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"joplin" poems
There is a hole in the world All the doors are painted a shade of liars faces their colors while arriving are also fading but we are still here.. Where corroding slats of 63 year old wood sound like the screams echoing across the crumbling pages of days burnt yellow beneath the fire of eyes The purple pouring through unseen waves in the dusk sky as Janis joplin sang gray star clouds into my heart she sewed my wounds with the ash of of bodies adrift of lovers living only in the mirage air disguised as smiles everlasting glass of the empty kind of love that lies, and never breathes yet forever dies dreams devour you with tears remembering the terror in Janis's eyes, she poured herself out across the floor of the perishing world while performing "work me lord" "live at stockholm 69'" to the dark, we were never there we were born into hands that were dying we breathed our last breath of freedom- then we were born, It was then that I heard the darkness cry. we are dying.. because we have forgotten the free gift given, our lightless bones loose around the spine of every bolt we never knew, strengthened our stance against the murderous long night. Choosing blindness, over looking without sight, The invisible mountain, that breathed in our corroding dusty hearts, weilding love against the demons behind our mirror eyes.. Refusing to call his name.. we have lived for each one of us just for ourselves ("selflove") so it is this then, we have sold our freedom to the lie named death.
0
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 2:42 AM UTC
And, so it was that in those days; the lips of clouds erupted!
There is a hole in the world All the doors are painted a shade of liars faces their colors while arriving are also fading but we are still here.. Where corroding slats of 63 year old wood sound like the screams echoing across the crumbling pages of days burnt yellow beneath the fire of eyes The purple pouring through unseen waves in the dusk sky as Janis joplin sang gray star clouds into my heart she sewed my wounds with the ash of of bodies adrift of lovers living only in the mirage air disguised as smiles everlasting glass of the empty kind of love that lies, and never breathes yet forever dies dreams devour you with tears remembering the terror in Janis's eyes, she poured herself out across the floor of the perishing world while performing "work me lord" "live at stockholm 69'" to the dark, we were never there we were born into hands that were dying we breathed our last breath of freedom- then we were born, It was then that I heard the darkness cry. we are dying.. because we have forgotten the free gift given, our lightless bones loose around the spine of every bolt we never knew, strengthened our stance against the murderous long night. Choosing blindness, over looking without sight, The invisible mountain, that breathed in our corroding dusty hearts, weilding love against the demons behind our mirror eyes.. Refusing to call his name.. we have lived for each one of us just for ourselves ("selflove") so it is this then, we have sold our freedom to the lie named death.
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65
I had Joe Willie from jump. The Jets were off the chain Baltimore benched Johnny U cause he knew the game. And played it too. The AFL was full of bells and whistles.Speed kills Three yards and a cloud of dust. Get real coach. We shootin rockets to da moon. High tops . Cmon pops. Change the guard. Them people ain't done nothing to me said Ali. Da Nang ain't my thang.  He was the greatest. Still is. The Haight was great.  Oh yeah Kent STATE. 1968. Open the gate to the house of the rising sun. Joplin. And Jimmy. Marvin and Tammy. The Doors and Hair. ****** in the air What rhymes with Agent Orange...... Nothing.
0
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Age of Aquarius
I frequent a little taco stand Every time that I'm out west With Elvis behind the counter Dressed in his leathers best Janice Joplin doing dishes With Southern Comfort breath Arguing with fry cook Jim Morrison Over the best way of cheating death Jimi Hendrix works the tables That they have set up out front Recommending the mushroom taco With the psychedelic crunch Marilyn Monroe...the entertainment Nightly serenades the gents While wearing here favorite T-shirt Bobby Kennedy for president I highly recommend the little taco stand If you ever find yourself out West Who's going to show up to take your order that day Could be anybody's guess
0
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 7:51 AM UTC
Mid-Western Taco Stand
You're so beautiful darling, your words can move mountains even when you think they can't touch an anthill. You are a rebel with a cause and the cause is me. You are Janis Joplin in the evening, without the ****** "Darling, I love you" "I love you, darling" and there was no need to say "too" Three words were enough to throw a curveball in a hockey rink, to ride horses in a car race, to love someone at night and even more in the morning. You are an earthquake, I know you'll break my heart but I welcome it. It would be such an honor to be broken by you. You are my guilty pleasure and all of my proud ones. I want to tattoo you on my skin in places only I can see so that every time I take off my sweater and my tshirt and everything masking my scars and tree rings of age, I will always be surprised to find you. I want to hold you in the crevice of my elbow like a baby and never ever let you go. Darling, you're a willow tree that I write poems under. In the most poetic way, I found you in hallways, always. In my high school where I hid in the bathrooms, Jane loves John and everything else scribbled in hearts in bad ninth grade writing. I found you there. I find you here, in my heart. You are filled with blood, you are 72% water that I would gladly drown in. I think if I kissed you you'd poison me with your lips. You are the forked tongue of desire. I want to talk to you about dreams, I want to be your sweetest nightmare. I don't want you to question reality but if you do, think you're lucid dreaming. Because I want you to want me around; even when you're sleeping. You are 2am with the lights on and the music loud. You are a five hour time difference dancing inside of me like a storm. If my knees wouldn't give out, I would run to you. And when they did, I would crawl to you. My hands scraped from debris from car crashes, you are electric. You are heat lightning. You give me flashes of hope on a humid day. You are a winter breeze through a cracked window in all of the glorious ways that could be glorious. I will whisper to you that I don't know why I'm whispering, there is nobody home, "I love you" sounds better in hushed tones. You're so beautiful, Darling. The prettiest pictures you'll ever take will be self-portraits. Don't argue with me, I know you're stubborn. It's written in the stars. You can move me like a mountain or an anthill because your strength is a blood diamond permanently placed on my left hand. I did, I do, I will. You are forever.
0
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
You Are Forever
You're so beautiful darling, your words can move mountains even when you think they can't touch an anthill. You are a rebel with a cause and the cause is me. You are Janis Joplin in the evening, without the ****** "Darling, I love you" "I love you, darling" and there was no need to say "too" Three words were enough to throw a curveball in a hockey rink, to ride horses in a car race, to love someone at night and even more in the morning. You are an earthquake, I know you'll break my heart but I welcome it. It would be such an honor to be broken by you. You are my guilty pleasure and all of my proud ones. I want to tattoo you on my skin in places only I can see so that every time I take off my sweater and my tshirt and everything masking my scars and tree rings of age, I will always be surprised to find you. I want to hold you in the crevice of my elbow like a baby and never ever let you go. Darling, you're a willow tree that I write poems under. In the most poetic way, I found you in hallways, always. In my high school where I hid in the bathrooms, Jane loves John and everything else scribbled in hearts in bad ninth grade writing. I found you there. I find you here, in my heart. You are filled with blood, you are 72% water that I would gladly drown in. I think if I kissed you you'd poison me with your lips. You are the forked tongue of desire. I want to talk to you about dreams, I want to be your sweetest nightmare. I don't want you to question reality but if you do, think you're lucid dreaming. Because I want you to want me around; even when you're sleeping. You are 2am with the lights on and the music loud. You are a five hour time difference dancing inside of me like a storm. If my knees wouldn't give out, I would run to you. And when they did, I would crawl to you. My hands scraped from debris from car crashes, you are electric. You are heat lightning. You give me flashes of hope on a humid day. You are a winter breeze through a cracked window in all of the glorious ways that could be glorious. I will whisper to you that I don't know why I'm whispering, there is nobody home, "I love you" sounds better in hushed tones. You're so beautiful, Darling. The prettiest pictures you'll ever take will be self-portraits. Don't argue with me, I know you're stubborn. It's written in the stars. You can move me like a mountain or an anthill because your strength is a blood diamond permanently placed on my left hand. I did, I do, I will. You are forever.
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45
I frequent a little taco stand Every time I'm out in the Mid-West With Elvis behind the counter Dressed in his leather best Janice Joplin doing the dishes With enchilada breath Arguing with the fry cook Jim Morrison Over the  best way of cheating death Jimi Hendrix works the tables That they have set up out front Recommending the mushroom taco With the psychedelic crunch Marilyn Monroe...the entertainment Nightly serenades the gents Wearing her favorite T-shirt Bobby Kennedy for president I highly recommend the little taco stand If you ever find yourself out West Who's going to show up to take your order that day Could be anybody's guess...
0
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Mid-West Taco Stand
my favourite song is sail to the moon live by radiohead and when he replied that it was his as well I was overwhelmed we layed together and let the haunting phonics echo through your room uninterrupted I pressed my head to your chest and let your heart beat sync with the sound two days later you told me you loved me and I was astounded when I heard the same words fall from my lips I fell asleep listening to radiohead my head on the pillow and my heart in your hands everyone warns you about heartbreak They say that young love never lasts and while they may be right I ask Myself why I was never warned of the danger of a different kind of fracture You broke my taste in music you **** Teenage relationships don't generally end in divorces but the forces were at play and it ended anyway Nobody worries about who walks away with the songs you've loved since childhood Like Bono was my dude but you loved Beautiful Day so now we're not on good terms Like Real People Do was the jam but you ruined it man Why did I have to talk to you about music, Janis Joplin, was poppin and Bob Dylan was killin but I told you all about it and now I'm not about it the opening bars of sail to the moon rip me in open and while we didnt have children I'm the short amount of time that we were living In each other's embrace music was our offspring and someone should have warned me about this thing where you aren't supposed to overshare and though I have many questions about why it ended, why it's still going on, the biggest are why I told you my favourite song and after the pseudo divorce Who the hell gets custody of radiohead??
0
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
who gets custody of radiohead?
my favourite song is sail to the moon live by radiohead and when he replied that it was his as well I was overwhelmed we layed together and let the haunting phonics echo through your room uninterrupted I pressed my head to your chest and let your heart beat sync with the sound two days later you told me you loved me and I was astounded when I heard the same words fall from my lips I fell asleep listening to radiohead my head on the pillow and my heart in your hands everyone warns you about heartbreak They say that young love never lasts and while they may be right I ask Myself why I was never warned of the danger of a different kind of fracture You broke my taste in music you **** Teenage relationships don't generally end in divorces but the forces were at play and it ended anyway Nobody worries about who walks away with the songs you've loved since childhood Like Bono was my dude but you loved Beautiful Day so now we're not on good terms Like Real People Do was the jam but you ruined it man Why did I have to talk to you about music, Janis Joplin, was poppin and Bob Dylan was killin but I told you all about it and now I'm not about it the opening bars of sail to the moon rip me in open and while we didnt have children I'm the short amount of time that we were living In each other's embrace music was our offspring and someone should have warned me about this thing where you aren't supposed to overshare and though I have many questions about why it ended, why it's still going on, the biggest are why I told you my favourite song and after the pseudo divorce Who the hell gets custody of radiohead??
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24
she opens a pack of sheffield english type  number five cigarettes i rest my head in her lap as she reads a french newspaper its raining in paris and theres a girl there who is unhappy dreams of romantic places never have sad girls in them she must be a tourist she sips some strange brew of teas that has a heavy bouquet loam and flowers..like a sweet wine she suddenly laughs and translates a piece of the french news for me but i dont hear what she says i only hear the rich beauty of her voice i only hear the captivating beauties of her i lean up and kiss her she tastes of the sea and english cigarettes i am lost in her essence and her her girlish delights she pokes me and makes me look at a photograph in the paris newspaper...its the sad girl she looks english that graceful beautiful elegant sadness that only english girls can speak without ever saying a word jezebel sips her tea and smokes her english sheffield cigarette holding it like girls hold cigarettes in that dainty way i forget the english girl and her sadness as i lay looking into the eyes of this dreadlock hippie queen janis joplin plays softly from her mp3 shes tapping her bejewelled toes to the ancient music bachelors in literature she loves the written word she has read everything ever written by anyone she has read her way through forty years worth of poetry by me and corrected my atrocious spelling along the way this is morning in her arms now you know why i am so in love with her now you see why she is everything to me she leans down and lays a single tender kiss on my cheek and tells me she loves me this is heaven
0
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
this is morning in her arms
she opens a pack of sheffield english type  number five cigarettes i rest my head in her lap as she reads a french newspaper its raining in paris and theres a girl there who is unhappy dreams of romantic places never have sad girls in them she must be a tourist she sips some strange brew of teas that has a heavy bouquet loam and flowers..like a sweet wine she suddenly laughs and translates a piece of the french news for me but i dont hear what she says i only hear the rich beauty of her voice i only hear the captivating beauties of her i lean up and kiss her she tastes of the sea and english cigarettes i am lost in her essence and her her girlish delights she pokes me and makes me look at a photograph in the paris newspaper...its the sad girl she looks english that graceful beautiful elegant sadness that only english girls can speak without ever saying a word jezebel sips her tea and smokes her english sheffield cigarette holding it like girls hold cigarettes in that dainty way i forget the english girl and her sadness as i lay looking into the eyes of this dreadlock hippie queen janis joplin plays softly from her mp3 shes tapping her bejewelled toes to the ancient music bachelors in literature she loves the written word she has read everything ever written by anyone she has read her way through forty years worth of poetry by me and corrected my atrocious spelling along the way this is morning in her arms now you know why i am so in love with her now you see why she is everything to me she leans down and lays a single tender kiss on my cheek and tells me she loves me this is heaven
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39
*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*
0
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Forgotten and Appriciated
*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*
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117
If I could pick the menu, I'd choose a tasty appetizer of Hendrix pituitary, & a huge salad covered with Joplin cortex. Plant's gray matter for the main course, sides of Jaggar & Morrison stems, along with a bottle of Springsteen spinal fluid. I'd definitely have to order an ample sweet-portion of Daltrey thalamus & sprinkle it with some Cobain lobes. A shot of John's cranium with a nightcap of Townsend cerebellum would surely hit the spot.
0
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
Zombie Rocker
Stepping out of the February cold, Janie removes her wool scarf as the bus door closes behind her. Route E-2, Westbound. She shuffles down the bus toward her usual seat; second from the back, left side. The driver starts the bus and from her seat Janie can hear him singing along to “Summertime” by Janis Joplin. The bus is always empty this late and if there ever is anyone else aboard it’s better not to converse. Safer that way. The brown pleather seat in front of her is peeling towards the top. Janie leans forward and idly picks at the scab-like dangles of brown as she watches out the foggy window. She idly picks and peels until she feels her hands wetted, cold. Looking down, they are covered in blood and mud. “What. The. Actual. Fuck.” She whispers, wiping her hands on her scarf. She continues to peel back the leather and a trickle of deep red begins to run from the seat back, clumps of mud slowly falling too. Then, she sees the white of a bone. The bus turns right.
0
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
Bus Ride (Flash Fiction)
Dead people are no doubt bored, so I'm sure these folks would be happy for free food and conversation. Of course, this is just a partial list, subject to addition and deletion. Feel free to add your own in comments. Buddha, but a light lunch. Jesus, but kosher of course. ****** come on, who wouldn't. James Joyce, just to mock him. George Washington, to try to catch him in a lie. Hemingway, but just for drinks. Reagan, to deliver some Depends. Bakunin, for mutual aid. William Butler, my ancestor who survived The Wheatfield at Gettysburg. Audrey Hepburn, but a date, not lunch. Ingmar Bergman, just to cheer me up. Ervin Schrödinger, about that cat. Shakespeare, because I've always wanted to meet an extra-terrestrial. Ezra Pound, to tell him he was right about usury. God, to let her know how disappointed I am. Richard Nixon, so I could drive a stake through his heart. Julia Child, just to hear her voice again. Lenin, because he was a self-starter. Mozart, because he would be fun. Emma Goldman, to dance. James Dean, as we look so much alike. Janis Joplin, because I might get lucky. Come on, I'm sure you can add to the list. Don't be shy, try. mce
0
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
A Few People I'd Like To Have Lunch With When I'm Dead
A bullet so small and strong struck right where my lungs met. Embedded itself this insult of occult fake tidings riding on elitist snobby attitudes. A bullet or was it an insult? Either way, I am plummeting towards humiliation street with my tail between my legs. A bullet was that woman's sharp words cutting through my skin like a paper cut gone berserk. She was a joplin spider stuck in a ditch and I should have smashed her spindly weak legged body under my heavy black boots creating an ugly stain that looks like gunpowder or left over oil spilled over with the utmost disrespect.
0
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
Joplin Spider Stain
My guru skinnydips in multi-colored waterbeds. Listen! A pop festival blows bubbles in free flashbacks. Dig it, brother! John Lennon overdoses on the agony of paisley bellbottoms. Will the Grateful Dead give shotguns with laid back madness? Eric Clapton quivers in Janis Joplin's windowpane. Oh, how Timothy Leary plays lead with strung out drug busts!
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Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
Bob Dylan's Agony
I listen to male artists, Men who remind me of my father, And his pain, And my pain. I imagine they sing to me, Protect me, Love me, Give me all I've never been given before, Everything I was supposed to feel, Everything that was supposed to show me how people work. I listen to deep, strained voices and reflect, Connect to things I’ll never experience. Men are angry, Worthy of their feelings, Allowed to unleash their rage in screams and electric guitars and unnecessarily loud drum solos. I listen to music sung by men, But I also listen to Stevie Nicks, Joni Mitchell, Janis Joplin, Joan Baez, Even Dolly Parton. Hell, even Olivia Rodrigo. I listen to women who are angry, Angry and still women, Surviving through agony and still women, “Leather and lace,” Black clothes and black makeup, Singing about beauty and moonlight and darkness, Female rage. I don't have to be at peace to be a woman, I don't have to be happy to be a woman, I don't have to be pretty to be a woman, You don’t have to like me for me to still be a woman. Let me be angry, Let me feel pain, Let me be lost, Let me like the darkness, Let me find comfort in the night, Let me chase impossible dreams and impossible feelings, Let me feel everything I feel. Women are put in a box of emotions, Too sensitive, Too dramatic, Too simple. I am not sensitive or dramatic or simple, Don't put me in that box, Don’t tell me what I am, Don’t tell me how to feel, Don’t tell me what my feelings mean, What they make me, Don’t project your weakness onto me, I am not weak, I am not weak, I am not weak. Let me be raw and witchy and honest, Let me be intelligent and intuitive, Let me see more than you'll ever see in the world, Let me be frustrated and misunderstood and just a little too loud, Let me be a woman, Let me be me the way I should be.
0
Feb 11, 2024
Feb 11, 2024 at 3:42 PM UTC
let me be a woman
I listen to male artists, Men who remind me of my father, And his pain, And my pain. I imagine they sing to me, Protect me, Love me, Give me all I've never been given before, Everything I was supposed to feel, Everything that was supposed to show me how people work. I listen to deep, strained voices and reflect, Connect to things I’ll never experience. Men are angry, Worthy of their feelings, Allowed to unleash their rage in screams and electric guitars and unnecessarily loud drum solos. I listen to music sung by men, But I also listen to Stevie Nicks, Joni Mitchell, Janis Joplin, Joan Baez, Even Dolly Parton. Hell, even Olivia Rodrigo. I listen to women who are angry, Angry and still women, Surviving through agony and still women, “Leather and lace,” Black clothes and black makeup, Singing about beauty and moonlight and darkness, Female rage. I don't have to be at peace to be a woman, I don't have to be happy to be a woman, I don't have to be pretty to be a woman, You don’t have to like me for me to still be a woman. Let me be angry, Let me feel pain, Let me be lost, Let me like the darkness, Let me find comfort in the night, Let me chase impossible dreams and impossible feelings, Let me feel everything I feel. Women are put in a box of emotions, Too sensitive, Too dramatic, Too simple. I am not sensitive or dramatic or simple, Don't put me in that box, Don’t tell me what I am, Don’t tell me how to feel, Don’t tell me what my feelings mean, What they make me, Don’t project your weakness onto me, I am not weak, I am not weak, I am not weak. Let me be raw and witchy and honest, Let me be intelligent and intuitive, Let me see more than you'll ever see in the world, Let me be frustrated and misunderstood and just a little too loud, Let me be a woman, Let me be me the way I should be.
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60
Turning up and down in the wind-every single crane I folded On the seventeenth day of the fifth month I took you to go see the gardens To see the orchids bloom White Purple and blue Hanging leaves Trees like statues on a night without wind The ghost festival It was dark in the perfumed gardens Velvet purple sky We sat and listened to the far off music The sound of drums Traveling along the gurgling river Sitting down on the edge of a rock You were laughing and smoking one of my cigarettes Those wisps of smoke curling around And the flick flick of your ash on a rock You thought you were so cool sitting there like Joplin, all strung out and white looking like Courtney love Your knee high socks Are smeared in mud and pollen Just then the music all stopped at the festival down the river Except for some lone flute playing a haunting other-worldy melody As we sat looking on the calm purple waters The children and old women took small paper boats with candles inside The mothers and the fathers The sisters and cousins Uncles and brothers All knee deep in the darkened waters Pushing those small glowing ships down the river Leading all those lost souls and spirits The ghosts of this year's dead flowing out to sea Like a fleet of stars they slowly drifted Water reflecting the hundreds of candles That crescent moon looked so right above the spirits I watched them clear the bend - Without taking a breath- Until you laughed and flicked your cigarette **** into the still water Ripples of moonlight Talking about yourself in the dark Somewhere down the river the music started again
0
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 5:16 AM UTC
The Stone Village
Turning up and down in the wind-every single crane I folded On the seventeenth day of the fifth month I took you to go see the gardens To see the orchids bloom White Purple and blue Hanging leaves Trees like statues on a night without wind The ghost festival It was dark in the perfumed gardens Velvet purple sky We sat and listened to the far off music The sound of drums Traveling along the gurgling river Sitting down on the edge of a rock You were laughing and smoking one of my cigarettes Those wisps of smoke curling around And the flick flick of your ash on a rock You thought you were so cool sitting there like Joplin, all strung out and white looking like Courtney love Your knee high socks Are smeared in mud and pollen Just then the music all stopped at the festival down the river Except for some lone flute playing a haunting other-worldy melody As we sat looking on the calm purple waters The children and old women took small paper boats with candles inside The mothers and the fathers The sisters and cousins Uncles and brothers All knee deep in the darkened waters Pushing those small glowing ships down the river Leading all those lost souls and spirits The ghosts of this year's dead flowing out to sea Like a fleet of stars they slowly drifted Water reflecting the hundreds of candles That crescent moon looked so right above the spirits I watched them clear the bend - Without taking a breath- Until you laughed and flicked your cigarette **** into the still water Ripples of moonlight Talking about yourself in the dark Somewhere down the river the music started again
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39
It was quite evident as a teenager , drawing Boston's guitar shaped space ship on the back of an English book , playing the opening riff to Smoke on the Water with a broomstick Hiding in the closet , listening to Kiss's first album , singing in front of the mirror to REO Speedwagon Bad Company on the eight track in my '63 Ford Falcon , taking a Guess Who album to show and tell in Kindergarten Reciting every lyric on Three Dog Night albums , Foreigner turned up so loud that the windows would ratttle ! Learning Free songs note by note on the guitar , playing Born to be Wild like I was on a World Tour My heroes are Page , Scholz , Perry and Geddy Lee ! Soundgarden , Alice in Chains , Mott the Hoople and Queen Jimi Hendrix bringing his Strat to life , Eddie's blistering fretwork ! Crosby , Stills and Nash , three part Angelic vocal harmonies , Ronnie James Dio wailing like a banshee ! A Gibson through a Marshall , A Fender through a Vox , a Tele through a Peavey , a Rickenbacker through an Orange ! Jim Morrison turning poetry into song , Elton John baring his soul through the piano Eddie Vedder in a trance on stage , Anne Wilson crying out in pain  , Layne Staley raising the hairs on the back of your neck , the reassuring voices of McCartney and Lennon , every musical note committed to paper by George Harrison Chris Cornell screaming into the night , the aura of Robert Plant onstage the sweet guitar work of Eric Clapton , heart wrenching soul of Janis Joplin The wailing guitar of Robin Trower , the blues power of Rory Gallagher Siren song of Annie Lennox to the infectious , brilliant lyrics of Tom Petty
0
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
Rock and Roll
It was quite evident as a teenager , drawing Boston's guitar shaped space ship on the back of an English book , playing the opening riff to Smoke on the Water with a broomstick Hiding in the closet , listening to Kiss's first album , singing in front of the mirror to REO Speedwagon Bad Company on the eight track in my '63 Ford Falcon , taking a Guess Who album to show and tell in Kindergarten Reciting every lyric on Three Dog Night albums , Foreigner turned up so loud that the windows would ratttle ! Learning Free songs note by note on the guitar , playing Born to be Wild like I was on a World Tour My heroes are Page , Scholz , Perry and Geddy Lee ! Soundgarden , Alice in Chains , Mott the Hoople and Queen Jimi Hendrix bringing his Strat to life , Eddie's blistering fretwork ! Crosby , Stills and Nash , three part Angelic vocal harmonies , Ronnie James Dio wailing like a banshee ! A Gibson through a Marshall , A Fender through a Vox , a Tele through a Peavey , a Rickenbacker through an Orange ! Jim Morrison turning poetry into song , Elton John baring his soul through the piano Eddie Vedder in a trance on stage , Anne Wilson crying out in pain  , Layne Staley raising the hairs on the back of your neck , the reassuring voices of McCartney and Lennon , every musical note committed to paper by George Harrison Chris Cornell screaming into the night , the aura of Robert Plant onstage the sweet guitar work of Eric Clapton , heart wrenching soul of Janis Joplin The wailing guitar of Robin Trower , the blues power of Rory Gallagher Siren song of Annie Lennox to the infectious , brilliant lyrics of Tom Petty
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It is with sadness and long remorse That we entertain this curse of course It’s most absurd, and that’s the rub Introducing the Twenty Seven Club Each decade we see the number grow And wonder as the we see them go Musicians so young, with hope and fears Meet their demise, after twenty seven years Robert Johnson was early, a master of blues A roadhouse musician who paid his dues Brian Jones helped found the Rolling Stones And drowned in a pool while swimming alone Alan Wilson at Woodstock played with Canned Heat Took too many downers, his life was complete The great guitarist, Jimi Hendrix gave thrills But died in his sleep from too many pills Janis Joplin, with energy and power of force At age twenty seven died mainlining horse The Doors Jim Morrison, one of a kind Extinguished with drugs his poetic mind Badfinger’s Pete Ham fortified with drink Took his own life, another twenty seven link And Kurt Cobain, Nirvana’s front man Died at twenty seven, from his very own hand Amy Winehouse, one of the members of late Perceived a world full of anguish and hate A talent with beauty, her hair black as coal But alcohol toxicity soon took its toll Not mentioned are many members left out There is no time now to give them a shout We hope they gather and sing in heaven The members of the Club - Twenty Seven
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Sep 15, 2022
Sep 15, 2022 at 9:53 PM UTC
The 27 Club
(                     •            )                                                                    ^^^~~~^^^~~~^^^                                                    & only I am here to tell the tale ! //// Do you think Bill Clinton is REALLY a ********* ? ••                                                                                           •• ( do you even care ) •• Do you think that your lover is REALLY a ********* ? ( I do ) • Do I think that you ARE a ********* ( even a child can abuse a child ) //                                                                                       // // Some say dying is beautiful // // But maybe not Janis Joplin or Jim Morrison ••••••••••••• In the last throes of despair We tell so many stories PRAY don't listen !
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Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
Help ! Help !! Russia is attacking the Ukraine !
As we speak, I am in the vortex of a Purple Haze. Seattle has produced more than a reputable brand of coffee and the great hall of fame resounds throughout eternity. We are acknowledged by Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain - don’t you think? Come as you are, because freedom is just another word for nothing less to lose. So, my sensual mistress of musical engineering - shake those deep and hypnotic dreams from your hair and watch where you point that gun! Okay?
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:36 PM UTC
Legendary Death
Do you taste it? The ease and cool mystification she gives you… The addiction like a passionate revival Do you feel it The gratification she grants BAM you’re baked like a cake Her lips like a love potion Her hips like LSD and you’re riding the cool waves of Janis Joplin Do you need it? That midnight body on you like I did Those ********* hands, that ********* tenderness Do you **** it? Like there is no tomorrow, do you make that body quease under you? Little do you know she’s toxic, like a cigarette between your teeth Swallowing the forsaken **** up that is your whole being She is like a tear rolling down your cheek, exposing you. You’re in deep and in love with a ******* Cigarette
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Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Cigarrette
I see myself in a bar on a Wednesday night making love to a gin and tonic with smeared lipstick and blurred vision. I see myself selling my soul to typewriter dreams and guitar chord nightmares, praying somebody will just listen. I see myself packing my bags in eleven minutes flat and taking the 6:00 train to a neighboring town before he even knows I left. That night the walls will receive the bruises that were specially saved for me. I see myself smelling her perfume on his couch pillows and wondering if I made a mistake. I see myself joining the 27 club up in heaven, and asking Janis Joplin how she did her hair and sharing a drag with Kurt Cobain. I am seventeen years old, and I'm trying to make a path for my future, but I'm scared I won't be able to take a single step.
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Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
Where Do You See Yourself in Ten Years?
I like to dream. Everyone does though I suppose. I don't dream in the sense that you'd probably think. Not when I sleep. Lord knows I do enough of that, but I'm incapable of dreaming at night, I think that's why I sleep so much. Each time I lay down I pray that, Just one single, lonely dream will come. It doesn't though. I keep trying though, day after day, and I promise I'm not just giving an excuse for me taking so many naps. Although I do, I'll admit that. But since I don't dream when sleep, I settle for dreaming when I'm awake, some call it daydreaming. I make up these situations in my mind, where I'm happy beyond belief. I imagine that I'm in an empty field, running free. I imagine I'm up in space, with the stars. A place that I've admired for so long, I imagine I'm there. Far away from this place, and the hurt that exists here. I'm not going to say I hate my life, because that would be a lie. I'm simply going to say that I'm not satisfied with my life. There are so many places I'd rather be than down here, with gravity pinning me to this seemingly two dimensional place. I imagine sitting and conversing, with all of my idols. Smoking a joint with Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, sitting down to tea with Cass Elliot and John Lennon. Imagining what it would be like, to be extraordinary like them. Then I come back to the present, as my teacher wraps up his lecture, and remember where I am. Then, I once again accept that fact that I'll have to keep leading this ordinary life, hoping for the chance one day to escape, to the stars, or maybe the moon, the place that doesn't hold me down, and make me keep my feet on the ground. The place where I can fly, and dance, and love, and sing, and dream. Endlessly.
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Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
Endlessly Dreaming
I like to dream. Everyone does though I suppose. I don't dream in the sense that you'd probably think. Not when I sleep. Lord knows I do enough of that, but I'm incapable of dreaming at night, I think that's why I sleep so much. Each time I lay down I pray that, Just one single, lonely dream will come. It doesn't though. I keep trying though, day after day, and I promise I'm not just giving an excuse for me taking so many naps. Although I do, I'll admit that. But since I don't dream when sleep, I settle for dreaming when I'm awake, some call it daydreaming. I make up these situations in my mind, where I'm happy beyond belief. I imagine that I'm in an empty field, running free. I imagine I'm up in space, with the stars. A place that I've admired for so long, I imagine I'm there. Far away from this place, and the hurt that exists here. I'm not going to say I hate my life, because that would be a lie. I'm simply going to say that I'm not satisfied with my life. There are so many places I'd rather be than down here, with gravity pinning me to this seemingly two dimensional place. I imagine sitting and conversing, with all of my idols. Smoking a joint with Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, sitting down to tea with Cass Elliot and John Lennon. Imagining what it would be like, to be extraordinary like them. Then I come back to the present, as my teacher wraps up his lecture, and remember where I am. Then, I once again accept that fact that I'll have to keep leading this ordinary life, hoping for the chance one day to escape, to the stars, or maybe the moon, the place that doesn't hold me down, and make me keep my feet on the ground. The place where I can fly, and dance, and love, and sing, and dream. Endlessly.
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that it is a journey Of 1000 miles //                                             She was sittin on the bed with the 200 lbs of Macrame string that we managed to buy At Fisherman's Wharf With the help of 5 complete strangers Who had showered us with the Life altering kindness You think really doesn't exist ( but it does ! ) // And she said DO YOU WANT TO HELP ME MAKE THE BELTS AND POUCHES ? I turned to my brain and told it to tell my mouth To say NO Firmly ( but nicely ) I turned to her and said SURE WHEN DO WE START ? // JESUS **** ! I started screaming ( silently ) at my brain YOU TRAITOR ! And you , MOUTH  ! You knew !  You knew !! •• She became ecstatic ! And said GREAT! WE' LL START WITH ME TEACHING YOU THE BASIC SQUARE KNOT ! // I started to give my brain it's obvious instruction BUT ! I blurted out WOW ! I ALWAYS WANTED TO LEARN HOW TO MAKE SAILOR'S KNOTS // I turned in a huff to these 2 fiends of brain and mouth And said ( silently ) ALWAYS ? YOU MADE ME SAY ALWAYS   !? A WEEK AGO WE HAD NEVER EVEN HEARD OF SAILOR 'S KNOTS !! /// Then the song Of JANIS JOPLIN came to me FREEDOM ' S JUST ANOTHER WORD FOR NOTHIN LEFT TO LOSE ---- // and I now had nothin left My life was surrendered to hers ( due to the love and kindness of strangers ! ) •• But  ( you see ) There was a massive mistake in my calculations ( again ) You see SHE had ( unknownst to me with my selfish heart ) Made a similar commitment to me ! And / more and more /only asked me to do what I really wanted to do ( even to learn to do macrame ) What I was afraid to do without encouragement •• WE BECAME A       TEAM ! // We both had different social skills She was so unbelievably compassionate She was so able to break thru people's fears And enter into such trust inducing relationships It seemed like magic to me // I was really good at organizing things Setting plans Seeing the picture of the goals We needed to accomplish // In a certain sense We never talked -- A glance back and forth A subtle gesture //. Complete unity •• People would ask HOW YOU 2 GETTING ALONG !? ARE YOU IN LOVE !? "" and we would look at each other and wonder GETTING ALONG ? IN LOVE ? And not have the slightest idea what they were talking about ! // And that might help explain Why When I read the poems here I don't know what you are talking about // ( not the slightest idea ) // Like there is a weird thing happening And then it gets weirder And then someone gets upset because it gets weirder But it was weird already ! •• And then the strangest vocabulary gets going Trying to describe some feelings that are really only thoughts About something that isn't really happening anyway ( or something like that ) •• So On and on it goes ! I just try to be Like those strangers on Fisherman's Wharf Trying to make the magic That is pure human kindness // To throw myself upon The BARBED WIRE OF EGO So that you might climb my back AND LEAP INTO THE FREEDOM OF INFINITY !
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Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
the first step is to know
that it is a journey Of 1000 miles //                                             She was sittin on the bed with the 200 lbs of Macrame string that we managed to buy At Fisherman's Wharf With the help of 5 complete strangers Who had showered us with the Life altering kindness You think really doesn't exist ( but it does ! ) // And she said DO YOU WANT TO HELP ME MAKE THE BELTS AND POUCHES ? I turned to my brain and told it to tell my mouth To say NO Firmly ( but nicely ) I turned to her and said SURE WHEN DO WE START ? // JESUS **** ! I started screaming ( silently ) at my brain YOU TRAITOR ! And you , MOUTH  ! You knew !  You knew !! •• She became ecstatic ! And said GREAT! WE' LL START WITH ME TEACHING YOU THE BASIC SQUARE KNOT ! // I started to give my brain it's obvious instruction BUT ! I blurted out WOW ! I ALWAYS WANTED TO LEARN HOW TO MAKE SAILOR'S KNOTS // I turned in a huff to these 2 fiends of brain and mouth And said ( silently ) ALWAYS ? YOU MADE ME SAY ALWAYS   !? A WEEK AGO WE HAD NEVER EVEN HEARD OF SAILOR 'S KNOTS !! /// Then the song Of JANIS JOPLIN came to me FREEDOM ' S JUST ANOTHER WORD FOR NOTHIN LEFT TO LOSE ---- // and I now had nothin left My life was surrendered to hers ( due to the love and kindness of strangers ! ) •• But  ( you see ) There was a massive mistake in my calculations ( again ) You see SHE had ( unknownst to me with my selfish heart ) Made a similar commitment to me ! And / more and more /only asked me to do what I really wanted to do ( even to learn to do macrame ) What I was afraid to do without encouragement •• WE BECAME A       TEAM ! // We both had different social skills She was so unbelievably compassionate She was so able to break thru people's fears And enter into such trust inducing relationships It seemed like magic to me // I was really good at organizing things Setting plans Seeing the picture of the goals We needed to accomplish // In a certain sense We never talked -- A glance back and forth A subtle gesture //. Complete unity •• People would ask HOW YOU 2 GETTING ALONG !? ARE YOU IN LOVE !? "" and we would look at each other and wonder GETTING ALONG ? IN LOVE ? And not have the slightest idea what they were talking about ! // And that might help explain Why When I read the poems here I don't know what you are talking about // ( not the slightest idea ) // Like there is a weird thing happening And then it gets weirder And then someone gets upset because it gets weirder But it was weird already ! •• And then the strangest vocabulary gets going Trying to describe some feelings that are really only thoughts About something that isn't really happening anyway ( or something like that ) •• So On and on it goes ! I just try to be Like those strangers on Fisherman's Wharf Trying to make the magic That is pure human kindness // To throw myself upon The BARBED WIRE OF EGO So that you might climb my back AND LEAP INTO THE FREEDOM OF INFINITY !
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Aura Written by: Mario Vitale Shades of pine grafted in again resign Shattered pine in elm certain grove alone My meadow had a thorn certain credit The factual harm of its heartless swarm Featured within in the created design with pine Eyes sharpened as a willow in garb The tornado sequence has even the fog alone Again tempors fly like never before Blatant lies have come at no surprise In parts unknown an aura of repute to harm Sound the alarm in fetters arm Choirs of saints in regard to its beckoning drawn Empire strain inside my brain fragments of cure The surface of the sun has tainted my vision with harm Sound the alarm agiain my faithful friend by whom we can depend Shattered glass on the parchment floor Aura An impulse deep in regards to the heart Shades of pine will line the volume of scattered pillows A willow in derision you made a final decision A thought provokoing reason to believe in Shattered memory's in the moments of innocence with a plight of disbelief We have soon turned over a brand new leaf Timeless peaks in a swelll shattered fragments from within A great design still sublime in its timeless parts the heart Aura Jim Morrison had it Janis Joplin couldn't stop it Jimi Hendrix sought this quick fix An unbellievable call being caught in the mix! Aura II they think they know but its far more then that they think they strive among the impossible links taking each stride I wonder what happened to Molech we were here before the mystery unfolds a glow from a worm its often hard to discern to be a bird upon a wire the taunt of the remedy Joplin's finest the exquisite foretaste amidst its calamity come with me through the barren sea the sea of grown mockery through the leaves a doorbell rings a trophy for the winner stay and wait for dinner a passenger or the driver you act like a Magive why does on equate logic with fear all draw near lend me an ear the soft linguistic cheer
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Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 10:15 PM UTC
Aura I & II
Aura Written by: Mario Vitale Shades of pine grafted in again resign Shattered pine in elm certain grove alone My meadow had a thorn certain credit The factual harm of its heartless swarm Featured within in the created design with pine Eyes sharpened as a willow in garb The tornado sequence has even the fog alone Again tempors fly like never before Blatant lies have come at no surprise In parts unknown an aura of repute to harm Sound the alarm in fetters arm Choirs of saints in regard to its beckoning drawn Empire strain inside my brain fragments of cure The surface of the sun has tainted my vision with harm Sound the alarm agiain my faithful friend by whom we can depend Shattered glass on the parchment floor Aura An impulse deep in regards to the heart Shades of pine will line the volume of scattered pillows A willow in derision you made a final decision A thought provokoing reason to believe in Shattered memory's in the moments of innocence with a plight of disbelief We have soon turned over a brand new leaf Timeless peaks in a swelll shattered fragments from within A great design still sublime in its timeless parts the heart Aura Jim Morrison had it Janis Joplin couldn't stop it Jimi Hendrix sought this quick fix An unbellievable call being caught in the mix! Aura II they think they know but its far more then that they think they strive among the impossible links taking each stride I wonder what happened to Molech we were here before the mystery unfolds a glow from a worm its often hard to discern to be a bird upon a wire the taunt of the remedy Joplin's finest the exquisite foretaste amidst its calamity come with me through the barren sea the sea of grown mockery through the leaves a doorbell rings a trophy for the winner stay and wait for dinner a passenger or the driver you act like a Magive why does on equate logic with fear all draw near lend me an ear the soft linguistic cheer
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