and a giant truck.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
The Gifted ones we turn into
The "Wild Ones" to be
The Chosen-Ones of the
Golden- Gods*
Wild Oats organically
are grown into
your younger heart
Like (Cheer)ios
Mysterious Honey O's
Uniquely-- tied-- unknown
Does everybody become __?
The Joker playing poker
Too many "Billygoats"
Wild card players
Playing jeopardy in
(January)
To be his chosen one
Miss (February)*
True gifts the big ones
(March) in wild ones
The Emerald-Green door
planet
Poems on earth sonnet
(April) no fools I'm cool
Orangutans wild dolphins
Italian vineyards
Wildlife Fruit surgeons
(May) I click to tease you
Shark bay will bite you
Getting burned with a
flat iron
Walk the talk Sea lions
Sea Cortez smartphones
Married in (June) candy Pez
So personal in (July)
What awaits through___ the___ door*
Mom brightens my August day
I pod imaginary dreamscape
Cat got your tongue
Darkness like Grunge
Amazon Jungle-book in
the lounge
Got Scrooged no gifts
To Google the camel got
your back move to the
frontline with her "Big Cats"
On the Jet gifts and magical hats
It pays to be wild
"The Man's Pleasure" he is
The most wanted list
Oh! Christ
The last gift watch out
The Brittish are coming
to brighten up your
bucket list
Saint Nick canary slippery
hands tight fist protest
The wild ones "Readers Digest"
Trees and eyes don't lie
Knocking on heavens door
Don't be the swagger
**** Jaeger
White snow sugar dance the
Warm maple brown sugar
* * * *
I hear the Godly caller
Writers, all doors welcome
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 7:32 AM UTC
I'm not into politics
i don't care who the president is
if you're a communist, go ahead.
i'm not into debates and rallies
i don't vote for one side, i'm three dimensional
i don't care for democracy, fascism,
or whatever it is you are putting
in my hair, underneath my fingernails.
I'm not into that volcano of
confusion and opinions, screeching for
security of the word "true" but
all i hear is the ringing in my
ears saying OPINION
and sure, i have a few
I like to think that everyone is
misinformed and my way is not left
but when religious ********
start the stabbing
they're going to go for the throats
of the sad souls that betrayed them
the cigar smoking;grunge wearing;music loving;peacemaking; hippies children
and i will survive the fight
because i had nothing to do with it?
no
i will never be a part of your
war
on policies
and your
****** hating
I will live my life as a lovechild
in a perfect world
where there are no idiots waving their ***** around.
these are
happy days we live in
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC