"hairdo" poems
Social Media World
Waiting, longing, wanting
Never finished, never complete
Silence makes our ears ring
Always busy, looking to compete
Social media world
Everyone and no one
Never alone, your life is unfurled,
Tap, swipe, post, I’m done..
Never done, never finished
Your social media masterpiece
Do we leave ourselves diminished?
Even though we constantly increase ...
Increase and build, our profiles grow,
Piece by piece an ever changing image
So fast, so rapid, makes me want to go slow
In my mind I pretend and try to envisage
And yet I’m entirely torn
A hypocrite through and through
My very own image I’ll adorn
My eyes, my mouth and what about this hairdo?
I love it and I question it,
I label myself, but why?
Basic, white, “this is lit”
I’ve found that social media high
Parents worry, kids rebel,
Are they happy !?
Perhaps time will tell
For me, it’s the content that’s ******
Stop seeking happiness,
It’s not an end game
Stop talking mindfulness
Whilst putting others to shame
Let’s stop talking the talk
Preaching and self indulging
Watching and waiting like a hawk,
A lifetime wasted, wishing
But embrace the conversations!
Open dialogue; debating, discussing,
Thoughts, ideas and revelations,
Platforms for all, we could do anything!
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 6:09 PM UTC
The old order changeth, yielding place to new
-Tennyson, Idylls of the King
Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp
In spasms of existential death; they pass
At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver
Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there
If you vote they give you a sticker
The ephemeral Constitution changed
Like sweaty skivvies by each president
Law libraries catalogued for pulp
By obedient functionaries in tees
If you vote they give you a sticker
The faithful escorted out of the cathedral
By a bored security guard on overtime
The altar linens for sale at Goodwill
And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V.
If you vote they give you a sticker
Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds
And the others cheer only for the Blues
As the reincarnation of Jack Chick
Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps
If you vote they give you a sticker
Election placards on abandoned buildings
Promise again prosperity for all
The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz
Private Academy of the Dance and Math
If you vote they give you a sticker
An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will
Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ
Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather
If you vote they give you a sticker
And blessed be the Holy AR-15
God gave to His People to defend themselves
Here in the freest country in the world
Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence
If you vote they give you a sticker
While fleets of luxury presidential jets
Arc high over our public housing projects
Reminding us of our prosperity
Here in the richest country in the world
If you vote they give you a sticker
And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right
But them other Jews they just ain’t no good
Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither
And don’t you get me started on them Baptists
(We seem to have been otherwise engaged)
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new” –
(But neither cares at all for me or you)
But if you vote they give you a sticker
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Karma police, arrest this man
He talks in maths
He buzzes like a fridge
He's like a detuned radio
Karma police, arrest this girl
Her ****** hairdo is
Making me feel ill
And we have crashed her party
*This is what you get
This is what you get
This is what you get when you mess with us*
Karma Police
I've given all I can
It's not enough
I've given all I can
But we're still on the payroll
*This is what you get
This is what you get
This is what you get when you mess with us*
And for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself
And for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself
For for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself
For for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself
Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself
(In the early version, the first verse went):
Karma police arrest this girl
She stares at me
As if she owns the world and
We have crashed her party
Songwriters: YORKE, THOMAS / O'BRIEN, EDWARD JOHN / GREENWOOD, COLIN CHARLES / GREENWOOD, JONATHAN RICHARD GUY / SELWAY, PHILIP
S T - 24 nov 2013
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
Once for Halloween
I dressed up as Athena
The Greek goddess
My favorite Greek goddess
And it was a decent costume
Your standard iParty fare
Paired with an elaborate hairdo and some 50 cent earrings
And I knew I was only a cheap imitation
Nothing close to the real thing
For no one would ever build me a temple
Burn cattle in my name
Put on white robes and fall to their knees
For me
No, not for me
But for Athena
Oh, how they fell!
How the ancient Greeks worshipped her very name
Gave her their capital city
And dedicated the most powerful force to her
Wisdom
That force which drove the philosophers
The very energy
That sustained Socrates
And Plato
And Aristotle
And all those dead guys we read about in class
I was in a class
Reading the words those dead guys collected
In their moments of clarity
But all I could think about
All I really wanted
Was to throw on a white robe
And fall to my knees at the Parthenon
Begging for wisdom, wisdom
Please, Athena, some wisdom!
I don't care if it's heresy
I don't care if you're a myth nowadays
Because you once reigned
You once stood on Mount Olympus
In all your ancient power
And watched your people crying out wisdom, Athena, wisdom!
Please!
I wish
I could have been there
I wish I could have seen
The day the goddess cracked open Zeus's skull
And was born
Fully armed
Ready for her battle
Not the fight for wisdom, no
The fight she faced was undying
The war she would lead
Would ripple through the ages
Taking all civilizations
And tearing at their social order
For it was the men she was fighting
The disbelieving fools who put her *** down
Taking all women's wisdom
And deeming it inferior
Substandard
Not good enough
So Athena blazed in glory
And for her, men believed
Believed in their mothers and wives and daughters
Saw in that enthroned goddess
The sparks that fueled women's minds
Yes, I wish I'd been there
I wish I could have kissed her sword
And asked her to stick around
To blaze her way to the twenty-first century
And make these guys tremble, too
Instead
I look around my 80% male college of engineering
And wonder why I need to prove my worth
Simply because I have a second x chromosome
I wish that I could blaze in glory
And dazzle them all the same
That my Halloween costume could be enough to fool them
That they would turn their toga-party bedsheets
Into white robes
And fall to their knees
Gasping, "Wisdom, wisdom!"
And that, for one moment
I could be their goddess
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:38 PM UTC
So what I drink all my calories
I'm sane and you're not, bruh
It's never enough even to wear
what you're wearing and talk
like you talk, do you even care?
Killing myself keeping things legit in your sphere
Black sheep combine forces to feel
wanted, keeping your company
I feel blocked when you're nodding.
Yes, I'm acting just like you want me,
bruh, I'm coming up short to your haughti
ness, blessed with a sense of self
stopping just short of your level and
what the hell, what I am doing here
fighting for otherness, concerned
with the purity of water of my brothers
and my sisters of the covenant
You talk about faith when it comes
to prey that you're stalking, keep
it strong, yolo, fleek, and a hashtag
To be honest I'm scared that my hometown
will be infested with those the internet
claimed and ingest, swallowed with
speed of light, people spit out as pesticide
turning the verdant green such a ****** brown
Yes you're so on top and classy, lacking
purposely the tenets that turn a body fancy
Cool *** beard bro, girl that's a freak ***
hairdo, up in the midst short sides a pool cue
locked in your hands up inside a ******* dive bar,
midnight drive holding a pipe 'hind your
headlights, Yes you're mixing with the best
making them arrogant, such a lens to view
the struggles they been through, Weird queer
younglings in their late twenties and homeless
at some point, only the noise of the sirens
and blue lit bathrooms, keeper of the needle
rights, and happiness,5-0 lights blasting on naito, picking
on the kids white/brown outside washing
the day away with the kiss of the pabst
taking a nap on the grass on the waterfront
blessed with lives with beards and queers
passing by as they want one.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
*O come
gentle persons all
and listen to the woeful tale
of an unfortunate lover*
1
I pitied Cinderella
and knocked at her door
when everyone was away
and I sang:
*Come, run away with me
and I shall look after you -
all the days of my life
all the days of yours*
Get lost, she said.
*I’ve a premonition
of glass slippers
and Princes and castles*
2
And so I went to fair Verona
to see if Juliet would
give me her hand
but it was her father
who showed me the toughness
of his servant’s hands
3
And ah, I went to Rapunzel
and I said: *Oh, let down your hair
and I’ll come to you;
and I’ll find a way for both of us
to run away to better lands*
Get lost, she said
*You don’t look like a man
who can afford to get
me the best shampoo
and golden diamond-studded hairclips -
new ones everyday
for my hairdo*
4
And so I waited
for Cleopatra
till Brutus and the conspirators
stuck their daggers into Caesar
and I went to her mansions
but the guards seized me and they said:
*You ever heard of Cleopatra’s needles?
Where’d you like us
to stick them in you?*
5
and so, desperate,
I went to **** myself
back in Verona
in the family crypt of the Capulets
and woe is me -
I really don’t know why -
but I’m thrown into prison now
*‘for the ****** of two’*
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 9:51 PM UTC
The National Security Advisor
In all his frumpery and trumpery
Waves his combat moustache menacingly
Backed up by each nuclear incisor
He threatens Iran with his “hell to pay”
Word missiles through his bristles - “We will come after you!”
Omitting to say (through his ****** hairdo)
His child will not go, but yours will – hooray!
For his own combat record is no joke:
He bravely fought the Cong around Fort Polk
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
Charley Bob is a "walker".
He walks the roads and avenues where I live.
He doesn't appear to have a job, he just walks.....every day.
He use to walk with his zipper down
and with flacid ***** in hand proudly display himself to all who drove by,
but that embarrassed many
and they made him put his security blanket away.
Now he just grabs his crotch like the gangstas downtown.
Sorry Charley.
Every town has a "walker",
some have several.
You've seen them.
They walk the streets, lost in their own little worlds.
They look the same as they did 20 years ago.
There's the lady with nary a tooth in her head,
her ankle length skirt and her Pentecostal hairdo (PHD).
They say for 50 bucks she'll let you know why she has no teeth.
She's a "working girl walker", but she is still a "walker".
Once I was walking downtown,
and as I passed her she angrily mumbled something to me, all lips and gums,
"Muver Phucker", she said.
I don't even know her,
but she was as angry with me as if we were the best of friends.
Some "walkers" talk to themselves,
some answer themselves,
some stop and turn and scream out profundities to no-one,
or someone,
it's a matter of perspective.
It's like some shrink somewhere
gave them a prescription for their mental disorder,
walk 20 miles and see me in the morning.
Charley Bob is the best though.
I swear you can see him at 10am,
and by 5 he is still
slowly
making his way
back
from where
he went to.
I wonder what makes him turn and go home.
Charley Bob is a "walker".
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
Wiggy doesn’t mean it is a wig
Just that it looks very like one;
And the hairdo is so ludicrous
That we can’t help making fun.
You act like an adolescent
Your orange hair is almost funny.
You utter the most inane things
Your disposition totally not sunny.
Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.
Snort and wiggle, grimace and scowl
It’s quite the side-show carnival show
You open your mouth and let fall out
Words that prove what you do not know.
Grunt and wallow in your own mud
Holler, howl, bellow and squeal
As if the lies you are telling us all
Amount to something valid and real.
Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.
So far, you are making yourself
Totally beloved in the Sainted South
But to most of us you would look
Better with an apple in your mouth.
You **** and moan and pontificate
And spout such bigoted wit
That the best place for you is
Guest of honor on a barbecue spit.
Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
Happiness is getting the last slice of pizza
While sitting atop the leaning tower of Pisa
It is stepping in fresh new snow
Or watching your favorite show
It's ice cream on a hot summer day
Or being first at the buffet
The smell of new shoes,
Being told good news
Its getting a new hairdo
But above all,
happiness is within you!
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
Do you live your life through movies?
Through good music or through books?
Do you fashion how you live your life
By how another looks?
Are you trendy or a classic?
Never straying from the line
Do you change your hairdo weekly
Well, if you do....that's fine
Self image is a fickle beast
It's one we can't control
As one listens to classical
Someone else likes rock and roll
Do you wish the life you see up
on the giant movie screen
Is the one that you are living
Or are you living in between?
do you want to be a rock star?
Live your life out on the road
Or are you happy being where you are
Quite content to haul your load
Do you want to pack and travel
To places that you've read
Do you want to go and meet folks
From the past and now long dead ?
Do you dress like someone famous
From a brand new magazine
Do you steal phrases from the movies
From your favourite actors scenes ?
Are you a follower or a leader?
Or are you still one who's not sure?
Is your form of self expression
Locked behind a steel tight door?
Are you silent or are you noisy?
Must you be the one who's on
Or are you the wallflower in the corner
The one not missed when they are gone?
When you read does your mind wander
To a place you won't return
Or does it take you to the precipice
Where you turn once you have learned?
Do you have imaginiation?
Or do you think you've no ideas?
Do your thoughts all die of loneliness?
Are they blocked out by your fears?
If a movie helps you come alive
And the music makes you dance
Imagine what your mind could do
If you just gave it a chance
Plant a seed and watch it grow up
Take a chance and make that leap
Step out front and be the leader
Not in back where you just creep
Be the one who sings the music
Makes the movie, writes the book
Break out your imagination
Be where other people look
Are you one who lives through movies?
Thorough a book or in a song?
Break the mould and be the artist
Be good or bad...it won't be wrong.
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
i woke up this morning
to take a walk on the sun
while the moon was out dancing
in a village of one
had the strangest of feelings
it had all come undone
and me...i was just along for the ride
the fields were all waving
a bright shade of blue
as the women who worked them
wore starlight hairdo's
i blinked once, then twice
well...wouldn't you
as i reached in and scratched the itch of my mind
cows carrying moonflower purses
looking utterly strange
dogs barking out four
on the driving range
shouldn't the cows be a milking
and the dogs scratching mange
as i pulled on the cord that was just out of sight
the dam broke, flooding the valley
with pink lemonade
only the statute of achoo! (bless you)
was all that was saved
they tried to do more
but the train was delayed
there's never been a day like a day tonight
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Lock and hook Mama's neck.
Bounce on Mama's tummy.
Wrestle, Shove and Spike Mama.
Mess up Mama's cool hairdo.
Jump and Climb on Mama's back.
Trample on Mama's crouch.
Talk to his robot.
Hang his goal post around Mama's neck.
What a night!
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
I would humbly put forth the idea, quite prostrate, that it would do us some good if we were to put aside, for a time, our epistemological certainties and archetypal savior fixations and, instead, opt for a more robust, ocher-hued ontological preeminence: putting the what before the why.
Only then can one, say, sip hot herbal tea from an old pink bone china teacup and, without thinking about all the things all the time, for once -just- feel the sun's warmth on your aged face as it begins its set over a half-eaten cotton candy sky that is epic af and reminds you of Peter Pan and then Robin Williams and then whywhywhy and then something random and weirrrd, and, in doing so, you can watch the lack of shittogetherness, of which duly occupies the very seat of your character like a bully usurper that hits you bc "he loves you," melt into a very (very) temporary oblivion and revel in what is before you without feeling paralyzing angst that is, usually, soo angst-y that you gotta pronounce that **** in German as if you were Schopenhauerly sitting at some non-descript desk in some non-descript room with your hand stroking your truly descript crazygeniusguy hair that is some kind of proto-Wolverine hairdo (and you wonder if Stan Lee was cryptically tipping his cap to S's philosophical pessimism with this peculiar gesture; consider googling it but don't because you've already googled too much sheeyt today), thinking (or brooding) about how much of a ******** Descartes is with his whole, yuhknow, theory about some ******* secret nanoputian angelic chemist that sits at the pearly gates of the Pineal Gland and performs the sacred transduction of the divine ghost, or whatever. Otherwise you are, like, consumed with analysis, which is a complete ******* bore and - let's face it - a thoroughly transparent attempt to sound smarter than you actually are.
This herbal tea I'm currently drinking has "rose hips" in it. Dear botany, that image is fun.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
I'd pen a paragraph
or two
scribble out a
scroll
for
you
the ink pours out this pen
to produce a pretty prose
that's true
hoping
to show my view
my hopes
my dreams
the best for you
don't waste life
heed
this
be true
to you
make mistakes
keep youth's virtue
get a tattoo
in fact
get two
try that awful hairdo
keep your family
close
remember their value
be spontaneous
an impromptu trip
to a beach
or igloo
hug your mother
when
she's blue
learn Kung fu or write haikus
just continue
down your own
avenue
I hope to be there to see
how you grew and take
some credit for the
you
that
is
you
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
MAN= "I thought you thtew those boots out"
In other words="I love your legs in those boots"...
MAN="You get to drive the new car tonight baby",
In other words="I'm getting smashed tonight",
MAN="That **** at the office had a ladder in her tights, how tacky",
In other words="My new secretary has great legs",
WOMAN="My god, look at the state of my hair",
In other words="You haven't noticed my new hairdo",
WOMAN="You look so tired tonight sweety",
In other words="You're not getting any tonight mister",
WOMAN=" *** that blue shirt you love is too tight, i'll buy a new one",
In other words="I mixed the wash, your blue shirt is pink"...
Woman, Man, man Of Woe? I dont know. Let's just get along HMMMM????
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2009
Nov 22, 2009
Nov 22, 2009 at 6:51 AM UTC
-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She puts her hair up in a mop,
loose and tight sweats combined,
that leave everything,
everything,
to imagination mine
except her feet, always bare,
as if she breaths thru her
purple painted toenails,
exhaling her arousal smell
this hydra-headed hairdo mess,
spills up and over, down and under,
**** if it is not the most sexiest
hairdo I ever seen
she catches me staring,
she standing, on the kitchen ladder,
frowns a clowny pretend perturbed,
angry woman little girl pouty look
"what!
what are you looking at?
false exasperation, sighing angry like,
who she kidding....
"me?
nothing!"
"just watching and observing"
and this kids,
is how you write a
******* love poem,
never using
the word love
*******
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
Have you ever asked the question
How do pictures work?
They're just images of fleeting times
But worth a thousand words
I've got a box of thousands
In this box they're safe at last
They're memories all stored away
Of my childhood and my past
What happened to those people ?
Who were captured for a second
I guess some died and some grew up
At least, that's what I reckon
Sad images and happy ones
Just echos never heard
But memories come flooding back
Each one....a thousand words
That holiday, the fishing trip
A birthday that was fun
Each just a sliver of your life
A time that is now done
Look back and you are younger
All those people still alive
That picture of you at the lake
Where you first learned how to dive
They all sit here inside the box
Not one can be discarded
For each one is a piece of me
Of how my whole life started
There's some I can't remember
Really, more than you should know
And some, well..there's that hairdo
That's just one I'll never show
You look at them and wonder
What possessed me on that day
To take a picture of that place
And now, I could'nt say
Most names are lost to memory
But the faces I recall
I might know who some are in them
But I do not know them all
I wish that as I see them
I could spend more time with them
It would be just something special
To share a moment once again
For now, the box is hidden
In a cupboard, in the back
A box of little snippents
That have made up my lifes track
You look at some and wish
You could always stay that way
But life is not a fairy tale
It isn't Dorian Gray
Best put the pictures back now
Bring them out in years to come
For their story of a thousand words
Must start with only one
Don't throw away one photo
For each one fills in a hole
They're a picture of your being
And they all make up your soul
It's amazing how a picture
Wakes your mind, gives it a ****
Have you ever really wondered
Juist how do pictures work?
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
Shallow: a desert puddle, arid June
Voracious need for lavish fortune
Pseudo socialite, sprayed on tan
Would die in a minivan
Black Benz, hairdo, I, beep
Drowning in the deep
Judged by your frown
Risible
You will
Drown
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
Omigod, Donald T. ****
You unconscionable creep,
You are disgusting enough
To cost us all sleep.
If lies were US dollars
You sonofabitch
You would truly be
Obscenely rich.
It’s not enough for you
To have gold water faucets,
Crystal mirrors everywhere
And marble floors in closets
Now you want to play at
Being a savvy politician
Stands for Christian principles
From the missionary position.
Omigod, Donald T. ****
You unconscionable creep,
You are disgusting enough
To cost us all sleep.
With a changing cast of women
You call your lawful wives.
And you’re the one who wants
To control our very lives?
You utter your vituperation
At poor and the non-Christian.
Is having the world hate you
Part of your final mission?
If lies were US dollars
You sonofabitch
You would truly be
Obscenely rich.
You also want control of
Our country’s financial hopes.
If we fall for that stupid tale
Then we are a nation of dopes
Because you have bankrupted
More than the Monopoly game
Would allow a toddler to have
And that is quite a shame.
Omigod, Donald T. ****
You unconscionable creep,
You are disgusting enough
To cost us all sleep.
If lies were US dollars
You sonofabitch
You would truly be
Obscenely rich.
No, Mr. T **** please do
What is proper and fitting;
Call up the press and say
That you are finally quitting.
Tell them you were just testing
To see what the others would do.
So, kiss our collective ***** goodbye
And take with you that dumb hairdo.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
Going to at last quit smoking
Just talked to the long winded Quitline
I'm tired of hacking and choking
Birthday, December third deadline
Going to use the well known patch
I was successful once before
No frustration searching for match
Or missing lighter anymore
Hairdo won't be smelly, clothes stink
My mouth tasting like an ashtray
It should be easier I think
Cause I truly want it this way
Shocked, first time was simple for me
It lasted for over a year
Relapsed as you can plainly see
I'll do it again, will adhere
Apparent wrinkles will thank me
Blackened, struggling lungs will too
Patches are delivered for free
Like ads, I don't want to be blue
Added cost of smoking is steep
Now almost six dollars a pack
My jeans empty pockets run deep
I'll save money, quite a stack
There are certain times I'll miss it
After *** with morning coffee
Plus, I will be healthier, ****
Try it, it's completely free
(1-800-784-8669)
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 11:36 AM UTC
I will not subject myself to a painting that suits your colonized eyes
So that when you suddenly bump into me in the general kitchen like you did today,
You would not hop and scream in high pitches like you have just seen the devil with his many horns
I was just admiring my long, artistic hairdo, until your reaction challenged my conviction
And when i asked you why you were so scared as if your ghost will vanish from you
You mumbled some gibberish
So with mixed feelings, I first laughed hysterically from your exaggerated reaction
But not without the vivid thought of the motive behind your fear
It was crystal clear in my mind
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
When I imagine you.
You are not the you I see in reality.
In my dreams I see silky smooth skin.
I open my eyes and I see your burnt out fuse box grin.
Eyes shut and you have gorgeous eyes.
Eyes open and your wrinkles are enough to surprise.
My fantasy is nice flowing brown curly hair.
In real life your Hairdo has the capacity to scare!
Do I care?
No.
You are a dream out of sleep.
As....
Beauty is only skin deep!
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
i
Mount Malindang calleth me, it showeth me mine queen is there
She resteth up upon the greenery, picturesque perfect, I stare;
Inside the emulsion picture, her smile paint's the walls with red
Red for the love she engulf's me in, as roses align her sloped bed.
ii
Sketched on is her hairdo, beehive swathed, fairy tale written
Her wing's hath Baguette's, as tis the Baguette's art from heaven;
Comely she supplyeth, a king's every need's, as tis amour' we feed
Companied she warm's me, swarms me, ourn amare to all leak's.
iii
Concourse of the multitude, gathering beneathe ourn sloped hut
Ourn roof may be a little leaky, though ourn affection wilt fill up;
As tis we our a abode to ourselves, no straw mansion needed
A Convocation of cheribum watcher's, protect us in rainy season.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©,あある じぇえん
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC