"heartbreakers" poems
i'm your o so wanna be lover
I'm afraid not what you would expect though
i admit to being a difficult pleasure
perhaps
a tad strange looking
squishy with long tentacles
half man half octopus
with a winking cycloptic eye
i entreat you
looks can be deceiving
how many pretty boys have you loved
crawling worms for a soul
that have left you a ruined creel
a jagged cry chattering tears of desolation
have you ever asked your self
who adores you
who would give all to protect love and cherish
i'm waving my eight arms at you
from the center of the universe
i eat black holes to kiss your ***
am i not a cosmic horror
with my big Cthulhu smile
quivering with tenderness
do you hunger for butter **** lollypop
i have two big **** heartbreakers
with teardrop curves
a feast for your ravenous holes of emptiness
and many armed tentacles to hold you tight
to slither all over your tender woven caves
to pull you into me
with suckers that thrill
during swirling inky *****
i will unravel your mind
your soul tilthed
if you can get passed
my
gray rubbery boneless head
i can push this shape-shifting balloon face
through your annul tubular contours
all the way up your beautiful ***
licking
salivating
tickling into your
tender bowel and throat
like a great dancing tongue
a stretched waving goodness
entering your mouth from the back side
can pretty pretty do that?
come slowly unto me my beloved
i am all chromatophores
endless glittering nightlights
incandescent
so we may wander our way through long dim nights ******
in the deep deep dark
with tentacle ***** galore
an infinity of entertainment
for every crevice and desire
and one winking cycloptic eye
that pierces your soul
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
Haters HeartBreakers
I forgive you'll
Its Ramadan
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
when you're young you
hear all the stories about
the monsters under your
bed or in your closet or
hiding in the shadows
but no one ever bothers
to tell you about the ones
hiding in beautiful eyes
and unforgettable smiles
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:12 AM UTC
I saw you on the news again, aiming lies at civilians
You work like a serf to abhor the herd, which was merged by Lords to bore and encore, like a trap door in a dungeon.
What you earth and managed has got me famished, like the dense or pretentious, the meek and the senseless
And type endings to the finest that cry less, the winos that digress, or the shyest who digest
The plate which was purchased, paid to feed liars by the loudest were poisoned by us rebels running incense to the proudest.
Violently passive when distracted, these masses wreck havoc to have their heads handed to them
Sullen sweet to deter, you lure and reserve what is versed or inferred or implied or implored
Like the goodbyed or complied or the ladies waiting with lunacy lining their luxury gowns
Your disheveled and neat demanding appearance has me locked down with pirates and principle pilots
Dulled sick, they spy less, echo with insist, enlist and exist
As terrorists and presidents
Marked with malice making misfits that were mocked and disgraced, maced or laced by daydreams and magicians to assist beggars behind blueprints constructing islands
Which make slaves in to riots that capture journalists under wide tense
To suspend or impend doom sent hell bent by your priestess
You conduct chaos with fast hints, but quit slow when engaged with your conscience
Touched by divine tricks
Decided and destined, best in business
Prince of the wise man
Captain of the compassionate
Comrades with the crack heads singing anthems in kingdoms
We are heartbreakers painting bad graffiti
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
Since then...I allowed my heart to take whatever form it wanted.
I trusted the process, letting the heart mould itself as it is supposed to.
I had ample faith that the end is far....little did I realise the end is right next to me.
At first, it felt like a bulldozer had savaged my entire being.
Your words left my mind empty, without a way forward.
A deep grave of hate slowly formed...that is where you would end up.
As appetizing the thought...I want nothing to do you.
Even you residing in my den of enemies is not worth it.
I have done a thorough clean up of hoodlums and heartbreakers like you.
You seem so pointless. This anger towards you is pointless.
I look forward to the treasures that will bloom from this. I'm convinced there are treasures.
You have no hold over my dreams and I refuse to allow my heart to slump in your filth.
It was hard, felt like the world was dumped on my shoulders, soul dark and heavy, mouth dry and tears flooding my living room.
But after a serious self-talk....I remembered my worth, remembered you mean nothing to me....you have no hold on my destiny.
The love you spoke of was and is fake. I don't need it.
I don't need that sort of make-believe love which has no truth...
The kind that loves the idea of love...yet despises love itself.
I have no place for thieves and liars....robbers and fakes.
My mind keeps telling me this is for the best and that better days are to come.
I feel sorry for the one you chose, she knows nothing of your hoodlum ways and smooth tongue.
Coated with every lie possible yet disguised with a fake-romance finish.
She knows not of your empty heart...
your inability to be real...
your other side...
your effortless ways of hurting another...
precious time which meant zero to you...
your exhausted yet experienced hands..
your over used 'I will wait for you'....
your conniving ways disguised by caring efforts...
your smile and charm packaged by pure deceit.
She is clueless. And so in love....I shake my head in despair for you dear sister.
I trust you will not endure the heartache I did.
I hope he will see you a better person than I.
I trust he repects you. Genuinely loves you.
She will bear the brunt of your heart smashing ways.
I am done and over the 'could haves & would haves'...
New day brings new opportunity.
Time to listen to my soul and feed my mind.
Re-enjoy the beauty of living and re-mind myself of may chosen path.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
I sit and I dream,
a parasitic dream,
where we aren't
who we were
and we aren't
how we seem.
Where I eat you
and you eat me
and somehow
we're still
happy.
In each pile of
body on body
I walk by
loneliness
and loss.
I love you's
and
I hate me's
saturate the air's
conscience.
Us,
the nation and all
are pinned against
each wall
being ******
mercilessly.
We are
**********
heartbreakers.
Our ***** are
property of
others:
intellectual property.
In my dream,
where I dream,
everyone
I've ever loved,
is dreaming
and
trapped in a pit
of motorized
rubber ******
where the rubber
pumps and eats,
pumps and eats,
breaking ribs,
shattering spines,
ripping esophagus,
splitting spirit like
tissue paper.
Bodies ripped apart
by branded, artificial
"love":
society's configuration.
Brand recognition.
Product placement.
Motor salad.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
**All Hours of the Night
That range of time is too random
to be alone in the dark with yourself
It's the loneliest time to think you over
because like the sweetest stanza
of the prettiest poem no one will ever read;
we were pointless
If I can recall
you said so yourself
My faith in the possibility had been exhausted
My heart...
I've since changed the lock
with no bother about a spare key
Sounds like some slick ****
a poet assigned to you would say
I found a reasoning you should try yourself...
I trust nothing;
I know me too well
to believe I can talk myself into getting over you
You must be proud of yourself
the way you get all up in me right under my nose
My defenses though... just in case
My personality splits
All Hours of the Night
I captain this hook
and refuse to pardon heartbreakers
with three strikes at love
I rob in the hood
I'll take everyone for everything
and give anything I can get away with to you
Those are my instincts
There's nowhere to go to get around yourself
I work like a fool
but when the struggle rises above my head
I learn to swim again
What's a synonym for dope boy
Started as a runner
Stick up kids out to tax
when bust your gun
is all you've got going for yourself
Around and around
and I hate that I love your badside
All Hours of the Night
By the rim of your ears
and nape of your neck
To the point of your *******
and past your belly's button
Until my mouth found your flower's fruit
and sipped its juice;
Until your *** was trickling down my chin
I wanna lick you senseless
Imagine that...
I thought you were ready
but knew about the clause in your description denouncing heavy lifting
And our love was like dead weight back when
At least there's that...
I'd have to eat the blame one way or the other
I've seen you zing it from your index finger
at everyone but yourself
You ain't for this life
A mountain lion
would knaw off it's leg to escape capture...
Is that a chill or a phantom sensation
All Hours of the Night
You were on some other **** yourself
The way you captained this hook
and made me wanna pardon heartbreakers
with three strikes at love
Those are your instincts;
Never trick where you lay your head
Keep your family close and your haters closer
Improve yourself
Progress
Prevail
And money before good ****
Sounds like some slick ****
a demon assigned to a poet would say
in the condescending tone
you've owned
since the very first frame
I found a reasoning you should try yourself...
I trust nothing
You must be proud of yourself**
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
I hate how they never warn little girls
to beware the pretty boys
with eyes like gleaming jewels.
The boys with soft smiles
and music in their laugh.
They never warn
of boys with pretty faces
and blackened hearts.
The boys that leave little girls
crying in the dark.
The ones with words like honey,
sickly sweet.
The princes with big money,
who we dream of sweeping us off our feet.
They never speak
of boys with danger in their eyes.
But beauty true blue.
Little girls are never told
of boys of silver and boys of gold.
The little kings,
with angel wings.
The little beast neither soft nor sweet.
The beauty bombshells,
the golden adonis’s.
They never speak of boys
who run like the winds
under their feet.
The boys who shine
like the stars in the sky.
The boys with the world in their grubby mitts.
The boys with lips like cotton candy,
and sins warm and rich.
The ones who have our
stomachs doing flips.
The ones who seem to have it all
shoulders back, standing tall.
They never caution of
little boys with clever minds
and nimble fingers.
Of boys with Shakespeare's sonnets in their hair
and love songs in their whispers.
But little girl,
I am telling you now.
Beware the pigtail pullers,
fear the little Romeos.
Heed the heartbreakers
Shun smooth talkers.
Little girl,
don’t give in.
Little girl,
fear their sins.
Little girl,
run away.
Little girl,
don’t stay to play.
Little girl,
don’t stop and stare.
Little girl,
don’t twirl your hair.
Little girl,
please, listen to me!
Little girl,
loath the charming pretty boys.
For they are like roses
and like roses
they have thorns.
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
The heartbroken always become the heartbreakers. If you don't agree, spend the night with me.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
*We lose so much talent to addiction
Some of you may not care, but I do
This is my tribute to them*
**Alan Wilson
Canned Heat
Jimi Hendrix
The Jimi Hendrix Experience
Janis Joplin
Jim Morrison
The Doors
Brian Cole
The Association
Billy Murcia
New York Dolls
Danny Whitten
Crazy Horse
Gram Parsons
The Stooges
Gary Thain
Uriah Heep
Elvis Presley
Gregory Herbert
Blood, Sweat & Tears
Keith Moon
The Who
Sid Vicious
*** Pistols
Lowell George
Little Feat
Jimmy McCulloch
Wings
John Bonham
Led Zeppelin
Darby Crash
Germs
James Honeyman-Scott
Pretenders
Pete Farndon
Pretenders
Paul Gardiner
Tubeway Army
Gary Holton
Heavy Metal Kids
Phil Lynott
Thin Lizzy
Andrew Wood
Mother Love Bone
Brent Mydland
Grateful Dead
Steve Clark
Def Leppard
Johnny Thunders
New York Dolls
David Ruffin
The Temptations
Kristen Pfaff
Hole
Shannon Hoon
Blind Melon
Bradley Nowell
Sublime
John Kahn
Jerry Garcia Band
Jonathan Melvoin
The Smashing Pumpkins
Billy Mackenzie
Associates
West Arkeen
The Outpatience
Nick Traina
Link 80
John Baker Saunders
Mad Season
Bobby Sheehan
Blues Traveler
Wes Berggren
Tripping Daisy
Allen Woody
The Allman Brothers Band
Carl Crack
Atari Teenage Riot
Layne Staley
Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons
Kurt Cobain
Nirvana
Dee Dee
Ramones
Robbin Crosby
Ratt
John Entwistle
The Who
Howie Epstein
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Jeremy Michael Ward
De Facto
Tim Hemensley
GOD
Dave Schulthise
The Dead Milkmen
Rick James
Kevin DuBrow
Quiet Riot
Ike Turner
Gidget Gein
Marilyn Manson
Jay Bennett
Wilco
Michael Jackson
The Rev
Avenged Sevenfold
Paul Gray
Slipknot
Mike Starr
Alice in Chains
Amy Winehouse**
*We are not bad people, we just have bad ways
Yet, not many understand*
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Too striking,
those two dark eyes-
both heartbreakers.
Mine less gorgeous.
Like my flowery perfume,
my short, flirty skirt,
supposed to be charming.
But, as we danced
His eyes flitted
briefly to my neck or my hair
Not jealous
Studying
Scolding
my droll twirl
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
The other morning,
As opposed to this one,
(There was indeed
Another morning)
As I walked the
10 1/2 blocks to work,
I passed by a playground
Full of post grad
Parents who dress
Real nice
Real fashionable
And all of their
Children who are
Dressed the same, in
Non gender specific
Garb, because it’s
2011 not last century
And they run and
Scream and get
Their thrift store
Clothes all *****
They laugh and I
Hear crying
And reprimanding
And ‘good job!’
And I can’t help but
See the future in
These kids, with
Their well adjusted
Parents adjusting
Them well to the world
And making sure
They follow all the
Advice in the hip
Parenting and child
Psychology books they
Read, and I see
Among the smiling
Innocent faces
Yet to be
Drug addicts
Wife beaters
Alcoholics
Strippers
Drunk drivers
Liars
Cheaters
Thieves
Heartbreakers
And the occasional
College grad
Who will be well
Adjusted
And will adjust
The child they have
At 34
Very well to the
New society
So that
Child can become
A date ******
Or a car thief
Or a vagrant
Or maybe a college
Grad who
Will be well adjusted
And adjust their child well.
Our children are the future.
Go to school, kids.
Adjust.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:37 PM UTC
we torture ourselves
and our hurting hearts
to keep ******** friends
we go ******* insane
keeping relationships
from burning up in flames
and turning into dust
we lose our self
put it on the shelf
trying and trying
hoping to receive love
hoping to get back
all we willingly give
but we get none of it
leaves unbearing
feeling of guilt
feeling of disgust
for caring so much
about tricksters
the heartbreakers
the selfish ones
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
It's time to shake our money makers
and see if we find any takers
i'm telling you, we're real heartbreakers
we were born to be *** shakers
don't look past my body and face
that would be a total waste
we really know a woman's place
just another wasted case
don't talk to us about intellect
that's a concept that we reject
we let our looks and sensuality reflect
our total mindless neglect
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
I remember all the "chosen ones"
All the ones that caught my eyes
I recall all of the villains
And the classic "nice guys"
I remember all the Romeos
The seducers and wooers alike
I knew all the "we're just friends"
And "love you like a brother" types
I remember all the gentlemen
The ones who held the door
I'm branded by the cretins though
And made of me a *****
I remember so many of the talking boys
The ones who needed to vent
They'd knew I never slept at night
And converse until the blackness was spent
I remember all the heartbreakers
And those few that never left
The randoms that came sneaking in
The ones who thought they knew best
I remember the wishful thinking
And the craving to catch your eyes
I acknowledge the reluctance of letting you go
And at times I never tried
I remember the lessons
And I repeat the mistakes
There're so many fish in the sea
And I only have a lake
Please remember that I loved you
Or I did the best that I could do
And if there's a part of you remembers me
Just know my memory is perfect too
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
radio music is a memory recalled all too clearly. resting in an electric cage we take to the cemetery, a friend’s house, the museum. //
guitar wails, sighs, screams, whispers.
flick of the wrist, exhale of the mind. //
i have a hum i keep to myself
the acoustics of a hollow heart
and a roar for both us heartbreakers. //
anthems for our country and for a shared self-loathing, performer and listener. //
songs for the street and songs for the stage. wells in our throats. they’ll tell you the water of the earth is not the water for drinking. //
why are some sounds just
sad
//
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 2:31 PM UTC
You and I are revolutionaries
Right up to the ruckus we cause daily
Switchblade tongues
And coal black lungs
And bittersweet intentions.
We are the voice of a generation
We the Degenerates
We the Proletariats
We the Lost and Found among the wreckage of the millennial metropolis.
Living in our forever 21 society
Governed by no laws and lack of sobriety
We the reckless
We the ruthless
We the key board warriors
Pixels and manic pixie dream girl *******
**** boys, man buns, Jordan's not brogues
We the soulless love makers
We the relentless heartbreakers
We the snapchat sexters, molesters
We the grotesque.
You and I know no boundaries
Lines crossed and used as skipping ropes
As ***** jokes, cut throat and savage
We the endless trouble makers
We who know the end is nigh
Hiccuping our ways through orchestrated lies
Screaming and bellowing our silent pleas to this world of terror alight
Setting fire to ourselves daily
We the terrified
We the unjustifiable
We the hopeful sad
We the gods of everything and nothing
We the repercussion of double standards
140 characters in every psalm
We the unforgiving
We the unholy
We the non believers
We the incomprehensible in the face of sin
You and I are not recognised by x or Y
We identify in binary with the wind and the stars
Honest realisation that our little lives are insignificant to the monologue of the universe
Lighthearted libertines light years ahead and behind
We the star struck
We the scientists and academics
We the prophets
The artisans
The beauty queens
The mystics and cynics
And I am the voice of a generation you rendered speechless
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
IN THE AFTER-TIME
" Alice thought she
had never seen such
a curious croquet
ground in all her life; "
It was somewheres near
Roswell
18 something and something
there or there...abouts
& Billy the Kid &
the boys have just
...paused:
in their croquet
for a tintype photo.
Billy's the guy
in the cardigan sweater.
Him & his gang
( the Regulators )
are posing like
they were a prototype
for
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
or the band
THE BAND.
Pure Americana.
Billy the cardi-cowboy and
his gang of croquet playing outlaws...
Not exactly how
one would have somehow
imagined them
. . .passing the time.
One of the outlaw...eh...gentlemen
points out that
Billy
" . . .the Kid has spooned
his shot!"
A ricochet of tobacco coloured
spittle hits a spittoon.
Silence congeals
about the accusation.
Now, whether Billy has
merely pushed the ball
silently through rather than
soundly hit it
is:
neither here nor there.
A cold revolver
clicks &
"I says I hit it...I hit it
get it?"
The other gentleman outlaw
begs to agree.
"Ok, Billy boy...keep yer
cardi on!"
And so, we leave them
there
in the croquet craze of
1878.
Time like a yellow ball
hit through hoop after
hoop until: it arrives
at this
present...NOW!
And a photo found in a store
for a dollar or a few dollars more
repays the expense
by morphing into
the 5 million dollar
photo.
But I hit the ball
back through hoop after
hoop after hoop
until it arrives back
at Billy's boot.
And a voice cries:
"Ok, kid...play!"
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
whoa...
whoa...
I’ve got only me, only me..
heartbreakers after another
left with broken pieces
picking up after myself
putting myself back together
I’ve got only me, only me
I can only handle one heartbreak at a time
what they all are doing to me is a crime
million pieces of me and it only takes time
For me to get back on my feet
And be able to face life once again
The pain, the pain
Intolerable but I bear it
When things fall apart
I just carry myself
To somewhere, someplace
In solace
Where I can completely fall apart
No point in crying over someone
when you know it’s the truth
I can’t be loved
I can’t be touched
I’ve got only me, only me
Confused, lost over pieces
That don’t go where they belong
I’ve realized all along
I’ve been meant to be in pieces
Only someone can put me back together
Complete me, oh...............
until now and until then
I’ve got only me, only me...
By Steven B. Craig May 2012
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 12:38 PM UTC
I hope that our kids inherit our sense of humor,
and the sense of what a smile truly means,
I hope they inherit your stature so that people know they can trust them,
breathe, and just feel safe,
my fiery passion, partnered with your leaps and bounds of compassion.
I hope they have the same caring and understanding,
that I see in your eyes, along with the green and gold flecks of mine.
I hope they inherit my singing voice that tugs at your heartstrings,
and for their sakes I hope they have your dance skills,
and that my clumsy gene manages to skip a few generations.
I hope they have your sturdy, healing hands, covered in my soft chinchilla skin.
I hope they have your seemingly endless heart and never have to experience any of my pains.
Your plump perfect lips and our thick blonde hair.
Your strong sense of self and ability to look at all sides, but just a bit of my indecisiveness.
Our spontaneity and your good ideas.
Your love of breakfast and our courageous spirits but maybe,
Your cautious driving habits.
Your Smile that makes me melt, but ****
if they do we are going to have some heartbreakers on our hands.
<3
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 12:23 AM UTC
I. people will judge from the outside as if they had it all figured out, and it will hurt. don't give in. humans are selfish and envious and that's the main reason why I have no interest in becoming one.
II. look for happiness and once you find it hold on to it as you would hold on to the bouquet of roses the bride throws after the wedding ceremony, as you will hold onto your baby's first lost tooth, as you held your mother's hand when you crossed the street and how she squeezed a little to hard out of love and fear. and those glimpses of happiness that have passed and all those that are yet to come, will make this all worth it.
III. you'll never get to please them all. you don't even have to try.
all you have to do is make sure that the decisions you make are actually coming from you. keep in mind that no one not a friend a boyfriend not even your mother will have to live with the choices you make, no one but yourself.
IV. if you want to drink, **** it tequila will taste better than his goodbye, and drugs are available and will make you forget all the reasons why he couldn't stick around, you can get A's if you put your mind up to it, just make sure whatever you choose to pour your soul makes your pulse race and your heart skip a beat.
V. never settle. wait for someone who will make you laugh and will be as much of a talker as you are, and who will support you in every decision, that last one is important. you are worth a freakin lot for you to be losing your time with ******** and cocky heartbreakers.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Will one ever — bake
and have too much cake
till their buds goes out of shake
Will one ever — watch
horror movies to much
till they no longer feel as afraid as they used to be
Will one ever — love
someone so dearly
they hold each other so closely
till one day they just
storm out the door furiously
Will one ever — hurt
their hearts too easily
they fall so quickly
in traps so clumsily
they get their hearts broken too much
by people who only loved them for a touch
so worthless they felt, they're now in parts
that they start on breaking other's hearts
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
Everything is gone now, just a jack-in-the box that scares
money's already wasted, **** it I never cared,
as usual this life has leadened, sped up my sorry death -
a song written for the heartbreakers; sung upon my last breath
bloated and black, happiness not as it seemed
destroying the gift that for years I've dreamed,
she gave me her heart and I slashed it wide open
for its clear to see I cannot love, it's clear to see I am broken -
who needs love and it's pathetic excuses
a gnawing feeling both corrosive and abusive,
thy gargantuan question looms with a killer in it's eyes -
had I been in a relationship built upon lies?
Flowers of abnormality bloom upon ashes of mistrust
as my tortured soul frantically flounders in the dust -
down
down
down
the downward spiral again I am shoved,
forever asking if I can ever love, and in return be loved.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 7:14 PM UTC
I write poetry in my head quite a lot
but I forget when I wake up
just like I have forgotten how to breathe
somehow that happens in the spaces between your ears
in through your nose
out through your mouth
my parents told me this a lot
when they were together
I don't remember them being together
besides when the argued in the room painted with dandelions
that was my room, my mother painted it
I don't want to be like my parents
I'd rather forget how to breathe
than stab someone's heart
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC