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Any song can sound sweet,
if you tune your tone appropriately,
and add a lyric,
with a melody
and I have seen where there is a life,
there is a song
but some songs are not only a love song
that notion was a loop, intense, black and blue passionate song
was not romantic

She was a sad song
and I thought I would know how to make it better
like if I could be the only to love her again,
I believed that everything would fall into a melodious love song
but  I lost a few lines of lyrics
and there was bit melody missing that I couldn't find
and I saw too many scratches on the disc
I couldn't let myself be made no longer
trying to fix her entirety.
.
@Musfiq us shaleheen
scratches on the disc
I'm a **** in silverfoil
with an outlaw's Excaliber.
Bottle of Moet,
I'll glass 'em like a poet.
You don't seek my mad company,
but should you meet bad company,
don't woz your pretty head over secret ingredi-
ent in my  Punisher's Pigfeed.

Coz you gotcha self a guardian stalker,
gotcha back, aintcha noticed
how all of your opponents slowly
grace missing posters?
Guardian angel taking out his frustrations
on your every enemy: you don't know you need me.
Coz every kiss I miss I gulp to my fist,
every yelp  of my heart
calls for a friggin' riot!

Sometimes you feel me on the night,
your own personal Dark Knight.
I firebombed Brighthouse
- why didja think that tumbledryer was on the house?
I won the war of all your stalkers,
but last code red cost me a cold blood rap.
'Cherchez la femme'
my ooh-la-la Remoaner
Knox Road tat. Reminds me ...

I'm your guardian stalker,
I went bit Christopher Walken
on your daughter's bully's father
in a black balaclava.
Guardian stalker, you know
that ****** dogwalker  
found sleeping with the ducks
- I did it for you, Fido too!
Coz every kiss I miss I gulp to my fist,
every yelp of my heart
calls for a friggin' riot!

Guardian stalker, uh-huh! Guardian stalker o' her!
Guardian stalker, uh-huh! Guardian stalker o' her!
You can't **** a man who's already been killed by love.
You can't **** a man who's already been killed by love.
Emergency convening of COBRA
can't **** a man killed by love.
Even Walker, Texas Ranger
can't **** a man killed by love!
Knox Road = Norwich prison
Lazhar Bouazzi Apr 2017
Of this verse
The core, the middle,
Is marked on its palm.
No riddle
To be guessed in a lyric
So brittle,
Whose task
Is  to hold in place
The fissured parts
Of a gypsy's fiddle.

LazharBouazzi, April 4, 2017
Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
And I knew what I was
When you called me disgrace
I was the sun exploding into space

And I was knew what I was
When the light broke through silence
Like that great hound through my fence

Drown out
Out
Out
The fear
Fear
Fear
Of day
Day
Day

So let's burn
And turn
Into ash
Like the skyline
You pine
But never ask

If I knew what I was
Fulfilling the word of the Law and the Prophets:
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Darth Vader is really Peter Parker's mother.
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Tories are cancer, Labour paedophilia.
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Very cheap, very good one pound fish!
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Over the cliff, Kubrick's monolith.
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
In the gurdwara Sikhs limbodance under
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
All the cops in the doughnut shops go
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Viva Chimerica, Neo-Ozymandias!
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!

Is that the Spear of Destiny or you just pleased to see me?
Is that the Spear of Destiny or you just pleased to see me?
Is that the Spear of Destiny or you just pleased to see me?
Minions Mankini heretics burn at the stake...
My modernday Morgan Le Fay
used to make love on graves,
now she sleeps all day.
She's a zomballerina in a zombikini.
masking her feelings with mirtazapini.
Dr.Fangoria prescribe the Torah!
Dr. Creepshow prescribe the Gospel!
O baby, do you still believe in All Hallow's Eve?

My costume's got no bonce on,
but I ain't Anne Boleyn.
Chub roll stump for a neck,
how do I sing?
Hole in my head
too whole to scream
'Verminend' to vulture teens,
smells like trick or treat.

This hello how low Halloween
I'm gonna go as a headless axeman.

Sabrina the teenage selfharmer
went to the witch doctors of big pharma.
Me, I swear by traditional eye of newt
- dontcha know Old Cloots is in cahoots with Boots?
Sepulchral ***,
Edgar Allan ***** on your meds.
But baby do you still believe
in All Hallow's Eve?

My costume's got no bonce on,
but I ain't met Madam Guillotine
for a ****** valentine,
1789.
Play chicken with depression,
you might lose your head
on swingers' ouija weekend
with the Livinghyphendeads.

This hello how low Halloween
I'm gonna go as a headless axeman.
Dance the hatred inside away.
Funk out, y'all, till the funk of failure fades.
Shoobie-doobie thru the self-disgusted Saturdays.
Shout 'Shamone' to shame and rage, malice, rancour, malaise.

I've tried lifting weights to become hardened to hate.
I've tried to meditate to be too floppy for hate.
But I find just for one night I feel alright when I throw shapes, 
like a  groovy great pattern recognition ape.

Sweaty writhing masses are a bittersweet maze.
Here's misanthrope mash to march to, led astray by nuclear knaves,
as did Hamelinkinder zomboogie into Piper's cave.
Dino disco, human race were just the latest craze.

Lalalallalalalalaallalalalalallalalalalalalallalaallalala­llalalallalalalla/ nananananananannannanananannanananannananannananannana!
If you wanna lose your rebel cherry,
never give away your rebel cherry.
The Man, he is slippery
as a cat called Quantum Gravity.

I never wanna hear your rebel yell
was tracheotomised by trials of a rebel.
The Eternal Yes made in Madison Avenue.
We don't always win but rebels never lose.

If you wanna lose your V-sign
V-plates, you gotta frig the system.
The Man, he is a jive
turkey of received wisdom.

I never wanna hear your rebel yell
was tracheotomised by trials of a rebel.
The Eternal Yes made in Madison Avenue.
We don't always win but rebels never lose.

What we gotta lose
except for our chains?
Our workfare & zero hours?
What we gotta lose
except for our chains?
And our flowers
to Che Guevara?
ना कर ऎसी वैसी गल्लाँ तू तां बड़ा सियाना ऐ
मिठी वाणी होले निकलू कंदों  पार ले जाना ऐ

रात दे साए रुस के  बैठे मेरी आस ऐ कहनदी
तेरे वेहडे जग मग करदा बलदा दिया पुराना ऐ

जग दी रीत निराली वेखो जो हंस्या सो रोंदा ऐ
तू तां अपना चेहरा ढक ले किनूं भले दिखाना ऐ

टिम टिम करदे निक्के तारे चानन चद्दर ओढ्णगे
सुट के काली रात दिनाँ नूं अपना आप सजाना ऐ

तेरी 'रवि' सब गल्लाँ मुक्कियाँ बंद बुआ जे खोलें
रंगरंगीली दुनिया नचदी मौसम बड़ा सुहाना ऐ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF5t7OuO2rg

You got a bad attitude,
worse than my cat's cattitude
when I dab my tears on her fur
in the lap of lassitude.
Ziggy Stardust
was a rock 'n' roll platypus,
so I scratch electric platitudes:
her 'ump is an Acme muse.

Her languor louche
unleash my lassitude,
& lassitude is literati for the blues.
La la la la la la la-lassitude!
La la la la la la la-liceytude!

Loving you:
punitive assuetude.
Kissin' ******* altitude,
not lips of latitude.
Your fratchy gratitude,
dark matter jewelled.
But I'm allowed to look at you
- looking ain't no glass lasso!

Her languor louche
funleech my lassitude,
& lassitude is literati for the blues.
La la la la la la la-lassitude!
La la la la la la la-liceytude!

J'accuse Ted Hughes:
Lady Lazarus in lion's mouth of white goods.
J'accuse Ted Hughes:
Assia in lion's mouth of white goods.
Wanna tygerskinrug tymemachine
for non-tragic carpet ryde
'cross the meltin' clock stream.
Rhynestone tymelyne HG couldn't prophesy,
one where Milton Keynes is the new New Orleans.

Some of us can't get over
how much we ****** at being 17.
Send myself back a Kyle Reese shrink,
preshrink tiger sniffles of spleen.

Sow wyld paradoxes, flog dead groundhogses.
Marty & the Doc
patsies for end of days.
I'll elbow Al, selfish Sam Beckett.
Scream will the butterfly effect afflicted.

Some of us can't get over
how much we ****** at being 17.
Send myself back a Kyle Reese shrink,
redestine kitten smithereens.

Shades of grey of history
frame our immortal sinchronicity
for a cryme: tyger strypes of tyme!

Ret-connaissance, chrono camo,
crossroads where Norwich
'came 2nd Seattle:
tyger strypes of tyme
burning bryte on tyme!

Ret-connaissance, chrono camo,
in the forests
of the snooze button
burning bryte on tyme!
Tyger strypes of tyme!
If you took it from the past,
-what a wonderful

If you took it from the past,
-what a wonderful

If you took it from the past,
-what a wonderful

Took it from a past,
-Wonderful World
Joshua Brown May 2017
A Breath of wind is wind itself,

should true and steady braided shelfs,

foraged fords from handsome lords,

prayed hopes & proper ropes,

could life and science meet the world beyond Biology?

"A home," it cried, "a home for me with trees and lakes and reverie."

I tried and cried for something else, elsewhere

I found a leaning shelf.

Should what was true and even hold nothing told or helpless here,

I cannot hide a place inside,

though I cannot say I really tried.
I am not the Jesus Christ of Standupcomedy.
I am catlitter & coffeegrounds.
I am not the Elvis of ****.
I am the Spectre of Communism
in a dressinggown.

The banes of the world are the liberals & ponces
if you believe neoliberals & nonces.
Oi, oi! Here comes trouble:
whistleblower troubadour.  
Oi, oi! Here comes trouble:
dialectical rockstar.

I am not the ***** Wonka of Minneapolis.
I am an old cassette whirring to a halt...
klik I am not the Disco Pope.
I am the last pale interesting European scalp.

The banes of the world are the liberals & ponces
if you believe the neoliberals & nonces.
Oi, oi! Here comes trouble:
whistleblower troubadour.  
Oi, oi! Here comes trouble:
dialectical rockstar.

Oi, oi!
Yo slave!
Io, io!
Saveloy.
I vow I'll go straightedge, grow
old w/ U now I will try to live.
Honey? I'm royal jellydrizzler, ambro-
sia sprinkler, manuka slav-

erer, glucose washingline.
Honey? Truncated puberty bassethounds
no more mellifluous a confection-
ary spokesperson than sweet sounds

of rhyming superlatives, purple prose glaze,
cherup syrub of yr...Honey?
I'm Jack the Dripper, Jackson ******* squeez-
ing bees,

weird scenes inside
the love hive. Honey, yr krazysexykool
- were U head
girl @krazysexyskool?

Yr compassionate
becoz yr compassion art
is that yr compassion heart
has compassion smarts. Compassion farts

even vent a delectable sillage.
Honey, when U showed me yr hon-
eypot, it ate away l/ acid at my 3rd eyelid
- pineal flash! When

I showed U my bruce,
U had me feeling
so pinefresh, last of the summer spruce
decongesting

the mucus of a moose.
No relation to non-Monty Montgomery,
but when I petted yr zipper cat @clubhousecaboose,
U helped me see

- eureka!
Bing-
o! ******.  Either that or 'Each 1 of us is special in their
own way'. The Get Along Gang

was a vision thang.
I'm yr Lenin & yr my Inessa.
I'm yr Lennon & yr my May Pang.
On a ferry cross the Volga to yr Oktober rock 'n' rolla.

& tho' U've got a hermione
& I'm not into hot karl,
U're my Lenny
& I'm yr Carl.

But shock appearance of the final realisation I
could lose the U inside of U, yr inimit-
able secular seelenfunklein, strikes down high
spirits l/ L.Ritchie floored by ceilingfunkline flit.
Mark Oct 4
Barnyard ****, just raised a city born, sort of a chick    
Even gave her the surburban name of Sandra Dee Fonda
A pretty slow blonde critter, some even say, short of a tick      
Bred way-down and far-away, ‘bout 70 miles yonder            
Y’all be knowing dat Hick-Hop thang, is what it‘s all about            
While hootin’ and scootin’, never let ya kissin’ cousin, flake out
Hee Haw, says it all, when we were a pickin’ and a grinnin’
Asking Goober, What are ya doin’ and what’s dat ya diggin’?  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon            
Cowards never really stay around here long enough             
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli      
         
I’ve been invited to the Marty Party, along with Brother Brown
But, I thought killing a man, was my one and only, speciality
Even drafted a business proposition, for this exact locality
Since I’ve had the market cornered, in da middle of downtown
From Cornfield, Alabama to Deadwood, South Dakota            
There’s no import or export taxes, so no **** amount of quota
So, me, you and even that Clay Ellison, will be riding a winner
Even after killin’ that Chunk Kolbert, straight after his dinner  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli        
           
They’ll be gettin’ da same amount of ice, as Knoxville            
But the rich will be a gettin’ it, in da summertime            
While the poor will be a gettin’ it, in da wintertime            
If I owned Texas & Hell, I’d rent out Texas & live in Hell            
So, don’t ever think about, hittin’ ya mother with a shovel            
It’ll leave a dull impression on her already fragile mind            
I’m not afraid to die, as a brave man fighting shall            
But I wouldn’t wanna be killed, like a dog unarmed, so please be kind            
           
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli            
           
I see a good many enemies around me, who will walk            
But notice mighty few friends, that are willing to talk            
They would then, drink right smart            
They could then, scrap right smart            
But, I didn’t come here to talk, I just came here to hang            
Just a peekin’ through, the hour glass thang  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli.
ALesiach Jul 22
Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

I fell in love with your words,
Grew addicted to your rhythm.
The sorrow in your burning chords,
Drew me in with them.

I felt your music flow through me
Getting lost, carried away
In your songs, in your dreams
As I listened to you play

Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

ALesiach © 07/23/2017
Brody Blue Aug 10
Slay the lion, slay the hydra,
Take away the hind’s horn,
For the fourth one, bag a boar,
Clean the stables  till you’re sore.
Give your word to slay the birds,
Swear to tame that cretan bull,
Ride the mares plum out of fuel,
And grip a little lighter the hip of Hippolyta,
Grab the girdle, jump the hurdle,
Steal the cattle from the fool,
And pray the beast won’t get the feast
He wishes of your skull.
And even if the apples
Aren’t as gold as ones you've known,
Never mind! Cut the vine!
Reap! Before that Titan goes!
But that distant thunder rolling
And the lightning all around,
Let it part before you start
Toward the triple-headed hound.
A song about labor.
Mark Oct 4
Life just happens without knowing what will be happening  
So don't blame New York, It's just one of those days
You have to try something new or they might forget your gaze
You did nothing wrong, it's me, not you, but thanks for listening

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't try too hard, just trying to get above
Just add a smile to my dial and pile on the love

I'm more than just a gangsta, I'm a true hip-hop pop star by far
A symbol of peace, for the new world order, all locked away in a 1960s jar
Smack! Crack! ***! Snap! Crackle! Pop! Just painted art on the wall
If you take yourself too serious, your Humpty Dumpty will fall

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't know how I'm gonna stop
I need an escape or I'm going to flop

What's ya daddy's crib producing nowadays in the hood
I'm the only true black kid in the whole **** neighbourhood  
There's stray cats arriving from all over the place
All are getting together to form an almighty human race

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't try too hard, just trying to get above
Just add a smile to my dial and pile on the love

I'm just a guy from the ghetto, I used to be full of fear
Try living in a cage and spreading all of your love over here
How much pepper, how much salt, goes into a fine nancy salad
It so crucial for the final outcome of your life's fancy moving ballad

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't know how I'm gonna stop
I need an escape or I'm going to flop.
ConnectHook Apr 9
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Condemned with all who scrawl their thoughts online

Obsessing over words, revising verse,

This love of poetasting is a curse . . .

(no, wait—I think I need to tweak that line).

Composing, thus, my useless universe,

Convinced that golden musings are divine,

I polish leaden verse to make it shine

So proving that bad poetry grows worse.

My muse may well disown me for my crimes,

Fly off and leave me searching for some word,

Abandon me to unpoetic times;

And yet my lyric soul is undeterred.

My own best lines may or may not show it;

Still, I’ll bear that shameful name of Poet.
I brought this out between Prompt #8 and #9
TheIdleOwl Sep 3
49
I saw you on the wooden bridge,
Staring at the sky,
The small fish below jumping in and out,
As if your tears had made them fly,

I walked a little closer,
Heard the birds up in the trees,
What worries do you have I thought,
Your lives are such a breeze,

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused,
I'd like to rebuild what I've destroyed,

I stopped suddenly,
Worried I was close enough to be heard,
I wasn't ready to talk about it,
My thoughts were still with the birds,

I'll come back in a week or so,
I hope that you'll be here.
Perhaps I'll be ready to say these things,
To finally make it clear,

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused,
I'd like to rebuild what I've destroyed,

A fair while later,
I finally built up the courage to speak,
I walked up to the bridge again,
Same time, same day of the week,

But stood there was a different person,
I was sure it wasn't you,
She threw bread in for the ducks,
She had bright red shoes,

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused,
I'd like to rebuild what I've destroyed
AuEcologica Dec 2018
To change the world, if one can,
is to change the hearts of the mortal man.

It’s alright,
It’s alright
It’s alright.

To change the world, if one can,
Is to change the hearts of the mortal man.

Imagine just two, two lives,
colliding faster than the speed of light.

Imagine more, than simply two,
conflict is the child issued.

It’s alright,
It’s alright,
It’s alright.

Heart against heart, world against world—
Is there a difference?
Is there a cause?

It could all be a dream, a fantasy for just me—

Would I ever notice?
Would I ever bother?

It’s alright,
It’s alright,
It’s alright.
To change the world, if one can,
is to change the hearts of the mortal man.

No clear guidance for our cause,
it is meaningless, it all.

You are alone amongst thousands,
even in the arms of those you love.

It’s alright,
It’s alright,
It’s alright.

A war is a war; a man is a man—
a fruit on a tree that grows or will pass on.
Mark Oct 7
'Oh deary me!' I recently rusted my dang of a thang
So now I can’t even amuse myself, by golly
Even been trying da one, my cousin rented to me
Never got the yearly service, due to the high costs, kerching
Just a toppin’ up with the essential oils, for a nominal fee
Just so busy, with a plantin’ it, smokin’ it, a bit like a rolly
While galavanting about, this country’s dry and sunburnt soil
Okay then, serve myself right, I shouldn’t second guess
Should’ve just lubricated, after such a hard and grinding toil
That dang of a thang, now take a look at the **** mess
After every ounce of sweat and auto correct tweets
After weird Tinder meets and almost all the surprise greets
I can’t wait to play with again, my Chinese made, Yin & Yang
My most pleasurable and double ended, dang of a thang.
Mark Sep 12
I lived my life full of hope
Whiskey, Coke and green dope
Tablets with faces, just in case
But never acted out of place

A simple plan, with time on my side
An olive grove vineyard
Which crept on by, for a while
Yellow butterfly just landed
Then vanished without a trace
But never acted out of place

A sad brown eyed foreigner sipping inside
Along with a black tanned stranger
Who magically appeared from behind
A tongue tied drinker, tried to whisper
But she couldn’t quite seem to talk
But never acted out of place

I lived my life full of hope
Whiskey, Coke and green dope
But never acted out of place.
Mark Oct 6
Jammin’ along to riffs by, Sister Tharpe and Robert Johnson,      
You could only tell the difference, if a spotlight shone upon each one.
For one was going to heaven, the other, all the way to hell.          
But, while they picked at their guitars the mobs would still yell.         
They’d do a solo on a lead guitar, unheard of in those days;          
Then be totally racistised once stepping out on the pavement.          
No mention in the papers, because of the editor’s clan, da-far-right KKKs.  
But, outrage and riots ensued, callin’ da end to all dat black enslavement.         
           
Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.          
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.         
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?         
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.         
           
Been scooting across mid town and even to easy beat street.          
Tripping lights out and seen both colored folks, along the way.      
Gettin’ some to enter my mobile studio, I call ‘Da Jam in da Van’!
Because, it’s not for just any ole cotton pickin’ southern bred fan.  
So, come inside, switch it on, then ******* off my feet.  
I’ll sign you on the spot, if you purr like a cool cat or a certain sort of stray.      
           
Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.      
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.        
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?          
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.      
           
The here and now, is where the blues are fully infused.         
Not from era’s gone past or from some distant future.          
You can’t find it in a library, you can’t teach her;         
You won’t see it in a theory, you won’t solve her;          
You shan’t catch it in a harness, you shan’t trap her.          
Once gotten, never forgotten, you’ll never ever, lose her.          
           
Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.          
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.          
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?         
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.
An expert in mycology,
Of Norsian biology,
And fjordian psychology,
A troll, I troll the livelong day.
I troll the livelong day away.
Mushrooms for dinner, breakfast, and lunch:
My comrades call me Edvard Munch.  
In lyric peaces I live in league
With Jean Sibelius and Edvard Grieg.

#
Lydia May 2018
"But what if we're wrong?"
It was silent
But her thoughts echoed around in my head as we laid on top of her pickup truck
I swatted at the eighteenth mosquito chewing on my leg
I don't want this to be love

We were tangled up in the acoustic music they play on the radio on Sunday mornings
She was trying to dream up something clever to write about
And I was pretending I could learn to play guitar through osmosis,
As if blending myself in with the harmonies, finding her in every lyric, and sheer willpower would give me wings or at least magic guitar hands

She set the alarm, checked it over and over
She was not going to be late for her first day
I told her I'd be asleep when she got home, she told me she knew
I told her to wake me up

I wasn't looking for perfect
Perfect really only applies in first year physics courses
After that, we learn to fall in love with "rough around the edges" or "unique" or "unfinished"
As if their life is a puzzle that we need to complete
Just so you know, it isn't

She bought me breakfast and dropped me off
She used to tell me she loved me, but I know she didn't
She does now, so she doesn't have to say it anymore
When I said, "love," before, I didn't really mean it
Not like I mean loving the garden on the balcony of her apartment or thunderstorms in May
Even if I was a puzzle that she completed (and I'm not saying that I am), we didn't need any glue to fit perfectly
The support on this poem has been unbelievably incredible. I am so grateful for this community with all of these lovely people :)

Please comment :)
Francie Lynch Dec 2014
I will
Write the best Love Poem ever...
Define love, finally...
In free verse or in rhyme...
Refine love from all emotions...
Divine love for the lacking...
Confine the what, where, how and who...

Will style and technique suffice?
Shall I
Write trochee when catching my breath,
Carve words in spondee for lasting ecstasy,
Pen dactyl tri-syllables for your hair,
Use iambics for your lips,
If my best is anapest,
I'll use it for your eyes.
I can beat out tetrameters, pentameters,
And go as far as hexameters?

When I'm finally finished
Struggling over the number of lines,
I may settle for,
Elegy or sonnet,
Ballad, lyric or ode.

My final line should read:
That's all you need to know.
making love with no love
(kissed her with his freedom)

<•>

a new person in an overnight stay in a strange,
aptly named,
bed and breakfast

and

you do all the same things that just feel good, careless loving
that comes from practiced renewable remembering,
kiss her neck for hours, drink in her crescendoing cooing

rename her Appalachia, bemused, wondering why,
she gasp-asks, when your tongue traces her odyssey body
from her Georgia to her Maine, then no need to explain

it all feels familiarly strange, imbalanced, shaky, loving the thrill
of your first solo bike ride, an invisible hand letting go,
the wow of walking the line of new freedom and
old responsibility that you have walked on both coasts

carry on, love is coming to us all lyric, enacted-recalled,
loving yet another
long cool woman in a black dress with unquestioning

how to explain to her, how to yourself, loving with no loving,
and the best you can stammer is it is like writing a poem
with too many commas or none at all

she laughs you up with one mouth lingering,
then one amazing kiss on your heart
and nose,
grabs a piece of toast and gone girl,
then you are returned to alone, to the dreams that
may or may not have occurred and two hands overflowing with
too many commas
and none to keep
<•>


11-18–17 2:54am, somewhere
“kissed her with his freedom”
Cactus Tree by J. Mitchell
11/18/17 2:54am
Mark Oct 11
Take prejudice, throw it all about  
By extracting color within the blues  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue are just taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
  
Tired of racism, going on and about    
By liberating, we strike new tunes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue are just taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
   
All of society, from near to far about  
All city slickers, outback folks, to hippie communes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue are just taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears
Mark Oct 11
I walk ‘n’ talk like a citizen, but feel like an American Alien.
I’m Canadian born, brought up by a Philadelphian.

Falling asleep at 3 AM, rising after noon
Instant fame and riches, happening way to soon.

Always being told to keep my head down;
On the road from town to town.
Pleasing the crowds, appeasing my manager.

Sometimes I think, I’m just riding shotgun.
If I ever broke my melody making,
crab claw pickin’ fingers
I’d be out on the street,
              ^^^
like all my other,
              ^^^
unfortunate *******.
Thx H, for this and that.
Mark Oct 10
Workin’ as a young one, during da cotton pickin’ days.
Tuning my ears into, da older siblings gospel ways.
Smokin’ a whole lotta dope, got me to here.
Drinking from early mornings on, got me to there.
Playing some slow guitar chords, gave me the blues.
Sleeping at night, always awakening, to more bad news.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

I got a kind hearted women, no imitation
Who will not let me be, until one dies
As she pulled up to the cotton plantation
I looked at her, straight in the eyes
Spoke to her, with her full attention
I’m outta here, anything else, I forgot to mention?

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

Isn’t it at all, a bit sort of creepy.
Returning home, to da back swamps of Mississippi
The last song I had ever written.
Would be the death of me, once bittern
Now ain’t that a bit haunting.
I should’ve just read, the dire warning.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.
Jerry Apr 2018
She’s a Poem
He’s an Invisible Ink

She’s a Love Ballad
He’s a Vocal Less Echo

She’s a Soothing Lullaby
He’s a Muted Lyric

She's a Warm Breeze
He's a Whimpered Wind

She’s a Wished Rain
He’s a Thirst in Desert

She’s a Flying Dream
He’s a Falling Demon

She’s Nourishing on Pages
He's Dissolving into Ink

As if, Final Chapter of His Book in a Making?
She May Breathe Forever in His Silent Echoes...
for you dearest 'Lady of the Sea'
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